#but shes so independent like she wants her space sometimes and then when shes in the mood she comes to you

[stabyou]

the best part about owning a well behaved elderly cat is she is more akin to having a chill, loving roommate that just so happens to be fuzzy and black bear shaped

[pumpkin-cake]

Family Man Farmer Logan

dad!logan howlett x fem!reader

i cannot get this out of my head- logan out in the country with his little family has my brain rotting!!!!! also girl dad logan has me in a chokehold!

part two

divider by @cafekitsune

The rooster's crow echoed in the wide open space of land, stretching across the fields and barns and the small wooden playhouse he himself had built. To ensure Logan's consciousness, the small alarm clock started ringing. He groaned. He hated that damn thing, but oh well. His wife insisted on keeping one around.

That wife, you, were regretting your decision. You matched his groan, shoving Logan as the beeping continued to invade the silence you'd been enjoying. "Turn it off." You grumbled, and he grunted in response. He reached over and sloppily felt for the button and hit it like it had personally wronged him. He inhaled deeply and rolled over to wrap his buff arms around you.

"Mornin'." He said in his raspy morning voice, his beard tickling and pricking your neck. You didn't mind. It was a good look on him.

"Morning, honey." You yawned, turning around to face him. "Who's on daughter duty this morning?" You murmured, and Logan's heart fluttered seeing your eyes open halfway sleepily. God you were perfect, even with a bedhead.

"Baby duty." He corrected a bit grumpily.

"She isn't a baby anymore, honey."

"Yeah she is." He said, absolutely no room to argue. He sat up and stretched, his back popping as he did so. He gave you a kiss. "I'll meet ya in the kitchen, yeah?"

You offered a tired mutter in response. He chuckled and left the room, dressed only in gray sweatpants. He gently creaked open the door to his little girl's room, which was filled with toys and anything of the like. She had a lot of wolf plushies. Her favorite animal. It made him feel warm, like she subconsciously loved him everywhere. She of course didn't know what the hell an actual Wolverine was (she called it a woofewine), but word association apparently.

His heart swelled at his sweet girl passed out sleeping in her new big girl bed that he had built for her. He'd painted the wood white and found some stencils of some butterflies, which were painted yellow. Her favorite color. Logan gently sat at the edge of her bed, reaching over and gently shaking her shoulder.

"Hey, sweetie. Time to wake up." He whispered, like he didn't actually want to wake her up. He loved the peacefulness of her expression when she was sleeping. Looked so much like her mother.

His little girl squirmed a bit, whining and trying to pull her blankets over her face. It just made him laugh a bit, softly but firmly pulling the covers back down. She squealed.

"Daddy!! It's cold!!" She exclaimed, trying to reach for the blanket with her eyes still closed.

Logan laughed and grabbed her from her spot, gently pulling her into his lap and holding her tight. "How's this? Daddy's warm, yeah?" He smiled.

She huffed sassily. "Not as warm as the blankies." She argued, and Logan just laughed again. He grabbed the blanket you'd knit her and wrapped her up. "Better, Daddy." She hummed, leaning into him. He stood up off the bed and kept her close.

"You need to go potty?" He asked her as they walked to the bathroom so she could brush her teeth. Never in a million years did he think he'd have a perfect little girl who he was asking to go 'potty', but God did he not care about whatever dumb child lingo he had to use. Especially if it meant less dirty diapers. Ugh. Sometimes the smell was unbearable.

"No!" She said simply, letting him place her on the bathroom sink's counter. He handed her the Bluey themed toothbrush and she frowned. "You do it!" She demanded.

Your words echoed in his head. "She needs to be a little more independent, she can learn to brush her own teeth."

He sucked in a breath. "Why don't ya give it a shot yourself, sweetheart?" He asked, trying to keep his voice from straining. "You have a big girl bed, how 'bout brushing your teeth like a big girl?"

Your little girl just pouted. “No, Daddy.” She said firmly, baring her little baby toofers. “You do it.”

His heart strained. Oh her little eyes. They were so cute but she had the same little crease he himself got when he was upset. “Okay, sweetie. Maybe tonight.” He gave in almost immediately. It was pathetic, he’d killed so many people without a second thought, but this little girl had his heart in the palms of her itty bitty hands. Just one look and he was giving in.

He held the little toothbrush and got a small amount of bubblegum toothpaste (she didn’t like the ‘spicy’ kind) and gently held her face while he took care of her teeth for her. She grinned the whole time, very proud of herself for winning once again.

After that ordeal was done, Logan picked her up in the blanket and brought her to the kitchen where eggs and bacon reached his nose. You stood in nothing but Logan’s shirt and very short shorts, yawning while you cooked for your family.

"Mommy!" You heard your child shout, and you looked over your shoulder to see her snuggled up against Logan's hairy chest.

"Good morning, sweetie. Did you brush your teeth?" You asked.

"No! Daddy did it!" She chirped, and Logan smiled rather sheepishly at your unimpressed look.

"You know I can't help it." He sighed, placing her in one of the ranch chairs at the table. He tried to make up for it. "Breakfast smells delicious, honey." Well, he would have said that either way, but it made you smile as you served the food, two egg eyes and a bacon smile.

"There's more if you want seconds." You hummed, sitting down and beginning to eat.

Your daughter freed her arms from the blanket cocoon so she could eat. "Can I feed the horsies today?" She asked happily, pointing to the apples in the fruit bowl.

You and Logan exchanged glances. "'Course, babygirl." Logan said simply. The two horses at the farm were both gentle, but your baby could be pretty loud and scare them. You trusted Logan to keep her safe.

"You have to listen to Daddy and be careful." You warned, really not wanting your baby getting bitten or kicked by a horse.

"Okay, Mommy!" She said, hurriedly finishing her breakfast and was going to go outside.

"Clothes, sweetie." Logan reminded, and she ran back to her room to change. He smiled at you. "She'll be fine, darlin'. I got her."

"I know, I know." You said softly as Logan finished eating and went to change too. The two came back down in matching denim: Logan with jeans and your little girl with overalls.

"Bye Mommy!" She said and ran out, the screen door slamming shut.

"Bye, hon." Logan said with a wink, heading out to spend time with his girl.

i'd love to do a part 2! i probably will, thank u for reading!

[luvyeni]

❛CONTROLLINGBF! SUNGCHAN❜ ( headcannons )

warnings? 18+

request: imagine you in a relationship with sungchan, his controlling nature dictates every aspect of your life, from your appearance to your social interactions. despite his intentions to protect and care for you, his constant need for control suffocates your sense of independence, leaving you yearning for freedom and autonomy.

authors note. i hope this is what you meant , i hope you like it🤍

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who isolates you from everyone, never letting you leave home alone or without his premission.

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who basically does everything for you — waking up before you, picking out clothes for you to wear — clothes that he picked out and bought. "i don't really like this." "what do you know baby , you'd wear shorts that look like panties and a shirt that shows off what's mine if i let you — just be a good girl and put this on."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who doesn't makes you tell him everything when you go out , where you're going; how long— and who's gonna be there. "it's only for a few hours." "with them? no baby im sorry remember last time you went out with them, she had you out all night drinking, not this time, tell her you won't be coming."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who has a iron clad grip on your arm when you're out for you so you don't go so far with out. "but— i won't wait for you if you get lost, so no let's go."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who doesn't see why you're so sad all the time, he's gives you a nice life , he takes care of you, buys you things, he doesn't understand what's so important about going outside. "i just want so space and to do things alone for once chan , just once, it's so suffocating being with you sometimes."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who gaslights you when you start talking about going out without him. "it's only a few hours chan and you like this friend." "baby what if you get hurt , you know you can never pay attention that's why i come with you, how about we stay in tonight, please , maybe next week okay?" and just like always you say —"okay."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who uses sex as form of distraction to keep you from even thinking about going outside, holding you close like you're going run away, thrusting deep into your cervix whispering into your ear. "you're mine, from your head down, this pretty pussy including, it's mine , and i'll kill anyone who says other wise." and you believe him, he hasn't killed anybody, but you wouldn't put it past him.

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who wants to consume your every being , he'll do what ever he needs to do to achieve that.

©️LUVYENI

[space-emperor]

It’s kind of funny to me that the Djesh started as an afterthought/side joke that didn’t feature largely in the plot but have absolutely become the most interesting part of the story to me.

They’re big old parasitic xenomorph-lookin space bug women, right? They do not have a binary sex—only a select few choose to metamorpihize into a reproductively mature imago, while the others remain infertile neonates for their entire lives. Functionally they are all hermaphroditic and can reproduce sexually or asexually depending on environmental pressures. But also: they’re all women. As far as they’re concerned, so is everyone else.

Their closest concept to gender is relational:

A mother is anyone who creates with her body. This could be a literal gestational mother who lays eggs, fertilizes, or gives birth, but it can also mean a creature or person serving as host to the parasitic larvae. A mother in this sense is typically a final, fatal role immediately preceding death.

The Djesh do not distinguish between “mother” and “aunt” but for translation purposes it’s easier to explain with different terms. An aunt is a type of parent who participates in the rearing of young. If a mother or host survives and helps to raise a child, it counts as an aunt-parent. An aunt’s role is to teach and protect and to transmit stories from one generation to the next. An ideal Djesh family consists of many aunts raising young communally—possibly dozens. A family with too few aunts is considered deeply taboo in a way that’s comparable to incest. A Djesh encountering a two-parent nuclear human family for the first time would be horrified and disturbed and have trouble accepting that an intelligent species would reproduce like animals.

A sister is any independent adult who is not actively occupying a parental role. An aunt will revert to sister when her young reach adulthood. An aunt who abandons her role before then is committing a grave taboo—if a Djesh encounters a human who has been deployed on a military or scientific endeavor and left children at home, she will be repulsed and disturbed and potentially hostile.

A daughter is anyone, specifically a child, dependent upon a caregiver. I haven’t made up my mind yet on how this intersects with Djesh conceptions of disability but it’s something I may want to explore.

A Djesh will continue to molt and grow indefinitely. It’s possible that they have the technical capacity for immortality, with no set upper limit. They can regenerate limbs with each molt of their skeletons. As they age, however, the time between each molt grows longer, and the process becomes more difficult and perilous. Because this molting process functions as the only natural limitation on lifespan, there is a taboo against interfering. To succumb to the temptation to help a loved one with a bad molt that would otherwise kill them is to curse them and is a kind of spiritual betrayal… it’s very evil and very, very romantic. The idea of it is horrifying and tragic but they also eat that shit up like it’s Shakespeare.

Most importantly, of course, the Djesh are biologically dependent upon stories. They cannot be Djesh without them. You could incubate and hatch a Djesh egg in a laboratory and provide the larva with all the nutrients it required, but unless you (and, ideally, your entire team) spent time constantly telling it stories, it would never grow into a Djesh. It would survive, sure, but it would take the form of a weird gelatinous animal. This is why Djesh familial units consist of many aunts: the stories and narratives they pass on give Djesh children physical form and act as genetic information more substantially than whatever they inherit biologically. The more stories, the more diverse and robust their DNA-analogue. This is why most Djesh remain neonates and die infertile—they are able to reproduce more effectively by passing down stories than by producing/fertilizing eggs.

Turantirok is sometimes described as the Djesh “religion”. And it is, but only sort of—different populations may have different mythologies and beliefs, but turantirok is better defined as the cosmic force that drives narrative. To other species, Djesh may seem to behave erratically and seemingly act against their own interests. Even those few who manage to get around the language barrier struggle to understand the Djesh, and they are broadly regarded by other species as dangerously insane. In reality, Djesh have an innate instinct for turantirok—they will act according to whatever they believe best furthers a cosmic narrative, up to and including self-destruction. This was an evolutionary adaptation to pass on better stories to their descendants, but now that their planet is incorporated into a galactic civilization, turantirok may be an existential threat.

[russellsppttemplates]

A blurb for Max Verstappen where he does his best to keep you and the kids away from the Drive to Survive netflix crew but wants you around the new docuseries being filmed about Max and his life off the track

"Netflix people are going to be in our garage tomorrow morning", Max said as he came out of the ensuite bathroom, careful with the noise he was making as the kids were in the living room area of the hotel room, the sofas turning into beds so they could sleep near you still despite the half wall that created a sense of separation between the spaces.

"So we'll just join you for the afternoon then", you added, showing him your understood what he meant, "have you spoken to them about us not wanting their faces shown in the show? You know how they sometimes record the paddock and other people show. I know it's inevitable sometimes, mas maybe blurr it out or something", you tried.

"Yes, I spoke to them this morning. They seemed understanding enough, although there was the usual comment of why and if they could do this or that", Max shrugged, getting in the bed next to you, "what did you tell them?", you wondered.

"Didn't let them get too far. They already know where we stand with you and the kids showing up, so there's not need to beat around the bush again and again. They're butthurt because you appear on the docuseries, but it sounds like it's a their problem and not ours, so I'm not too fussed. And neither should you be", he smiled, kissing your cheek and letting you snuggle up to him.

.

"Are you ready, Y/N?", one of the producers asked as they arranged the camera on your car so it could catch both you and the person asking the questions.

"I'm going to pick up the kids from school now, they're at a very good age now where it's not hard getting them to leave the house in the morning because they love going to school, but also not too hard to get them to leave school because they also love being at home and know they'll see their friends tomorrow", you chuckled, remembering Finn's tantrum when you wanted to take him home and he wanted to stay in school because he wanted to keep paying with his friends whose parents were running a little bit late to pick them up too.

"Is it hard juggling all of this with Max being away for some good chunks of time every now and again?", she asked as you stopped at a red light.

"It isn't as hard as before", you reasoned, "when they were younger and their needs were different, I relied a lot on my mother in law and my parents whenever Max wasn't home, which was really mostly weekends because he arranged the schedule and RedBull made it work. But now they're older and they're at a stage where they are a little bit more independent and, honestly, we just take each day as it comes and go from there", you smiled.

"How is parenting along with Max?", she wondered, "you know, there are many moments in parenting where you think 'this is definitely not the way we should do this but it works for now so we just stick to it' - and you really hope for the best in these cases -, but last week we both went to a parent-teacher meeting and both teachers said that the kids were doing well, they were kind, empathetic, respectful. - And what is there more to ask, you know? - we both got out of the meeting and we're like 'yeah, this parenting thing is going just fine',", you smiled, "obviously, we got home to our little girl having a meltdown about not being able to fly, but really? It's an amazing journey parenting with Max, even when he has to tell our daughter that that's not something humans do and let her mourn a capacity she never had", you chuckled.

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

[sweetlady555]

My Personal Solar Return Observations Pt I

I just got into astrology more and I’ve been suupeerrr into solar return observations lately and this is what I have observed from my own chart! My birthday was 2 months ago and the solar return is SOLAR RETURNING .

Moon in 8h in Aquarius SR - TONS of family secrets coming to the surface. Almost concerning? . Im finding out soo much stuff about my parents . My home environment is also changing a lot, my dad used to be home a lot and now my dad has like completely abandoned me lmaooo . such a strange uranus energy since aquarius is ruled by uranus . Ive been feeling more independent lately and sometimes I dissociate and pretend im living in LA in my own studio alone and away from my unstable family 😍….. I have my chart ruler in here too haha (pray for me) 😊 so this year is definitely going to be transforming AF . Im sensing it everything feels too intense lately 👁️ ..

Cancer Rising SR - I’ve been dealing with a lot of family stuff over the years (toxic relationships that r still ongoing lmaoaoa) and im noticing that instead of digging myself deeper or being depressed, i’ve been nurturing myself more and turning my space into a cozy sanctuary and not into some bed rotting mess😹. Ive been improving my current living situation compared to the past so theres definitely nurturing myself more , saying affirmations in the mirror , working on my self care , getting offered help from my step-family.

Sun in 12H in Cancer SR - I got into astrology a lot of spiritual stuff . Also communicating with my spirit guides more often etc .. I definitely do feel more connected to my spirit guides now I feel im being guided and protected a lot this year . everything feels like its just meant to happen and i mean that in the best way . Getting vivid dreams, ive been writing them down more a lot lately and they’ve been giving me insights on my subconscious and even slight deja vu? I remember I dreamt of me and my dad in my aunts car and 2 days later she had called me and gotten upset because my dad took her car and hadnt brought it back after she let him borrow it for a few hours. Even though my sleep schedule is so bad i love dreaming more now because the universe always gifts me with something meaningful and beautiful in my dreams🙏. Also I been listening to music like A Looottttt more lately EVEN WHEN IM ASLEEP😭 im like oohhh whos playing this banger and i wake up and its just music thats been on shuffle for the past 9 hours 💀

Venus 12H in Cancer 10° SR - finding out what i want in relationships , although i do feel like its becoming hard to connect with others in that way ..? does that make sense ? ive been doing lots of self love affirmations that my dreams consist of love and harmonious energies 😹sometimes ill think about love and a boyfriend and really want it but the next day ill be like wow i love myself so much i really cannot see myself with anyone😇.. lots of creative solitude , being more open to recieve love from my family members AFTER REFUSING multiple times ( it makes me icky sometimes still ) learning compassion and forgiveness for others , im a scorpio moon in my natal so ive held grudges since 6th grade i never cared 😭😭😩.. but this venus in 12h is like reversing the effect… 👁️💧

Venus Conjuct Asc in Cancer SR - GLOW UP PLACEMENT 🙏 i was sexy before but its like my sexiness increased by like 10x . People are noticing it too!! i got told “bros evolving” on one of my posts 😭😭 I also feel like im finding my own personal style aswell! . I also see my body changing (in a good way)

Sun conjuct Asc in Cancer SR - confidence on 1000!!! feeling self assured , nobody can really tell me anything bad about me TO ME and think ILL believe it cuz i wont!! i know who i am thankqqq😛

Mercury 1h in Cancer SR - i feel like this placement helped add onto me becoming so self assured in myself and figuring out who i truly am . Ive been studying and researching about myself a lootttt too !! Ive been getting a lot of gut feelings and just proceeding with them and usually i wont and ill just go with logic but idgaf anymore because usually these gut feelings usually lead to something so worth the outcome whether it may look good or bad!

Mars 11h in Taurus 12° SR - I have lots of amazing goals and things im looking forward to for this year!! I feel so eager to just GO FOR IT but taurus is a slow and steady sign so thats just how i been moving lately .. in silence too cuz there be haters all around 🤐

Pluto 7h in Aquarius 1° SR - ive been unfriending a lot of people to make new friendships idk if thats a bad thing but all the past people i feel are secretly plotting against me… most likely that 1° because i heard that could represent enemies? take that with a grain of salt but anyway ive been more clearer about what i want in friendships aswell which is goal oriented people who just want to get rich and make something for themselves!!! Im tired of the self limiting beliefs and the envy!!!

Saturn 9h in Pisces 19° SR - I start my senior year this month and I plan on graduating early , saturn rules discipline and structure but also setbacks . i feel like this school year although i have that vision i feel like im gonna have to put a lot of work this year lmao i hate school so much i was supposed to go to summer school but i ended up not going to get my mind right before the school year started which has really helped tho imo . i wanted to drop out but at the same time my pride is too high and i feel like this is a great opportunity to build discipline, time management and responsibility for the goals that ill have after i graduate. ive already been setting the milestones and all which is the saturn and pisces influence comin thru 🙏

Neptune 9h in Pisces 29° SR - the 29° usually the “fame indicator degree” can also represent a start to completion/ending of something , since i would be focused on graduating early for my senior year i could see this as me graduating early and completing that academic journey and preparing and embracing a new journey . i feel like this would most likely be spiritual because i caaannooottt focus on school and astrology and spirituality all at the same time because 9 times out of 10 my focus is on astrology and spirituality i needa get my priorities straight😭😩😹..

Just wanted to note this but while reading your SR chart its important to look at your South Node aswell because it can show you what lessons and patterns you need to review / past influences & comfort zones . 1h nn = 7h sn , 2h nn = 8h sn , 3h nn = 9h sn , 4h nn = 10h sn , 5h nn = 11h sn , and so on

North Node 10h in Aries&South Node 4h in Libra - The SN 4h Libra and NN 10H Aries could show that I have to balance my growth and comfort and moving towards new opportunities. With South Node in the 4H in Libra, I may find myself relying on familiar comforts from my past . The south node here might show that I might fall back into old family dynamics . my step family is offering for me to move in with them to help me get back up on my feet and this is such a good opportunity but they did this before though last year and I ended up moving back with my neglectful dad and I just fell depressedddddd . ill prolly release my old patterns where I would be moving away from family support because last year my mom offered to help me and support me and i ended up being manipulated and i fell depressed again then went to my step dad for help so i can get ahead and i went back with my dad and got even more depressed lmaoo but ill see how this ends up playing out. With the north node in the 10h in aries , i’ve been really focused on building my own unique self image instead of just catering to what others expected of me . Ill be looking forward to the goals I have planned out while actively working on them . With the influence of Aries too, bold and courageous, I’d most likely be taking risks to pursue my goals and stepping out my comfort zone. Probably by being SO FED UP with my controlling dad that I just take that leap 💯

this is my first observation post i was gonna go to sleep but i was dedicated to finish this tonight, i hope this was insightful to many of you and may this year bring all of us sweet blessings ⭐️

[fatuismooches]

What are the Harbingers like when they’re jealous?

if i can't have you baby, no one else in this world can.

Imagine the Harbingers when they're jealous.

Pierro is at the age where it’s simply too late to get immaturely jealous. He values independence and won’t meddle too much in your affairs. Of course, he’ll be there if anything serious or dangerous happens, but with his position, you’ll need to adjust to being apart for various lengths of time. Therefore, Pierro won’t be mad when you talk to others. In fact, he’ll encourage it considering how he doesn’t want you to feel too lonely. Though, he’ll advise you to stay away from certain Harbingers… Anyway, Pierro doesn’t exactly get jealous, but rather, sad. He’s happy to see you all lively and joyful with others, someone as bright and pure as you deserve it. After all, a sinner like him has no right to dictate who you should interact with or how you should feel. At the same time, Pierro can’t help but feel a twinge of sorrowfulness. Perhaps you would be more happy without him. Unintentionally becomes more distant from you and won’t say anything until you notice first. Please sit him down and explain to him how much you love and him you’ll never leave him for anyone. He’ll appreciate that a lot.

Dottore considers himself to be smart enough now not to fall for the jealousy trap. He’s lived for hundreds of years, obtained unspeakable and great knowledge, and is able to bring even Gods to his feet. There is no reason for him ever to feel a frivolous emotion such as jealousy. He’s confident in himself, and he’s confident in you. There is no one he’s been with longer than you, and he trusts you, to continue to be a constant in his life. Even if he does get jealous, it’ll probably be by his clones hogging you and even then he could send them off with a snap of his fingers. And well, I doubt anyone else would come up to you when there’s always a version of Dottore near you. Though, there are some clones from his younger years that you can easily tell when they’re jealous. It’s honestly a bit funny but nostalgic to see how different he is. You remember when he’d get all silent whenever you had to leave your shared dorm room in the Akademiya. (He didn’t want you mingling with those incompetent scholars because he feared for your intelligence, he claimed. You knew he was just jealous and lonely.)

Columbina is a bit surprised at her jealousy. She likes to take things easy and not too seriously, so the feeling of a stab of envy is new to her, but she welcomes it. Columbina believes that this is all part of the joy of relationships, discovering new emotions and things about each other, so she won’t take it too seriously. She’ll actually be happy that she feels for you so much, that she’s able to get jealous. It’s quite an accomplishment and milestone! Though if the person ever makes you uncomfortable, they’re next on her hit list. Columbina tends not to understand the concept of personal space sometimes, so she’ll just stroll up to you and hug you from behind, or rest her head on your shoulders, whatever she’s in the mood for, and just… smile. This usually is enough for the other person to back off and leave you alone. If you ask Columbina about her jealousy, she won’t hide or deny it, and instead hum and weave a pleasing string of words about how only a fool wouldn’t be possessive of you. Perhaps she’s more devilish than we give her credit for?

Capitano is the confused one. The feeling has been following him around all day, and he can’t seem to pinpoint where or when it started. You’re going to have to notice something is a bit off with your lover because he most likely won’t go to you first. Capitano has a bit of a problem with showing vulnerability. He’s expected to be the unmoving, sturdy, and dependable Captain at all times, so having to put his walls down can be quite hard sometimes. (Even while cuddling he can be really stiff which you have to keep telling him to relax.) Though after a bit of your usual pestering and refusing to let go of him, he relents. You’ve always been persistent in helping him show emotions despite kind of failing, so what would it hurt to tell you? You always seem to know things that he doesn’t. Though he finds himself a bit abashed after the realization hits you and you struggle to tell him through laughter that he’s simply jealous. Afterward, he finds it a bit embarrassing - a high-ranking Harbinger such as him being inflicted with something like that. But Capitano is still rather grateful for you teaching him more about this emotion and how to control it. Reassures you that it won’t happen again but it wasn’t like you were complaining, you teased. He prefers if you didn’t bring this up again because he doesn’t like thinking about his moments of weakness.

Scaramouche is pissed. Furious at some person for speaking to you like that, furious at you for making him feel this way, but most importantly furious at himself for succumbing to such a stupid and exhausting human emotion. His line of thought is something like this: How dare they try to act all buddy-buddy with you? And how dare you give them that sweet smile and laugh of yours, when that’s reserved for him only? The second someone looks at you the wrong way has him completely zoned in and aware of their actions, in case they try to pull something. In moments he’ll have them shivering and running away in tears, maybe a broken bone too if he’s especially pissed. Depending on his mood and how well you comfort him, they may live to see another day. If you call him out on his jealousy, he’ll just shake his head and deflect the accusations, calling you an idiot instead (affectionately.) Will be closer and more touchy with you for the rest of the day.

The Wanderer, on the other hand, has grown to be more mature and less confrontational about it. He’s calmed down a bit from his Fatui years and admits that his way of dealing with things wasn’t the most optimal, and is doing his best to be a better lover for you. He now trusts you enough to be able to deal with things by yourself. Though, don’t think that he won’t spring into action. He’ll still stand close by, arms crossed and hat covering his expression, listening in. The moment the person says something a little too inappropriate or you start looking uncomfortable, he’s standing in front of you in a flash, glaring at the person. If they don’t get the hint, they’ll receive a personal berating from him. Teasing him for being jealous will result in him scoffing and walking away rather quickly, leaving you to run after him. 

Innocent Kabukimono doesn’t understand why he’s feeling this way! You’re just talking to a villager, someone he knows, and yet his chest is twisting and turning all painfully as he watches! A part of him just wants to go up to you and pull you away, but that wasn’t what good humans did, was it? So he just sulks and sulks with pouty cheeks, to the point Niwa is concerned for him. When Kabukimono explains what he’s feeling, he just laughs and pats him on the back, explaining the concept of jealousy, and advises the puppet to simply communicate with you about it. When Kabukimono does speak to you about it, fiddling with his veil and clothes shyly, you can’t help but coo at how cute he was being, and assure him that he’ll always be number one in your heart. When he asks for a few kisses for reassurance, you can’t help but agree.

Sandrone does not know what to do or make with this feeling. She is aware of what it is, but like, how should she go about dealing with it? She could just go up to you and drag you away, it would be quite easy for her to do that with the Automaton behind her and all. Or she could just let you be. You are quite different from her after all. You enjoy talking to other people and interacting with them, while she could care less. So Sandrone simply retreats to her little safe haven, her lab chock-fulled with her inventions and machines and then a specific section she made for little creations dedicated for you. And she works and works, well, more like tries to work but her head is steaming from how some random person can hog your attention like that. And she can no longer tolerate that. Eventually, if you don’t come back to her quick enough, she’s going to find you herself and take matters into her own hands, regardless of whatever conversation you’re having. Teasing her about it may result in one of her machines picking you up and dangling you above the floor. But she’s really just happy you’d choose her over anyone.

La Signora is another one who's quite confident in your relationship. I mean, she’s gorgeous, you’re gorgeous, you two were practically made for each other. So, whenever people talk to you, she can’t help but understand since you’re so alluring. But her favorite part is showing off to everyone that hah, too bad, you’re already taken by her. As if anyone else could ever be worthy of you, she thinks, pitying those poor fools who think they ever had a chance with you. And she will make this ideology absolutely clear to anyone and everyone. She’s so tall, she probably towers over the other person and gives them a look that definitely makes them feel like a pest. She has one hand tracing over your collarbones and the other stroking your hair while she looks at the other person dead in the eye as if daring them to say something. Of course, they don’t. Signora finds the whole ordeal more amusing than anything and will laugh with you if you bring it up. Oh darling, she tells you, it’ll take a lot more than that to truly upset her. However, although she enjoys watching the hope fall out of other people’s eyes, it does get tiring sometimes. Maybe you need more matching accessories? Would a hickey do?

Pantalone is well acquainted with the feeling of jealousy. He’s felt it since he was a child, envying others for what he could not have. And now he’s climbed up and up the ladder, to the point where everyone is jealous of him instead, not the other way around. He’d never have to feel that feeling again, as he had anything a man could ever dream of. Except… he’s jealous yet again. Not over material possessions or wealth, but you. But Pantalone hides his jealousy quite well, just like he does with his other emotions, under that smile of his. Other people won’t notice but… if you look closely you may see his smile is a bit strained. Pantalome keeps up the polite persona but may throw in a few snide comments. He keeps a firm arm around your waist and ushers you out of there rather quickly. You probably shouldn’t bring it up later. Pantalone sometimes fears he will be that same boy stuck in poverty and left with nothing again, although he never expresses it. He sometimes fears he will lose you too. Don’t say anything. Simply come up from behind and hug him. Pull off that huge jacket of his. Give him lots of kisses and finally one on the lips, telling him he never needs to worry about being separated from you.

Arlecchino looks emotionless as ever but the jealousy eats her up inside. It leaves a taste in her mouth that’s more bitter than her coffee. She’s the kind of person to do something about it as soon as she feels the feeling creeping up. Does not tolerate anything from anyone (besides you) so you can be sure that she’s going to put a stop to it right away. The thing about Arlecchino is that she doesn’t even need to say anything to scare the person off. Her aura can be so icy and intimidating, downright terrifying sometimes if she felt like it. Not to mention the contempt laced in her eyes could probably kill a man. So when Arlecchino gets jealous, she doesn’t remain like that for long because the problem is solved rather quickly. Plus, she doesn’t really see anything wrong with it. She just sees it as her protecting you from creeps. So if you tease her about it she won’t really be affected by that either. Arlecchino simply kisses you on the forehead and tells you to come to play with the children instead. (Though if you tell her you enjoyed seeing her jealous, she’ll get a teeny bit surprised. She didn’t think you actually liked seeing her like that because many view her as terrifying. You still think she’s so damn hot. And cute when she suddenly can’t make eye contact with you for a few seconds.)

Childe is quite confident and secure in his relationship with you. He cherishes you deeply, and his family loves you as well. You two may not have the most time together, but when you are, you spend it to the fullest. So when he feels the nag of jealousy rising, he’s a bit surprised but plays it off as nothing. It’s just that being away from you for so long has him a bit needy. Though, a teeny tiny part of him wonders if someone else would be better for you, someone that can offer you stability, that won’t leave you waiting for months to return. He would respect your decision… but he quickly ceases that line of thinking. He knows you love him, and he loves you even more, so there was no reason to be worried. Though he might get a bit competitive with the other person, trying to show off a little. And if the person’s making you uncomfortable… well, his passive aggressiveness and less-than-friendly smile are making an appearance. Also, you’ll probably notice he’s more insistent on treating you right. Always being a gentleman and not letting you lift a finger, showering you with all the love he can muster. Childe is always ready to do everything in his power to keep the title of best boyfriend for you. Please watch him cook and clean the dishes! Look, he’s drawing a bubble bath for you right now!

[stinalotte]

Happy 19th Birthday, Stargate Atlantis!

On July 16th, 2004, the pilot aired. Here's a handy little primer for anyone who doesn't know what the heckity heck this show is about. Everything is totally accurate, 100% true and very, very serious.

So.

This is the lost city of the Ancients, Atlantis, in the Pegasus galaxy, about 3 million light years from Earth. (The Ancients can go fuck themselves. Long story.) Atlantis is a city/spaceship approximately the size of Manhattan. She's semi-sentient, but not really, except actually yes, maybe, sometimes, totally. The whole city can go underwater or into hyperspace. Loves her humans. Home. Declaration of independence imminent.

The Atlantis expedition consists of civilians and military from at least 34 countries (in later seasons, the original expedition was just over a dozen). In no particular order:

Dr. Elizabeth Weir. The first leader of the expedition. The only adult. Sometimes. Okay, not very often. Is not above a little war crime for the good of the galaxy—or at least, for the good of Atlantis. Left a boyfriend and a dog on Earth, but we all miss the dog more than the boyfriend. Eats UN representatives for breakfast. Is terribly awkward on dates and really good at solitaire. Loves her chaos children. Which are:

Lt. Colonel Suicide Mission John Sheppard. Walked through the Gate and Atlantis said, "dibs". Thinks people who don't want to fly are crazy. Not good with emotional stuff. (He's getting better.) Loves his found space family and would die for them, often literally. Stop that. Also loves Ferris wheels, things that go fast, and Rodney McKay. And no, we don't know how he gets his hair to go like that.

Dr. Meredith Rodney McKay. Four degrees, two of which are PhDs, none of which are in social skills. Smartest man in two galaxies. Used to be an asshole, but got himself some friends who loved him such a stupid amount that he had no choice but to change. Still a work in progress. We love to see it. Blew up three quarters five sixths of a solar system. (It was uninhabited.) (Mostly.) Deathly allergic to citrus. Loves fully charged ZPMs, arguing with Dr. Zelenka, MREs, and John Sheppard.

Lieutenant Aiden Ford. Went ass first through the Gate with a grin and a whoop on his very first trip. One of the youngest members of the expedition. Is not allowed to name anything, ever. Mild case of hero worship when it comes to his commanding officer, which is totally understandable. A cautionary tale of how addiction messes up not only you, but the people around you.

Ronon Dex. Used to be hunted by the Wraith, lost his people in a terrible war, and is now a member of Sheppard's team where he gets to shoot things and beat up bad guys. Doesn't talk much, but when he does, he has something to say. Good friend. Excellent hugs, but have Carson check you out for any cracked ribs after. Is one bottle of Athosian wine away from staging an intervention regarding the Sheppard/McKay situation.

Teyla Emmagan. In possession of the team's one brain cell. Leader of the Athosian people. Will rock a baby to sleep and then go outside where a Wraith is dangling from the highest tower of the city and stomp on his hands until he falls 800 feet. Can either beat you up in the gym or force you to meditate on your problem, your choice. Has the aforementioned bottle of wine ready and loaded.

Dr. Radek Zelenka. Keeps the science team sane because Rodney sure as hell doesn't. Loves pigeons, cursing in Czech, and overseeing the thriving black market underground economy that has developed in the city. (Thanks @shaddyr for that lovely headcanon). Zachránil všechny naše zadky víc než jednou.

Chuck the Technician. Aggressively Canadian. Doesn't have a last name, doesn't need one. Is ALWAYS in the control room, seriously man, when do you sleep? Reads trashy sci fi novels on night shifts and organized a betting pool in 5 different currencies when Ronon was fighting Teal'c. Needs to share his eyelash routine because we're jealous.

Dr. Carson Beckett. The most Scottish Scot to ever Scot. Brilliant medical doctor who is not above the occasional unethical unorthodox treatment method. Sweet cinnamon roll of a man. Beloved by all. Loves his mom and wee baby turtles. Someone should take him fishing soon. 🥹

Colonel Samantha Carter. Member of SG-1. Legend. Awesome. Boss. Absolute BAMF. Punched a Goa'uld system lord in the face once. We all have a crush on her.

Dr. Jennifer Keller. Is very doctor-y, for better and for worse. Was all of us when she freaked out being on an alien planet for the first time, like a normal person would. Should totally have gone on a date with Captain Vega in that one deleted scene. [WE COULD HAVE HAD IT AAAAALL]

Jeannie Miller. Rodney's sister. Gave up a career in science to be a mom. Solved Rodney's math problem in her spare time, with finger paints. Loves her brother even when he's being an idiot. Fanfic canon says: her house is always open for him and certain Air Force Colonels to crash in. Don't you dare get a hotel room. Yes, the guest room has Only One Bed, Mer, what's your point?

Major Evan Lorne. If you are a moron and get yourself captured and imprisoned off world, he will swing by real quick with a couple Marines and bust you out. Co-parents Atlantis with Dr. Weir. Is actually a really talented painter. Needs a raise, a holiday, and a drink.

Colonel Steven Caldwell. Grumpy. Has to deal with Elizabeth's chaos children on a regular basis. Will make the enemy ship go away with a big boom and save your sorry ass in space. AGAIN.

Richard Woolsey. Used to be a New York City lawyer, one of the most ruthless creatures in the universe. His wife got the Yorkie in the divorce. Broke his heart. Is actually pretty cool if you let him do his thing (like get you out of an intergalactic war crimes trial by bribing the judges).

I know some characters and all the villains are missing, but this post is already longer than a trip on the Daedalus, so there you have it.

Stargate Atlantis. A show about wormholes, life-sucking aliens, ancient civilisations, space battles—and family, friendship, allowing yourself to love and be loved, and what it means to be home.

Happy birthday, fam.

[steviewashere]

Better Together

Rating: General CW: None for this one! Tags: Post-Canon, Fluff, Comfort No Hurt, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Baking, Steve Harrington Likes to Bake, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Sharing Food, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Soft Steve Harrington, Soft Eddie Munson

For @steddie-week | July 7th Prompt: Free Space | WC: 870

Hehe, I want to say that I chose the word "heart" as my inspiration, but I saw a recipe for heart shaped thumbprint cookies on Pinterest and this is what came to mind <3

Title from "Better Together" by Jack Johnson

🍪—————🍪 Steve makes thumbprint cookies for every holiday he can think to. Halloween gets some with black currant jam, Independence Day gets blueberry, Christmas has cranberry, orange marmalade for Thanksgiving. So on and so forth. He learned to bake because of his nana, may she rest, and he wants to continue to share her love with the world.

So, he expands from holidays. He makes them for first days of school. When a neighbor of his breaks their leg. Bakes them for a little girl around the block, tells her she can sell them with her lemonade—he even buys a little paper cup; it’s not the greatest lemonade, too much water, but he still smacks his lips and says it’s the best cup in the world. He bakes them for Robin when she can’t sleep from nightmares; for the party when it comes to D&D campaigns; for himself when it’s the middle of the night and he misses what home used to be like—loud and full and warm.

And he makes them, too, when he starts dating Eddie sometime after Vecna. Eddie’s had some cookies; been there in the kitchen, the dining room, outside even. Been there to see if they’re “poisoned.” Shown up, without notice, holding a jar of homemade raspberry jelly from his kitchen, claiming it to be his mama’s recipe.

Over time, he realizes he wants to share this recipe of his with Eddie, too. Though, Eddie’s kind of a mess in the kitchen—he’s not a terrible cook, not at all, but he’s very…all over the place. Sometimes dishes will sit for too long in the sink, or he won’t set a timer within the first two minutes, or he’ll accidentally chop too much of an herb. He gets distracted and it’s honestly endearing, but Steve doesn’t trust him to bake, not completely.

While he’s making cookies for them for Valentine’s Day, the idea smacks him right in the face. He’s got the dough all rolled into balls, placed on sprayed parchment paper, oven preheated. Ready to go.

He wipes his hands on a nearby dish rag. Calls from the kitchen, “Eddie?” And he’s there beside Steve within the blink of an eye; his eyes darting between the tray of cookies and Steve himself, probably two seconds away from attempting to eat raw cookie dough—again. “Wanna help me with something?” Steve asks finally.

“Uh, sure, Stevie. You need me to grab an ingredient from the pantry? Make sure no flies get on the dough?”

Steve shakes his head. Knows that if he leaves him alone with the tray, the cookies won’t even have the chance to be baked. So, he looks on and smiles at Eddie fondly for: being so thoughtful and also because there’s a stray strand of hair curling from his hairline. His hair is up and out of his face, there are indents around his eyes from wearing his magnifying goggles, little splotches of mini-figure paint on his fingers. It’s sweet. Domestic, if he stops to think about it.

He leans into that. Swipes away that strand of hair. Scoops up Eddie’s hands. The warmth and weight welcoming in his own palms.

“Wash up with me and then help me thumbprint the cookies?”

Instead of words, Eddie drifts over to the sink. They wash their hands one after the other. Eddie scrubs furiously at his skin, making sure that every last little flake of paint swirls down the drain, and then he sidles up to Steve. Looks cowed at the still raw dough.

“M’kay,” Steve murmurs, “so for Valentine’s Day, I do things a little different.” He grabs Eddie’s left hand, from where it’s resting limp on the countertop, and hovers it over the baking sheet. Then, he takes his right hand and does the same, just underneath Eddie’s. Presses that thumb into the top of one cookie. “You see how my thumbprint is sort of sideways?”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums. “Yeah, I see that.” Steve quickly glances up, another surge of fondness working through him. Eddie’s face is one of pure concentration: eyebrows furrowed, eyes squinted, tongue poking from between his lips. 

Steve makes himself look back at the cookies before he does something stupid like propose.

He carefully lowers Eddie’s hand until he can press his thumb on the other side of the cookie. When he draws the hand away, he comments, “There. Now, our thumbs are making a heart on the cookie.” Tilts the baking pan a little so that it’s angled towards Eddie. “See? I do that to all of my Valentine’s Day cookies. Except, now I have somebody to do it with.”

Eddie looks up to him. Eyes crinkled in the corners and a soft, adoring smile on his face. “You do your half and then I’ll chase after?”

He smiles back, teeth and all. “I’d love that, Eds. Then, when we’re done, you can pick the jam we use.”

At the end of the day, Steve made two dozen thumbprint cookies. Each of them filled with Eddie’s homemade raspberry jam. Most importantly, though, each of them are—

“Shaped with our love,” Eddie points out.

And that sounds like the sweetest treat of them all.

🍪—————🍪

[awkward-walking-potato]

Can I ask for Kurt, Emma, and Scott with a reader that’s a little off-putting? They’re mostly harmless but them not making a sound still gives people a start.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

Kurt has a deep understanding of feeling like an outsider due to his own appearance and abilities. He appreciates the silent, almost ghostly way you move, seeing it as a unique expression of who you are rather than something unsettling. He finds your ability to be stealthy fascinating and sometimes even challenges you to see if you can sneak up on him—though with his teleportation skills, it becomes a fun game of cat and mouse.

Kurt notices that your silence often leads others to feel uneasy, but he never lets it bother him. Instead, he shows affection through small, thoughtful gestures—leaving you little notes in places only you could find, or teleporting into your space to surprise you with a snack or a joke, making sure you feel included and cared for.

Kurt finds peace in the quiet of the night and enjoys spending that time with you, knowing you’re more comfortable when things are still. Whether it’s sitting together in silence or engaging in deep conversations about your experiences, he appreciates the calm you bring to those moments and is always there to listen without judgment.

He encourages you to embrace your mutation, reminding you that just as he has learned to love his appearance and abilities, you can find pride in what makes you different. He’s patient and kind, never pushing you too far but always there to help you see the beauty in your uniqueness.

Emma Frost

Emma isn’t easily rattled by much, including your unsettling presence. She’s more intrigued than anything, appreciating the power and control you have over your ability to move undetected. She respects strength, and in her eyes, your ability to make people uncomfortable is just another form of power, one that she finds admirable.

Emma sees your potential and takes it upon herself to help you refine your abilities, offering to train you in using your mutation more strategically. She’ll guide you in turning what others see as “creepy” into a sophisticated skill set, perfect for espionage or other high-stakes situations.

While Emma appreciates your ability to unsettle others, she also understands the importance of social dynamics. She’ll offer tips on how to use your silence to your advantage without alienating people, teaching you how to blend your natural stealth with a more polished social presence.

Emma doesn’t coddle you or try to make you more approachable; instead, she respects you as you are. She values your authenticity and never asks you to change, only to hone your skills. In her eyes, you’re already powerful—she just wants to help you refine that power into something truly formidable.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

Scott’s military-like discipline means he’s rarely caught off guard, even by someone as silent as you. While others might jump when you appear out of nowhere, Scott barely flinches. He’s more likely to acknowledge you with a calm nod, appreciating that you’re simply doing what comes naturally.

Scott immediately sees the tactical advantage in your ability to move without being noticed. He’s constantly thinking about how your mutation could be utilized on missions, often pairing you with teams where your skills would be most effective. He’s pragmatic, recognizing that what others find unsettling is actually a powerful tool.

Scott isn’t one for excessive words, so he appreciates that you don’t need to fill the silence with chatter. There’s a mutual understanding between you two, a quiet camaraderie where actions speak louder than words. He respects your space and doesn’t push you to be more outgoing than you’re comfortable with.

Scott can be very protective of his team, and that includes you. While he respects your independence and ability to take care of yourself, he’s always watching out for you in his own quiet way. If anyone on the team ever made you feel uncomfortable because of your mutation, he’d step in with a firm hand to ensure you’re treated with the respect you deserve.

Scott might encourage you to push your boundaries, not to change who you are, but to explore how your abilities can evolve. Whether it’s training exercises that challenge your stealth in new ways or missions that test your limits, Scott believes in your potential and wants to see you grow into the best version of yourself.

[bonny-kookoo]

OT7: Tongue Tied (Intro)

In which you're not supposed to be the solution for all of the problems- but maybe you're just that; the missing piece.

Tags/Warnings: SFW, Hybrid!BTS x Hybrid!Reader, Wolf!BTS, Dog!Reader, strangers to ???, fluff, some angst, insecurities & very openly emotional reader

Length: long

A/N: the next chapters will, one by one, focus more on each member getting closer to the mc.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"She will stay in a separate space we've been renovating for her at the company building." The manager says, well aware that the seven boys are very much not on board with the whole plan. "So you'll basically just have to interact with her for the camera and on certain schedules. Listen, I know you don't like the idea but it's the best way of making you guys seem.. less.. dangerous, after all that happened." He carefully phrases.

Jungkook scoffs. Namjoon clenches his jaw at that reaction, ready to scold. Taehyung sighs, tired of the constant fighting.

It was something the company had been fearing for quite some time now. And now, it's come to a point where even the public has noticed the growing tensions within the hybrid band- everyone on edge, easily irritated by each other. Originally, everyone had always thought it would be fine if they 'grew up' alongside each other, especially with Jungkook having been so young when he joined the company and group. But it didn't really matter down the line, it seems like, because by now, the air is constantly thick with frustration.

For the fans all over the world, the group full of hybrids, a somewhat traditional 'packing wolves, has been nothing but perfect and a shining representation of how far hybrids can come nowadays in terms of reaching success and wealth. But behind closed doors, it's headaches, fights, arguments and stress for everyone involved.

From trying to somehow keep track of their heats to re-scheduling things over and over again because the person interviewing or hosting at the event might be an unmated hybrid that could set off any of the guys at just a glance. They're all of a category two, technically independent and mostly human- but sometimes, staff would like to argue against that. Jungkook and Jimin can be harder to control than a horde of toddlers sometimes, while Yoongi and Namjoon are sometimes just plain scary. Taehyung literally does what he wants together with Seokjin, and Hoseok usually keeps to himself. Its all a mess, really.

Especially now that the cracks had begun to show to the public as well.

"Why a category five though?" Jin argues from the side. "You've been complaining about us for years now. And we're the most 'normal' one might say." He air quotes as he speaks.

"If they see you being kind to a category five like her-" the manager explains himself, "-they highly likely will calm down."

"Or start letting their frustrations out on her." Namjoon disagrees. "If they smell just a hint of any of us liking her in any way they'll go rabid."

"So what? It's not like she'll properly understand the situation, or talk about it to anybody." The manager shakes his head. "She will live at the company building, like I said. That's top security around her twenty-four-seven, and she will also have regular caretakers- staff will look after her for you, you don't have to interact with her at all apart from scheduled activities. It'll be fine." He tries, and everyone sighs.

Well- it's not like they've got the last word either way.

---

Jungkook is a sensitive person.

Not as in weak, but as in, his senses are very much sharp enough to notice even the slightest changes in something. And so when the first furniture is delivered, first boxes with what he assumes to be the new hybrid's personal items, there's something in the air he can't quite put a finger on.

"Oh, Jungkook-ssi!" One of the staff almost runs into him, as he stands alone in the dark and rather small space you'll be living in soon. "I almost locked you in. Is there something you need?" She asks, and he shakes his head.

Something about the faint scent of yours clinging to some of the items placed, like the blankets and pillows and stuffed animals, makes him wonder what will happen from now on. You're being used for higher gain- and in a way, he wonders if you'll know that, or if you're not able to understand the complexity of the situation like his managers had claimed. A category five doesn't mean you're mentally challenged, after all. You're just a bit more hybrid than he, or the rest of the guys are.

And somehow, it all just suddenly feels so fucked up to him.

"No, sorry, I just wanted to.. look around I guess." He offers the staff member who nods kindly, before he leaves to go home.

Somehow feeling a little heavy inside.

---

"Am I the only one who thinks this is fucked up?" Yoongi sighs as they all laze around in the living room area of the dorm they share. "We don't even know where the fuck they get that hybrid from."

"With the way they're talking about her it feels as if she must be from a carecenter or something alike." Seokjin offers from the side. "After all, they did mention that she needs help in looking after herself." He notes, and Taehyung chimes in at that.

"I mean I get the idea but.. it's still odd to 'use' her for that. And what if she doesn't even like us?" He shakes his head. "Category five's are pretty obvious in what they're thinking. It's not like they can just tell her to act the part."

Everyone falls silent at that. The wolf hybrid has a point here- if she doesn't play the part well, what will happen then?

"Well- not that I care." Hoseok announces, getting up. "And neither should you guys. We're getting paid to entertain people, nothing more." He simply mumbles to himself, leaving to go to bed. And he's probably right too- the less the guys think about what the situation means to you, the better. And done the line, the space given to you at the company building is definitely better than any shelter or carecenter you're probably currently residing at.

Jungkook however isn't convinced. He's still remembering that odd feeling he had earlier standing in between all those things that smelled like you.

And he's got a feeling that this whole 'plan' will probably not go the way they all planned it to.

---

Despite everyone's varying levels of interest in you at first, it's pretty clear that today, the date you'll be officially moving in, the entire pack is equally as eager to get a glimpse of you.

"Remind me why you're all in my studio?" Namjoon sighs, watching everyone camp out in his small space, both Jimin and Taehyung peeking out the door.

"They're here! There right there, they just brought them in-!" Jimin whispers sharply, and suddenly even Namjoon gets up to maybe catch a glance.

"She must be young." Taehyung mumbles, watching how an elderly woman in a 'Seoul Hybrid Care Project'-jacket holds your hand as you walk next to her. Your tail is a little curled and clearly one of a canine hybrid- your ears somewhat folded downwards.

"Maybe she's just short." Namjoon argues quietly, Jungkook pushing a bit to get a glimpse too. "I mean- if she was too young to attend late shows and schedule that would be pretty dumb wouldn't it?" He wonders, and the others hum in agreement, watching as your tail lowers, your mood visibly changing as soon as it's evident you'll be staying.

They all start to feel a little bad once they have to watch you cling to the caretaker- probably your only familiar person, who attempts to make you understand that you'll stay here now. It's the first taste of what you as a category five are like- there's no covering up your emotions whatsoever, you visibly and clearly make it known that you're not happy about this situation.

The only thing that soothes the pack a little it the sight of the staff gently wiping your tear stained cheeks before leading you into your new living space, door closing behind you. Though it's odd- because somehow, the entire pack feels closer than they've been in a few years by now, everyone equally both interested and mildly worried for you.

"Okay I can't be the only one who feels this though." Taehyung suddenly perks up, the ball of squeezed together wolf hybrids breaking up as they all get back into the studio, door closing. "Right?"

"She's a category five Taehyung!" Namjoon scolds.

At that, everyone falls silent for a moment.

Because while they can't deny what Taehyung mentioned was true-

Namjoon also had a point.

---

You are, in fact, not actually that young, merely months behind Jungkook.

And Seokjin's very sharp sense of observation tells him that you're not at all unaware of your surroundings whatsoever. It seems like you want to talk often but then remember something that makes you shut up before you can even open your mouth. You're however otherwise clearly aware of what's going on, interested and curious about things you don't know. It must be frustrating to not be able to voice out your thoughts, he thinks to himself, already wondering if there could be a different way of communicating with you.

Turns out you are indeed a domestic dog hybrid, chosen for your rather reserved but friendly nature. You've been born to a mother than wanted to stay anonymous, having given you up as a newborn pup at a shelter, presumably because you're the result of infidelity.

Taehyung is, to no one's surprise, the first one to try and interact with you in the practice room. You seem a bit hesitant at first but it's very clear that you're easily warming up to him, your tail wagging every time Jimin says something that makes Taehyung laugh. The two wolves are sitting close to you, and you seem alright with that, albeit a little shy.

Which is to be expected, considering its been barely a week since you moved into the company building, and you've also never really met them.

"What're you looking for, hm?" Taehyung wonders as he watches you search around for something. You look at him at that, unsure, like you're fighting internally with yourself.

"Maybe she's too shy to say it out loud?" Jungkook wonders, sitting down close to you as well now. "You wanna whisper it maybe?" He tries, leaning in and pointing to his hybrid ear-

And to everyone's surprise you do actually sit up on your knees, cupping your hands over his ears before you whisper something.

And of course, everyone is eager to know what it was, since it makes the youngest look so caught off guard, cheeks red as he gets up to fetch a bottle of water from a table nearby.

They distract themselves for the time being by starting to actually practice, occasionally watching your reaction to their choreography. Being watched by you is actually not that weird at all- if anything, it makes them all work a bit harder as if to impress you, underline their deaths as the perfect idols they are.

Though, at the end of the day, they're also just a pack of young wolves, and it's clear.

Jungkook let's himself fall onto his back close to you, huffing in exhaustion making everyone laugh. The air feels oddly light today, as if the stress isn't actually that bad this time around. And it's especially evident in the way everyone laughs when you reach out to pet Jungkooks head as if to tell him that he worked hard, making the idol shy again.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

---

It's your first public appearance.

Described to the public as a 'charity case', you've been somewhat officially shown in behind the scenes footage every now and then, many fans having already found some info on you from the internet. The reactions are mixed, but mostly positive- many claiming that the band and company are showing how kind the world can be by taking you in. It's probably because the company itself had made it clear that you do not actually live with the boys, but in a separate place with personal caretakers, eliminating the possibility of causing a dating rumor for now, though that might happen naturally at some point.

However, all is better than having to defend the guys fighting amongst each other like dogs over food.

The level of comfort around you varies amongst the members, which is to be expected- but it's already clear that you're very good at wrapping people around your little finger. Seokjin is holding your hand as they all walk through the airport together, and you never let go of it once, staying close to the oldest. He's become somewhat of a guardian figure for you- his calm and carefree attitude drawing you in.

He helps you buckle your seatbelt on the plane, and helps you out of your jacket like it's second nature, though he does roll his eyes at Hoseok commenting how he looks like a father. "Well at least I'm helping her, you all just ignore her or play around!" He scolds, tension rising when Taehyung starts to argue from the corner.

"Hey, no one asked you to play the part!" He barks. "We got staff for that.." he scoffs to himself, while Namjoon shakes his head.

"Guys please.." he begs quietly, though the barking doesn't die down.

"So we're just supposed to act like we care but toss her aside? How cruel is that?" Jin argues back, making Jungkook whine from close by.

"Hyung, don't shout like that-" He worries, and Seokjin is ready to really shout now, when Yoongi gets up and walks over to unbuckle your seatbelt. Only now does everyone take a moment to notice you quietly crying to yourself.

"Come on, I'll get you some tissues.." the wolf mumbles quietly to you, effectively removing you from the crossfire to have you sit next to himself instead.

It's quiet at that, except for the soft sound of you blowing your nose and whimpering a bit as Yoongi offers his silent support to you. Jin sighs as he sits back down, sound signaling the start of the flight.

It stays quiet like this until the seatbelts are allowed to be removed, an apologetic looking Jungkook walking up next to where Yoongi sits next to you. You're asleep already, having taken the rapper up on the silent offer to sleep on his lap, a pillow on his thighs offering comfort for your head. "M' sorry." The youngest mumbles quietly, running a hand over your head.

"We've got to stop, at least around her." Namjoon says, calmly. "Our pack issues are one thing, but unloading all that on her is just unfair."

"I didn't mean to shout like that.." seokjin sighs from his seat.

"And I didn't mean to get so angry either.." Taehyung apologizes.

"What's even wrong with us in the first place?" Hoseok asks, shaking his head to himself. "Its like we're just fighting these days, nothing else."

"Cause we do." Jungkook says, still petting your head. It's clear that the youngest is pretty attached to you already. "We're just complaining and arguing.." he mumbles softly, watching you sleep.

"Why.?" Jin asks himself mostly.

"Doesn't matter." Yoongi quietly offers. "But we gotta figure this shit out without getting her caught in the middle like that." He reminds everyone. "She can't talk and tell us to stop-"

"She can, though." Jungkook perks up, ears standing tall.

"What?" Namjoon is interested now. Category five hybrids typically don't talk.

"The water bottle on Tuesday. She told me what she wanted when I asked her to, you know, tell me quietly." Jungkook explains. "I think she's just- embarrassed, maybe?"

"Of what?" Hoseok wonders. "Talking in that category is impressive."

"Yeah but she- I guess she's got some trouble pronouncing words. She didn't say 'water' for example, but something like 'wadu'." He tells his packmates.

"Thats cute though." Taehyung laughs from his seat, the others chuckling as well. "Maybe at the center she got made fun of." He tries to justify.

"Could be." Namjoon nods. "But with some practice she could surely work on that issue. It would help tremendously if she at least communicates in single words." He says, and everyone agrees.

"You know.." yoongi smiles to himself, looking down on you still sleeping. "...I think she's doing something entirely different than just polishing our image already."

"Huh?" Hoseok asks.

"Dont you notice?" The rapper asks the pack. "Everytime it's about her, we agree. No fighting. We suddenly problem-solve and actually talk." He explains.

"...I-" Namjoon stares at you at that revelation, realizing it as well. "You're right."

Maybe you're not just a publicity stunt after all-

But an actual solution for the root of the problem.

[emo-nova]

Update time for some good ol' Teen Wolf, ig? i'm on episode 7 of season 2, and now I am definitely seeing some clips that i saw that was making me interested in the show as well as aspects within the fandom spaces.

Never understood the whole idea of Pack mom Stiles thing until I saw Stiles basically be the first to clock that 1, she is in seizure, 2, she may have an issue with the kanima venom (more than others) and 3, to be able to help her he needs to go to Derek cause Scott defo doesn't know. I didn't see it in the beginning, but I can see what people are seeing in it.

Another aspect, Stiles predicting Matt as the villain was such a rewarding scene. Mainly because I have been spoiled, I don't mind them, sometimes I actively look for them to see how the writers handle certain characters plus a summary isn't always true to what actually happened depending on interpretations.

You know what wasn't? Stiles' dad not being told. Or Melissa. Can these two be in on it now? Please? I'm mildly done with the charades on both ends mainly because the friction between two parties is simply miscommunication, plus it would be interesting to have Stiles' be open to this now so that we can see more of a struggle for the Stilinski family when the Sheriff *carries on* heading into danger when he knows. Same with Melissa, I think it would help create more stakes, but it will needed to be handled with care, that she can notice when a patient might have been involved with the supernatural which she can tell the sheriff. It'll make a good feedback loop for the adults, me thinks.

Onto Scott and Alison, I am noticing the writers are now ramping up a more heaviness to their relationship. This is no longer about puppy love but genuine wanting to carry on together, on both ends. And the touch with Jackson being used as the mouthpiece of the writers to foreshadow something more sinister lurking within Alison's future and her decisions. I honestly can not wait for Alison's either degression or progression as a character, as an aspiring writer who likes to study stories of any kind, I would have her digress to create a more nuance version of her character especially with her and Scott creating friction between each other. The friction I'm talking about is Alison's fear of being truly hopeless, unable to actually help herself out of a situation, this could be due to her being raised to be independent and to be a leader within the Argents. Scott on the other hand has a total Hero Complex, wanting to save as many people as possible, yada yada (mild affection now, he's grown on me), wants to be there for Alison *always* which contradicts Alison's want of independence.

Derek, so far, has been following a characterisation I would do for him (after that abysmal training set) cautious and careful with his betas, almost paranoid about their safety with mild disregard for his own in time of the full moon. I would like to see more Boyd though, you have an entire episode on him, and he doesn't get to appear in that scene??? BS, I want Boyd, Erica and Isaac have a moment of annoyance at Derek for being so careful with them. Would I have Derek explain to them why he's so cautious? Not fully, no, I would have Derek explain simply "I am your leader, I look after you and train you. And I need to look after you by ensuring you don't get caught between the Kamina and the Hunters."

Let Derek be a vague, paranoidly responsible Alpha that noticed that his first method didn't help for shit and changing the curriculum for these three because Scott's training was a *mess* and not some fucking dictator alpha guy. But knowing the writing team they most likely will mishandle Derek's character like a child given a machete in the garden which is disappointing.

That's all I got so far, but enjoy my ranting about what happened so far.

Also thank you to the kind soul that told me the timeline of season 1 and 2, I didn't realise that it was such short periods of time! Thank you again :)

[incognitobobcat]

Headcanon Tomáš

Photo Source: @jojogreg8441 on Twitter

Name: Tomáš Vrbada

Birthday: July 11, 1993

Zodiac Sign: Cancer

Birthplace: Prague, Czech Republic

Languages: Czech, English, Chinese (dialect unknown), learning Japanese

Fighting Style: Ninjitsu and Pencak Silat

Weapon: Karambit

Religion: formerly Catholic

Favorite Colors: Silver and light shades of blue

Favorite Foods: Svíčková, Řízek, Rajská omáčka, Madam Bo’s cooking, homecooked meals, Gyoza, and food from the Osaka night markets (ie. Kuromon), enjoys food in general

Favorite Beverages: Water, Pilsner, milkshakes, and some juices

Favorite Pastimes: movies and tv shows, music, walks in nature, traveling, enjoying various foods from restaurants and night markets

Favorite Actor: Johnny Cage

Favorite Movie Genres: Action, adventure, suspense, psychological thrillers, comedy, and whatever else from other genres that appeal to him.

Favorite Music: Contemporary music, alternative metal, classical and soothing instrumental music.

Favorite Dating/Hangout Spots: Osaka night markets, cozy and casual and cozy restaurants, and romantic and peaceful natural spots.

Personality: He is stern, intimidating, and quiet on the outside. He is able to command the respect from his subordinates. He is assertive in a firm and confident way. As a trained assassin under two established clans, he is true to his oaths and never backs down from kombat. He is loyal, courageous and deadly in his profession. As a person, he is kind, gentle, soft-spoken, eager to help and caretake others. He is intelligent and kind. He enjoys favorite past times with people he likes to hang out with and a woman he’s interested. He can be funny and is a good actor.

Ideal Woman: Tomáš likes a soft and gentle personality who can really connect with him on an emotional level. He values kindness, compassion, and empathy. He needs a partner who can give him the emotional safety and space to be vulnerable. Being a giver himself, he loves it when a woman graciously and enthusiastically accepts his gifts and chivalrous gestures. He also wants a woman who can handle his constant need for reassurance and appreciation, so constant attention and physical touch are very important to him.

Turnoffs In A Woman He Dates: Abrasive, angry, negative, careless with how she words things (straightforwardness is a gray area as it varies from individual to individual), blunt to harsh, overall oné who isn’t “feminine” in behavior. Fiercely independent women are frustrating for him to deal with. He may not be aware of this: even though he has fought alongside strong women who are fierce warriors, he has traditional views of how his woman should be and prefers her to be meek and dependent on him, as it feeds his masculine ego and need to look after someone who is weaker.

Deepest fears: To expand on the last point mentioned above, Tomas’ need to look after someone weaker stems from his past traumas of losing loved ones. He has a fear of abandonment. Subconsciously, this is his way of being in control of what he views as his and those who he sees are in need of his help. This brings him alot of gratification and allows him to feel like he is in control, sometimes in an intrusive way.

Furthermore, When Tomas feels he is not being seen and recognized for his acts of kindness, this will further fuel his fear. When someone can do for themselves what he desires to do for them, he interprets this as a message that he is no longer needed, and therefore discarded.

Turn Off For A Potential Partner: Once Tomas has decided that you are the woman that he wants because you check all of his boxes and meet his needs, he will physically and emotionally latch onto his partner. He would want to be with her as much as he can. Tomas is a very physically affectionate person and will want to cuddle, hold hands and make out as much as possible. He loves frequently having sex as a way to pour himself into his partner and bond with her, and it helps him de-stress, so he will make sure that he gets this as much as possible. This may drain the woman, especially when she is tired or not in the mood.

If the woman isn’t on the same level as Tomas is regarding falling in love at his pace or is more reserved regarding his physical and emotional needs, is not ready to open up about the details of her life, or cannot be emotionally present for reasons ranging from business to tiredness to being with girlfriends, he can get frustrated, insecure, and extremely jealous, to which he will verbally express this making him come across as whiny. If she is careful with her body and not want to have sex during certain times of the month out of fear of unwanted pregnancy, Tomas may eventually accuse her of making excuses to not want to be intimate. In his mind, there must be something wrong with him or she may be falling out of love that she’s distancing herself from him. Repeated reassurances may fall on deaf ears as he may shut down and walk away, or argue her points in such a way to make her feel guilty. The woman may feel obligated to give in to soothe his fears and build resentment over time or she may have to end the relationship.

Tomas expects his partner to be able to pick up on what he is feeling and can’t shut down when his partner doesn’t. Because he fears abandonment, he can be emotionally selfish where he will emotionally manipulate his partner with guilt trips on how much he has done for her, her not appreciating him, and playing the victim to get reassurance and physical affection from her. This may make the woman feel like her efforts are not good enough, which affects her self-esteem, she may feel abused and and be emotionally drained to the point of apathy. Her pulling away from him will further trigger his fears and Tomas may cry and beg, promising to change. If she chooses to stay, things may get comfortable for the old habits to come back. If she walks away, Tomas may double down on his efforts, making it even harder for her to leave.

These behaviours only manifest behind closed doors when you are his person. Outside of that, things are normal to untrained eyes.

Healthy Tomas: If he is healthy and secure in himself and his partner, Tomas is the most giving to her beyond the physical. He will make her feel like she is his priority and she will feel emotionally safe and contained by him. He is empathetic and is attuned to her moods and needs. He also knows when he needs his space and can communicate clearly with his partner, and vice versa. He is also able to walk away from a toxic relationship or once he feels that a relationship has run its course while holding on to the good memories. Tomas is respectful of his partner’s refusal to be intimate for her reasons and will make sure that her needs are taken care of when she is tired or stressed while putting his feelings aside. He is a great friend and lover, and wants to build a family with his future wife when she is the one. He will make an excellent father and husband and would die to protect his family.

[soupandsorcery]

Day 13 - Talisman, 763 words

They move to the couch again, keeping a distance from each other. Jamie would have this conversation curled up in Roy's lap if he could, but he can tell Roy needs some space right now, and that's okay.

He can give him that if it means he's going to tell Jamie what's going on in that beard-y head of his.

Wearing Roy's shirt still helps. It smells like him, and it's comfortable. Jamie lets his fingers stroke over the fabric, soft from being worn often, and it's a sort of talisman against the nerves still squirming in his gut.

"You ain't getting any younger, granddad," he teases, gently urging Roy on.

Roy grunts in response, his lips turning up at the corners. "I'm sorry," he says in that low, rumbling voice of his. "I know I'm being a prick. I keep trying to make decisions for you because— Fuck. Because you've got all this fucking potential, and there was no one around when I was your age to tell me not to run myself into fucking the ground or to stop and fucking think sometimes. I guess I got it in my head that I needed to do that for you."

Jamie's quiet for a moment, suddenly overcome with even more fondness for this prickly twat. Always wanting the best for Jamie, but somehow blind to the fact that he's on the list.

"I appreciate it, you know that, yeah? Everything you've done for me, all the ways you push me. Even when you're not letting me have any fun. I know you're doing it because you care."

"I do," Roy agrees softly. "I fucking care about you a lot. Probably too much."

"No such thing, Roy."

"There is," Roy insists. "Trust me. Me and Keeley...It was too much. I cared too much. Wanted to be around her all the time. She didn't like that." He turns his face away, and it's clear how much that still fucks with Roy's head.

"I'm not Keeley, though? I mean, I love her—not like that," Jamie rushes to say. "But she's...dunno. She's got her whole independent boss bitch thing going on, right? She wants to spread her wings and take the world by storm."

"And you don't?" Roy asks.

Jamie hums. Considers. "I do, yeah. I want to keep winning and keep showing off and keep being fucking amazing at what I do, but...I don't wanna do it alone, Roy. I want you to be there for all of it. You ever notice that we already spend basically all day together anyway?"

Roy snorts. "I've fucking noticed. You're always underfoot somewhere."

"Fuck off, you love it. And at the end of the day, I still wanna follow you home.

"You mean that." It's not phrased like a question, but Jamie can still hear the wonder in Roy's tone.

"Yeah, mate," he replies gently. "I wasn't kidding when I said I'm pretty gone on you. That's just...what that looks like for me. You make me feel good. Safe, like. I fucking love how intense you are about shit that matters. Makes me feel like I matter."

Roy exhales in a messy rush, but he finally looks at Jamie again. "You do matter," he says seriously. And then, "I do want you, Jamie. A whole fucking lot. I want you to follow me home, and I want to make you dinner. I want to be able to show you how fucking proud I am of you sometimes, when you're such a brilliant little prick out there on the pitch. I want to fuck you into my mattress again, and make good on your dream of me fucking you over the couch. Hell, I want to fuck you in every fucking room of my house. On every fucking surface."

"Fucking hell, Roy," Jamie breathes, smacked in the face by another wave of need.

"Too much?"

"Fuck no. Not complaining. You're just fucking getting me hot, and I'm gonna be properly pissed off if you're about to try to let me down easy."

"No. No, I want—I want to fucking do this. If you can put up with me being a miserable prick all the time."

He's quoting Jamie with that, and being so fucking open and honest that it takes Jamie's breath away. The worry of the last few days is melting away, and Jamie feels lighter than ever. They're going to work, the two of them, and it's going to be fucking mint.

"Nah," he says, grinning. "Gonna make you a whole lot less miserable instead."

[mercurytojupiter]

chapter two - the labyrinth

a/n: ariadne is so funny to me like theres nothing like pure deflection to make me giggle!!

warnings: farleigh being farleigh, which includes mentions of underage sex, drugs, drinking, cigarettes and sex 18+

fic summary: ariadne gavin and her childhood best friend turned enemy return to saltburn for the last time

Ariadne lounges on the loveseat in Farleigh's room while he lies on the floor just below her. She had missed this. The feeling of just existing in a space with him with no obligation to speak or even interact. Sharing the room was more than enough.

Farleigh sits up from his position, head now just beside her knee. "So, did you get pissed 'cause you heard I was fucking Vaillancourt?"

"Mm," Ariadne mutters, neither a confirmation nor a denial.

"Were you," Farleigh swings onto the couch beside her, his long limbs splaying in every direction. "jealous?"

Ariadne coughs. "Well. No, I wouldn't say jealous."

It wasn't. Not because jealous isn't an apt word, but it isn't a good enough descriptor of the depth of betrayal and envy she had felt. She didn't think such a word even existed.

"If I ask Vee, will she tell me the same thing?" Farleigh mumbles.

Ariadne curses in her head. "I walked in on you two. You were the only person in the entire country I trusted and you were having sex with her instead of-"

"With you?" Farleigh asks suggestively.

"Instead of taking care of me like I took care of you. I moved to England to help you progress and you just threw yourself at every breathing human in a five-mile radius. I literally couldn't keep a hold on you."

Farleigh sighs. "You were so independent, Ari. You knew exactly who you were and what you wanted and I felt a little behind the curve. I didn't want to hold you back."

"Well, you were all I had to depend on, so, of course, I was independent," Ariadne grumbles.

Farleigh throws an arm around her shoulder. "I should have been there for you, Ari."

"And I shouldn't have tried to run away from you. Friends?" She concedes.

"Best." He agrees. "Now, the fuck are you reading?"

"Game of Thrones. It's like fantasy political science." She explains excitedly, launching into a rant about the complex characters she had recently found herself enveloped in.

She is so deep in her explanation that she doesn't notice how Farleigh's eyes follow her movements, warm and wanting.

Ariadne continues, undeterred. "And Sansa, she's the eldest daughter, she-"

"I missed you," Farleigh says in the middle of her speech.

Ariadne rolls her eyes, "Yeah, whatever Farleigh. We're friends again, but you seemed perfectly content where you were."

And that was the part that made Ariadne embarrassed. Farleigh was comfortable everywhere, and yet somehow, someway, even when they had spent seven years unable to get along, all of her friends were just his friends, or his cousin's, or his cousin's friends.

Ariadne felt like a human leech sometimes when she remembered how Farleigh had gifted her the life she had now.

Farleigh shakes his head, laughing, and lights a blunt. "Well, I guess I'm glad it looked that way."

Ariadne pulls it from his lips, ignoring the soft whine of complaint that emits from his lips while she does so. "You do not get to be the only one high for this conversation. And anyway, what, you weren't comfortable?"

Farleigh gives a little puff of air. "I wasn't ever comfortable without you. You were like, the only person that got my jokes and didn't think I was an asshole."

"Yeah, until you were," Ariadne mentions, breathing the smoke into his face.

"Fair enough," he laughs, and what a beautiful, light sound it is, that laugh. The way his body seems to rock with it, curling and stretching his long limbs to accept the noise.

She really, really wants to kiss him, and so she steels herself by looking away with a snort. "D'ya wanna watch a movie?"

Farleigh shrugs. "High? With you? Fuck let's see it."

Ariadne strolls back to her room, Farleigh hot on her heels, and digs into her suitcase.

"I know it's in here somewhere," she mutters frustratedly.

Farleigh turns on the TV, boots up the DVD player, and has Duncan bring them food for the munchies all before, "I fucking found it!"

Farleigh gives her a look of disbelief. "Pride and Prejudice the film?"

"Well you know I love the book, and this one has Keira Knightley in it!"

"I know, I saw the trailers, just-" he sputters. "Pride and Prejudice? It's kind of a chick flick, Ari." He rolls his eyes but smiles as he positions himself on her bed. He looks so comfortable there which makes her heart stop for just a moment before continuing.

"And? I'm a chick!" Ariadne defends, popping the DVD in.

Ariadne curls onto the bed, Farleigh beside her, as they pass the blunt between the two of them. She feels like she's atop a cloud, Farleigh's long arms wrapped tightly around her as he mumbles into her curly hair about the movie.

Ariadne was never very talkative when high. She was sort of glazed over, simply easing into the air around her, and, as a result, easing into Farleigh's body.

"Hold on, is he being serious? I never actually read the book, it was sorta your thing." Farleigh looks down at her inquisitively. He was so touchy. She didn't dislike it, of course, but she didn't like it either, if only because it was hard to focus on the intimate workings of Lizzie and Darcy when every inch of exposed skin that he touched was on fire.

"Really? Now you have to. I'll give you my copy." Ariadne hums without thinking.

Farleigh nods. "I will take you up on that."

He falls asleep, and she shakes him awake for the Missus Darcy line.

"That's so unrealistic." Farleigh groans.

Ariadne rolls her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you had such extensive experience with living in the Regency era."

"Well," Farleigh says, "I may not be exactly from the eighteen-hundreds, but Saltburn is close enough, and that would never happen."

"Why?" Ariadne asks instinctively.

Farleigh holds her face in his hands, and she suddenly recollects how large they are when his pointer and index finger dig into her hair whilst the heel of his palm rests on her jaw. "Because, my innocent little princess, no rich person can truly be happy."

Ariadne shakes her head. "No."

"No?" Farleigh repeats her, a wide grin across his lips.

"I'm going to be happy one day, and I'm going to be in love with someone who loves me back, I got a tattoo about it. England is not the whole world, and it is definitely not my whole world," She argues, exhaling so close to his face she can see the tiny pores and ridges in his nose.

Farleigh smiles fondly and releases her face, wrapping one arm back around her. "Good luck with that, Ari. Good fucking luck."

She huffs but lets him snuggle his head into the crook of her neck.

She doesn't even notice that when he leaves to get ready for dinner - about halfway through Ten Things I Hate About You - he takes the copy of Pride and Prejudice off of her desk, and she certainly doesn't remember that the copy on her desk has almost a decade's worth of annotations and notes, many of them openly stating Farleigh's name.

For dinner that night, she wears a strappy red dress and Farleigh snorts while zipping it up. "What?" She asks, whipping around to face him.

Farleigh places his hands on her shoulders gently. "It's nothing, you just look like your mom, ya know? When we would go to those fancy cocktail parties with our parents?"

He turns her around by the shoulders to look in the mirror again, and shockingly, she finds that he's right. The straps, the thigh slit, and the bold red lip all scream Vienna Gavin's Daughter.

She also finds that she and Farleigh look good together. He's standing behind her in the mirror and for a moment she sees what she imagines other people could see in them. An intimidating, beautiful couple that could dismiss someone they disliked in an instant.

"We look like Mr. and Mrs. Smith from that Brad Pitt movie." Farleigh stage-whispers in her ear.

"We could be beautiful spies if you were a little stronger." Ariadne smiles at Farleigh through the mirror.

"I exercise!" Farleigh explains, pouting his beautiful lips at her. "I like to go for runs."

"You like to run your mouth, that's for sure," Ariadne mutters.

She turns and looks him over. Something feels off to her. "Go grab a necktie, I don't like the bowtie look, I feel like you belong in the House of Lords."

Dinner is still her least favourite part of staying at Saltburn. It is the most monotonous part of their day, sitting together and pretending like this is who they are.

Oliver stares at Felix like he hung the damn moon, and after a point, it stops being funny and becomes concerning. When dinner ends and they're all headed back to their rooms, Ariadne grabs Felix's sleeve. "Fi, can I talk to you for a second?"

Felix gives her a strange look but falls to the side with her. "What's up, pet?"

"Oliver." She says simply, waiting to see how his face changes.

Felix rubs his temple. "God, not you too."

Ariadne grabs his arm nervously, peeking over her shoulder to make sure Oliver is gone. "I just don't get the best energy off him, Fi."

Felix shakes his head. "Then what energy do you get from him, pet?"

Ariadne has a few choice words for the pit in her gut she's ascribed to Oliver Quick, least of all being that every word from his mouth sounds like a lie, but she has no evidence to the contrary. Weasel-y. Gold-digging. Evil. "Dangerous," she concludes, taking a deep breath.

"He's not dangerous, and even on the off-chance he is, I can handle it," Felix smiles quickly, but she can sense the unease just below it. Felix isn't stupid, and he isn't oblivious, but he dismisses things that don't fit his narrative, and Ariadne genuinely believes some part of him can feel that Oliver doesn't quite line up.

Ariadne sighs, holding his hands. "Felix, one day I'm not going to be here to protect you all the time, you know that, right?"

"C'mon, Ari, what're you on about? The Cattons are immortal," Felix jokes before pausing to turn stern. "Can't you just be nice, Ari? He's trying his best."

Felix at his most stern is about as intimidating to her as a puppy.

"Nice people get murdered." Ariadne deadpans. "One of us has to have our guard up. Besides, Farleigh said-"

Felix cuts her off, the defensive little bitch. "Since when are we putting so much stock into my cousin? I thought you hated each other."

Now that did hurt. She and Farleigh hadn't been kind to each other for the past seven years, but she never thought the Cattons would forget that they had originally been two-of-a-kind, and she definitely never thought they would think she hated him.

"Maybe we don't get along all the time anymore, but at least I know Farleigh. And the guy is a lot of things, shit-stirring asshole included, but he's not a liar. If you won't listen to me, at least listen to him." Ariadne gives him one more pleading look before turning to head back to her room.

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | july 1 - july 7

36:90 – HONEY

July 1. It’s the first of July and Honey hates today. It’s the anniversary of the day that she told her parents that she wanted to leave Charlotte. She wanted to tell them ahead of their usual July 4th barbecue because they were in a good mood. She’d known for months by then, since the case against Thomas ended, that she wanted to leave the city. She’d been saving up, she had Bea on board, and her only remaining task was to tell Christopher and Stephanie that she wanted out– that she wanted to go to the mountain house and live there, alone, at least until she figured everything out.

That happened in 2019. She and Bea didn’t make it to Litchton until weeks later, after fighting with their parents about how this would be better than going to college. Honey had wanted to move immediately and rid herself of her tainted memories of Charlotte, North Carolina, but the compromise was that Bea would spend her birthday at home for the last time and the pair would pay Honey’s parents half of the value of the mountain house in order to keep it. Honey worked her ass off to complete that payment, just so that she could be out from under the thumb of her parents and free to start over. 

At times, she thinks she was too hasty. She wonders what it would’ve been like if she had stayed in Charlotte with her parents– where she would’ve ended up, how she would be living, if she would be past the Thomas thing by now. It’s truly a mystery to her and Honey tries not to spend too much time thinking about what could’ve been.

Still, she woke up feeling off today. She always does on the first day of this month and normally, she’s at work or able to hang out with Bea to take her mind off of it.

Bea, however, had other plans for the day. When Honey called her earlier and asked if she wanted to come over, or if Honey could come over to hers, Bea had gasped and apologized because she had forgotten what today was and already invited Quinn over. 

"He’s here now, but you can come hang out with us," Bea said. "I know third wheeling isn’t your idea of a good time, but I’ll give him a really quick blowie to tide him over while you’re here."

Honey had told Bea that she didn’t have to do that and that she would manage well enough on her own.

Bea, before hanging up, had said, "Well, if you decide you can’t be alone, you know who’s always free..." 

Then, when Honey had sworn into the phone, Bea promptly laughed and ended the call.

Which leaves Honey with where she is now, staring at her text messages and debating whether or not she should text him. 

For a while, Honey had convinced herself that she was fine. She had read her book, played some music and danced around her living room, prepared an early lunch and eaten the last of her peaches and blackberries. She needs to buy watermelon tonight for Independence Day, but it’s too early to head to the fruit stand. She likes to go in the evenings, when Joan replenishes her supply. She goes outside and tries to string up an old hammock she finds in the bottom of her hall closet, then she sunbathes for a while until she can feel the sunburn prickling at her skin. 

And here she is. Actually debating it– actually considering texting Trevor. Honey has only a few problems with texting Trevor– #1, that it’s the first time she will have reached out to him. #2, that she’s not averse to him coming over, not in the slightest. 

A month ago, even up until two weeks ago, Honey swore that she wouldn’t allow any of the boys to step foot into her home. This was her sacred space, rarely to be shared with anyone but Bea and occasionally Sean, Bea’s ex-fling from their first winter in Litchton who comes up to mow Honey’s grass on his riding mower once a month. Honey is perturbed that she’s okay with inviting Trevor over– even more perturbed that there’s a part of her that wants to invite Trevor over. 

Sometime after she comes inside, in true Blue Ridge Mountain fashion, it starts to storm. It’s finally July in the mountains and that means rain, at least a sprinkling, every afternoon around 3pm. Unless, of course, they’re in a drought-week, when it doesn’t rain at all. After the drought-week ends, they’ll have a short monsoon season to make up for it. 

Honey prefers when it rains every afternoon for an hour. Most days, the sun is still shining and she gets to look out for a rainbow. What seemed rare during her summers in Litchton as a child, just from her own flawed memories that have faded over time, is plentiful now. Honey loves the rainbows just as much as she did then, back when she used to play fairies in the woods with her Barbie dolls and little pink wings strapped to her back.

She wishes her parents would have allowed Bea to come visit back then so that Bea could’ve put on her own purple, feathery angel wings and run around with Honey. They used to do that in the cul-de-sac where Bea lived when they first became friends, brandishing magic wands and riding their old scooters until they were too tall to comfortably reach the handles. Then, they learned to bike.

Sometimes, when she thinks about days like that, Honey misses Charlotte. When she was a kid, Litchton seemed so far removed from her world and she would dread being alone up here with no one but her parents and the townsfolk to talk to. As she grew up, she started to understand it more. Once everything happened, the switch flipped, and Charlotte was ruined for her. Litchton was completely safe– the only thing that had been missing was Bea.

So they came up together– which is part of the reason why Honey feels extra lonely. Bea can’t hang out today and Honey misses her. Honey is lonely because she misses having Bea in the house on this very significant anniversary and that, not the fact that she wants Trevor to come over– thank you very much!– is what spurs her to text him.

“Come over?”

Honey stares at the message, deleting it and retyping it in a series of different ways (“Do you want to come over?”, “What are you doing rn?”, and “Hi”) before deleting all of them and sending her original composition with a cringe. She tosses her phone onto her bed, face down, then she crosses the room and decides to reorganize her sock drawer.

It takes all of ten minutes for her to empty the drawer, refold all of her socks and underwear, and move all of her bras to one of her cubbies in her closet. When she finally checks her phone, Trevor hasn’t responded. 

Her stomach sinks because really– she thought that Trevor was more into her. He’s always been the kind of guy to respond immediately (the one time she texted him back before this) and the kind to follow her around just to get her attention. Why hasn’t he texted her back yet?

It’s hard not to take the lack of response as a rejection, because Honey’s gone completely insane apparently and she suddenly cares what Trevor thinks and what Trevor does. She tosses her phone down again and moves on to her shoes, reorganizing them into neat lines and tossing out the pairs that she deems too old or too unfashionable or too unique to fit with anything but one specific outfit.

It’s then that she hears her back door bang open and the clatter of feet climbing her steps.

Oh my God, Honey thinks. Oh my God. There’s an intruder and he’s coming to get me. I knew I should’ve locked my back door after sunbathing! Dad told me that I needed to buy a gun if I was going to live alone in the woods!

Honey looks around the room for something to defend herself and settles on her lamp, unplugging it and holding it up, ready to crash it on the head of whatever poor soul tried to enter her house and hurt her. It’s completely self-defense.

She presses her back against the wall behind her door and subtly reaches over to lock it, just as the footsteps make it to the top of the stairs. They come racing down the hall and she rears back, lifting the lamp higher. 

The person jiggles the doorknob, then when they realize it isn’t opening, they bang on the wood. The pounding has Honey grinding her teeth and shrinking back, hoping that the person isn’t strong enough to break the door down and that they don’t have a weapon that they can drive through the door before shouting “Here’s Johnny!”

“Honey!” Trevor calls, knocking. “Honey, are you okay? Let me in!”

Honey rests her head against the wall, knocking it against the paint a few times. She’s a fucking moron for jumping to conclusions that the person in her house was an intruder– she needn’t have worried about Trevor not texting her back. Of course he was already on the way, as soon as he read her “Come over?” message. 

She sighs and her hand drops to her side, still holding the lamp. She pushes away from the wall, unlocking the door and pulling it open. 

Trevor looks disheveled on the other side, pushing his way into her bedroom and grabbing her arm to pull Honey behind him as he surveys the room. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” His eyes drop to the lamp in her hands and he furrows his brow. “What’s with the lamp?”

“I thought you were a murderer who broke into my house!” Honey exclaims, thrusting the lamp against his chest until he cradles it there.

“You invited me over!”

“I thought you would text me back like a normal person!”

“You were going to defend yourself against a murderer with a lamp?”

“Well, I didn’t have a gun!”

“You would’ve shot me?”

“This is an absurd conversation! Why didn’t you just text me back?” Honey throws her hands up in exasperation. 

“I thought you were in danger,” Trevor says. “So I came right over.”

Honey laughs. “You are such a caveman.”

Trevor breaks out into a smile. He places the lamp on Honey’s bedside table and then brings his hands to her shoulders, drawing her against his body into a tight hug. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he says, squishing his cheek against the top of her head.

Honey squirms in his arms. “Lemme go,” she says, struggling. 

“No,” Trevor insists, holding her tighter. 

“Lemme go,” Honey repeats, drawing out the word and pouting up at the boy.

“Hi,” Trevor says, loosening his grip on her just enough that he can bend down and peck the pout on her lips. “What’d you invite me over for? Thought you hated me.”

“Still do,” Honey tells him, although they both know it’s a lie. She’s still perturbed about the fact that she doesn’t hate him, but she’s unwilling to admit it. Maybe she doesn’t even have to– he seems to know. 

“Gonna answer my question?” Trevor teases. “Why’d you invite me over… and all that?”

“Oh, blah,” Honey scoffs, waving him off. “Not important.”

“Very important since it’s the first time you texted me first,” Trevor corrects. “That’s so monumental that I thought you were dying and you needed me to save you.”

“Good God,” Honey says. “I didn’t know you had a savior complex, too.”

“Why do you think I’m still hanging around with you?” Trevor jokes, winking at Honey. 

“Ugh, so not funny,” Honey tells him, rolling her eyes. “Only invited you over because Bea was busy.”

Trevor groans. “Oh, I know. Quinn went over to hers at the asscrack of dawn and slammed the front door behind him. That door is so heavy that it practically shook the whole house.” He pauses. “So I’m your second choice?”

“It was either you or Ada,” Honey says. “Except Ada doesn’t like it when we bother her on the weekend. She says she sees enough of us at the Nook on the weekends.”

“I’ll remember that next time Bea drags me to a church service and I see her there.”

“Bea drags you to church services regularly?” Honey asks.

“At least twice.”

A quick silence passes between them and Trevor grins, broad and stupid. 

“Hi, Trevor,” Honey finally says, a proper greeting for the boy. She pulls him down by the collar of his shirt and plants a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Wanna go get fruit with me?”

“I drove all the way over here, found your only unlocked door, and broke in just so that we could leave again?” Trevor asks. 

Honey beams up at him. “Yes. That’s why I invited you over.”

Trevor clicks his tongue at her and rolls his eyes, then reaches over to her bedpost and picks up her mesh bag, the one that she always takes to the fruit stand on Mondays. He slings it over his shoulder and returns to her bedroom door, holding it wide open for her. 

Honey walks past him, feeling him turn and lumber closely behind her. He stays close to her, hands pinching the sides of her hips over her jean shorts. Honey weasels out of his grip– he’s so touchy– and lets him lead her out the front door to the car. She chases him, getting him back for his own lack of personal space, using the back of his shirt like a bride’s train.

She’s giggling a little as she does so, catching herself as she pulls open the passenger door to his car. She quiets herself and sits in the front seat, her knees together and turned away from Trevor. She looks out the window, watching the trees pass until they make it to town. 

He pulls into the parking lot of the grocery store and follows Honey dutifully to the stand. Trevor greets Joan as Honey starts to shop, inspecting the berries and the watermelons on the stand. He hovers near her, murmuring and holding up one of the larger watermelons for her to inspect. 

“Fourth of July?” He asks. “Are you coming to hang out with us? Jim and Ellen are coming tomorrow and they want to have a barbecue with everyone on Thursday. Then, maybe a lake day on Friday?”

“I might be able to make it,” Honey says. “Is Bea officially going?”

“Quinn is convincing her now,” Trevor replies.

Honey snorts. She bets he is– it’s not hard to convince Bea to do something when you’re dicking her down on the regular.

Trevor nods, understanding the implication Honey is making. “So?”

“If Bea goes, I’ll go.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Trevor says. He puts the melon on his shoulder and holds it with one hand. “Get me another? We’ll need two since there are nine of us.”

“No, we don’t,” Honey corrects. “One watermelon can feed up to thirty people. I read it once.”

Trevor quirks a smile. “Okay. Only one. I’ll tell Jack that you know better than he does.”

“I do know better than he does, and I last longer in the sack, too,” Honey says definitively. She barely realizes the joke she’s making, letting the words fall from her mouth the same way she’d joke around Bea. It’s an ease that comes with years of friendship, but with Trevor, the ease came within weeks. 

She doesn’t have the time to ponder what that means for her– what her relationship with Trevor is, aside from the obvious fact that they’ve hooked up four times now. Does the fourth count if he robbed her of an orgasm by finishing so soon? She considers the other boys to be her friends– why not him? 

I don’t know. It’s just different with him.

Trevor allows Honey to load a bunch of fruit into the bag that he’s still carrying. He holds the watermelon in one hand, atop his shoulder. The other, eventually, cradles a pineapple that he took from Honey so her arms were free. When she goes to take her wallet out to pay for the fruit, he lifts a foot and nudges the back of her knee so that she crumbles forward a bit. 

She turns to him, ready to berate, but Trevor just turns his hip and pops it toward her.

“What?” Honey snaps.

“Let me pay,” Trevor says. “The watermelon is for my party, after all.”

Honey lets her shoulders sag when she lets out a deep sigh. “You won’t take no for an answer, will you,” she states.

“Nope,” Trevor replies, smiling again. 

Honey relents and uses his wallet, earning a sympathetic smile from Joan. Honey doesn’t feel like she deserves it. It’s the kind of smile you give to a mother whose child is screaming in public, or a wife whose spouse is pissing her off and she’s barely containing herself. Trevor is not her spouse, that’s for sure. She might be questioning their relationship, but she knows that it’s nothing more than friends– maybe?– who hook up.

He’s just helping her through the Thomas thing. He’s helping her get comfortable with sex again, with being desired again. That’s it.

They load the groceries into the car together and Trevor drives her back to the house, carrying all the fruit into her kitchen and insisting on putting it away.

He does so completely wrong and Honey knows that as soon as he leaves, she’ll have to reorganize based on her own system. She watches from the counter, only correcting him a few times before he tells her to quit and let him do this good deed.

Honey heads upstairs, to her bed, and changes into a pair of pajamas. It’s just about dinner time and she had plans to make herself some pasta, but she doesn’t want to crowd Trevor in the kitchen. She burrows into her bed, bringing her knees up as a stand to rest her book on while she reads it and waits for him.

It’s a good thirty minutes before Trevor returns to her bedroom, two plates in hand. Instead of pasta, he made some sort of wrap and filled a little bowl with ranch for them to dip their dinners into. She thanks him quietly and they eat together in relative silence. 

Trevor’s knee presses against her hip, touching her at all times. It’s a little overstimulating, but Honey doesn’t mind it all that much.

“I didn’t really want to be alone today,” Honey says through a bite. “That’s why I invited you over.”

“Okay,” Trevor says simply. He doesn’t press any further, and while Honey appreciates that, she also wishes that he would.

She talks on. “Today’s the day I told my parents that I wanted to leave Charlotte.”

Trevor pauses and watches her for a moment before taking another bite of his wrap. “That sounds like it was hard.”

Honey blinks, surprised that Trevor’s first instinct is to be empathetic, not to ask more questions or shrug her off like she assumes most frat-boy-esque guys would. 

“It was,” Honey acknowledges after hesitating for a moment. She looks down at her plate in her hands, then moves it to her bedside table and leaves it there. She’s not very hungry now that she’s talking about her life with Trevor. She’s not on the verge of tears this time, which is exciting.

“You left because of him,” Trevor says. “Didn’t you?”

Honey sucks her teeth. “It was a little more complicated than that. Thomas’ actions were the straw that broke the camel’s back, really. I had wanted to live here for a while and I knew that I didn’t want to go to college, but yes. I moved because of Thomas.”

“Was it the right decision?” Trevor asks, polishing off his wrap and wiping his hands on his shirt like a neanderthal. Honey wants to berate him for not having proper manners– another side effect of growing up where she did in Charlotte. 

Honey thinks for a moment. “I asked myself that this morning, you know.”

“Great minds.”

“Hmm. Wouldn’t call your mind great, Trev. Too many hockey concussions, I bet.”

Trevor chuckles, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Whatever, Honey.”

Honey considers his question again as he leans over the edge of the bed to set his plate on the floor. “I think it was the right decision. I’m happier here than I ever would have been as an adult in Charlotte.”

“With me?” Trevor teases, inching closer and bundling himself under the covers next to Honey. 

“I only just met you, I wouldn’t say you’re a big part of my happiness in Litchton,” Honey tells him. “You’re reaching.”

Trevor shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

“But, yeah. Today’s the anniversary of the day that I told them I wanted to leave. It’s a weird day for me.” Honey pushes his wandering hands away and gathers their dishes before walking to the kitchen. She starts to wash the plates and the bowl of ranch, which went relatively untouched throughout their meal. 

Trevor follows her to the kitchen, doing that same puppy-dog thing that he always does. “I can’t imagine you anywhere other than Litchton.”

Honey raises her eyebrows quickly, widening her eyes in a sarcastic glance at the boy. She scrubs her plate harder, making sure there are no scraps remaining. “Really,” she drawls.

Trevor snickers. “You sound like Jack. Yeah, really. Would you ever tell me about what Charlotte was like for you?”

“Mm. Maybe someday. Not today. I’ll answer any other question.” Honey realizes shortly after Trevor’s face lights up that she should be more careful with her words.

“So do you really last longer than Jack in the sack?” Trevor asks, jumping at his chance to hold her to her statement. 

“Oh, fuck off, Trevor,” Honey laughs. She sets the wet plates in her dishrack to dry, then dries her hands on the washcloth that she keeps on the handle of the cabinet near the sink. 

“C’mon,” Trevor goads, smiling wide. He rounds the counter and puts his hands on Honey again, tugging at her loose shirt until her chest is pressed up against his front. “You said you’d answer any other question. That’s my question.”

“You are so annoying,” Honey groans. She rolls her head back so that she can look up at the boy, putting distance between them. 

Trevor scrunches his nose and leans down, inches from her lips. “Do you really last longer than Jack in the sack?” He whispers.

Honey pinches her lips together to avoid smiling at his silliness. She likes the side of Trevor that she sees when they’re alone, his quiet confidence and goofy charm. She’s a little embarrassed to admit that it’s starting to work on her after all this dedication. He still gets on her nerves, though, and his lines are stupid and that will never change. 

She lifts up onto her tiptoes slightly, daring the boy with her own whisper. “Wanna find out?”

When Honey says it, to be fair, she doesn’t expect Trevor to say yes. She expects him to pull away with a laugh and lead her back up to her bedroom, where they’ll snuggle in her bed because he’s touchy and too apprehensive to cross the line until Honey initiates their next hookup.

What she doesn’t expect is for Trevor’s eyes to flash and then grow dark, for him to bend at the knees and grip the back of her thighs and lift her. He carries her away, up to the loft, and he tosses her onto the bed on her back. A yelp escapes from Honey’s lips. Trevor follows her down, blanketing her with his body. He kisses her, long and deep, causing her to melt underneath him.

Then, when they break apart, she pushes him up and looks at him, squinting at his face. He’s content, hovering above her for a moment.

“All bark, no bite?” Trevor asks, his thumb rubbing in soothing passes on her cheek. That hand cradles her jaw while he cups her waist with the other. 

“I don’t bite, unless you want me to,” Honey says, parroting his own words from the night that she jerked him off in his bedroom. 

Trevor seems to recognize the words, leaning down to kiss her again. “I want you to,” Trevor murmurs. “I want you to be all bite, Honey.”

Honey shrugs with one shoulder, nonchalant. “Whatever you say.” Then she places her hand on the back of Trevor’s neck, her index finger tickling the hair at his nape. She pulls him down, leaving absolutely no space between their bodies, and she fits her lips over his pulse point, bruising his skin with her suction.

She’s going to teach him a lesson for leaving all those hickeys on her neck on Saturday. He’s going to get the exact same treatment. She’s half-sure that it’ll backfire on her and he’ll just show the marks off without a care in the world, but she can only hope that he experiences the same shame she did. They’re not in high school, for fuck’s sake– hickeys aren’t cute or practical. They’re a pain.

Although, the little moan he breathes out when she nibbles at his skin is so appealing that she just loses herself, sucking marks along his neck.

Trevor pulls his shirt off, exposing more skin for her to mark up. Honey kisses down his chest, along his collarbones, and over his shoulders before licking her lips and tasting his sweat. He tugs at her shirt, making it go askew before he can fully take it off because he’s so excited to get his fingers on her tits again. 

Honey knows her nipple piercings are hot. It’s part of the reason why she got them– she loves to look at herself in the mirror, loves to see the expression on people’s faces when they learn that she has them, loves to answer the question “Did it hurt?” that inevitably comes up within minutes of the piercing reveal. 

She just didn’t know that Trevor would like them so much. 

His mouth is practically sealed over one of them, tongue flicking over it in little kitten licks that have her breathless and gasping in order to keep her mind from floating away. It took a couple of months for her piercings to become as sensitive as they are now and she would absolutely go through the entire healing process again if it means that Trevor will treat her tits like this every time they hook up.

He’s ignoring her other breast so that his fingers can find her pajama shorts, a Walmart pair with stars on them and a scrunchy waist. Trevor dips his hand under the waistband, finding that she’s not wearing underwear. She rarely does when she’s wearing pajamas, especially considering her favorite pajama shorts are a pair of old boxers that she can’t get rid of, despite who they used to belong to. 

Trevor moves quickly, skimming his fingers along her folds until he decides that she’s ready to take one. Then, he starts to finger her– harsh and quick and just enough to get her ready and loose. He wants to go the whole way and Honey knows it. Better yet, she’s okay with it. 

She wrenches him off of her chest with a hard tug to his hair, drawing a whine from Trevor’s throat that she drinks up. She kisses him again, using her other hand to pull his waistband back and snap his shorts against his hips. It’s her not-so subtle way of telling him to get a move on.

Trevor removes his hand from Honey’s shorts, tugging them off, then tugging his own. He loses the articles of clothing in the bedsheets as he makes his way underneath them. Honey can feel the covers brushing her skin, feeling light and airy against her body. Trevor’s hand returns to the space between her legs and his fingers press into her cunt, stretching her open.

He’s not nearly as fervorous as the first time he fingered her on the counter in The Reading Nook. He kisses her in a way that has her mind straying from the feeling of his fingers inside of her. 

“You want me to make you come now? Or do you want to come on my cock?” Trevor asks, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks.

“Don’t care,” Honey replies. “Whichever.” She rolls her hips down on his fingers. His thumb catches her clit and she jolts, her hand finding Trevor’s side and digging her nails into the skin. He tucks the “offending” digit to the side, avoiding her clit. It’s the opposite of what she meant for him to do, but he does it anyway. He speaks. 

“Here’s our dilemma,” Trevor says. “I could make you come now, but that means you might finish as fast as Jack would. But, on the other hand, then I’ll make you come on my cock, and Jack can barely even dream about coming twice in one night.”

Honey’s not sure why he’s still thinking about how long she lasts in the sack compared to Jack when he’s got her in the sack… underneath him… and naked. 

“Or, you could last longer and I’ll make sure you come while I’m fucking you,” Trevor finishes. “What do you think?”

Honey huffs and drags her hand under his underwear, pushing the band down as far as she can with one hand. “Think about it like this, Trevor. You could make me come once or you could make me come twice. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Trevor’s eyes widen as she says it, like her words are really that eye-opening and meaningful.

“Oh, you’re coming twice,” Trevor decides. He wiggles his fingers inside of her, scissoring them as he thrusts and twisting on occasion, just for a new sensation. “I’m going to make you come so many times this summer, Hon.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Honey replies. She’s close to the precipice, reaching down to rub her clit for the added stimulation. 

Trevor frowns and bats her hand away. “Let me do that,” he complains.

“Then do it,” Honey says. “Because y’sure are taking your time for someone who wants to see me come so bad.”

“Don’t be so bossy,” Trevor chastises. He bullies his fingers inside of her, replacing her fingers on her clit with the heel of his palm. “I know how to make you feel good. Trust me.”

Honey feels taken aback, surprised by Trevor’s chagrin. It’s clear that he prefers to take charge in the bedroom, even though his sweet little noises highlight how well he takes what Honey gives him. 

At one point in her life, she liked it when her partner took charge in the bedroom. It’s part of the reason why she let Thomas take pictures and why she sent him nudes while they were apart. She got a kick out of it– but ever since she experienced Thomas’ betrayal, she has become so much more self-sufficient and independent. Honey is on the borderline of independent and hermitish, having grown so used to being alone.

That isn’t to say she doesn’t miss the feeling of being ordered around. She enjoys being told what to do, being led in that way, and she knows that she likes it. What she’s not sure of is if she can trust Trevor like that– it took her a long time to get to that point with Thomas. Logically, it should take even longer with Trevor.

For the first time in a long time, Honey really wants to throw caution to the wind. She wants to take the illogical route. She wants Trevor to take care of her. It’s a matter of saying yes– yet, her mind is calling for her to deny him. Her mind is calling her to continue the attitude, to bat him away the same way he pushed her hand away and show him how well she can take care of herself– because she doesn't need him. She's fine on her own.

But she wants to lose herself in him. She wants it more than she’s wanted anything. 

“Relax,” Trevor murmurs. He kisses her lips chastely. When he pulls away, he kisses her cheek and redoubles his effort between her legs. His fingers are swift and agile, always moving in some way, and it really is only a matter of time before Honey is trembling beneath him, gasping and stuttering because it’s the only response her body has to Trevor.

In a moment that’s positively inspired, Trevor’s fingers nudge against the soft, spongy, elusive spot inside of her. His contact causes Honey to cry out and clutch at his skin, wherever she can get her hands. 

“Trevor, keep– there,” Honey chokes out, rolling her hips as best she can while her legs shake. She’s close, so close. She can feel her restraint slipping away with each pet of the pads of Trevor’s fingers on her walls. 

The ecstasy of being with someone, rather than doing this alone, continues to send a thrill through her because it’s new. It’s been years since she had this. It’s been years since she wanted to have this and Trevor proves himself more and more worthy each time they have one of these moments.

If Honey isn’t careful, she’ll fall for him further with each climax he gives her.

The thought can barely cross her mind before she’s tumbling over the edge, her mind’s last ditch effort at self-preservation buried by an avalanche of pleasure, kickstarted by the man with whom she told herself she would never be alone.

Trevor carries her through the debris of her orgasm, a guiding hand secure on her hip to keep her body from arching off the bed. 

“So good, baby,” Trevor praises, pressing his lips to her cheek. He touches his pelvis to her side, giving himself some relief and reminding her that there’s still more to come.

Honey can’t even correct him when he calls her ‘baby,’ despite normally being against the sentiment. The only people in her life that have ever called her ‘baby’ are Bea, her parents, and Thomas. Bea’s aware of Honey’s aversion to the pet name, so usually she tacks ‘Honey’ onto the name and doubles up. Honey doesn’t mind that so much.

She kind of likes the way that the word bleeds from Trevor’s mouth, though. It’s soft and laced with some sort of admiration that she can’t define. The word rolls off of his tongue like it’s the most natural thing in the world and, as much as Honey dislikes it, she wants to hear him say it again. He says it like the end of a prayer.

Her hand dips into his shorts and she wordlessly tugs at them again, insistently pulling until Trevor laughs and buries his face in her neck to blow a raspberry. It’s then, after indulging in his silliness, that he lifts his hips and sheds his underwear. 

Honey smacks his shoulder lightly, scolding him for leaving her neck wet and for dillydallying so much. It’s not much of a punishment, but once his cock is freed, she wraps her fingers around his cock and starts to work over him.

Despite his low groan and the way his hips lurch forward, Trevor touches her wrist. “Don’t,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to come in your hand this time.”

“Where do you want to come?” Honey whispers at the same volume. Her hand moves slower, but it still moves nonetheless. 

Trevor leaks from his tip, cursing her name softly. “In you,” he admits, mumbling a little. “Wanna see my cum leak out of you.”

“God, you’re possessive,” Honey faux-scolds. “You love when there’s proof that you’re fucking me, huh?”

Trevor blushes at her call-out, rolling on top of her so that he can bury his face between her breasts. His hands are on the sides of her chest, smushing her tits together so that he’s practically smothered. It’s so silly and so boy that Honey wants to giggle.

Honey touches his hair, petting through the strands until he’s able to show his face again. Before he can speak, she continues.

“You know,” Honey muses. “Once every three months, Bea and I have a girls day where we go to this clinic in Winston and treat ourselves to a birth control shot.”

“You do?” Trevor asks, popping up like a meerkat. His features are contorted with delight, forming that fuckass face he always makes. 

“Mhm,” Honey confirms. “And it’s 99.7% effective.”

“Well, .3% is such a slim margin. I think I’m willing to risk it,” Trevor says.

Honey fixes him with a little look. “You think?”

“Actually, I know I’m willing to risk it,” Trevor corrects. “I need to fuck you. You don’t know how badly I’m aching for it.”

“Explain it to me,” Honey goads, squeezing his shaft and guiding it to her lower lips. She’s dripping from her previous climax, but even without that, she’d probably be wet enough for Trevor to bury himself inside of her. 

“Never wanted anyone like I want you, Honey,” Trevor tells her earnestly. “I can’t explain it in words. I need to fuck you because I need to show you how I feel. I need to make you come until you’re absolutely boneless and stupid because it’s how I feel when I’m around you.”

Honey quirks her eyebrows, reaching down to trail her hands through her wetness. She smears her come all over his cock, an action that has Trevor closing his eyes because he’s so overwhelmed.

“I can barely fucking stand being around you sometimes because I want you so bad,” Trevor whines. 

He’s groveling as she teases him, guiding his tip through her folds. He’s blurting precum, creamy and mixing with her own juices. Honey remembers how he tasted, musky and manly and she thinks about doing it again, depriving him of her warm cunt and instead treating him to her warm, wet mouth.

“I’ve never– fuck, all my other times have been sex for sex, Honey. Not with you. Never with you. Need to make you feel good because you make me feel so, so good.”

Honey feels lightheaded at his words and how honest he sounds when he says them. She was never going to deprive him of her pussy, but he’s certainly made a case for himself. It’s impossible to even consider sucking him off now.

Honey brings his tip to her center, feeling herself flex and widen to embrace him. 

It’s monumental for Honey. They’re both holding their breath as Trevor takes over and inches forward, smothering her neck in sweet kisses that don’t leave a mark, thank you very much. Honey wraps her arms around his neck, keeping him tight against her body. She’s biting her lip until she realizes she can feel the vein on the underside of his cock throbbing inside of her, which is when her mouth falls open and she keens.

Trevor treasures the sound, tip brushing against her walls in a way that has her making the same noise again.

Honey rakes her eyes over his face and down his chest. She catches a series of crescent shapes on his chest, indenting the skin there. In a flash, she connects that it’s the place where her fingernails caught on his skin the first time she came, digging into his body almost violently because he made her feel so overcome with satisfaction. She clawed at him and in astonishment, she traces the marks. 

After touching those marks, Honey lets her eyes fall lower, to the place where he’s fucking into her. He’s still moving slowly and she can see the way she’s coating him completely. It derives more of a feeling, watching him fuck her. Feeling it is one thing, but seeing it is another. It intensifies her excitement, drives her closer to the edge.

She always comes more quickly the second time, her ability to hold on struggling with each hard snap of Trevor’s hips.

It’s been less than two minutes since he started fucking her and Honey is reeling.

It seems Trevor is going through the same thing.

“God, you’re tight,” Trevor grunts out, his teeth clenched tightly. “Can’t believe I’m fucking you.”

“Can’t believe you’re fucking me,” Honey echoes, her eyelashes fluttering as she takes him in. 

There’s reverence in his eyes, reverence that flickers into something softer when she speaks. He’s barely holding himself up, hovering just enough that he can drive his hips into her heat. He still shares her breath, his lips just millimeters from hers. She can practically taste the sweat forming at the bow of his lips because he’s so close. 

“Did you–” Trevor starts to ask, but he cuts himself off. 

Honey fills in the blank. Did you think about this? “Couldn’t help it,” Honey admits. “I–” She interrupts herself with a moan when Trevor increases his pace, increases the strength of his thrusts. 

“And you say you hate me,” Trevor teases. He sweeps his thumb across her cheekbone, then pushes her messy hair up onto the pillow and out of his way. It’s spread around her head like a halo, and it probably looks silly, but Honey can’t find it in herself to care. 

“I do,” Honey reminds him, the protest growing weaker each time she says it. She pulls him down by his hair, scratching over his neck and back until her hand rests on the base of his spine, feeling it flex and curve with each movement. She fits her mouth next to his ear and whispers, “But I don’t hate the way you fuck me.”

Trevor shivers in her grip as she whispers to him. “Yeah?” He asks, all breathy. Honey could probably come from just the sound of his breathing. “You like this? Like it when I fill you up with my cock?”

“Oh, I needed it,” Honey banters back. The statement is half true– she didn’t really realize how much she missed having sex until the possibility came back into her life. The other half is purely a joke to stroke Trevor’s ego– she knows he gets off on being wanted by her, having his feelings reciprocated. 

He is a good fuck. He’s someone that Honey is able to give herself to because he cares that much. 

She’s coming before her mind can start spitballing anxious accusations: that Trevor will leave her worse than Thomas did, that she’ll have to move towns again, that people will start talking about her behind her back again and knowing things that they have no business knowing.

No, her troubles and anxieties are just the tiniest voice in the back of her head, barely audible and certainly not important. 

The important thing is the way that Trevor spills inside of her when she clenches down. She can feel him twitching, see the way his eyes roll into the back of his head and his head dips as his chest heaves and stutters, and hear the way his strangled moan gets caught in the back of his throat. Soon enough, she can taste his tongue against hers, kissing her and slowing everything back down to a normal pace after the burst of energy that exploded from her body when they came together.

It takes them minutes to come down. Their breath syncs up, although neither of them realizes it, and Trevor is slow to pull away.

It’s just the two of them and Trevor is cuddly, Honey learns. He keeps an arm over her stomach as she lays on her back. He lays his cheek on her shoulder, watching her until he rests his forehead where his cheek lay, closing his eyes and pressing a kiss to her skin.

Today seems to be a day full of broken promises for Honey, because she once said that Trevor would never make it to her house. She once said he would never fuck her. She once said he would never see her again.

Now, he’s asleep in her bed, and Honey can only turn to him, curl up in his arms, and take a deep inhale through her nose, letting Trevor’s scent wash over her. It’s comforting and strong, just like his arm around her, and Honey presses a series of kisses over the crescent shaped marks on his chest before she closes her eyes and falls asleep.

37:90 – TREVOR

It was hard for Trevor to tear himself away from Honey this morning. Well, he uses the term “morning” loosely. When he woke up, it was as the sun rose because Honey apparently always wakes up early before her first shift of the week. Trevor had tried to hold onto her and keep her tight against his chest, but she had wiggled away.

Then, he had rolled to her side of the bed and breathed in the smell of her shampoo on her pillow. It had taken him minutes to blink his slumber away and gain control of his limbs, enough that he could roll out of her bed and follow after her. 

He couldn’t find his shirt, so all he could pull on were his boxers and his shorts. Once he started following Honey, it didn’t take him long to figure out why his shirt was missing– it’s because she was wearing it.

Trevor’s morning wood was already a contender that Honey had denied when they had woken up, but seeing her in his shirt made Trevor’s dick twitch with interest like she had never said no. Of course, he didn’t mention the boner, or the fact that she was wearing his shirt, because she would just give him lip about it and whip the thing off before he could tell her how much he liked it.

Honey made coffee, mostly for herself, and Trevor stole the last of it to make himself half a mug of the warm drink. As he did that, Honey bundled up on the sofa with her book and a blanket. She got to reading, blowing cool air on and sipping her coffee intermittently. Trevor joined her and just watched.

They didn’t speak much– just a sentence here and there from Trevor and a hum from Honey answering him. Sometimes, she would make a little noise about something she read and Trevor would ask her to read the line aloud. Out of context, her huffs made little sense, but Trevor liked being part of her morning routine.

While he would’ve preferred to sleep until noon with the beautiful girl, Trevor decides he would get up early every morning to experience this quiet domesticity with Honey, if that’s what she wanted. 

When the clock mounted on Honey’s wall chirped to mark the start of a new hour, she promptly snapped her book shut and looked at Trevor. 

He had gotten the hint and wished for her to have a good day, leaning across the couch to offer up a kiss, which he was delighted that Honey actually took. They rarely kissed outside of hooking up, or getting close to hooking up, but Trevor felt the same rush of affection in his kiss goodbye as he did in the kiss they shared when he pressed his fingers inside of her heat.

“See you on Thursday?” Trevor mentioned quietly before he went but after the kiss, hoping that Honey would definitively show up to the Hugheses’ Fourth of July barbecue, the first one to be thrown in Litchton.

“Mhm,” Honey had agreed quietly, a minute nod shaking her body with the movement on the plush couch cushions. She brought a finger up and touched the corner of Trevor’s mouth, just a trace, before letting her hand drop back down.

Trevor kissed her again, then he went.

He’s sure that she got ready for her opening shift at The Reading Nook after he left. She probably realized she had donned his shirt after getting out of bed and changed into something more Honey. He wouldn’t complain about that– he loves her tiny tank tops and her little daisy dukes and her flowy, unique skirts. 

Yet, in his caveman way– as Honey would call it– Trevor loved seeing her in nothing but one of his Ducks-branded shirts. That’s why he left the shirt adorning her beautiful body, an image that he’ll keep coming back to in the days to come before he sees her again. 

Thursday. He’ll see her Thursday.

He pulls into the driveway of the mountain house, thinking about how Honey is probably parallel parking on Litchton’s main street. He likes the idea that they’re living their lives adjacently, that she’s doing the same thing as he is. Maybe she’s thinking about him, and how he’s just now arriving home, too.

He’s so preoccupied with Honey’s habits that he hardly notices the new car in the driveway. Ellen and Jim must have driven up late last night instead of staying the night in the Charlotte hotel that Quinn had booked for them. 

When Trevor walks through the door, Cole calls for him from the kitchen. 

“Honey, I’m home!” He teases, popping his head around the corner. “See how it works both ways, Z? You’re hopeless for that gi– where’s your shirt?”

The abrupt change in conversation has more heads peeking out from around the corner, looming eyes surveying his half-clothed figure. Quinn rolls his eyes, Jack smirks, and Ellen tilts her head like she’s about to scold him.

“I was– working out,” Trevor says. It’s not technically a lie. He hopes that it’s close enough to the truth that it can redeem him, especially in the eyes of Ellen Hughes, who is practically his second mother. 

Luckily, Ellen is the kind of mother to ignore her children’s sexual exploits when she can. She tries to avoid them, taking any lie that comes her way without a grain of salt. She’ll buy anything as long as it can make sense.

“Well, honey, why don’t you head upstairs and get a shower,” Ellen suggests. “Then you can join us downstairs– with all of your clothes– and you can join us on our tour of the town?”

Trevor’s heart does, in fact, flip-flop when Ellen calls him “honey,” like a pavlovian response. 

“Oh, Mom, one of the girls is named Honey,” Luke says gently. “Y’gotta stick to other nicknames. We wouldn’t want to get confused.”

“And when am I meeting these girls?” Ellen asks. “You all have mentioned them every time we’ve talked. I’m anxious to see what’s got all of my boys so smitten.”

“Smitten,” Jack repeats with a scoff. “They’re our friends, Mom.”

Trevor takes that sentiment as his leave of absence, heading up the stairs and hopping in the shower. He takes his time, washing his hair and hastily scrubbing his body with soap to get rid of the traces of Honey so that he feels less guilty around Ellen and Jim. The ghost of Honey’s hands– as wonderful as they feel when he’s alone– raise goosebumps over his skin when he thinks about Ellen and Jim knowing.

Maybe Honey is rubbing off on him. 

In all honesty, it’s probably the fact that Trevor has now gotten an insight into the private life that Honey lives. She doesn’t want to share their relationship with people. She barely wants to share herself with people, but she’s started to welcome Trevor in. 

Hell, she invited him over yesterday. She teased him in her sweet, devoted, but biting way. It’s the same way that she talks to Bea when they’re sharing jokes or private moments in a room with everybody. Trevor is starting to get to know Honey. 

He doesn’t want the other guys to know and chirp him for it, because she’ll close back up. He doesn’t want Jim and Ellen asking about their relationship, because it will make Honey shrivel up and close in on herself like a piece of origami.

So, Trevor plants a worm in Jack’s ear. 

“Sorry I ran out so fast yesterday. I didn't know the ‘rents were driving up. I would’ve stayed.”

“Nah, man, it’s all good,” Jack says. They’re walking down the main sidewalk. They passed The Reading Nook a hundred feet or so ago and it took everything out of Trevor to not look inside and find Honey. “You were busy.” He raises his eyebrows when he says the word, smirking to himself. 

Regardless of his assumptions and fuckboyish attitude, Trevor notes, now is the time to save himself and Honey from speculation.

“Yeah, I–” he clears his throat. “Was chatting with someone and ended up spending the night with her. She’s leaving soon for a vacation, so I wanted to, uh. You know.”

They’re out of earshot of the parents and the brothers (and Cole), but Trevor knows Jack will pass the words along to the rest of the boys the same way the knitting ladies string gossip along their needles.

Jack eyes him. “You’re not– with Honey?”

Trevor huffs out a little laugh, concocting the lie that came to him in the shower earlier perfectly. “Dude,” he laughs. “Honey and me? She wouldn't touch me unless she was dared to.”

“But you like her,” Jack insists. “And I told her that you like her.”

“When did you– never mind,” Trevor says, shaking his head. “The point is, she doesn’t want me. I’m finding my kicks elsewhere.”

“You know, Bea would probably…”

“No,” Trevor interrupts. “I’m not hooking up with Bea.”

Jack puts his hands up in surrender. “Alright, bud. You’re probably right not to chase Bea. She wouldn’t hook up with you anyway. Quinn wouldn’t allow it.”

At the mention of his name, the older boy turns and casts a glare at the boys walking behind him. He keeps walking forward in line with his dad, but his sharp look tells Trevor that he had been listening in since the mention of Bea’s name.

God, he’s like a fucking dog, turning his head at the first mention of his girl.

Trevor is no better.

Luke walks arm-in-arm with his mother down the block, all the way down to the grocery store. It’s a Tuesday, so Trevor’s favorite fruit stand isn’t set up out front. It’s weird. He never goes to the grocery store on Tuesdays. It’s a completely fresh crowd of people in this small town, people that he’s never seen before. 

That is, until a gruff voice sounds behind them in the beer aisle. They were buying more Michelob for Jim to share with Quinn and Jack. “Boys,” the man says, voice sharp.

Trevor turns and sees Earl hobbling towards them, shoulders rounded from years of poor posture. He’s alone, or so it seems.

“Hey, Earl,” Trevor greets. He sticks his hand out when the man is near enough, then shakes it. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah, it’s a real treat,” Earl grunts. He fixes a stink eye on Luke, who hesitates and flushes like he hopes the man can’t see him. Luke half-steps behind his mom before Earl continues. “Why did I hear from Miss McLean that you’ve been chopping wood in your backyard when you know I sell perfectly good wood at my store?”

Trevor goes to laugh, but stops himself. Earl is just like Honey, but fifty years older and a man– he’ll stop at nothing to embarrass those who are on his nerves. Trevor’s fond of the shared idiosyncracy, just in different ways. He definitely isn’t fond of Earl in the same way that he’s fond of Honey.

“Don’t blame little Lukey,” Cole says, jumping in. “It was a Saturday. Earl, you’re not open on Saturdays.”

Earl’s arched eyebrow and reproachful gaze turns to Cole. “As if my wife wouldn’t make me open that store just to sell you some logs, boy.”

Cole turns bashful. 

“Where is Vera?” Trevor asks. “Is she shopping with you today?”

“Hell no,” Earl says. “She doesn’t like to do the shopping. I do it. She cooks the food I bring home. We’ve been doing it this way since we got married. She’s off with her little friends at the Nook down the street. Or maybe she’s at home. I don’t know. As long as we end up in the same house by nightfall, I don’t worry too much.”

“How about I come by tomorrow and pick up a couple’a bundles of wood for our Fourth of July celebrations,” Trevor offers. “I’ll buy extra to make up for Luke’s missteps.”

Earl nods and hmphs at the boy as an agreement, reaching out to shake Trevor’s hand again. He nods at Ellen, then at Jim, then walks off. 

“Who was that?” Jim asks, the edge of his lips turned up the same way Quinn’s does. 

“He’s the owner of the hardware store,” Quinn explains. “He’s really close with Bea and Honey. Bea thinks he’s like the grandfather she never had.”

Trevor bites back a “and how do you know that, Q?”, choosing instead to press his lips together and survey the beer options.

“There are a lot of characters in this town,” Ellen comments. She’s got a tiny smile on her face as well, already enjoying the peculiarities of the town. 

“You haven’t even met the best ones yet,” Quinn replies with a nonchalant little laugh.

Trevor knows that he means Honey and Bea, and quite frankly, he couldn’t agree more. They’re not natives, but they’re easily the most interesting part of this town. They breathe the life into the town.

Maybe it’s just because they’ve been the group’s tour guides over the past couple of weeks. They know the town and they’ve welcomed the boys enthusiastically, helping Litchton to feel just as special to the boys as it is to them. 

Part of it might be that Trevor can hardly imagine where he’d be if he hadn’t come to Litchton this summer. He despises the idea that they could’ve spent the summer in Michigan at the lake house like always. They would’ve gone through the same motions as always– boating, surfing, golfing, pool, and the like– and Honey and Bea would’ve been far away. Neither groups would have known that the other existed.

The idea of being without Honey, now that he’s known her, tears Trevor apart. It’s why he has to keep their secret. He has to go at her pace, refusing to let his own feelings for her turn into a snowball growing as it rolls down a mountain like in a cartoon. He’s not walking on nails or anything, but it’s a bit like torture to want Honey this much.

She’s always on his mind, if only in the back of it, echoing faintly with each of his thoughts. Even when he’s laughing with the boys, who sometimes feel more like his brothers than his actual brother, she’s there.

He can’t explain it. All Trevor knows is that he needs her.

38:90 – HONEY

The Reading Nook is closing early for the week. It’s the last day of Honey and Bea’s work week, so they’re doing a deep clean. It’s a Wednesday, too, so there’s nothing special happening today. The ladies came in yesterday, the children’s storytime is canceled for tomorrow due to the holiday, and Ada wants to close on Friday so that she can stay in Raleigh for a few extra days with her family. 

Bea was conveniently on time this morning. Honey soon learned that she was waiting until Independence Day to meet Jim and Ellen, with whom she is already on a first name basis. Honey assumes that Quinn told her to call their parents by their first names, despite the fact that Bea would probably prefer to call them “Mr. and Mrs. Hughes.” Honey knows that that’s what she’ll be calling them tomorrow.

Honey also thinks that Bea is waiting to meet the parents because she’s procrastinating. She’s nervous. She has never met the parents before in a relationship, nevertheless a relationship that has so many different dynamics. 

Consider this: you’re primarily nervous because the parents of the guy you like are coming into town. On the other hand, you’re fucking his brother and one of his best friends too.

Long story short: Bea has every right to be nervous.

Honey has been trying to keep her busy. She’s been trying to keep Bea’s mind off of this. Unfortunately, there’s not much that can keep Bea distracted. 

They swept. They mopped. They reshelved. Honey and Bea rearranged the stacks to make the Nook into a more open-floor plan. Then, they sat on the beanbags in the children’s section for an hour. Honey read her book and Bea talked to her sister on the phone, tossing and catching the golf ball that she had produced from her bag when they cleaned it out.

And now there’s about two hours left in their shift. Bea has shut her phone off and tossed it onto the table in the back room. She’s still tossing her golf ball around and Honey is growing tired of hearing her sighs and deep breaths.

There’s one thing that will keep Bea entertained for hours, but Honey has been putting it off as long as she can– partially because she wanted to sit with it before telling Bea or anyone else.

She closes her eyes and braces herself, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ll never guess what I did on Monday,” Honey says. 

“Ugh, finally, she speaks,” Bea groans, rolling to face Honey on her beanbag. “What did you do?”

“Trevor,” Honey reveals simply.

Bea’s reaction is comedic. Her jaw drops and stays there. Her eyes are wide, but her brows are drawn together. She blinks at Honey and squints, allowing her mouth to close slightly like she’s about to speak before she tilts her head like a dog waiting for a treat. She almost forms a word, but then she pokes her tongue into her cheek and shakes her head. She rolls off of her beanbag towards Honey and, in a very smooth and coordinated moment, picks it up to use it like a pillow in a pillow-fight.

Honey shrieks when Bea attacks her, lifting her arms to protect her face.

“What the fuck do you mean you ‘did’ Trevor? Why the fuck am I hearing about it now when this shit happened on Monday? I tell you everything about Quinn,” Bea complains, vicious and seething.

“I didn’t ask to hear everything about Quinn!” Honey defends herself.

“You signed up for it when you became my best friend!” Bea exclaims, her voice shrill. “Just like how I signed up for your stories, bitch!”

“Come on,” Honey scoffs. 

“No, no,” Bea corrects, wagging her finger. “Not ‘come on.’ ‘Come on’ is what I say when you hold out on me, which you are.”

“I’m not holding out on you, I’m telling you now,” Honey says.

“Two days later!”

“Good fucking God,” Honey sighs. “Can’t you let me process it for a while?”

“I can, but I’m going to be mad about it,” Bea insists. Her voice raises into a whine. “Why can’t we process it together?” 

Honey stares at her for a second, then shakes her head with a little laugh. “Why would we process it together?”

“Because it’s a big deal for you,” Bea says. “We always talk about big stuff like this. Do I need to remind you that I was the one to encourage you to fuck Trevor in the first place?”

“Irrelevant.”

Bea frowns and glares pointedly at Honey. She quirks an eyebrow, challenging the girl.

Honey stares back, a slight smile growing as she and Bea have a silent staring-competition. Bea loses, which makes Honey laugh and causes the other girl to pout.

“Please,” Bea pleads. “I want to know all about it. This is the first time in, like, five years that I’ve gotten to hear real stories like this. When Hayden kissed you on that one date, you cried for ages and you didn’t even tell me if it was a good kiss.”

She’s, of course, referring to one of two dates that Honey went on between Thomas and Trevor. Hayden was a dating app boy that had kissed Honey and caught her so off guard that she bawled. 

“That’s because it wasn’t a good kiss,” Honey returns. 

“Okay, and this one was,” Bea says. She looks at Honey expectantly, still rolled tight against Honey’s beanbag. She’s hugging her own beanbag to her chest, but her arms can’t quite fit all the way around it. 

Honey relents, sighing and rolling her eyes as she says it. “Yes, Bea, Trevor is a good kisser.”

Bea smiles, shit-eating and wide. “What else is he good at?” She wiggles her eyebrows. 

Honey’s face practically burns. She’s writhing a little, embarrassed by Bea’s vulgarity. 

She hesitates too long, because Bea rises up into a cross-legged sit, beanbag covering her lap like a blanket, and hovers above Honey. She sets her face in an annoyed, cross expression like that will make Honey move more quickly. “You have to tell me,” Bea says in the most threatening tone she can muster, which isn’t very intimidating considering Honey has known her for most of their lives and cannot take her seriously most of the time.

“I’m gonna!” Honey exclaims, covering her face to hide the goofy smile that’s overtaking it. “Let me get my bearings.”

“You’ve had two whole days to get your bearings, you little slut!” Bea says, a little bit too loud because Ada shushes them and reminds them to use proper language in her building.

They giggle about it for a moment, leaning against each other. Bea buries her face in Honey’s shoulder, shaking with silent but open-mouthed laughter while Honey tries to smother her own. It’s not funny– but here they are laughing like it is.

“He fingered me,” Honey mumbles eventually, once they’ve calmed down. It’s sheepish and she’s still red, her cheeks prickling with heat. 

“Yeah, and he fingered you last week, too,” Bea sasses. She snaps her fingers, her voice growing into a sing-songy drawl. “Something new, please.”

“He loves my tits,” Honey tells her. 

Bea claps. “Now we’re getting somewhere. The nips?”

“The nips,” Honey confirms.

Bea was there when she got her nipples pierced. It was one of their weekends in Winston when they first moved down to Litchton. Honey was in a bad state and had been for weeks. She was a complete wreck over Thomas, constantly fearing that he’d make his way to the mountains because he knew about her summer home and that she’d see him out and about. She was terrified that the people in the tiny town would learn about what happened to her and pity her and she needed a big change.

Bea had introduced the idea of the piercing nonchalantly. “You’ve been thinking about getting your nipples pierced for ages,” she had said. “Let’s just go into the city to some tattoo parlor and get it done. It’ll be like a hundred bucks maximum.”

Honey had agreed, realizing that she had been thinking about piercing her nipples for ages. There was no good reason not to– she wasn’t living at home anymore, she wouldn’t be using her parents’ money, and she didn’t have a boyfriend who would touch her piercings all the time. That was that. They had gone to a tattoo parlor and gotten it done, then Bea had taken Honey out for hot chocolate to combat the chill of the ice pack stuffed into her sports bra to reduce the swelling from the fresh bars.

They healed in about nine months and Honey was ecstatic after she had gotten them pierced. It was the perfect change and it got her buzzing– she went back to the tattoo parlor for a few more piercings in her ears before she bit the bullet and got her first and sole tattoo.

It was a little dragonfly surrounded by a bed of flowers. She got it right on her lower back, realizing only after that it was in prime tramp stamp territory. By then it was too late, but she loved it. She chose the dragonfly because she had changed so much after Thomas and she learned through reading her poetry books that dragonflies symbolized change and growth. She liked the design too– it wasn’t just the “artsy-fartsy symbolism shit,” as Bea calls it.

It occurred to her on Tuesday that she was glad Trevor had fucked her in missionary. She wasn’t quite ready to explain to him that she got the tattoo and the piercings because, at its very core, she wanted to be permanently different after she left Charlotte. She was already permanently different on the inside, but the transformation of her body was a change that she could control.

She doesn’t regret her choices one bit. She feels sexier with them, with each of them, and Trevor’s glowing reviews of her nipple piercings are a good sign. She likes that he’s so receptive– she likes it a lot.

Despite not wanting to explain her tattoos to him and get all mushy, Honey is not embarrassed to admit that she’s thought about Trevor fucking her from behind and pulling out to come all over the small of her back. She might’ve gotten off yesterday thinking about his cum painting over her tattoo in white strokes and how his eyes would grow darker when he’s done marking her up.

That’s neither here nor there.

What is here, however, are Bea’s constant questions. She peppers Honey with question after question about Trevor’s sexual habits and abilities (even though Honey knows she told Trevor that she doesn’t want to hear about him like that), requiring every detail. Honey is so caught up in describing the way his voice gets breathy when he gets close that they don’t even notice the tinkling of the bell on the door, signaling that someone is entering the store.

The girls don’t even look up, hearing Ada greet the customer. Honey just lowers her voice and continues on. Bea is staring at her with wide, attentive eyes. She nods with each new scrap of information that Honey presents. She continues to ask questions.

“Wait,” Bea says. “Go back. You went to jerk him off to give him some relief and he told you not to? Because he didn’t want to come? What do you mean, he didn’t want to come?”

“He didn’t want to come in my hand,” Honey clarifies.

Bea’s mouth forms an ‘o,’ then she smiles devilishly. “Where did he want to come?” She prods. “On the tits he loves so much?”

Honey barks out a short little laugh. She wouldn’t put it past him. He probably thought about it milliseconds after seeing her breasts for the first time.

“That’s the best part,” Honey says. “He wanted to come inside me.”

“He did not,” Bea gasps, holding a hand over her mouth and touching her index finger to the tip of her nose. “He told you that?”

“And then practically motorboated himself because he was embarrassed,” Honey confirms.

“He’s such a little freak!” Bea exclaims, grinning ear to ear. “So he came in you, and what? Cleaned you up? Q always–”

“Don’t care,” Honey interrupts. “Like, no? We fell asleep before I could go shower or anything.”

Bea shudders. “Ugh, didn’t you feel gross?”

“Not really,” Honey drawls. “Yes? But it also felt good. All of it was good. He’s– experienced.”

Bea narrows her eyes. “Experienced,” she repeats.

“Not in a bad way,” Honey says. “It’s just clear that he knows what he’s doing.”

“I hope you’re talking about me,” says a voice from the aisle. “I would hate to learn that there’s someone else satisfying you the way I want to.”

Honey and Bea’s heads both snap to face the person standing in front of them. The universe seems to be playing a sick joke on Honey because she just can’t stop humiliating herself. Of course the customer was Trevor, the exact person that she’s talking about graphically with her best friend.

Bea bursts into laughter almost immediately, while Honey isn’t sure if her face turns pale or a bright, fire engine red. 

Trevor is smirking at her. Honey knows in an instant that he’s proud of his entrance and how he surprised her. She knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he heard her review and is now all smug and condescending. 

She hates that. She doesn’t want him to be smug and egotistical like a famous hockey player, or like any other attractive man in his twenties, to be fair. She wants him to be goofy and silly and doting like he is when it’s just the two of them.

Honey just buries her face in her hands and hides behind them. She curls up on the beanbag and wishes that she could disappear.

She hears Bea stand, still laughing, and pat Trevor’s arm. “I know I told you that I wasn’t interested in speculating or believing anything Honey told me about you,” Bea says. “But I’m glad you made our born-again virgin come two times in one night. Maybe go for three next time.”

Honey’s face burns impossibly hotter, especially when she hears Trevor breathe out a laugh of agreement.

Bea walks away, leaving the boy to join Honey on the abandoned beanbag. She can hear him slide it across the floor and she can feel it press into the fabric of her own beanbag.

It isn’t long until his fingers find her wrists and he pulls her hands away from her face. He’s laying on the bag next to her, turned to face her with adoring eyes. It makes Honey sick to her stomach, a little bit. 

“Hi, Honey,” Trevor says softly, intertwining his fingers with hers. He grips her hand, but she keeps her fingers stiff and straight.

“Hello, Trevor,” Honey replies, monotonous. 

“My girl,” he muses. He lets his eyes wander over all of her features and Honey embellishes a frown just to spite him. It makes him smile. “Embarrassed I caught you talking about me?”

“Needed to cheer Bea up. She was running on fumes. She’s nervous to meet the parents.” Honey changes the topic and speaks in short sentences, avoiding Trevor’s lovesick little puppy eyes. Ugh. She can’t stand him.

“Mm, how about I never make you meet my parents?” Trevor offers, taking his hand from her loose fingers and running his knuckle over her cheekbone. He’s still laying on his side. He’s folded one of his arms up to use as a pillow.

“I don’t think our relationship is quite like that,” Honey says.

“You’re right,” Trevor agrees. “Especially because we’re not telling anyone.”

Honey goes to open her mouth, but he cuts her off.

“Speaking of which,” he begins, dramatic emphasis on the first word. “The boys think I’m on Raya.”

A nagging feeling washes over Honey, causing her to curl her lip. “Why would they think that?” She asks.

“Well, because I told them I was,” Trevor says. 

Honey goes to open her mouth again, but he cuts her off again.

“In the interest of not revealing our relationship, I told them that I had met up with someone and that’s why I spent the night away. I wanted to tell you in case anyone mentioned it.”

Honey sets her jaw and feigns a shrug. “Okay.”

Trevor narrows his eyes. “‘Okay’?” He repeats. “That’s it?”

“I don’t care what you tell the boys,” Honey says. “As long as you’re not telling them that we’re together.”

She kind of hates the idea of Trevor being on Raya, or on any dating app. She’s the one that he’s fucking. She knows that it was her idea to keep it a secret, but the fact that it takes some fake other woman to cover up their shenanigans bothers Honey. She doesn’t want him seeing other women. That’s not sanitary, especially if they’re fucking bare. What if this imaginary other woman gives him an STD?

That’s not the only reason, her mind points out. Also, she's imaginary. Imaginary women don't have STDs. You just don't want Trevor to fuck other women so that you can have him all to yourself–

Shut up, Honey hisses back, overcorrecting and locking that niggling thought in a safe. 

It’s convincing enough. Trevor squints at her for just a second longer before his face clears. He leans closer and plants a kiss on the corner of her lip, mostly because Honey turned her head at the last second to avoid him. That causes him to frown, but he shakes it off.

That’s one thing she’s willing to admit that she likes about Trevor. He adapts to her moods very well. He’s patient. She appreciates that. 

He lifts his book to show her the cover once he sits up.

“For Ellen,” he explains. “She needed a book.”

“Yeah. There’s not much to do in Litchton,” Honey says. She feels lame, words spilling from her mouth in a way that is awkward and uninterested. 

Why does she have to get like this? It’s not like Trevor is actually fucking another girl. He just thought up a convenient lie to keep the boys at bay. Isn’t that what she wanted? Why does she feel so… bland?

Trevor brushes a piece of hair off of Honey’s forehead. “Gonna tell her it was a recommendation from Bea. Would that make things easier for you? Get Bea off on the right foot with the mother so you don’t have to hear about all of her anxieties?”

“That would be fine,” Honey says. It’s better than fine, really, but she can’t seem to find a way to express that. She’s going to go home later and overthink this exchange in the shower for sure.

Trevor leans down and presses his lips to her forehead for a moment. His touch lingers even after he pulls away. “See you tomorrow, baby.”

In another moment that Honey knows she’ll regret later in the shower, she doesn’t even correct him. By the time she thinks to, he’s already standing and walking away, leaving the store.

She’s already dreading seeing him tomorrow. Is it too late to cancel?

As they leave the store an hour later, Honey asks that question to Bea and nearly gets smacked across the face for even considering leaving the other girl alone in her time of need. Honey’s stuck. The sky seems extra dark tonight because of it and she knows she’s going to have a restless sleep.

It doesn’t occur to her that her doubt and disjointedness stems from the fact that she’s starting to really care for Trevor. It’s too impossible. Honey would never grow to like Trevor like that– right?

39:90 – TREVOR

Jim has been on the grill all day. Like his oldest son, he’s happiest when he’s behind the grill, save for when he’s on the ice. 

Quinn is standing right next to his father, flipping burgers. He’s been there for only a few minutes. It’s the first time that he’s left Bea’s side all day. The only reason he left Bea’s side is because Ellen pulled out a stack of baby pictures that she brought to show Bea– at Quinn’s request. Despite the shrieks of laughter from Bea and constant awws between shrieks, Trevor can’t feel bad for Quinn. This was by his own design.

Annoyingly, the baby pictures have stolen Honey’s attention, too. She’s quieter than Bea, usually just looking up from the album to stare at the person pictured. Sometimes, she’ll lift the picture and hold it next to the person in her line of vision.

“Lu, I didn’t know you were so blond as a baby,” Honey calls. 

Luke and Cole are stoking the bonfire. It’s a hot day, but it’s become Fourth of July tradition to eat and drink around a bonfire. Luke barely looks up to reply to Honey, just shrugging and returning to the pieces of wood below him. He and Cole are attempting to make the logs stand in a conical sort of configuration. The wood keeps falling over.

“We thought he’d have my hair for the first few years of his life, then it started to turn brown when he was in elementary school,” Ellen says. “I was so disappointed.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if I carried three babies and none of them had my hair,” Bea says. She fluffs her freshly-cut layers (another distraction tactic while dreading meeting the parents, if Trevor had to guess) and purses her lips. “I like my hair too much and I’d be disappointed if no one had my color.”

“I thought the same thing, but I don’t mind the brown so much,” Ellen says, looking over at Quinn and Jim. “I like that they look like their dad.”

“Well, Jack has your smile,” Bea adds. “So at least that’s something.”

“Quinn does too,” Ellen replies. “He just doesn’t know how to use his smile.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Honey agrees. Her lips quirk in a tilted smile. Trevor wants to kiss her. “Mrs. Hughes, we love your sons, but none of them can fake a smile. They always look so awkward.”

Ellen laughs. “Don’t I know it,” she says. “When they were kids, Jim and I had to make potty jokes to get them to smile instead of saying ‘cheese.’”

Bea snorts.

“Mom!” Jack exclaims from next to Trevor, helping slice up toppings for the feast. “That’s just not true.”

“You were the worst!” Ellen replies. Then, she says to the girls, “We had to do personal lessons on smiling in my bathroom mirror. I think that’s when he really fell in love with himself.” She winks, teasing her middle son.

If Jack wasn’t right next to him, holding a knife, Trevor would mention that he caught Jack doing something similar the other day. The boys had just gotten the news that they were chosen to be on the cover of NHL ‘25 and Jack had promptly disappeared upstairs to ‘work on his look.’

Trevor makes eye contact with Honey, sharing a slight smile with the girl before returning to the half of a watermelon on the cutting board beneath him. 

“He is quite a fan of himself,” Honey muses. “But we can forgive him for it.”

“Stop talking about me,” Jack grumbles.

“J, how can we not? Look at this picture,” Bea says, brandishing a shot of the three brothers on a pier at the lake when they were children. “You’re wearing the rattiest baseball cap, a terrible shell choker necklace, and the string on your very long basketball shorts is a quarter of the size of Luke.”

“Quinn’s string is worse,” Jack fights back. “And his shorts are longer.”

“Yeah, but Quinn is cute,” Bea teases, pursing her lips and blowing a kiss at Jack.

He waves it away.

Trevor knows there’s a picture in that stack of photos depicting him, Cole, and Jack in their first stint together at USNTDP. They’ve all gone back since that first round, but those years together were pivotal for their friendship. In the picture, his hair is all messed up by the wind, but they’re all laughing at something stupid Cole had said just before the picture was taken. 

He knows Honey has seen the picture when he feels a pair of eyes boring into him. He glances up and there she is, pinching the corners of a print and raking over Trevor. He flashes a little finger gun at the girl, then goes back to his melon.

It isn’t long until the burgers and hot dogs are ready. Jack has finished cutting up all the toppings, Trevor has finished with the watermelon, and Cole and Luke have gotten the fire roaring. The girls put the photos away. 

They file through the makeshift buffet in a single-file line. Ellen goes first, a common courtesy that the boys uphold every year. Jim and Quinn go next, having cooked all the food. Trevor goes next, despite Jack’s great effort to shove ahead in line. 

They all choose seats around the fire, which is crackling in a satisfying way. Praises stem, blooming all over Luke and Cole. There are only six chairs– the other four that they found were either broken or so completely dusty and dirty that Jack had bailed on cleaning them off. 

Ellen perches on the arm of Jim’s chair, Bea finds herself pulled down onto Quinn’s lap after trying to respectfully stand near him, and Honey is the last to try and find a seat. She opts to stand between Luke and Cole’s chairs and Trevor really wants to have her sprawl out across his legs so that he can feed her bites of watermelon, but instead, he just stands and offers his seat.

At first, Honey refuses it. She’s been acting weird since he came to see her at The Reading Nook yesterday. He’s hoping it’s a weird mood like the one on Monday, her dreaded July 1st. Unfortunately, Trevor has got a feeling that it’s something to do with him.

After he tilts his head and implores for her to “Just take the seat,” she relents. He’s left standing and eating his food between Cole and Luke, both of whom invite him to come and sit on their laps if he’s uncomfortable. They think it’s funny but it’s not, really.

Trevor’s a little preoccupied with Honey’s reservation at the moment. He had thought he was doing the right thing by telling Jack that he was hooking up with someone off of a dating app, considering Honey wants to keep things private. She had been agreeable enough yesterday, and she had still allowed him to kiss her and call her ‘baby’, but her words had just gotten shorter and shorter. 

He wants to think of a way to get her back to goofy and joking self. She’s bratty and biting most of the time, but now she’s just… there. And he can tell that it’s bothering her, too, that she’s getting shorter with him. Sometimes she seems like she’s trapped in her own body, like she wants to say something but it just can’t leave her mouth. 

The idea pops into his head when he’s walking to the bowl of watermelon slices to get another. He doesn’t cut this one up, instead opting to hold the slice to his mouth and take bites out of it.

The juice will definitely get Honey’s attention. If he knows anything about her, he knows that she likes it when they’re fucking, and this will spark her imagination.

He takes a bite as he walks back to the circle, hovering right in Honey’s line of vision. She keeps her head down stubbornly, focusing on clearing her plate. 

Trevor isn’t quiet while eating his slice of watermelon. He chomps on the fruit, slurps up the liquid that trickles down to coat his fingertips, and still Honey does not look up.

He’s halfway through the slice when Honey finally notices him.

She just glances up at first, catching Trevor in her line of sight before going back to her plate. Then, she does a double take. Her eyes zero in on the lower half of his face and widen, but she does a good job of masking the reaction and returning her face to neutral.

Until he bites into the watermelon again, letting his eyes bore into Honey’s when she fixes him with an annoyed look. Her eyes flicker lower, then return back to his. Her expression has turned from exasperated to pleading– for Trevor to cut it out, he presumes. He will not.

No, instead he just smiles and takes another bite. He wiggles his eyebrows at her. He lets the juice from the melon gather at the corners of his mouth, not even wiping it when it starts to drip down his face.

Honey scowls and flashes a mean glare at Trevor. 

They’re communicating silently, a rush going through Trevor as he realizes that Honey completely understands what he’s doing and he completely understands what her non-replies and nasty looks mean.

So, he brings his thumb to the corner of his mouth and mops up a bit of juice. He brings the dripping pad of his digit to his mouth and lets his lips close around it, raising one eyebrow as Honey’s jaw clenches and the muscle in her cheek twitches.

He’s almost got her– almost.

It’s a little gross, but he finishes his last couple of bites as messily as he can without arousing suspicion from the other boys, or, heaven forbid, the Hughes parents. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand, then runs his fingers through his hair. It has the desired effect– his hand is a little wet and it makes his hair a little bit stiff, strands clumping together because of the sticky juice.

His action also gets him the desired reaction from Honey. She sets her plate down and wipes her mouth with her napkin, stands, and stomps into the house. 

Her movement draws the eyes of almost everyone in their circle. Jim, Cole, and Quinn are the only ones that don’t look up to watch Honey go. They continue to pick at their food. One of Quinn’s hands is on Bea’s thigh.

“I wonder what that’s about,” Ellen says.

“Maybe I should go see,” Bea muses, uncrossing her legs so that she can move off of Quinn. He holds her there. 

“She’s probably just going to the bathroom,” Quinn says. “You worry too much.”

Bea turns to him and frowns. “She got sick here like two weeks ago, remember? Maybe I should worry.”

Trevor shrugs. “I’ll check on her. I’m standing anyway.”

He tosses the rind of his fruit into the trash as he goes toward the house. He enters through the sliding door into the basement and he climbs the stairs to the main level. When he doesn’t find Honey in any of her normal haunts– the kitchen, the balcony, or the living room– he heads upstairs.

He calls for her with no response. He checks the bathrooms and the bedrooms, finally at the point where he’s wondering if she left when he opens the door to the final unexplored room in the house: his own bedroom.

As he opens the door with a little creak, Honey’s hand darts out and grabs onto his shirt. She’s pulling him into the room and kicking the door shut when the handle slips from his palm.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” Honey snaps. 

She smells like vanilla. Trevor had been trying to place the scent for ages, but he finally found her bottle of perfume the other day. Now that he knows it’s vanilla, he can’t ignore it. Yes. She smells like vanilla. It’s so Honey.

Trevor smiles at her, letting his hands find her hips over her shorts. “Not trying to piss you off,” he says. “Trying to turn you on.”

Honey seems to lag for a second, looking at him with a tilted head. She laughs. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Trevor says. He noses against her cheek, testing his luck by letting his lips inch closer and closer to hers. “But did it work?”

“Your ploy with the watermelon?” Honey asks. “Trevor, if you want to eat me out, all you have to do is say that. You don’t have to trick me into hooking up with you at this rate. You can just ask.”

Trevor didn’t realize it was that easy. Lord knows that if he’d asked, she would’ve ragged on him mercilessly until he’d kissed her silly. Then they would’ve hooked up, but just asking is not ‘that easy.’

Despite his theory that it’s not quite so simple, Trevor asks. 

“Can I eat you out?” he asks. He pecks Honey’s lips before she answers. “Please?”

“Well, there are parents downstairs, so no,” Honey says. 

Trevor fixes her with an unimpressed look. “So it’s not as easy as asking.”

“No, I prefer when you beg,” Honey says, her face breaking into a smile. She’s beaming up at Trevor, proud of herself for that little comment. 

“Do you want me to?” Trevor asks. “Because I can.”

Honey makes a nonchalant noise, leaning into Trevor’s space and claiming his lips. 

“I’d like to see you beg,” Trevor murmurs.

“I don’t beg,” Honey replies.

“I bet I could make you beg,” Trevor says.

“I bet you can’t.”

Trevor grins. “What do I get if I win the bet?”

“You’ll never win, so probably nothing,” Honey says. 

“Can I try something?” Trevor asks.

“Nothing while the parents are downstairs,” Honey says.

“Well, the parents are outside, so I think we’ll be okay,” Trevor says. He pauses and raises his eyebrows, signaling Honey again. “Unless you really don’t want to.”

“You’ll have to make it quick, we’ve already been gone for too long,” Honey says. She wiggles out of Trevor’s grasp and shimmies out of her shorts, settling down on the side of the bed. 

Trevor follows after her, sinking down so that his knees are flush with the ground and his head is fixed right in front of where her legs meet. “Something else, too,” he says. He fits his hands on her hips, now only covered by her underwear and her shirt.

“What?” Honey asks, sounding fond and playing into what Trevor is saying.

“You’re never allowed to undress yourself again,” Trevor mumbles. “Not while I’m around. I want to do that.”

“I can only promise you that if you prove yourself worthy.”

“Feeling like Your Royal Highness again?” Trevor teases, chortling out a breath. Just as she opens her mouth to speak, he lowers himself down and licks over her clothed cunt, dampening the fabric even further. She’s wet already– always a good sign, Trevor was starting to wonder if he was the only person in this relationship that became aroused at the slightest chance of intimacy. 

Maybe he’s overexaggerating, but at least Honey is wet. At least he’s hard. Things seem to be working out.

“Just making my court jester entertain me so I don’t have his head chopped off,” Honey replies. She lifts her hips slightly so that Trevor can dig his fingers into her underwear and start to drag them down. She moves one of her legs so that the bend of her knee is right over Trevor’s shoulder. With a bend of her leg, she pulls him closer. “So entertain me.”

“You’re bossy,” Trevor says.

“You like it.”

“I can be bossy too,” Trevor says. 

Honey barks out a little laugh. “Okay. Whatever you say, Trev. How about you focus less on bossing me around and more on eating me out?”

Trevor hums noncommittally, but he kisses over the insides of her thighs. He refuses to kiss over her core until she’s begging, true to his bet. That means he has to put in the work now. 

‘My’ court jester, Honey had said. He smiles to himself. The insult is nothing compared to the way she called him ‘hers.’

He teases her on purpose for as long as he can. He can smell her and he’s unashamed to say that he’s absolutely drinking it in. He refuses to count each time that they’ve hooked up, firmly believing that the second he lets himself think these hookups with Honey are a real, consistent thing, it’ll end. 

He can’t let it end, which is why he treats every one of their encounters like it’s the most special moment of his life. He thinks he’d probably like lifting the Stanley Cup more, but it’ll be hard to compare the two events until he wins a Cup. Until then, he’s got Honey and her sweet, sweet wetness. It’s calling his name.

“Hurry up,” Honey says. She threads her fingers through Trevor’s hair.

He’s always liked when girls touch him, especially when he’s going down on them. Honey’s different, in a way. The girls of his past had touched his hair to give themselves something to ground them. Honey grabs his hair to keep him in place, to guide him where she wants. He likes it, but he’d like it even more if she would let him work his magic.

She’d laugh if she heard him think that, which makes him laugh.

“Don’t giggle when you’re going down on me,” Honey scolds. “It makes a girl very insecure.”

“Sorry, baby,” Trevor says. He traces his nose over her folds, then his lips along the same path. “Didn’t mean it.”

She tugs his hair and whines out a little complaint at his teasing.

Trevor takes one of his hands off of her hips and brings it to cover the hand in his hair. He tightens his grip around her wrist, lifting her hand from his locks. He turns her wrist over and slots his fingers though hers, holding her hand tightly. 

“Let me do the work,” Trevor says. “Court Jester has to make his Majesty come.”

“Then stop making jokes,” Honey spits out.

When Trevor looks up through his eyelashes, she’s craning her neck so that she can get a good look at him. She’s checking his work like an overbearing TA. God, lay down, Trevor thinks. Instead of telling her outright, he lowers his mouth to her core. He doesn’t deny himself the pleasure of tasting her any longer.

Trevor ignores Honey’s movements under his mouth in order to fully take in her taste. He’s focused on licking over her hole, prodding at the opening with little kitten licks until she’s more wet from his spit than her own slick– because he’s cleaned all of that up. The taste of her is coating his tongue and, while Trevor knew that he would never want to part from her again after tasting her for the first time, it’s even worse than he thought. 

He feels like he’s eating a really, really good meal and it’s so amazing that he’s lifting his plate and licking all the crumbs off of it. In his mind, he’s doing this in a restaurant where people are whispering and pointing at him for being so disrespectful and impolite. In reality, the restaurant is his bedroom and his plate is Honey. 

He can feel her juices dripping down his face onto his chin, just like the watermelon juice from earlier. It’s exactly by design. Everything that he imagined himself doing when he decided to seduce her with the fruit is happening, all according to plan.

Trevor feels her hole flex around his tongue when he pushes it inside of her. Her clit is slippery as it slides over the curve of his nose. She’s moaning and grinding down on his face, but she’s not begging yet. Her voice sounds like it’s cutting through a dream, or maybe like it’s a beam of sunlight shining through a layer of clouds. Either way, he loves how she sounds. It just reinvigorates him, making Trevor double his effort. He slips a finger into her, right where his tongue used to be, and he starts to move it in and out of her. 

She swallows him, greedily inviting his digit further and further inside of her warmth. His knuckle brushes against her muscular opening, stretching her. Trevor’s much more aware of her noises now and the way that her hips twitch with each pet of his fingertip. 

“Beg me,” Trevor says.

“I don’t beg,” Honey responds through gritted teeth. The hand that’s in Trevor’s is holding onto him with a vice grip, whereas the other one is bundled up in the pillow under her hair. Her back arches off the bed with a curl of his index finger.

Trevor wishes they had more time so that he could take off her shirt and ravage her more properly. He wants to get his hands on her tits, on those spectacularly pierced nipples. He wants to make her come all over his tongue and then he wants to kiss her until all she can taste is herself.

“If you don’t beg, I won’t let you come,” Trevor teases, although he can’t imagine leaving her so unsatisfied. She’d kill him if he built it all up to take it away. 

But it would be fun, a little voice in the back of his head says. She’ll need it more next time if you take it away.

‘Next time,’ he thought, although he said that he wasn’t going to count the times they hook up or that he wasn’t going to start looking forward to the next time, since it’s never guaranteed.

Now, he’s thinking that it might be fun to tease Honey like that. 

“I don’t beg,” Honey repeats. Her twisting hips and tight grip has Trevor thinking otherwise– maybe not verbally, not yet, but Honey is begging for more in her movements. She’s close. He can tell from the way her pussy contracts around his finger and his tongue.

He’s trying to fit both inside of her now, flicking the end of his tongue as quickly as he can. He maneuvers his thumb around, tilting his head to the side so that he can continue to lather his spit into her cunt like a french kiss while the pad of his thumb starts to pet over her bundle of nerves.

Her breath hitches with a moan, her tone high-pitched and wanton. Trevor smirks against her, closing his eyes and surrounding himself with the sensations of her being– her body writhing beneath him, the taste of her wet on his tongue, the warmth of her cunt around his fingers. Her leg is still thrown over his shoulder, pulling him close. 

Trevor pulls back to press a kiss against the skin of her thigh. He rests his cheek on her skin, looking up at her while she grinds on his fingers. He fits a second one inside of her, admiring how her stomach is starting to glisten with a thin sheen of sweat. He hooks his arm around her thigh, then touches her waist. 

“You gonna come?” Trevor asks.

“Yes,” Honey bites back.

Trevor stills his fingers. “Then beg,” he says. “I wanna hear that pretty voice tell me how bad she wants it.”

“I don’t beg,” Honey says again.

Trevor’s smirk widens. “Then I guess you won’t come either.”

He draws his fingers out of her, albeit a little reluctantly on his end. She fights to keep him inside, flexing her muscles and closing her legs with him still between them, but Trevor bats her away and escapes. He can feel his eyes twinkling as he smiles at her, smug and proud of himself for being so strong. His resolve could crumble at any second, to be fair. If Honey were to say one ‘please,’ Trevor would be inside of her and making her come before she could think of something else to say.

For now, though, he manages to hold fast. 

Honey’s betrayed expression, abhorred and disgusted, almost makes Trevor want to laugh. It almost makes him want to apologize and smother her with kisses– this might be his final offense. She may never allow him to touch her again. He seems to doubt that, though, which is why he just rocks back onto his haunches and stands. He towers over her, but he keeps a hand on the leg that was once around his shoulders. Now, it’s curving around his waist. Trevor pats the side of her knee and kisses the same spot before dropping the appendage. 

“You’re kidding,” Honey says. She sounds despondent. Her legs are spread and she brings one hand up to run through her hair. 

“You think?” Trevor asks. He leans down over her, putting his hands on either side of her head to hold himself up. He kisses her, just a peck, before standing again. “I’ll see you down there.”

He heads to the door, winking at Honey before he opens his door and slips out. He walks down the hall, down the stairs, and all the way back to the bonfire.

The parents and boys seem none the wiser, but Bea gives Trevor a reproachful, knowing look. She can’t have found out that he denied Honey an orgasm already– he only just came downstairs. 

Honey gives him the same look when she eventually rejoins the group, bundling up in a sweatshirt that she stole from Luke the week before. She pulls her legs up into the sweatshirt too, looking like a blob in her foldable campout chair. She pouts the whole night and scowls at Trevor when she catches him looking– he likes her so much. All of her little looks just make him smile in his fond way, which makes her frown even more. 

She’s his brat. It’s about time she got a taste of her own medicine– her attitude was always going to get her in trouble. He’s really enjoying it.

40:90 – HONEY

Honey almost doesn’t want to join the boys on their lake day today. She almost wants to stay home and give Trevor the silent treatment for the rest of the summer for taking a second orgasm from her the night before. First, he comes in his pants far too quickly, then he’s actively eating her out and he stops? Who does he think he is? 

If he had had a good reason to stop, Honey wouldn’t care. But to stop because she won’t beg him for a release or for more? She knows that he didn’t want to stop. He just did it to piss her off.

And it worked! It completely worked. She left the house in a huff late last night, then chattered about Trevor’s big mistake the whole drive back to Bea’s place. Bea had been equally disappointed with Trevor’s performance, although slightly less enraged than Honey. She was more concerned about not spending the night with Quinn after spending so much time in his lap. She acts like she’s a touch-starved, wounded animal when she doesn’t get her way– and at least if she had spent the night with Quinn, he would have made her come!

Honey is frustrated, and annoyed, and she wants to concoct a plan for revenge that is so diabolical that Trevor will never deny her what she wants ever again.

Ever again, she says, as if she’ll be seeing him after the summer ends. 

If he keeps pulling stunts like this, she certainly will not be seeing him after the summer ends. She will be avoiding him forever after the summer ends. 

Fucking Trevor.

She’s pissed. Still– she went to sleep pissed, she woke up pissed, and she went about her day. Pissed.

Now, Bea is picking her up so that they can drive to the lake and meet the boys and Honey wants to yell in the car. 

“I could scream,” Honey says as soon as she opens the passenger door.

“Then scream,” Bea replies. She turns down the volume on the stereo and rolls the windows up so that Honey isn’t airing her grievances to the world while they drive to the reservoir about twenty minutes up the road. “Are you still screaming about the fact that you didn’t come last night? Or did Trevor do something else wrong?”

“He might as well have,” Honey grumbles. She buckles herself in and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Is that why you’re wearing your sluttiest little swimsuit?” Bea asks.

Honey gasps, then looks down at her chest. She’s wearing a strapless striped red and white top with matching bottoms. It’s not even her swimsuit. It’s Bea’s. She didn’t like it, so she left it at Honey’s. Honey is only wearing it because it’s the closest thing she has to a Fourth of July outfit. 

“It’s not that slutty, and it was yours first, so of course it’s the sluttiest swimsuit I have,” Honey answers. 

Bea grins at her before throwing the car in reverse and backing out of Honey’s driveway. She reaches over Honey’s seat and rests her hand on Honey’s headrest. Honey rolls her eyes and looks out the window. Honey is not Quinn. Bea’s chest doesn’t need to be in her face. 

“Plus, it’s the most patriotic look I have,” Honey adds.

“You look like a candy striper,” Bea says. It’s not a compliment. 

“Be fucking serious,” Honey says. “I do not.”

“You do, but I don’t mind it. I’m sure Trevor won’t mind it.”

“Ugh, don’t even bring him up,” Honey groans. She leans her head back on the headrest and scrubs her hands over her face. “I can’t stand that fucker.”

“Can’t stand him so much that you lay down in his bed every chance you get,” Bea says. 

“Hey–”

“Or you can’t stand him so much that you sit on the counter in the back and let him fingerfuck you until you come all over the area where I make my lunch every day,” Bea continues, raising her voice as Honey protests.

“Ugh, that’s enough,” Honey says. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Don’t bring that up. It just reminds me of what I’m missing.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to do about it?” Bea asks. “You were throwing some lofty accusations out into the world last night.”

Honey swears under her breath. “I had an idea.”

“A real idea?” Bea teases. “Or just an empty threat?”

“Was thinking about flirting with him so much that he thinks he’s getting laid and then I’ll just, kinda… y’know,” Honey mumbles. Her skin prickles with shame.

“Toxic,” Bea says. “I like it.”

“Well don’t say it like that,” Honey complains. “I’m not a toxic person.”

“Trevor makes you crazy and he didn’t let you come last night. I think you’re allowed to be a little toxic, especially if it means I’ll get to laugh at him all day long,” Bea says. “I’ve been sorely lacking my ‘laughing at Trevor’ time.”

“You’ve been too busy hanging out with Quinn.”

“You’ve been hiding away with Trevor. I can’t laugh at him if you’re keeping him from us. I have to be in the same room.”

“You’re not going to be in the same room as us if I can help it,” Honey tells her.

“I’m going to be stuck on a boat with you all day.”

“If I don’t throw you overboard.”

“Let me have my fun,” Bea whines. “I can’t fuck the boys until after Jim and Ellen leave tomorrow.”

“You’re a shitty liar,” Honey says. “I know Quinn snuck out last night and came over.”

“No, he didn’t!” Bea refutes, but she turns bright pink and stares out the windshield. Normally, when she drives, she can’t keep her eyes on the road because she’s too busy throwing glances at Honey. 

Honey stays silent, stifling a laugh.

Bea glares at her from the side of her eye. “Whatever,” she says. “How did you know?”

Honey reaches over and taps the skin behind Bea’s earlobe. “He left a mark.”

Bea’s hand flies to cover the tiny, barely noticeable hickey. Honey only noticed it because she knows Bea and she saw Quinn lean up and kiss Bea in that exact spot after dinner last night. It was mostly chaste– but Honey has seen him done much, much worse when the parents aren’t around.

“He’s out to get me, I swear it,” Bea announces. She pushes her knuckles over the skin like she can get rid of the bruise with a few swipes of her hand. “He wants to embarrass me in front of his parents.”

“Maybe he just wants you to loosen up,” Honey suggests. “Maybe he senses that you’re freaking out.”

Bea turns her head and frowns at Honey. “He knows exactly what to do when I freak out. He doesn’t need to leave hickies on me as proof of purchase, or whatever. Do you know what Jack will do when he sees these? He’ll chirp. He’ll chirp and chirp and chirp like little fucking Tweety Bird and then it’ll become a big thing where I’m fucking Quinn, and Jack is jealous or whatever, and Ellen will catch on. It’s my slut summer and I don’t want her judging me.”

“So, what? You’re going to get revenge on him, too?” Honey asks. “Going to join the dark side with me?”

Bea sighs. “No. I like him too much. Despite the hassle, I really, really love when Q marks me up.”

“Maybe that’s why he did it,” Honey says. “Because he knows how much you like it.”

Bea hums. She turns the radio back on, then rolls the windows down. Honey’s hair flips in front of her face and all around the vehicle until she ties it up with the navy handkerchief she’d tied to her belt loops as a nice Independence Day accessory. 

It’s midday and the sun is burning a bright hole through Honey’s sunglasses. Cole had better have brought his sunscreen like their last lake day. If he didn’t Honey is going to be even more upset because she’ll have to buy a tub of aloe vera to fix her burns.

It takes another ten minutes to pull into the parking lot near the boat shed. Bea manages to find a spot next to Quinn’s big rental car. They are not in the car, nor have they been for a while. Bea says that they went out in the morning so that they could soak up as much sun as possible. It’s only the second time that Honey has ever seen them rent a boat all summer, whereas they’re so used to owning their own boat on their own lake. It’s definitely a change of pace and Honey can’t blame them for needing time on the water. She used to be the same way. 

She used to go on family trips to the beach for weekends and she even went on Thomas’ family trip to the beach each year that they dated. That’s two whole weeks she spent with Thomas and his entire family– one for each year that they were together.

She shakes the memory and follows Bea to the pier where they docked last time. The boys are on time, approaching from the distance. It doesn’t take them long to tie the boat down and help the girls over the hull. 

It’s Cole who helps Honey over the edge and Quinn who helps Bea, although neither of them really need it. Honey finds Trevor on the boat almost immediately, bundled up in a towel next to Jack. His hair is dripping from a recent bout on the wakeboard, Honey presumes, and she hopes that he fell in. She doesn’t really, but for the sake of the moment and for the sake of her continued plan of revenge, she scrunches her nose up and closes both eyes and wishes that he fell of the board and got left behind in the water for a few minutes.

It’s truly the least that he could do after leaving her so high and dry the night before.

‘I’ll see you down there,’ he had said. Fuck that.

“Hey, Co,” Bea says. “Can I borrow some of that sunscreen you’re so adamant about using?”

“Yeah,” Cole agrees. He turns and digs through a beach bag until he finds a bottle of the lotion. He holds it up, then pulls it out of Bea’s reach when she extends an arm. “Want me to do you up?”

“Hardy har,” Bea replies. “Sure. I don’t care.”

She turns her back and allows Cole to lather her up. Honey stands near them and chats, letting Cole fill her in on the hours that she and Bea had missed as the boys work to undock the boat and as Jim shifts the gear and trucks forward. They had had breakfast and lunch on the boat. They had practically driven the perimeter of the reservoir and wakeboarded for a while. It had been a nice morning, very reminiscent of their past summers in Michigan. Cole had enjoyed it and so had the other boys. Jim and Ellen were in a good mood, even throughout the brief moments when Quinn would change direction and drive over his own waves to splash the occupants of the boat. 

When Bea is done with her sunscreen, Honey takes the bottle from Cole and turns it over in her hand. 

“Want me to get you, too?” Cole offers. “It’ll be just like last time.”

“She’s in the middle of a revenge plot,” Bea reveals.

Honey glares at her. 

“Revenge on who?” Cole asks, straightening his back a bit and perking up with excitement.

“None of your business,” Honey says. “It’s irrelevant.”

“So, Trevor?” Cole says with a laugh. “You’re not slick. You’re jealous that he’s hooking up with other girls.”

“I am not jealous of any girl that Trevor is hooking up with,” Honey replies, channeling venom into her tone. “I don’t care who he hooks up with as long as it’s not me.”

Bea raises her eyebrows quickly, looking down at the ground. “Definitely not jealous,” she mumbles.

“Oh, fuck off,” Honey curses. “Go suck on Quinn’s neck.”

“Mm, revenge,” Bea says. “Good point. We can do this revenge tour together. Co-baby, go find someone to exact revenge on, too.”

“Jack, probably,” Cole says, tapping his chin like he’s thinking. “He cut in line while we were wakeboarding. It was my turn and he took the tow-rope right out of my hand.”

He sets off to find the boy, who has left Trevor alone at the bow of the boat. Jack has joined his family in the tiny sitting area near the helm. Trevor looks serene as he watches the waves pass.

Time to ruin that.

Honey walks over with the sunscreen in hand, tapping it against her opposing palm until it’s clapping loudly and drawing Trevor’s attention. By this point, she’s right in front of him and waiting for him to turn around. When he does, she wordlessly hands over the bottle of sunscreen and turns her back.

Her hair is tied up from the car ride, but the flyaways are flying from the open windows and the wind from the moving boat. It’s worse because she’s facing away from the wind now, so Honey brings her hands up to retie the handkerchief. She knows that her body is moving with her reach and she hopes that the wide expanse of her back is titillating enough for him to jump at the opportunity to touch her.

She knows it works when she feels his thumb brush over the dragonfly at the base of her spine. From position alone, she knows that he’s stroking over the wing of the bug. His hand leaves her lower back and rises to cover the lotion that he wiped across her shoulderblades. 

They don’t speak, but they don’t have to. Honey doesn’t feel pressured to say anything. She just lets Trevor cover her with the sun protectant until her back is sufficiently done up. It’s then that she turns to face him and raises her eyebrows expectantly. 

Trevor hands the bottle of lotion back. He’s standing now, over her, and he abandoned his towel when he stood up. His hair is drying now, but his nose is a bit too pink and sunkissed for her liking.

Honey hums. She opens the bottle and squeezes out a little dollop onto her index finger. She plops it on Trevor’s nose, but leaves it for him to rub in. As he does that, she covers her chest in the lotion. She tosses the bottle down onto the cushions on the bow and stands right in front of Trevor. He’s shameless with the way his eyes look down her cleavage and Honey is fully aware of it. He just smiles when his eyes make their way back up to her face.

She smiles back, then devilishly folds down the band of her swimsuit just enough to make sure she’s not skimping out on her coverage. The extra skin, particularly the tan line that he rarely ever sees, and her smirk definitely gives Trevor the idea that she wanted him to have– that he’s forgiven for his little tirade last night and that she wants to hook up with him again.

Honey leaves him there for now. She goes about her day– she sits with Ellen and Luke. She watches Quinn put Bea on his shoulders while on the wakeboard, then watches them wipe out seconds after they find their balance. 

They resurface laughing and Jack asks if Honey wants to try, but she says no. She watches Cole jump at the bit, his own revenge tour in the spotlight now. It takes all of two seconds on the board for Jack to realize that Cole was out to get him– when the boy hooked his legs over Jack’s shoulders and laced his fingers beneath Jack’s chin, it clicked. 

Within a split second– Honey wishes she had filmed it so that she could watch it back in slow-motion– Cole had leaned back and went head first into the wake. He pulled Jack down with him in a satisfying slapping noise that Honey knows will result in a bright red splotch. Jack will complain about it all day long and he’ll sleep on his stomach tonight, asking for his mom to rub his back until he falls asleep.

He’s such a boy. Always whiny and needy when he gets sick or feels bad. Honey is so glad she hasn’t had to deal with something like that since she and Thomas broke up.

With one look back at a laughing Trevor, she realizes her mistake. He’s probably even worse than Jack and now she’s fucking him– she wishes she had some wood to knock on, because she has definitely jinxed herself. 

Just as the sun starts to get lower and the sky begins to turn a more vibrant shade of blue before dulling out, Quinn pulls Honey aside. Jack is now driving the boat, resolutely ignoring Cole and his feigned apologies.

“What does Bea want for her birthday?” Quinn asks, sitting on the port side of the boat with Honey. His legs are spread and Honey really likes the color of his boardshorts. They make a nice contrast with his skin and the hair on his thighs, although she thinks that might be a weird thing for her to say to him. She’ll tell Bea to tell him later.

“Shouldn’t you ask her?” Honey replies with a quirked brow. “I’m not a mind reader. These days, you spend more time with her anyway.”

Quinn stares for a moment, unimpressed. “What would Bea like for her birthday?” He rephrases. “From me. I never know what to get people.”

“Especially not the people you’re fucking, hm?” Honey laughs. 

“I wanted to get her a necklace or something,” Quinn says. “But I don’t know if that’s, like, too serious.”

“I think it’s serious enough,” Honey says. “We can go shopping on Tuesday. I’ll tell Ada I can’t come into work and it’ll be fine. There’s a store in Winston that has some good stuff that she’ll like.”

“You’d help me?” Quinn asks, sounding surprised.

Honey scoffs at him. “Of course I’ll help you, moron. It’s actually the perfect time for me to buy her a present, too. I haven’t gotten around to it.”

The corner of Quinn’s mouth lifts. “Too busy?”

He sounds too knowing for Honey’s liking. She knows that he knows about her and Trevor, but that doesn’t mean she likes the way he’s comfortable enough to tease her about it. She doesn’t want him to feel comfortable enough to pry.

“What did Bea tell you?” Honey asks, tilting her head and pursing her lips. 

“Everything bad,” Quinn says. “All the stuff that I enjoy hearing about Trevor. His shortcomings. He didn’t make you come last night?”

Honey grinds her teeth. “Fuck off.”

“I wouldn’t tolerate that if I were you.”

“I’m working on it,” Honey growls. She stands abruptly and leaves Quinn snuffling with laughter on the bench. Stalking over to Bea, she flicks the girl right on her hickey and tears up her comment about the pretty color of Quinn’s boardshorts like a piece of paper into a million little pieces.

Once the sun starts to set, Jim steers them toward the dock but stops the boat a few hundred feet away. They can see the lights on the pier and will be able to drive back there easily in the dark. 

The light fades and the fireworks start. There are a couple of houses and campsites on the reservoir. Honey and Bea often come here on summer holidays to watch the fireworks from the pier. It’s better on the boat.

Honey also thinks it’s better because she can see Bea curled up in Quinn’s arms, petting over his arm hair like she always does. She’s wearing his blue sweatshirt, buried in the fabric with the hood over her head. She’s absentmindedly smiling and making comments to those around her and she looks so content that Honey feels just as warm and fuzzy inside as Bea probably does. 

Honey shifts her weight on the cushions where she sits, unsticking herself from the leather. She’s definitely got prints on her legs in the design of the cushions, like she just took a really good nap and the impressions of the sheets are still printed on her skin. Ellen gave her a blanket to cover up with earlier when the sun started setting, chilling the air significantly with the way it bounces off the rolling waves.

She’s comfortable and warm and alone, pleasantly, until Trevor joins her. She supposes it makes sense– there was room next to her and that she was staring at the happy couple… who aren’t an actual couple. Honey’s a little jealous, but she’s mostly happy for Bea. 

“Room for another?” Trevor asks. He’s already lifting the corners of the blanket and sliding under, not bothering to listen for a response from Honey. 

“I’m saving this blanket for someone who follows through with things they commit to,” Honey retorts, although she loosens her grip on the blanket so that he can cover himself. “You’re stealing all the warmth.”

“It’s not a big enough blanket,” Trevor says.

“Yeah, that’s why I was the only one using it,” Honey tells him. She sounds defensive, but she’s joking and so is he. 

He steals the rest of the blanket from her and wraps it around his shoulders, which are, inanely, still uncovered by any shirt or sweatshirt. Maybe he deserves the blanket more, but it was Honey’s first. He’s such a little thief.

He makes up for it when he pulls her onto his lap and wraps the blanket around her shoulders. He completely covers her with his arms and plasters his chest to her back, hooking his chin over her shoulder. His hands clasp in front of her chest, his wrist falling on the swell of her breast. He certainly makes himself comfortable, shifting underneath her until he finds a good position.

“What are you doing?” Honey whispers, looking around at the other people on the boat. All of them are facing out towards the fireworks and the twinkling stars near the skyline. 

“Missed you today,” Trevor replies at the same volume, kissing Honey’s cheek swiftly before leaning back until his back meets the hull of the boat. Honey rests back on him when she’s sure that no one is looking at them. 

He’s daring, but she could still roll off of him in an instant if she needed to. Plus, it’s kind of nice– his cock is nestled underneath her and it’s still mostly soft. She can feel it and she’s not shy when she wiggles around on his lap just to torture him a bit. It works until he shifts his arms so that the tip of his pinky can settle under the band of her swimsuit. He brushes against her underboob, lighting a fire in the pit of her stomach.

“You’re very brave,” Honey whispers. “Acting like this after you left me out to dry last night.”

“You had it coming, you brat,” Trevor teases. He presses his hips up and he’s definitely growing harder as a result of her wiggling. “One of these days, I’m going to put you in your place. You got a taste of it last night.”

“Oh, you think you have that power over me?” Honey asks.

“I think I could have that power over you,” Trevor whispers. 

Honey doesn’t like how his voice raises goosebumps on her neck. She puts her weight on him, letting her head fall back. She looks up at him in the darkness and he looks especially handsome when the sparks light up his face in a myriad of reds, greens, and golds– because no one could be bothered to buy red, white, and blue fireworks for the holiday. 

“If you let me,” Trevor continues, finishing his thought with another tiny kiss on her cheek. 

Honey shivers. “You have to prove that you’ve earned my trust.”

“Baby, when have I ever let you down?” Trevor asks.

“Last night!” Honey hisses. “You left me– on your bed– last night!”

Trevor chuckles and moves a hand to her hips. He positions her right on top of his bulge. “I’ll make up for it later,” he promises, rolling his lap in a sensual curve, only exacerbated by the rocking of the boat from the waves of the lake.

It’s then that Honey moves off of his lap with a little bit of a struggle from the boy. He doesn’t want her to get off, but she tucks herself into his side and throws her legs across his lap. He keeps an arm around her, keeping them bundled in the blanket. It’s even warmer this way, with Trevor acting as Honey’s own personal furnace. 

“Not tonight,” Honey tells him. 

Trevor pouts a bit. “You don’t want me to make up for last night?” Trevor asks, his question rhetorical– because if it wasn’t, Honey would call him out very loudly for being a gaslighter. 

Honey shrugs one shoulder, knocking Trevor’s arm down to her waist. His fingers spread over her side as widely as he can, touching as much of her skin as possible. His burning touch keeps her in place, stuck like her childhood handprints near the cement of her back steps. 

“Not really.” She smiles. “I do okay on my own.”

Trevor frowns and groans at that, pressing his forehead to hers and wincing, as if wounded by the idea of Honey getting off without him. 

Honey chuckles out a breath, then turns back to the fireworks. They stay like that throughout the rest of the fireworks show. Trevor rubs soothing circles on her skin underneath the blanket until she’s squirming and reconsidering her denial. Right at the grand finale, through the thousands of little pops that echo over the water, Trevor tilts Honey’s head up and steals a kiss from her. 

He moves out from under the blanket and wraps it securely around Honey’s shoulders. He pulls at the edges to make sure it’s in place, smiling softly at Honey and nodding in a nearly invisible motion before scooting away. He lets a respectable distance linger between them. It’s electric and sizzling, like there’s a live wire pulling at Honey, encouraging her to crawl back into Trevor’s lap.

She wants to throw caution in the wind and say ‘screw it.’ She wants to bundle up next to him like Bea and Quinn and take whatever chirps she gets.

Her mind just will not allow her to do such a thing. She can barely fathom it, so she stays planted in her spot. She smiles at Bea before looking away, just making a moment of eye contact that will definitely leave Bea wondering and texting her later. 

Other than that, she just tries to look out into the distance. She’s quiet, but not unresponsive. She talks to the Hughes brothers, to Cole, to Jim and Ellen… even wishing Trevor a good night. 

The mood has certainly shifted, just between Honey and Trevor. It’s thicker. She’s got a lot of thoughts bouncing around in her head, but she can’t identify any of them. Same with how she feels– she feels something, but she’s not sure what.

It’ll solve itself eventually.

41:90 – TREVOR

Trevor has never been to the wine bar in Litchton before. He didn’t even know it existed until today. Apparently, Ellen had gone out to do some shopping in the one, little boutique in Litchton and the very kind shopowner had asked her if she liked wine. Ellen had said yes, then the shopowner had revealed that there was a cute, fairy-light-lined wine bar just around the corner through the alley.

It had seemed sketchy at first, walking through an alley in a tiny town to get to a bar, but with a group of six men including five professional athletes and one former-professional athlete who has transformed into a very protective husband… Ellen seemed okay. 

Once they got to the wine bar, they realized that nowhere in Litchton could be sketchy at all because it’s all so eclectic. The bar is outdoors, mostly. It’s a wooden patio with flower boxes with wildflowers planted inside them near the entrance. There’s seating inside, but it’s just a bunch of couches in silly colors. You have to go inside to order, but it’s such a nice day, so the group sits outside.

Ellen and Jim insist on paying for everyone, so Cole and Jack dive head-first into the IPA menu. Luke and Jim settle for some bottled domestic beer. Ellen and Quinn both go for a ‘refreshing white’ wine and Trevor is left staring at the menu while everyone makes their way to a table outside.

“Not much of a wine guy?” The bartender asks. She’s smiling at him like she’s holding back a laugh, then looks him up and down.

She’s checking me out, Trevor realizes. 

She’s not bad-looking, obviously. Part of being a bartender is looking your best to receive the best tips possible. In Anaheim, maybe Trevor would steal a second glance at her and flash one of his dashing smiles.

She’s wearing a pink button-up and a long cream skirt that has a slit in the middle. He can see the bootstraps of two tall brown boots from where she stands behind the counter. Her hair is dark and she’s pretty. She’s definitely older than Trevor, but not old enough for it to be concerning or weird.

He normally likes interactions like this, even. It would be so easy to turn on the charm and get a discounted drink. 

But, Trevor just smiles tightly and turns the menu over in his hand. “No, not really. Beer and liquor, mostly, but I’m trying to extend my palette.” 

“Have a moscato. It’s an easy place to start. Nice and sweet,” she says, turning her back and picking through the selection of bottles behind her. She returns with a bottle and a glass in her hand, setting both in front of Trevor delicately. As she uncorks the bottle and pours the wine, he spots the glimmering ring on her finger.

Good– his choice not to flirt with her has already paid off. 

“How did you learn so much about wine?” Trevor asks. “It’s pretty daunting.”

“How did you learn so much about beer?” The woman returns. “It’s the same thing, basically.”

“Good point.”

“When your husband grew up in Napa Valley and his one big move in college was to take girls out for wine and cheese, you learn a lot. There are only so many dates you can go on with a man like that before you start picking stuff up,” she jokes. Then, she spreads her arms out and gestures to the bar around them. “And now we own this place, so it all worked out.”

Trevor nods, following her gaze around the bar. He likes the mood-lighting and the funky plush chairs strewn around the room. “It’s a great place. My girlfriend would love it.”

The word comes naturally. He's telling the truth, too– Honey would love this place.

“You’ll have to bring her around sometime,” the woman tells him. She extends a hand over the counter for Trevor to shake. “I’m Sarah.”

“Trevor,” Trevor replies, shaking her hand. He reaches for his glass of wine and takes it from the counter, holding it by the stem so that he doesn’t ruin the temperature of the chilled wine. 

“Oh, you’re Trevor,” Sarah says. She takes a deep breath like it’s a big revelation, who he is. “Wow. My mother hasn’t stopped talking about you since she tried to teach you how to knit three weeks ago.”

Trevor had thought she looked familiar. She’s Scarlett, only thirty-five years younger. Trevor is surprised he didn’t connect the dots sooner.

“Tried?” Trevor asks. “She succeeded. I’m a terrific craftsman.”

“And humble, too,” Sarah says with an eyeroll. “She’ll be so disappointed to hear that you have a girlfriend.”

Oh, fuck.

Trevor’s eyes widen and he feels his heart stop. He hadn’t thought anything of it when he called Honey his ‘girlfriend’ to this random stranger, but now, Sarah isn’t that much of a stranger. She’s the daughter of a woman with whom Honey hangs out every Tuesday morning, a woman who loves to gossip and can’t keep a secret. Trevor doesn’t even know Scarlett, but he’s seen enough of her and hung around enough to have a feel for her character.

He’s screwed. He told someone in Honey’s circle that they’re dating… when they’re supposed to be a complete secret. Especially considering they're not really dating. She keeps saying no when he invites her to dinner.

Sarah doesn't know who he’s talking about, though. That's his saving grace. Maybe he has a girlfriend back home. For all she knows, his girlfriend is far, far away from here.

Sarah’s smile widens. “I know that look,” she says. “This girlfriend isn’t going to be very happy with you, huh?”

Trevor bites the inside of his cheek and begrudgingly looks down at his feet. He scuffs his shoes against the bar, then dares to meet Sarah’s eyes again. “I’ve said too much.”

Sarah gives him a nod, making a show of locking her lips. 

Trevor bows his head in concession, then thanks her after a pause that went on for slightly too long. He goes to join the rest of his party outside, but Sarah calls after him. 

“Trevor,” Sarah says.

“Yeah,” Trevor replies, coming back to face her with fifty feet of space between them.

Sarah licks her front teeth, seeming to debate her following statement. She beckons him forward and Trevor comes closer. Sarah leans over the counter as far as she can and Trevor turns his head so that she can speak directly into his ear.

“Tell Honey that you both are welcome here any time. I’ve got a bottle of grüner veltliner with her name on it.”

Trevor pulls back, blinking at the dark-haired woman a couple of times. She quirks her lips and gives him a bowed head of her own before turning to reorganize the cooler behind the bar.

Trevor stands there for a few moments too long. He stays planted in one spot before he’s able to scrub a hand over his face and turn back to the door that leads out to the patio. He doubles back.

“How did you know?” Trevor asks.

Sarah shrugs, picking up a glass from the drying rack and running a clean cloth over its base. “Old women love gossip, Trevor,” she explains. “But they love to watch their babies fall in love. Scarlett is hoping there will be an open bar at the wedding.”

Trevor flushes. He's not sure what to say from here, so he just gives Sarah an awkward wave and shuffles out to the patio.

He wishes he could give Jim and Ellen his full attention during their last few hours in town. He tries his hardest to talk to them and contribute to the conversation, but his mind is elsewhere.

A wedding.

The thought of marriage has never crossed Trevor’s mind before. 

Never. Not in regards to any of his past girlfriends or childhood crushes. His future was always hockey, not a wife and two kids and a golden retriever and a picket fence.

Then, he imagines Honey in a long white gown, with a bouquet of blue hydrangeas in her hand like the ones that grow in her backyard. Like the ones in the vase on her kitchen counter, the ones she toyed with as he put her fruit away on Monday.

With barely over half a summer to go before he leaves, Trevor has an abrupt revelation. It's all Sarah’s fault, which means that it's all Scarlett’s fault by extension. Trevor is never knitting again.

Because just like a quick snap of his fingers or a gunshot at the start of a race, he’s thinking of marriage with Honey and he doesn’t dread it at all.

It's really hard to make eye contact with anyone for the rest of the day. 

Trevor goes to his bedroom as soon as he gets home, kissing Ellen on the cheek to say goodbye and shaking Jim’s hand. He stares at his phone for a while, looking at Honey’s most recent message of “Come over?”

He stares at her contact name. It’s the honeypot emoji, all on its own. It's inconspicuous enough, although relatively obvious to anyone who knows them both. Honey would kill him if she saw it. She’d kill him if she knew he thought something was missing from her name in his phone, and kill him more if she knew that the thing that he thought was missing was a ring.

He turns his phone off and throws it across the room. She barely even likes him, although she's warming up to Trevor at a snail’s pace.

He’d be a fool if he let one elderly woman’s comment about marriage change their whole relationship. They're not getting married. He and Honey, they're just– well, they're just hooking up. They're just having fun. She’s not looking for all of that.

Why did he think it was a good idea to call Honey his girlfriend?

42:90 – HONEY

Honey is about at her wits end. Six hours ago, when Bea called her and informed her that the parents were gone, Honey didn’t think she’d still be stuck in the basement of the rental house. The first few hours were fine with Bea updating her whiteboard and Luke entertaining them by trying to cook a late lunch. He was craving tacos, so tacos they would have, and it was a pleasure to watch him do all the work.

Jack, Cole, and Trevor are playing some video game that Honey can’t be bothered to learn the name of. Luke is upstairs cleaning up his mess. Bea sits firmly on Quinn’s stomach, pinning the boy down on the couch, and she’s taking a pair of tweezers to his eyebrows. 

It’s devastatingly domestic. Honey hates how Quinn’s eyes are half-open and blink up at Bea like the world’s laziest cat. She hates the concentration on Bea’s face as she leans closer to the boy to get a better look at the stray hairs she’s itching to pluck. She hates how Bea’s lips purse when she frowns out of pure focus and she hates how Quinn smiles at Bea after his gaze drifts to her lips. She especially hates that when Quinn complains that it hurts, which it doesn’t, because Honey has plucked her own eyebrows enough times to know that it doesn’t, Bea soothes the affected area with a kiss and then plops another on Quinn’s mouth before continuing.

She’s never felt so single in her life.

Honey thinks this might be her payback from when she and Thomas were together and Bea was the single one. She remembers being in high school and driving around with Bea in the backseat and Thomas behind the wheel. They would go to the Target in Charlotte almost every day, just for something to do. Bea had to deal with her shrieking laughter when Thomas was touchy and overbearing because they were ‘in love’ or whatever high schoolers claim to feel at the time. 

When Honey ignores the way the relationship ended with Thomas, she thinks it wasn’t so bad. It was fun, even. She really liked Thomas. That’s what made his eventual betrayal so hard to deal with.

Her other problem is that when she looks over at Trevor, she has started getting the same butterflies that she would get with Thomas. Like just before they started dating, when Honey would go to his baseball games because their games were always just before her practice, and he would point at her with his baseball bat before he went up to bat. 

“K, baby, you’re all done,” Bea murmurs with a pat to Quinn’s cheek. 

It pulls Honey from her thoughts and her face immediately contorts with distaste. 

Quinn takes his hands from where they were resting on Bea’s bare thighs– she’s wearing underwear and a big shirt like a slut, Honey could kill her– and wraps his arms around her waist. He sits up, keeping her firmly on his lap, and kisses her.

“Thanks, Sweet Bea,” Quinn replies at a similar volume, punctuating his sentiment with another peck.

Honey might actually put her hands around her own neck and start squeezing. She’s revolted by how sickly-sweet they are.The most frustrating bit is that they don’t even want to put a label on their relationship. Bea is still fucking Jack and Cole in addition to Quinn– and Quinn doesn’t care. He still treats Bea like she’s the only girl in the world.

Meanwhile, the guy that she doesn’t have a label with is sitting on the couch between two of his best buddies, cajoling about something stupid. He’s wearing a muscle tee that he clearly made himself because the arm holes are so wide that when he leans forward, Honey can see the way his tan stomach folds and flexes when he breathes.

She really ought to check her calendar. Her normal schedule is completely out of whack after her period came early last week. Her hormones are running rampant.

Or, that’s just the best, most scientific excuse for her behavior.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” Honey announces, standing from her spot in the room and clasping her hands together. “Goodnight all.”

“Goodnight,” Jack bids, singing a little bit. He’s distracted from his latest win in that stupid game. 

“Bye, Hon,” Bea says. She’s got her legs wrapped around Quinn’s waist now and he’s got a hand in her hair. Honey refuses to reply to her. She’s petty and annoyed and Bea is the cause of that annoyance. 

Stop having such perfect sex! Honey wishes she could shout at Bea. I’m so jealous of how happy you are!

And Bea would be perfectly nice about it, and probably never bring Quinn up again, but then Honey would feel guilty for making her stop talking about her romantic life… until the cycle just started again.

So, instead, Honey leaves. 

Well, she means to. She makes it to the door before Trevor catches her hand and pulls her back. He tilts his head and pushes her hair behind her ears, clearing her face.

“You’re upset,” he says. “You’ve been glaring at them all day. What’s wrong, Honey?”

“Nothing,” Honey says petulantly. She can’t just tell Trevor that she’s jealous that Quinn and Bea can be all lovey-dovey without a shred of consequence. It’ll just make him think that she wants to act that way, and she really doesn’t. Quite frankly, she’d rather him fuck her until her mind is completely blank from pleasure.

When Trevor hums out a contemplative little “baby,” Honey feels herself snap.

Her fingers circle his wrist and she pivots, turning from the front door and dragging Trevor upstairs. She wrenches open his bedroom door and then slams it behind them, pushing him into the bedroom with both of her hands on his chest until his knees hit the side of his bed and he falls on his back.

“What are you doing?” Trevor asks as Honey paws at his shirt. She tugs the hem over his head, catching him slightly on the neckline. 

“Don’t call me ‘baby,’” Honey hisses, correcting the boy for multiple transgressions with an aggressive tug to his shorts. 

Trevor smiles and helps her kick the shorts away when they reach his ankles. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t know it made you so mad.”

“God, shut up and do what you do best, Trevor,” Honey spits out. She pulls her own top over her head, freeing her chest. She tries to stomp all of the butterflies that flap around in her stomach when Trevor’s eyes fix on her favorite accessories. 

“Ooh, yes ma’am,” Trevor teases. He bites his bottom lip and his eyes shine when Honey unbuttons her jean shorts and forces them down her legs. Her underwear follows, which is when she comes back to Trevor on the bed.

She snaps the waistband of his boxers against his hip before taking the final item of clothing off of him. She’s hyper focused on her actions, unable to see the way Trevor looks down at her. He reaches to touch her hair, but she smacks his hand away. 

Their encounter is frantic. Honey climbs onto his lap and has his cock inside of her so quickly that the whiplash is better than a quippy response. Trevor moans at the feeling and goes to grab her hip, but Honey stops him.

“Don’t touch,” she commands. “This is about me.”

“Oh, I see,” Trevor says. “You’re just pent up from the other day, aren’t you?” He ignores her directions and places his hands on her waist.

Honey glares at him, fixing him with a look so lethal that he really ought to curl up into a ball and die. 

He just laughs and continues, pulling at her body until she starts to move against him. His cock, pulsing inside of her, erases some of her jealousy and frustration from her body. She rolls her head back, her eyes closing from sheer fulfillment.

“Need my cock to fix your problems, babe?” Trevor asks, snapping his hips up once in a shocking movement that has Honey pitching forward. 

Her mouth falls open and her hair falls into her face. Honey’s nails dig into Trevor’s pecs, just like how they did when she came all over his fingers the other day. Those marks have probably only just healed, too, and now Honey is millimeters away from digging in too deep and breaking his skin.

“I hate you,” Honey pants, shaking the hair out of her face. She rocks her hips, bouncing on Trevor’s– unfortunately, very satisfying– length. She retracts her talons and presses her hands flush against Trevor’s chest. She moans when she imagines his cock leaking inside of her, her hand going lower until her thumbnail scrapes his nipple.

He hisses, pelvis stuttering beneath her. “Big talk for a girl who pushed me down and took my cock before I could get to the bottom of all of this,” Trevor quips, one of his hands steadying Honey while the other tweaks her nipple in retaliation.

She whimpers from the spark of his touch, but bounces more harshly. Her knees are practically screaming in pain from the position, but she continues to work up and down over Trevor’s cock. She’s close already and she can’t let her sore joints stop her from reaching the orgasm that is just over an arm’s length away.

“It’s the only thing you’re good for,” Honey says, but the end of her statement twists with a moan as Trevor snaps his hips again, pushing his cock even further into her.

“The only thing?” Trevor asks, a smug smile pulling at his lips. “I seem to remember you begging for my fingers last week. And my tongue two days ago, come to think of it.”

Honey scratches down his chest, leaning so that her face is right in his, their noses almost touching. “I don’t beg,” she reminds him, grinding down on his cock in circular motions when the tip of his dick prods at her sweet spot. “You should know by now that I do not beg.”

“You should,” Trevor says. He lifts a hand and brings it down on her asscheek, the slap filling the room and jolting Honey. She straightens up again and rides Trevor with a renewed fervor that has her eyes rolling back. “Do you like this, baby? Riding me like I’m a toy for you to use?”

Honey struggles to breathe through the moan that is ripped from her throat. She bounces on his cock, first fueled by his words, then driven over and over by the building feeling in her stomach.

Without sliding out of her, Trevor rolls them over. He throws Honey’s knee over his shoulder and crowds her space, lewd noises echoing between them with each snap of his hips. “Or do you like this?”

Her hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders. This is exactly what she was looking for– a hard, harsh fuck that has her practically wailing beneath him. She’s not even sure she’s making noise, but how could she not when she feels this good? Her nails are out again, leaving long, red, raised lines on Trevor’s shoulders and upper back as he fucks into her. The marks will certainly spark some chirps from the guys if they see them, that’s for sure, but they still don’t know that the chick Trevor is pulling is Honey, and that secret is more delicious than the stiffness in her hands as she marks him.

“Yeah, you like this best,” Trevor mewls, leaning down to lather his tongue over her breast. He catches her piercing between his teeth, tugging at it until she whimpers. Then, he releases it and pounds a nail into her coffin: “My big cock,” he whispers, voice dark and gruff. “Filling you up and fucking you until I come inside you. Want me to warm you up, Honey? Put all my cum in this pretty, pretty pussy?”

He’s smug, but he’s right, and Honey kind of wants to hit him for it. She won’t give him the satisfaction of agreeing, of telling him that she absolutely wants him to warm her up until she’s leaking. 

She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in, their teeth clashing in a messy, heated kiss. “I hate you,” Honey repeats, nibbling Trevor’s bottom lip after she says so. She bites down gently and tugs, arching her back and rolling her hips down to meet each of Trevor’s thrusts.

Trevor bends down to leave a line of kisses along Honey’s neck and clavicles, sucking a hickey under her ear in the same spot where Quinn marked Bea while the parents were in town. He laughs, a breathless little chuckle that settles on Honey’s chest and makes a home there. “If you hate me so much, why are you still letting me fuck you?”

It’s because of the feeling that washes over her shortly after his thumb makes contact with her clit. He’s hitting her g-spot consistently enough and they’re fucking bare and he’s kissing her and his thumb is there– and she comes. It feels like a kaleidoscope, the way her vision goes white and spotty as he ruins her. 

She’s gone limp, unable to control her muscles except to pull Trevor closer. She feels him come, too, spilling inside of her. 

Their climaxes are sloppy and sweaty, bodies sliding against each other through the aftershocks. Trevor is still fucking into her, barely. His dick twitches as he’s pulling out, pressing kiss after kiss to her neck.

“Better?” Trevor asks softly. He rolls off the bed and finds his boxers, pulling them back on before rejoining Honey on the bed.

“Temporarily,” Honey replies. Her tone is a little clipped, but she’d hate to lie to Trevor and say that all is solved. She’s still a little wound up, but his dick did work wonders. She particularly lost her head when he was a little rougher– the spank while she was riding him was like a revelation. “I’ll need another session in about a week.”

Trevor snuffles out a laugh. “I’ll be needing one sooner than that,” he says. “How about tomorrow? You don’t have work, you’re not busy… I can feed you fruit afterwards…”

He trails off with an enticing wiggle of his eyebrows and Honey laughs aloud. She rolls her eyes and pries herself from the mattress, grimacing slightly as his cum starts to drip down her thighs. She crinkles her nose and hobbles toward his bathroom, hoping that she’s not leaking onto his carpet. While sex without a condom is hot in her mind, it’s rarely ever hot in practice. 

She uses his toilet and rifles through his drawers a little just for fun before Trevor calls for her. 

“There’s clean underwear in the basket near the hamper,” he says. “I just haven’t folded it yet. Grab whatever you like.”

Honey makes a face at herself in the mirror. She has clothes. She doesn’t need his clean clothes. They won’t even fit her– and plus, she likes her old pajama boxers way more than she would like his.

She returns to the bedroom, all clean and no longer dripping. “I’ve got clothes, Trev,” she says. To prove her point, she bends down and collects her underwear, shorts, and top. She starts to pull them on, but pauses when she catches Trevor rustling in bed and battling with the top sheet.

“You’re not staying?” Trevor asks. “C’mon, baby, come sleep with me.”

“Already did,” Honey quips. She points a finger at Trevor briefly after the joke, then finishes dressing. She pulls her hair up into a ponytail, then realizes she doesn’t have a hair tie because she gave it to Bea earlier, so she just lets her hair drop back down past her shoulders. She smiles at the boy, who is frowning at her. She purses her lips in an air-kiss. “Don’t call me baby.”

She starts to leave, rolling her eyes when Trevor whistles at the sight of her backside in her shorts. She tries to wipe the smile off of her face in case she runs into one of the other boys or, God forbid, nosy Bea McLean. 

She gets lucky in two ways: the sex earlier, pun definitely intended, and in the way that no one catches her sneaking out. She can still hear them playing that stupid game and she has a feeling that Bea is in one of the bedrooms with her choice man of the evening. 

When she’s alone in the car, that giddy smile overtakes her face like it couldn’t behave for a second longer. 

Honey feels like she’s swaddled in the butterflies that have been flying around in her stomach these past couple of weeks. She’s digging herself deeper and deeper into a hole that will be very hard to climb out of come August when Trevor leaves, but for now, she’s got a man that she likes who lets her play pretend enemies until she’s ready to tell him the truth. It’s not a label, but it’s enough.