#look tiny towns still have people in them who are just as bored as you are

[animasolaoriginal]

A B A N D O N E D 🥀 1/3

A new-in-town urban explorer stumbles upon a (not so) well hidden secret in an abandoned building, turning his life upside down when he takes more than pictures and leaves more than footprints.

Normal dude meets broken girl turned sex toy

WARNINGS: Urban exploration. Implied past rape. Implied past caning. Wounds and injuries. Objectification. Submissive character. Strangers to lovers. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Fluff. Eventual smut*. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 7.6k

A/N: This is a spin-off to my original story INFATUATED, set in the same universe. There's no need to have read INFATUATED, just know that there's a man we refer to as Sir who took in (kidnapped) a girl we refer to as Darling to make her his personal little plaything (but then proceeds to develop “feelings” for her), and this is the story of one of the unfortunate girls before her. A "study" on what a normal dude may think about an abandoned sub. Remember: this is fiction! A product of my own sick little mind, a fantasy. Our guy here may have some opinions later that may or may not stem from my own view on things (just some rants about certain kinks, and if those insult you, please forgive me, I don't mean any kink shaming. Everyone is valid around here – except Sir who might not get the best reviews in this story). By the way, the protagonist may have a name here, but it's only mentioned a few times, so you can still imagine any character here if you want to!

1 🟢 2 🟢 3

Glass crunches beneath his boots as he makes his way through the abandoned building. It's eerily quiet, just the wind howling through the broken windows and holes in the walls. The occasional rustle when debris or dry leaves move under the breeze. Nature's completely reclaimed this old house that used to be an apartment building with a bunch of tiny shops on the ground floor. Too off the beaten path, the shops became obsolete when a large mall opened only a few blocks away.

He's also in a very bad neighborhood, and nobody seemed to care about this particular building for a long time. Overgrown and broken, glass panes a good target practice for your usual teenage delinquent or bored child, doors ripped off their hinges by age and decay and maybe some random angry dude who needed a place to vent. Furniture long gone, either taken along or stolen later, things that couldn't be moved too easily (like sinks or toilet bowls) smashed into tiny pieces.

Normally he prefers places stuck in time, where tragedy struck and nobody's been back in decades, with faded photos on the walls or on dusty shelves, the smell of slowly rotting armchairs and a hint of mold in the air. Those make the best pictures. Little time capsules, evidence of older times, in the midst of a blooming bustling city. This building, however, looked more promising from the outside.

He raises his camera and takes a shot of a broken window where thick vines of ivy crawl around the frame and up the wall, the light of the setting sun giving the scene a soft glow. He changes the angle a few times, then moves on, up the stairs, looks through open doors into old apartments, mostly empty, walls vandalized with crude, unreadable graffiti, carpets full of dirt and a (not so) healthy layer of mold.

What strikes him as a little unusual is that the hallways look as if used fairly often, leaves and dust bunnies line the sides, but there's a path between the debris, leading further up the building. Not too unusual, these kinds of buildings usually attract a lot of shady people or bored teenagers, some to meet for illegal business deals, other to party hard in a place Mom and Dad cannot find them.

Maybe it's used for all kinds of things as he notices a growing abundance of empty soda cans, broken alcohol bottles and other garbage lying around (the most striking sight was a trail of discarded condoms and empty lube bottles). His destination is the roof, maybe he can at least snap some pictures of the sunset and the city around him from this place, for all he got now are shots of broken windows, nature reclaiming the urban space and your typical down-the-hallway shot. He even found the one-single-chair-in-the-middle-of-an-empty-room motif.

Of course he's not the first urbexer to walk through here, it's been abandoned for a long time, probably old news for the locals, but this is his first time here, in the city too, and he wanted to see as many abandoned things as possible. He heard from others that this house had good bones, meaning stable stairs and floors, no risk of breaking through and landing in the moldy basement with a pipe through your torso. He is looking for adventure, the thrill of being alone in a lost place, inhaling the intoxicating scent of debris and decay, he is not looking to pay a horrendous hospital bill because he's been too careless.

He takes the last section of the winding staircase, stepping onto the upper most floor, the roof access visible at the end of the corridor. There he hesitates. Unlike the floors below him, there's something different here. It's not as dirty, and the most prominent thing: all the doors are intact and closed. It almost looks like an actual floor of a still lived-in apartment building where you would find the same amount of dust and grime on the floors and walls.

Raising his camera, he takes a few shots, cursing when he realizes it's too dark to get it lined up best. The only light source is a badly boarded-up window at the end of the hallway, a tiny skylight above him and the glow creeping up over the staircase from the lower levels. Why is this window boarded up? What's happening up here that nobody wants to have witnesses for? There are other buildings around this one, still functional, mostly, probably for seedy reasons as well, but there's still the chance of people noticing what's going on here.

The closed doors irritate him. Everything else about this building was ripped out and broken and vandalized, nothing left in its former state. He came in through a bent-out-of-shape shutter gate, most of the former shops have so many holes it's fairly easy to get access to the rest of the house. And nobody seems to care about people walking about. There's an old No Trespassing sign near the boarded-up front door, but that's about it.

Though it doesn't surprise him in this kind of neighborhood. He might be new in this city, but he knows a crime haven when he sees one. Everything looks old and run down, shops are only fronts for other businesses, grim looking people stand around, gangs linger in groups in neglected parks or on the curb corners. He also saw some prostitutes walking the streets, looking as worn and shabby as the clothes they were wearing. Most normal people would avoid going deeper into the belly of the beast, but he likes the more dangerous places, and frankly, he fits right in.

Tall and bulky, he could pass as one of those bouncers standing in front of shady clubs, but he looks also young enough to be confused with a fresh gang member or mafia initiate or whatever. At least he thinks so because he's gotten no curious stares as he entered the neighborhood. Though he was glad nobody talked to him, his accent would have given him away for sure.

He feels his heart beating faster when he approaches one of the closed doors, the hairs on his arms rising in anticipation. It's a thrill to find something unusual in a place you've already pushed aside and declared boring. His hand grabs the door handle, twists it... and nothing happens. Locked. A locked door in an abandoned building. How curious. He tries the other ones, the same thing occurs. When he reaches the last door, he almost jumps back when the knob turns and the door opens with a click and then a creepy squeak.

One open room on a floor full of locked doors. His breath quickens, but he forces himself to remain calm. He doesn't even know what he's expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. The room is almost bare (but not as empty as the rooms he's seen before), aged wallpaper peels from the walls, the windows are covered by thick curtains, old and rugged looking, there's a couch in one corner, covered in blankets that have seen better days too. But the most unnerving sight is the bed in the middle of the room.

It's literally in the middle of the room, a sturdy looking metal frame he could walk around if he wanted to. But for now he only stares. There are handcuffs chained to the headboard, ropes tied to the low bed posts. And then there are the stains on the old mattress, lighter and darker ones, some are definitely blood. Old and dried, though one looks a little fresher, on the lower part of the bed. He's mesmerized, disgusted but mesmerized, almost forgets the weight around his neck before a shiver crashes through him.

It's an automated gesture to raise his camera and take pictures of what he sees. Pics or it didn't happen. It's a strange sight, but he isn't sure he wants to share this scene on his official page. He's known for showing off decaying architecture and nature reclaiming its place in the world full of stone and people. To share a potential sex dungeon might not be the way to go. But he still has his side blog. He has to share this, work through the experience, hoping somebody knows something about this.

Though he hasn't even seen everything. Slowly he takes a step into the room. There's a table behind the door, a longer one, fit for a person to lie on, and the leather belts attached to it suggest the same. Fuck. Is this really one of those freaky sex rooms?

He doesn't want to imagine what goes on in here, but he can't completely ignore that he has seen similar settings in various porn clips. Echoes of crying girls crash through his mind, creepily leering men in ski masks standing around the bed, the table, the couch, cocks in hand, others holding paddles, canes, vibrators, ready to torment whoever is unfortunate enough to be strapped to the structures.

He wants to believe there's consent involved, a scene being played out, discussed beforehand, those girls willingly trapped with a bunch of horny men, but sometimes it's hard to imagine that anyone would want to go through that on their own free will. He swallows, only now noticing the stench of the room. Sweat and sex, various bodily fluids all around, with a metallic undertone. Blood.

Shivering he can't help himself, he takes more pictures, walks around the room as if treading on thin ice, careful not to disturb the scene. He's also hyper aware of the noises around him now, the low buzz of the city beyond, voices passing by the building, birds landing on the roof above him, pigeons cooing, crows cawing, seagulls screaming. He tells himself he'd hear if somebody came back to clean up the scene he's witnessing right now. He could flee to the roof, hide it out, maybe find a way down from there.

Goosebumps attack his bare forearms when he rounds the bed and notices a pile of blankets on the floor. But it's the hair poking out of it that makes his heart stop. No. He freezes on the spot, staring down, camera heavy in his hand. He's heard stories of other urban explorers encountering unsettling things, the more harmless one coming into contact with a squatter, either awake or passed out in some corner, and the most disturbing one... stepping onto a crime scene, finding blood, bones... or dead bodies.

Yet instead of panicking, with the urge to run as quickly as he can, he finds himself staring with an obscene fascination. His eyes trail the blanket, noticing how it's wrapped around whatever is curled up inside it, and he bends down a little, crouching beside it, the smell overwhelmingly strong down here. His stomach protests, but his curiosity is too obnoxious to ignore. Shifting his camera into his other hand, he reaches out, carefully, knowing he should probably wear gloves, but he also doesn't care. He has to know.

His fingers grip the edge of the blanket, and he pulls, gently, his eyes widening as the scene unfolds in front of him – together with the body of a girl unfurling from its curled-up position. He will never share his first impression with anyone, because it's primal, an instinct, the thought of a man whose cock has a mind of its own: she's pretty.

Also naked, covered in grime and other substances, pale skin adorned with angry red welts and purple bruises, something pink caked between her thighs. She's on her side, legs scissored open, arms bound behind her back. Her thick dark hair is braided into two pigtails, and one of them seems to be cut off as the hair frays out and lies around her head like a dark halo. Tears and sweat allowed a thick layer of dust and dirt to cake to her face. Eyes closed, long dark lashes clumped, full lips swollen and raw looking, slightly parted.

Before he continues taking in every detail of her, he has the urge to bring his finger to her nose, and the relief when he feels the slightest bit of air movement against his skin lets him exhale loudly as well. She is not dead. And there's the problem. She looks like she should be, like it would be the better fate. The sight scares him as much as it fuels his morbid fascination, which may explain why he's still frozen on the spot, staring at her instead of calling the police or an ambulance or doing anything to help her. He can't take his eyes off her.

Her slender neck is covered in dark bruises as if someone has tried to strangle her, probably thought they succeeded too. Why else would she lie on the floor here? Left behind after whoever assaulted her was done? And assaulted she was. Sexually, physically. The welts on her body look horrible, thin red lines all over her small breasts, her stomach, her hips, her thighs, on her ass as well from what he can tell. She was caned, the poor thing. He hates watching those kinds of porn videos. He can see the appeal of spanking, the hand on ass contact, but hitting someone with a rigid cane doesn't seem very pleasurable, it's only about inflicting pain and having evidence of it days later.

A sadistic move, and sadists were definitely at work here. There are more bruises on her thighs, probably from strong hands holding her down and open while various cocks forced themselves into her holes. He feels his cheeks warming up when he takes a closer look at her pussy. Apart from layers upon layers of what he assumes to be cum and other fluids, there are welts and bruises on there too, on the soft skin of her inner thighs, on her puffy outer lips (that look stretched as if held back and open by clamps or whatever these bastards used), but most are on the strangely swollen clit. Ugh. Genital torture, a genre he really hates. Spanking a woman's clit is just downright sick and barbaric.

The more he looks at her, the worse he feels. Not just for what she had to go through, but knowing he can't really help her. How should he? Call the police and wait for other horny men to find her? He never trusted the cops, and in a neighborhood like this he is certain there won't be a good guy among them. Calling an ambulance may be an option, if he does it anonymously and flees the scene quickly, but that leaves him wondering if anyone ever found her. And again, in an area like this, the people who did this may still be around watching the place, stopping help before it can get anywhere, maybe even finishing the job, killing her.

And if he stays and wait, he will be in danger of those people seeing him, and as he now knows too much, even took pictures of the evidence, what's stopping them from killing him too? And even if they don't find him, he fears the damn hospital bill might be his end. Yes, strange priorities, but his brain is buzzing and he feels sick and nauseous the longer he stays in this horrible room, staring down at the poor girl.

She looks younger than him, maybe a few years, maybe a lot, the pigtails give the illusion she might still be a teenager, but her body looks too developed for that. A thin face with high cheekbones, no baby fat, soft albeit small breasts, a narrow waist, plump hips, thighs just rounded enough to create that amazing thigh gap he likes so much. The initial thought is still there, and his cock agrees, she is beautiful, despite the state she is in.

And maybe that's why he forms an idea in his head: why not take her with him? Away from this place, into safety, then assess what help he can get her. She can't stay here, that's for sure. A better man would face the danger of being discovered by her abusers, to make sure she'll get the care she needs, no matter how expensive and uncomfortable it may get. A better man wouldn't crouch beside her limp body and stare and drool.

But he's not. He's a runaway, dropped out of college to party, then got too old and paranoid to return. Too distracted by the world around him. Traveling on a budget, with just enough money to feed himself once a day, couch surfing, loitering, pissing his life away one day at a time. It's only been during the last years that he's gotten a bit more stable, making a name for himself as a photographer, selling prints and doing commissions, and by coming into this city he's hoped to make it even bigger.

Renting an old loft he hopes to transform into a photo studio one day, he's trying to settle down. He still has barely any money, lives off those stupid strangers willing to pay for his pictures even though they're not even that special. He always hopes for the occasional exceptional find, something he could sell to newspapers, but even those prefer to steal their pictures off other people's Instagram instead of paying for a more professional shot. Tough times.

As he crouches next to the unconscious girl, the hand holding his camera twitches. It's an instinct to raise it, bring it in front of his eyes, look through the finder and press his thumb down to take a picture of her. He feels sick for it, but also... not. She's part of this little sex dungeon, the main attraction, actually, and it's an inborn need to burn her image into a bunch of pixels. Pics or it didn't happen. He considers sharing her story with whatever newspaper may want it, but then his name would be attached to the evidence, he could be linked to this scene, and what's stopping any corrupt cop to call him guilty for this? Or the bad guys to come and erase any kind of evidence? Him and her included?

She can't stay here. He can't keep staring at her. Something has to happen.

Before he puts his camera into his backpack, he can't help but take a few more pictures of her, of her wounds and injuries, of the evidence caked to her skin, the blood trailing down her inner thigh. Maybe justice will come one day, but he'll need pictures of the crime scene to make it happen. He also snaps a few shots of her face, peaceful in slumber, of her soft curves, those tiny feet with the ankles covered in rope burn. Those he does in several angles, maybe he has a future in selling feet pics. And it's not his fault the market exists.

The world is a sick place, and he's just trudging along.

Eventually he stores his camera in his backpack, then moves the blanket back around the girl. His hand finds her cheek, and it's warm to the touch, she's certainly still alive, and probably in pain, so he doesn't want to disturb the few quiet moments this cruel world has given her. He wraps her up and scoops her into his arms, a barely there weight, poor thing looks and feels malnourished on top of being treated so horribly.

Lifting her up, he realizes the light has turned from the soft sunset glow into the harsher, darker tones of the street lamps coming to life. Time to go. Maybe her abusers will return soon. He carries her out of the room, she's warm and soft in his arms, head resting against his shoulder, hair and one half of her face peeking out of the blanket cocoon. She's tiny, in comparison and in general, and knowing her fate he feels even worse for her.

His heart clenches by the time he's descended all those stairs, and when he reaches his point of entry, he hesitates. It's one thing to slip into a building during the day, nobody cares about a man with a camera creeping around old houses much, at least not in this kind of area, but knowing this place is frequently used for terrible little sex adventures, he feels uneasy now. The night is fast approaching, and he knows these kinds of things probably happen when the shadows fall.

Looking around, he decides to find another exit, preferably one leading around the back, and luck is on his side when he finds a broken window looking into a backyard filled with black trash bags. With the girl still in his arms, he climbs through, but slips on something at the last second. Curling his back, trying not to harm her further, he feels his backpack scraping over the rough wall, hoping it didn't damage his camera. It's one of his few prized possessions, but thinking about it, maybe he should reconsider his priorities.

He's carrying a life in his arms, a life he intends to save, so a broken camera, a replaceable thing, really isn't that big of a deal. He can always salvage the SD card inside anyway. No harm done. Rolling his shoulders, he shifts her against his chest, then continues through the dark alley. He's parked the hunk of metal he calls his car a few blocks away, at the edge of the neighborhood, hoping he'll still have all tires when he returns.

And indeed they are all there, as full and dirty as he's left them. The old truck was the last thing he could afford after renting out the loft, so even if he's bound to this city, relying on random strangers to finance his life, he has a means to get away if he has to. For now, he's pulling the passenger door open and carefully puts down the bundle of limbs and hair and blankets, and when he does, she suddenly stirs.

He freezes, staring at her as her eyelids flutter open. A soft groan escapes her, but when her wide eyes, beautiful dark irises, glazed and a little dull, but beautiful nonetheless, meet his, she stiffens too, lips parted, and he expects a scream, a distress call, anything, but she doesn't issue a single peep, just looks at him, almost calm, probably just glad she's still alive or thinking she died and woke up in a weird realm between the worlds where it's normal to wake up in unfamiliar places, facing unfamiliar people.

He still feels the need to calm her. “Hey, it's alright. No need to be afraid, I'm not here to harm you. I want to help you, okay? Do you understand?”

She blinks, her lips trembling, but then she utters a barely audible “Yes, sir”, and he feels his heart jumping a little. To his own shame, his cock does the same. He clears his throat, nods to her, then closes the door with a thud and rounds the car, putting his backpack into the covered truck bed. Her eyes are following him when he slips behind the wheel, despite her slouched position on the seat. She's eerily quiet, not at all concerned about a strange man packing her into his car.

He watches her as he pulls the seat belt over her small frame, then buckles himself in. “You'll be alright,” he says softly, giving her the hint of a smile, and she continues staring at him. She must be in shock, no other way to explain this behavior, probably fighting the pain coursing through her, the soreness and burning, the stickiness between her thighs, the memory of the whole ordeal. He can't blame her. It must have been absolute hell.

He starts the car, glad it does so on the first try, and maneuvers it back into the nightly city traffic until they reach the old warehouse at the edge of it. It's the cheapest he could find, between two concerning neighborhoods, but those are still better than the one he found her in. At least he has running water and electricity, and a bed. Hmm. One bed. He'll give it to her for now, trying to squeeze his big body onto the small couch. It'll work.

She's still only staring at him when he unbuckles her and picks her up, though her breaths are a bit more labored. Maybe the shock is fading, letting through the pain more and more. He hums soothingly to her, tells her it'll be alright, knowing the more he'll repeat that, the more she'll believe it. It's his life motto too, fake it till you make it. She's that pliant body in his arms as he carries her to the old elevator, hoping it'll last another day.

When he reaches his apartment door, he shifts her in his hold, and she winces, a horribly pathetic little sound he hopes never to hear again. “Sorry,” he mutters as he fumbles for his key and unlocks the door. “You'll feel better soon, I promise.”

Her warm breath hits his neck as she presses her face closer against him, a strangely submissive gesture, a naive hope to trust a stranger. He takes her straight to the bathroom, where he sets her on the closed toilet lid and slowly unravels the blanket from around her. She's sitting perfectly still, the only movement coming from her almost curious eyes as she watches his every move. She winces when he brushes against the welts on her skin, chest rising and falling a little faster, but that's about all the motion he gets from her.

When the blanket falls away, she's that naked thing covered in sweat and cum and blood, and it occurs to him what a strange situation this is. For him to just take her away, without informing anyone, authority or not, and for her to just accept it like this. She's awake, maybe a little dazed, but conscious enough that a normal girl would stir more, talk more, fuss and strain against his touches, maybe even try to flee or do anything to ensure her own safety.

But she is just sitting there, arms folded behind her back, watching him. She doesn't seem real. Like a robot. A brainless toy... And it occurs to him, that might just be what she is, what she has been. A body to use, handed around between vulgar men, an object to utilize in their sick fantasies turned reality. Of course he's no stranger to the news, especially the darker ones, those about trafficking and forced sex work, even if those stories barely make it past the usual political drama. It's another one of those morbid fascinations he can't seem to break.

He might just be as sick as those actually partaking in these illegal little sex gatherings, he's watched those videos, even though he's handled them like any other porn he's come across. As fake, a scene played out, a fantasy made as real as movie magic can make it, but to find this girl in this room, discarded and abandoned like a broken doll, left behind after everyone else was done and satisfied in their twisted, primal needs, shows him that those were not scenes, not fake, but brutal reality. It makes him angry.

“Can you stand?” he asks her quietly, tilting his head as he towers over her, and she nods, looking up at him, before straining her bruised body when she tries to move. His hands find her elbows, and she flinches, but lets him pull her onto her feet. “Oh fuck, your arms, I forgot,” he presses out, and quickly leans back to grab a pair of scissors off the counter behind him, then carefully moves around her to cut through the ropes holding her wrists and forearms together. When he's done, he lets her go, and she sways, arms flailing a little, her hands twitching as if she wants to hold onto him. He guides her into the shower, then steps back. She turns around immediately, eyes wide. “Do you need help?”

She bites her swollen lip. “Please,” she croaks, and the hoarse sound of her voice breaks his heart (but also thickens his cock). He nods, swallows hard, trying to fight the strange warmth pooling in his stomach, before he toes off his boots, strips off his hoodie and jeans, then steps behind her in just his boxers. He wants to show her he's not a predator, but he also doesn't want to get his only good pair of jeans wet and dirty. One day he'll be able to afford another one.

He grabs the shower head and turns the knobs on the wall, waiting for the water to heat up. She's shivering, her frail little body so tiny in front of him, one hand rubbing up and down the other arm, a mindless gesture, trying to ease her nerves probably. Her eyes, however, stay on him and his every move, very attentive, almost eager. It should feel a little bit more bizarre to share a shower with a girl he's just met (or rather found), but it's as if he's running on instincts, feeling the need to help her, make her feel better, ease her pain.

The steam fills his nostrils, and when he puts the water jet to her shoulder, she winces, flinches away, lets out a little whine, but ultimately returns under the spray and lets him clean the grime and sweat and other substances off her skin. He's careful not to put too much pressure on her bruises and the welts, and is glad they didn't break her skin, even though they look horrible, shining in a bright red as if the blood is pulsing just beneath her pale skin.

When he lowers the shower head to point it between her thighs, he hesitates, looks at her, but all she does is take a little side step and spreads her legs a bit more to allow him to do so. So fucking obedient, it's almost scary. The grime on her inner thighs is so persistent that he has to move his hand over her skin before he realizes he should probably use a wash cloth. Stepping back, he leans around the open door and grabs a small towel, wets it and then proceeds to rub the dirt (and cum and other things he doesn't want to think more about) off her thighs. She whines quietly when he moves the soft cloth over her folds, and he holds his breath, trying to be as gentle as he can be.

When he touches her clit though, she shudders and gasps, legs trembling, and her hand is on his arm then, holding on tightly, with a strength he wouldn't have expected from her. He watches how her eyes roll back, how her lips part and a little moan escapes her, and he just freezes, wash cloth pressed to her sensitive nub, unintentionally drawing a strange little orgasm out of her. Was she trained to be this sensitive, so responsive? To come on touch alone? He didn't even rub that hard.

He takes the cloth away slowly, and she calms down a little, breathing just a bit harder, but when her eyes meet his, she furrows her brows, bites her lip, mumbles a croaked “Sorry” as she lowers her head. He frowns at that, tilting his head.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he says quietly. “I... uh, didn't mean to do that either...”

Is she one of those poor girls who was bound to their master's (or whatever the man called himself who had her) will, to only do as he told her, to come on command, and to feel bad if she does so without permission? What a horrible fate... He would never ask her to hold her orgasm, he would want to see that reaction over and over again, allowing her all the pleasure she can get. Not that he'll ever want to do anything to her, but... in theory, of course.

He keeps cleaning her then, lets the warm water soak her bruised skin, and she just stands there, chin tilted up, eyes closed, wet hair cascading down her back, hanging over her shoulders, one side shorter than the other (how cruel to take away something from her, even as benign as part of her braid, but it's definitely crueler to treat her like a soulless body, and he's glad she's not missing any fingers or limbs instead).

Considering, her state could be worse. She's standing on her own, breathing just fine, she's probably very sore and aching, but the pain will fade and she could have a normal life after this, more or less, not counting the psychological trauma that seems to still hold her hostage. Well, it's not ideal, and maybe death would have been a relief after the torment, but she's young, she can work through this, it's possible. And maybe he can help her cope...

Looking at her petite frame, he feels his stomach tensing. It's wrong to feel like this, he knows it, he shouldn't even allow the smallest little thought into that direction, but he is just a man after all, standing with a naked young woman in his shower, and it's blatantly obvious what his cock thinks about this whole situation. He hopes she doesn't notice the tent in his boxers.

But he shouldn't worry, she doesn't seem to notice much, standing still under the spray of the water, and when he turns it off eventually, deeming her clean enough, she inhales deeply and opens her eyes, blinking away stray water drops. She remains immobile, and while he turns to grab a towel, she doesn't move an inch. When he starts drying her off, rougher than he intends, but his hands feel like they are shaking from the tension growing inside him, she winces a couple of times, but then presses her lips together and endures.

He's watching her like a hawk, apologizes for accidentally hurting her, tries to be as gentle as possible, and her eyes are glued to his face, not completely focused yet, still glazed and hazy, pupils blown for some reason, her gaze almost curious. What a strange little creature. He'd expected a victim of whatever type of rape she's experienced to be more... hysterical?

When he finally wraps the towel around her small body and another one around her damp hair, she seems to relax even more. Then she opens her mouth.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispers, looking up at him before bowing her head.

He stares at her, blinking in confusion. “Uh, you're welcome,” he says. “But, uh, you can call me Sam, okay? I'm Sam. No need for... honorifics or whatever, you know?”

There's a frown on her face when she looks back up, her lips moving as if she's repeating his name in her mind.

“What's your name?” he then asks, leaning against the sink as he watches her.

The frown deepens, her eyes moving away from him, flickering here and there as if she tries to find the answer somewhere in his bathroom. “I...” she starts, eyebrows furrowed before she exhales deeply, her shoulders sagging. “It doesn't matter,” she then replies.

“Huh?” he makes, staring at her. “What do you mean it doesn't matter? I'm sure you have a name. Did you forget?” He kicks himself mentally for assuming as much and for his harsh tone, but it's ridiculous.

She shakes her head, not to say no, but to clear her mind maybe? It's a frantic gesture. “It doesn't matter. I don't matter. I am... I am yours to... to use,” she mutters under her breath, hands clenching into fists at her sides.

“What now?” He gapes at her.

And then she is suddenly on her knees in front of him, the towel falling away, her small body folded with her hands lying neatly on her lap, her chin tilted up, looking at him with big eyes. “Please use me,” she says quietly.

He takes a step back, bumping into the cupboard next to the sink, staring down at the girl. Is she serious? He shakes his head, then walks back and grabs her elbows. “Come on, get up, no need to kneel before me, okay? Get up!”

His harsher, also slightly agitated tone makes her wince, but she's on her feet immediately, letting him pull her up, then stands stock-still before him, head lowered, a soft little whine escaping her. “I'm sorry...”

“Stop apologizing!” He lets go of her and runs a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “I mean, ugh, wow. I'm sorry, too. You must be... well, you've been through so much, I don't mean to scare you or anything, I just...”

“Please,” she mumbles, breathing a little harder. She's shivering without the towel, the one on her head coming undone as well the more she shimmies on the spot. He stares at her, she has her hands clasped in front of her sex and squeezes her thighs together, small breasts squished, nipples erect, a deep blush almost hiding the red welts on her skin. “Please use me,” she then says again.

“No!” he blurts out, and she flinches, another sob escaping her. He groans. “I mean, come on! I will not just use you, I just met you, I found you! In that freaky sex room after you've been...” He stops when he suddenly meets her gaze. Her pupils are fully dilated, her already dark eyes shining entirely black. “You're in no condition to do anything but relax now, okay? Take it easy. Come on, I'll show you the bed.”

He's about to grab her hand when she turns her shoulder, avoiding his touch. He freezes, frowns. “In... no condition? Am I... not good... anymore?” Her voice is that feeble little hum, a desperate song sending shivers down his spine.

“What? No! You are good, you are perfect, you are so beautiful!” he croaks out, unable to stop the words. She tilts her head, blinking. “I mean, yeah, uh, you are, but that's not what I mean. You are... Look, whoever treated you like this, whoever hurt you, just left you there. And I couldn't not take you, you know? I want to help you, do you understand that? I want you to feel good again after –”

“Then use me,” she whispers, breathing harder, hands falling away from the obedient pose as she rubs them up and down her thighs, still squirming on the spot. “Please, it hurts...”

“Of course it hurts, they hit you with a fucking cane! They raped you!” he shouts, a little too loud, his emotions getting the better of him.

She flinches back, gasping with her lips parting, her eyes wide. “No... no, they were... they had to punish me because I... I was bad... I deserved it... and they... they used me like they should use me...”

Her words are mumbled, but he can still hear them, even though he wishes he couldn't. What a sick way of seeing things. What a fucked-up world where a pretty girl like her has these thoughts planted into her head.

Anger makes him clench his hands into fists. “They shouldn't have done that. You are a human being, a young woman, a beautiful girl, not a doll to play with, not a toy to use!”

She stares at him, eyelids fluttering, chest rising and falling faster, small breasts bouncing. Really not the time to notice that, mate!

“But,” she whispers, wincing slightly as she starts chewing on her lips. “But that... that's my purpose... I am... I am yours to use,” she repeats these last five words like something she had to learn without knowing the meaning behind it.

He approaches her slowly, carefully, his big hands find her small shoulders, and the touch makes her look up at him. “You are your own person. You have a name, even if you can't remember it right now, you had a mother and a father, maybe even siblings. You went to school, you had a job, maybe. You had dreams, everyone has dreams, for the future, things you wanted to have, places you wanted to see. You are not just a body for strange men to use. Not like that. Not without consent! You were not made to be punished, to be hurt because some random sicko gets off on it. Your body is so much more than just... holes to fill... and a canvas to soil with bruises and welts and... cum...”

His voice has become calmer, like a mantra, new thoughts to plant into her muddled brain, so he hopes, and she listens with her lips parted, eyes directly looking at him. Sometimes she frowns, sometimes she blinks, and when he finishes she licks her lips.

“But I want this,” she says quietly. “I want to be used...”

He sighs deeply and lowers his head, then shakes it in frustration. “No, somebody told you you should think like that! Nobody in their right mind wants to be raped and mutilated like that!”

A single sob makes him look up, and he lets go of her, straightening up. Her lips are trembling and her eyes watering before tears stream down her face. He lets out a groan.

“I'm sorry,” he grunts. “I didn't mean it like that! You are valid, whatever you want, of course, but... but you gotta agree it's a little strange?” She only cries harder, her small frame shaking. “Okay, look, no kink shaming or whatever, I just... I assumed, the way you were lying in that room, the state you were in, I thought you needed help! You looked horrible! I was about to call the police!”

She freezes at that, staring up at him. “No,” she gasps. “Don't do that! Please! I... I don't want any trouble... I... I'll do anything, but... please... not the police!”

He raises an eyebrow at that. This reaction surprises him. “Why not?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She averts her eyes, breathing harder. He isn't very fond of them either, but why wouldn't she? Why would she prefer being gang raped and beaten and strangled over calling for help?

She presses her lips together, doesn't say a thing. For a moment they are both silent, standing in the bathroom, the naked girl and the guy with his tented boxers. Even now his cock doesn't agree with him. But he doesn't care about it anymore. This is a mystery he wants to unravel.

“Tell me,” he says, tone harsher, pointedly. She seems to reply better to commands.

And it seems to work. “He said he'd kill me if I talked to them,” comes her quiet answer, spoken to the tiled floor.

“He? He who?” he asks, his arms falling to his sides.

“Sir,” she replies, her shoulders shaking.

“Sir? Who calls himself Sir? Who is that? The man who did this to you?”

She shakes her head. “No. He... he found me, he took me in, and then... he... he sent me away because I was... a bad girl and he... he... they...” A series of sobs escapes her before her hands fly up to cover her face. Her cries pierce his heart. “Why did he send me away? What did I do?” she wails softly, muffled from behind her hands. “I was a good girl... always a good girl... did everything he said...”

He can't watch it anymore. While his rage for this unknown man grips his insides, he steps forward and pulls her against him, arms wrapped around her shuddering form, but she keeps crying, lets it all out, desperate and heartbreaking. He scoops her up and carries her to the bedroom, her tears hot on his skin, her whines loud in his ears.

Putting her down carefully, he pulls the blanket over her naked body and tucks her in, gently rubbing her side as she curls in on herself, continuing to cry miserably.

“Please stop crying,” he whispers, sitting down on the edge of the bed, hand still on her hip. “I'm sorry he treated you like that. But he let you go, you said so, so why don't you use that as a chance to move on, look ahead, find a new Sir? Or live your life without any man for a while? I'm sure that's nice too...”

She stares at him from under her clumped lashes, momentarily paused in her sobbing, only to cry out again when he suggests moving on. He sighs, letting her wail and whine until hiccups shake her form. She's not calming down, but she gets quieter, and he stands up then, walking down the stairs into the kitchen to get some water and a snack. When he returns, she's lying on her side, staring blankly ahead, eyes reddened, face flushed and wet, but she's stopped crying for the moment.

He sits back down on the edge and holds the water glass to her face. “Come on, drink something. Please.” She doesn't even look at him. He exhales loudly and puts the glass on the bedside table. “Fine. Well, it's there if you want it. I also brought some crackers, maybe you're hungry. I can get more later. Or just sleep, you definitely need that. Rest, get better, and tomorrow we'll figure something out, okay?”

She doesn't give a reply, and he shakes his head and leaves again, settling on the lumpy couch under the stairs, his eyes drifting back up to the loft area every now and then. He falls asleep thinking it was probably a bad idea taking this girl with him. For his sake. What if she is so sick in the head she'll stand over him with a knife in the middle of the night? Great thought to slumber over, really.

1 🟢 2 🟢 3

End notes: *And this was the plot part of our story, stay tuned for the sex frenzy to begin in the next chapter!

There will be three chapters in total, I'll upload every Wednesday.

Thank you for joining me on another little original story I needed to get out of my system.

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

[wiisagi-maiingan]

[edensremains]

sweet treats

summary: adam accidentally falls in love with a barista while disguising himself as a human

from my other account! available as a chatbot ^_^

Adam was out of his element in the fucking human realm.

It’s what being up in Heaven for a billion years ever does to you, especially when you’re the first man to ever bless the goddamn earth.

When Eve was kicked out of Heaven for eating the forbidden fruit, an apple he didn’t wanna fucking eat and told her just as much when she tried to offer it to him too, Adam scored a spot among the elite of Heaven with a new pair of shiny golden wings on his back. Sucks to suck, get fucked.

…It also sucks that paradise is so fucking boring when you’re not killing demonic cunts only once every year. There’s nothing to *do* because every day is a good day, getting shit-faced gets old quick when you can do it every single day and not wake up with any of the consequences. The hell was he supposed to do all the time while waiting for the next extermination?

He knew it was getting bad when even screwing angels was starting to feel like more of a chore than a good time. Honestly, the only time he could really get his kicks was doing it right after an extermination, still high on adrenaline and all the more cocky.

Eve was probably having the goddam time of her life, down there on Earth doing whatever the fuck she wants with humans. They invented all sorts of shit, and bitches were everywhere. God, what he would give to be down there enjoying that shit too.

Wait a minute.

—————————

Sticking it to the man was harder than he thought when it was so easy to go down to the human realm, hiding his angelic features in order to mingle amongst the everyday buzz of people.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to, but maybe that made it all the more better. So he made a routine of sneaking down after wiping his wings and halo clean, and conjuring what he saw human men wore. Shoes were so fucking lame, but he guessed they aren’t exactly able to walk among the clouds just yet.

That is, if any of these fuckers actually get up to the pearly gates, considering how all of them act. Who cares though? Adam loved the bitches that were eager to spread their legs, now they deserved a spot in Heaven more than the bastards he’d occasionally scrap with. So what if he fucked your girlfriend? Why is she at a bar pressing herself all up against him in the first place? He didn’t even have to do shit, they’d invite him over easy and he’d give them a taste of Heaven.

Honestly, it was all great until he royally FUCKED up.

The FIRST man, the original dick, the beginning of EVERYTHING. Fell for a fucking human. How stupid was that shit?

God, he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw them walking down the street, nearly bumping into him in a rush. He was going to yell at them or some shit, nearly making him lose his next bed-warming target, until he got a glimpse of their face.

It was so over.

He followed them right into the coffee shop with a blank expression, completely mesmerized. They were so, so fucking pretty when they apologized to him. Their voice… The way they looked, the way they fluttered around him trying to get past him taking up the entire tiny ass sidewalk, made him suddenly want to bless the fucking construction worker who poured the minimal ass cement in this busy part of town. Plans to head to the nearest bar forgotten, he followed them into the cozy coffee shop.

And man was it fucking worth it. The fuck ass coffee was good, but he wasn’t here for that when he preferred getting shitfaced and balls-deep in some random slut.

No, he was here for them.

The first time he’d seen them, he was dumbfounded, acting stupid as fuck when he KNEW his worth, this whore would be lucky to get their ass in his bed. But God, and he meant the big man himself, what he wouldn’t give to actually have them in his goddamn bed. He might even consider getting down on his knees to beg if they blue-balled him any longer.

He’d left that night with a fierce determination to fuck the shit out of this random ass barista, he’d look at the name tag next time he was there. This wasn’t fucking running away, it was a strategic retreat. Fuck you.

Today had been a regular day for him since meeting them a couple of months ago. Instead of getting lucky, he’d found himself drawn back to the cafe every week and getting some stupid ass drink so he could watch his favorite barista make it and stare at them the entire time. He’d toss in a few remarks, and found himself forced to actually try and be respectful to some puny ass human that managed to get a chokehold on him.

He didn’t give a fuck if he wasn’t human and that going down to their realm wasn’t allowed, he wanted something and he’d fucking have it.

That being his barista, ‘cuz who the fuck else would it be?

“Gimme the good shit.” He demanded at the counter, a wad of bills clenched in his hand. His bitch looked so fucking fine today, it was practically taking all his strength to not stare at their ass instead of them. Pretty eyes and all, but FUCK. That uniform was doing wonders for them somehow. He didn’t fucking know, but he wanted a piece of it so goddamn bad.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Adam. The ‘good shit’ isn’t exactly a drink.” Their co-worked stifled a groan, clearly they weren’t happy to see his ass here yet again. Despite becoming somewhat of a regular, he didn’t give a shit about any of the other baristas. No, he wasn’t here for them, bland cunts.

“Give me the good shit. I don’t fucking know what it’s called. They know what the hell I’m talking about.” His eyes searched for as he turned his head in their direction, watching them try and juggle multiple cups of coffee on a tray.

“Fuck, whatever! Hey, you!” Their co-worker yelled, startling them enough to nearly drop a tray, some coffee tipping over the mugs and coating the tray with a few droplets before they could steady themself. Adam’s brows furrowed, an irritated feeling bubbling up, directed at the bitch at the counter. Not at his favorite human, *never* at them. God, he’d spoil the shit out of them if he could.

“Get this guy his fucking drink, whatever that is. I’ll get those.” Their co-worker sighed, setting down his notepad and trudging away to pick up their trays on the table.

They simply nodded, undisturbed at being yelled at, as if they were used to it. Adam forcefully shoved down his irritation, feeling pacified at seeing them taking that bastards place at the counter.

“Sup, slu— Sweetcheeks. Gimme the good shit, not a macchiato but the caramel one. The real one is fucking horseshit.” Of course he knows his fucking order, it’s their favorite drink to make. One night, they’d told him just as much, telling him that it was satisfying to watch the espresso sit on top of the milk, separated by the ice perfectly while doing criss-cross patterns with the caramel. He’d listened, then promptly stirred everything together in front of them just to be a little shit.

They’d rolled their eyes and laughed, which made his dick hard and his heart swell. He’d gotten it every time since. One time, they’d served him an actual macchiato and it was fucking horrible without the added syrup and shit. God, he’d nearly spat it out before making them get his usual caramel macchiato with blonde espresso and extra caramel lined on the cup, something they’d given him the first time he’d walked in and asked for a recommendation.

Way too fucking sugary for him, but he drank it all anyways, because his bitch put time and effort into making his goddam drink and he was gonna drink it all.

“Oh, and add in the stupid pastry you served me last time.” He’d added, then paused. “Please, bit—… Please.” He tossed some of his cash into the tip jar, hoping it’d go to them instead of their fuck ass co-workers.

“Coming right up! And you wanted a slice of our coffee cake?” They hummed happily as they took a slice from the display, and served it on a plate. They set it aside before turning their attention back to him. “You can go take a seat and I’ll bring it to you, okay?”

Adam nodded, oddly feeling lighter than he did when he walked in. His eyes lingered on them for a tad longer before he forced himself to walk to his usual spot in the corner, easily sliding into his booth as he pretended not to be looking at them and instead staring at his phone, something he’d gotten a couple weeks into disguising himself as a human.

Obviously his eyes were on them, but he didn’t want them to know that. Fuck, they looked good as hell today. It was sickening how easily he crumbled when it came to them, every interaction between the two just ensnared him further into their try. Witchcraft or some shit, it had to be. He was better than this.

It was always the other way around. He didn’t know what the fuck to do to catch their attention, he was the first man created! Bitches were all over him except this one. It was frustrating, and he’d almost vented to Lite about it before he caught himself.

Right. They don’t know shit about that part of his life.

Here, he was just Adam, the regular who gets the same drink and tries his best to chat them before peak hits and he watches them rush around trying to take orders and make drinks while their co-workers sit on their ass practically.

“There you are!” They set down his drink and the plate of coffee cake as they give him a beaming smile, one that makes his heart start pounding before he grips his hands into fists tightly under the table to calm himself down before he says something stupid.

“Fuck yeah, thanks.” He has a dumb smirk on his face and he knows it as he reaches for his drink, taking a long sip of the sugary beverage, and he suppresses a grimace at how sweet it is. Despite this, he shoots a grin at them. “You always make the best shit.” He tries to glance at their name tag to finish his words off, but like always, the chalk written on it has smeared and it’s unreadable.

“So, got any plans for the weekend or are you going to be here like always, serving coffee to assholes like me?” He tries to sound casual as he leans back in his seat, one eye peering at them for any sort of reaction they might have.

“Just the usual.” They smile, but it looks a tad tired. “Got a long shift, won’t be leaving until dark. The weather is supposed to be nice though, so I hope you get to enjoy it.”

He furrowed his brows slightly, someone like them shouldn’t be staring all cooped up in this shithole of a cafe when they clearly should be enjoying the weather or whatever humans do in their free time, he wouldn’t know. Sucks though, they have taxes and shit to pay for or whatever. Also something he wouldn’t know about, the human world is just filled with a bunch of weird stuff and rules.

“Sucks to suck, I guess. You free after your shift though?”

Nice. Subtle and nonchalant, Adam praised himself internally, a grin on his face.

They furrow their brows. -2 points, fuck. He watches as his barista internally debates something, briefly glancing at his drink before shaking their head. “Nah, I have to get some rest, got an early shift tomorrow morning.”

He can’t tell if they’re being truthful or not, but the sting of some sort of rejection stabs at him, as if he’d even extended any offer or invitation to go out (which he was BUILDING up to!). His grin falters for a moment before he smooths it over, this isn’t a rejection, he didn’t even say anything yet. Mind you, they were probably being honest, even if they won’t look him in the eye and they’re oddly flushed.

“Huh.” He replies unintelligently, not quite sure what else to say to keep them there. He doesn’t want them to go back to work just yet, but he can hear their coworkers shuffling closer, mumbling to each other about his barista ‘slacking’ off as if this place isn’t carried on their back. Fuck their fuck ass co-workers.

“Well, if you’re ever tired of his dump, come find me, yeah? I know a place with killer ribs.” He doesn’t, but they don’t need to know that. He’ll google it or something later. He glances at them out of the corner of his, trying to gauge a reaction to as if his nonchalant bad boy demeanor is working yet.

They let out a small laugh that sounds like the chiming of a bell, and his stomach does a funny flip before they give him a nod. “Will do, Adam. Enjoy your drink, okay?” They reach out and turn his drink around, before swiftly moving onto the next table, beginning to clean off some ungrateful fucks.

He raises a brow at their sudden moving of his cup, but brushes it off. He watches them for a moment more, letting out a small sigh. This human of his doesn’t even know how bad they have him wrapped around their finger. That’s a good thing though, Adam isn’t some simp for them to have on their roster.

He scoffs at the notion, before grabbing his cup and taking a sip, wincing again at all the sugar before his eyes notice a scrawl on the side of his cup.

Pulling it back, he glances at it before choking on the liquid still in his mouth, eyes wide as he frantically coughs, trying to get the drink down the right pipe before they turn their head at him.

A number, neatly written, paints the edge of his cup, and he frantically whips out his phone, wiping his mouth with his sleeve as he punches in the digits immediately in his contacts app. He can’t help the dopey expression on his face anymore, eyes honed in on the phones screen.

After, he pumps his fist in the air, not caring about how it looks to the other patrons.

FUCK YEAH, MAN.

[girliism]

rockstar!patrick zweig who thinks being in a rock band is the best thing to ever happen to him. the endless access to fame, money, girls, and boys. he was more than happy that he joined when his childhood friend brought it up one day while they were chilling in one of the many rooms at casa zweig.

“dude i think we should start a band.” art donaldson his closes and probably only person worthy of “the best friend” title blurts out randomly. “what?” patrick huffed. “we’re sixteen and have never played an instrument, you’re crazy.” the conversation ended after that as they went back to watching their movie. but still they found themselves later that night in their respective homes watching youtube video after youtube video on how to play different instruments.

that was seven years ago, and thanks to arts sudden interest (and hard work from all three of them) the challengers were everywhere, sooo why were they playing some venue in tiny college town. “oh, don’t act so upset pat, this whole week you’ll be surrounded by drunk easy college students, your favorite.” tashi patted her hands on his shoulders trying to reassure him. patrick groaned “with a number one song on billboard hot 100 all i’m saying is we should be selling out stadiums”

art laughed shaking his head. “haven’t you ever heard of humble beginnings?” at this patrick mocked him in a higher pitched voice with a roll of his eyes.

“hey guys, you’re on in five” some stage manager popped into their dressing room to say. standing up the three of them get miced up and start doing vocal warm ups to get ready.

“ok, huddle up.” tashi said gathering the two boys up in a small circle. “whether it’s performing in front three mice or 3 million people we give it our all ok.” nodding they all take a couple deep breaths putting their heads together before walking out to the stage.

the crowd was insane to say the least, singing along to all the songs louder than the band themselves. it almost hurt them to have to leave the stage. almost.. because what’s better than a concert? the wild after party full of fans eager to please their favorite band member that comes after.

“ughhh, why does she do this?” art groaned from the kitchen as he watched tashi shove her tongue down some random guys throat. “i think i’m gonna be sick.” art downed whatever was in his cup in one gulp before pouring another.

“when will man up and just ask her to be exclusive, tell her you’re more than just a warm body to use for when she’s feeling bored.” patrick mumble into his cup looking around not really caring for art’s pinning at the moment. “tashi doesn’t do exclusive you know this.”

whatever art was saying sounds completely muffled to his ears as he spots you. sitting there looking bored out of your mind as if you’d rather be anywhere else. he’s got to talk to you he’s got to know you. it’s like you’re pulling him in without even trying like some kind of siren that drags sailors to their death with ease.

“yeah art that sounds great.” he says absentmindedly as he goes to walk over to you leaving his friend alone, though not for long.

he plops down next to you. do all girls smell this good? he thinks before saying. “you here alone?”

eek ok that’s all for now!! part one part three

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Silver Linings ♡ Sam Winchester

Being duty solicitor was your least favourite bit about your 'training'. You didn't need supervision for it, which made it all the more boring. If you were with Cathy (your supervisor) then maybe, maybe, you could've enjoyed it. But no, you were stuck alone waiting.

Usually a duty solicitor would wait at home for a call that an attorney-less potential criminal was brought in who needed legal rep. But unfortunately for you, you didn't have a car. And since it was 11 at night the buses had long since stopped in this rural southern state you called home.

So you were simply sitting in the police station, waiting. Where you would wait all night. You went from being a 'hot shot' Stanford law student, to a trainee solicitor abandoned at a tiny police station.

You never wanted to go into criminal law, that was never the plan. You wanted corporate law, you wanted money, but more than anything you wanted to escape. Escape the very town that you were in right now. Escape the family that you now live with.

You kept telling yourself that maybe, just maybe, when you're fully qualified you can go to the city. But with your mothers bad health and your father out of the picture, well that wasn't really an option.

So for now you waited, and waited, and waited.

At some point between 1am and 2am you must have fallen asleep as you startled when an old, and tired, police officer shook you awake.

"Got two in for you." He said gruffly, "wanted for all sorts of stuff, we caught them grave robbin', but they're wanted for theft and murder and a whole host of stuff."

You blinked at him as his words slowly sank in.

Murder? You questioned in your head. It dawned on you that you may be sitting face to face with the people who'd been killing the young women in the town. No killing was too kind a word. They were brutally murdered their hearts ripped out.

You suddenly felt very sick, but this is what you wanted. If you were to stay in criminal law it would be beneficial to represent some prolific killers, your moral compass will survive.

"Wh-" you began but his loud and obnoxious yawn cut you off.

"Where are they?" You asked once he'd finished, trying to hide your slight terror.

"I'll show you to the interview room." He said as he walked away, jingling his keys in his hand. You followed him quickly, maybe this night wouldn't be so boring after all.

Before he opened the door, you quickly pulled your hair up into a smart updo (a quick knott) with a silver hair pin. It was your lucky charm. You've never given bad advice, lost a moot trial or failed an exam when you wore it. You weren't superstitious or anything, but you had a feeling with the two offenders you were going to face, you needed all the luck you could get.

When he unlocked the door for you, you weren't prepared for what you saw.

"Here's the file on them," the police officer said as you turned your attention back to him.

"Oh, thank you," you accepted the file as he turned to go, closing the door and subsequently locking it behind.

The two men sitting in front of you were cuffed to the table, sitting on chairs quite frankly too small for them.

They both looked unfazed by the whole process, if anything they looked annoyed, not scared or worried, just pissed.

That normally would have proved to be unusual, especially in such a town where all the offenders that walked in you knew by name. But you were shocked by something else.

Maybe you were still asleep?

This couldn't be right, surely?

There, one of the men sitting in front of you, was your old law rival. The one who pushed you to be top of your class. The only other person you knew with a full scholarship. The only person you knew that dropped out when he had so much potential.

Sam Winchester.

He dropped out after a fire killed his girlfriend, Jess, a lovely girl. Everyone thought it would be just a year out, but it wasn't. Naturally rumours circulated, but that didn't change the fact that Sam Winchester dropped out and you never saw him again.

Until now.

With several murder charges, accessory to murder, theft, robbery, burglary, identity theft, fraud, and grave robbing.

You quickly looked up and down the file as you seated yourself opposite them.

"So," you began unsure what to say, "you boys are facing a lot of charges."

Dean, Sam's older brother (you learned from the file) gave a slight laugh at your remark.

"You don't say..." He remarked. He nudged Sam slightly, to get him to laugh but he didn't. Instead he stared. He just stared at you.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, almost concerned, but more amused at his silence.

"I would say it's good to see you again Sam, but I would have rather seen you on the other side of this table." You said rather bluntly, you didn't have time for small talk, you needed them to respect you and know that you're good at your job, or at least will be when you're fully qualified.

"You know this chic?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised.

"I-" Sam began but it was clear he didn't know what to say. I could read it in his eyes, I reminded him of a past, I reminded him of a future that could have been.

"We went to Stafford together," you said avoiding both brothers' eyes, "briefly," you added, "it doesn't prove to be a conflict of interest so I'm fine to represent you further should you need it."

They both simply stared at you, then gave each other a knowing look, then they turned back to you.

You couldn't read them, well you couldn't read Dean at least. Sam looked pained, like he didn't want me to be here. But there was something else. It felt like he was sorry. Sorry for what was something you couldn't quite work out.

"So," you said, "you have quite a lengthy list of suspected felonies, most of which carry life sentences. Due to the expenses of trials if you plead guilty a deal could be made, if not you're at the mercy of a jury, and if your trial is down this way then I don't fancy your chances. Of course only plead guilty if you are."

You reeled of the standard advice, truly you weren't well versed in what to do with serious charges relying on old law school knowledge.

"Any questions?" You asked.

They looked at eachother again, Dean strangely wiggling his eyebrows at Sam. In response the younger brother just rolled his eyes.

He looked similar to how he did at school. His eyes were still hazel with hints of green, his hair was still quite long and messy, he was tall even sitting down he had an imposing quality. But there were small differences. He held himself with a tension only found in old war veterans, his hair was just uncomfortably long for him, annoying him. But the biggest difference was in his eyes, the hope and joy that he once had were replaced with fear, mistrust and a hardness you'd never seen before. He was haunted.

"What are our odds like?" Dean asked, leaning back in his chair, he was too relaxed. He wanted to be here, and you couldn't figure out why.

You studied him briefly before answering. "Not good." There was no point lying to them. "But with your track record I'm assuming you're planning to make it out before trial."

"No we're-" Sam began but you held up a hand to silence him.

"Attorney client privilege, I'm not ratting on you." You clarified, "but I'm assuming this won't be the last time you're caught, I can take care of any personal issues you need me to deal with, and I can give you my card with my contact info."

"You won't be a qualified solicitor yet will you?" Sam asked, looking you properly in the eyes for the first time.

"I will be in a month," you clarified, "I've already gotten a few deals through, good deals, I've gotten clients acquitted on a technicality which if I had ful access to your file outside of this police station I can try and find one in your case. If not I can always advise you on some 'hypothetical' situations you may find yourself in."

He looked at you, really looked at you, if you didn't know any better you would say he looked proud.

But you did know better. Sam Winchester was never your friend. He was barely your acquaintance. The only reason you knew him was because of a sort of academic rivalry you shared. You pushed on another to do better. Until you couldn't. He dropped out. You stayed. And your mind hadn't thought about him since.

Well, you didn't think about him often at least.

"Thank you," he said with almost a whisper.

"You know you're the best lawyer we've had," Dean began, "most act like we did all that shit and have no reason to be treated like people."

"It doesn't matter what I think, being 'guilty' doesn't mean you're morally innocent, just legally."

Dean looked at you, slightly confused by your remark.

"God, you sound like professor Williamson." Sam laughed, breaking a slightly awkward silence.

"I mean he was my fav..." you said almost shyly. To say he was your favourite was an understatement, he was basically like a father to you. He was like that with Sam as well.

When Sam left, it left a hole in Williamson's heart. A whole that you don't think was ever really filled.

"He would've been everyone's favourite if he didn't give people 1000 essays." Sam laughed, reminiscing on your shared school time.

"The essays were fun." You commented, catching the role of Dean's eyes in your peripheral vision.

"I mean yeah," he agreed, "but most people don't like essays."

"Well most people didn't get an academic scholarship." You countered.

"We were the only two." He said almost solemnly and that look of mourning what his future could have been was back on his face.

You kept your last remark inside, choosing not to open an already newly exposed wound.

When you graduated top of your class they mentioned how you were the only one of the law cohort to get a full ride. Sam, to faculty members, was a distant memory. Well he was to everyone but professor Williamson.

They gave tributes to Jess at your graduation but not Sam. It was like he never existed. Like he was never there. It hurt like hell. But what hurt even more was that no one seemed to notice. Sam was an old story, the boy whose life got flipped on its head after his girlfriend died in a freak accident.

"Not that I don’t like this trip down memory lane but..." Dean gestured towards the clock behind me. I turned, it was nearing 3am, the time all the young girls had been murdered.

As I turned back towards them, they pulled away from each other it was clear that they were whispering.

"Do you want to share with the class?" You asked, concerned at the sudden change of atmosphere with the brothers.

"How old are you?" Dean asked, rather bluntly.

You thought about giving a remark about how people should never ask a lady's age but thought better of it given the strange change in atmosphere.

"Twenty-five." You said, slightly concerned.

Sam quirked an eyebrow confused, Dean looked worried.

"I skipped two grades," you quickly explained, "why?"

"She's the same age as the others," Dean commented.

Sam nodded, slightly panicked now.

You knew they were talking about the young women being killed. And you could tell that they weren't the murderers. That being said, it begged the question, who was it?

"Are you going to tell me what relevance this has given your current situation?"

"Well-" Sam began but was cut off by a police officer opening the door.

"Miss, are you okay here?" A young-ish police officer stuck his head in the room, his eyes fixing on you. You squirmed in your seat, his eyes made you go cold.

"Excuse me, officer?" You questioned as you stood up and turned to face the police officer.

"Smith." He gave you his last name.

"Officer Smith, in case you aren't aware of correct procedure here you don't interrupt meetings with council, there are strict confidentiality rules in place. Now leave and I won't report you to your superior, open this door without my permission again and I'll see you fired." You told him bluntly. For some reason there was a lot of activity for 3 in the morning.

He lingered, eyes roaming over you, a wolfish glint in his eyes. "I was informing you that i'm the only officer on shift so if you need anything come to me." Then with a curt nod he closed the door.

When you turned back around Sam and Dean were mouthing indistinct words to one another.

"What?" You asked, worrying more and more by the second.

"We're sorry to do this," Sam said.

You looked at him confused for a moment before you realised what had happened.

The cuffs were off.

In the time you had your back to them they had managed to silently pick the locks, without you or the officer realising.

You looked Sam in the eyes, he looked genuinely sorry but strangely determined.

No.

No. No. No.

Your mind raced, they couldn't could they?

You'd been so ready to help them, so prepared to take an outlandishly bold case. And this is what happens.

"Officer Smith!" You cried as loud as you could.

"Shit, shit, shit," Dean grumbled, "not him jesus christ you'd think you'd want to die, we don't even have any silver 'round here!"

Just as you were about to start questioning things the door burst open to your relief.

Thank god there was an officer to deesculate the situation. You were so relieved. You felt lighter, you felt relief.

Relief that lasted mere seconds as when you turned to face the officer, your supposed rescuer, it wasn't who or rather what you thought it would be.

It wasn't officer Smith, although the creature that stepped out bore an uncanny resemblance to him.

His nails were now sharp, long claws, he now had fangs and eyes resemble those of a wolf rather than of a man.

Your heart dropped.

"Any bright ideas sammy?" Dean asked as he pushed you and Sam into a corner.

"Not unless you have any silver." Sam replied, it was clear his mind was racing at 100 miles an hour.

"What the hell do you need silver for?!" You questioned as you were hiding in a corner behind Sam.

"Silver kills werewolves." Sam explained, surprisingly calm.

"Werewolves?!" You exclaimed, it felt like your whole world was falling to pieces in front of you. "You're saying that he's a werewolf?!"

"Yeah, which is why we really need silver or we're all dead." You were shocked at the bluntness of his response, however you were more shocked at the fact that he knew so much about werewolves. And words didn't even begin to explain how utterly confused, shocked and down right bewildered you were that werewolves actually existed. You wouldn't have believed him if it wasn't for your impending doom.

Suddenly an idea struck you.

You looked at Sam in the eyes. "And what, you just stab it with the silver and they're dead?"

"That's the gist of it, yeah."

You heard a loud smack as Dean collided with the wall.

Just as you were about to begin talking once more, the werewolf, officer smith, made its move to where you and Sam stood.

Sam put himself between you and the creature, his arm lingering on your shoulder.

"You're not getting to her." Sam almost growled at the beast ahead.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins. You had one shot not to die.

Officer Smith just laughed and easily threw Sam aside, leaving only you in the officer's wake.

"Don't take this personally," The creature said as it stalked towards you, trapping you against the wall, his clawed hand reaching up to you.

Suddenly, you pulled the silver pin out of your hair, clutching it in your hand like a knife, "it feels pretty personal." You commented before driving the makeshift weapon into his heart.

He looked at you pained, you could see the life fading from his eyes. Then he fell. A loud thud. He was dead.

Your hands shook. What had you just done? You had killed a man. No, not a man, a werewolf.

If those are real, then what else is out there that you thought was only folklore?

"Shit." Dean commented, slightly impressed, pulling himself up from the floor, "You could have told me, Sammy, that your law school buddy was badass."

You were still frozen on the spot, staring at the officer that lay dead on your feet. The police officer that you'd killed.

"Hey," you felt Sam's hands come to rest on either side of your face, you must not have noticed him getting up, he gently turned your face so that your eyes met his. "You're okay, you saved mine and Dean's life, you saved your own life."

All you could do was nod.

"He wasn't human," he said solemnly, "he was never going to stop killing, you did the right thing even though it doesn't feel like it, you did the right thing. I'm proud of you."

You nodded again, this time a question bubbled in your throat.

"If he's a werewolf, then...?" You trailed off uncertainty.

"Do you really want to know?" Sam asked, his gaze unwavering, he knew what you wanted to ask and him holding back gave you the terrifying confirmation you needed.

"I-" you began but stopped. You needed to know. You were in this world now whether you wanted to be or not, ignorance wouldn’t save you now. "yes."

Sam took a sharp intake of breath and nodded.

"It's all real, everything that you're told is just your imagination, or just stories or folklore; all of it is real." He said with such confidence you had no choice but to believe him. "That's why I left school, I had to come back to this life."

His statement seemed to knock the air out of you. So much information was swimming in your head at once.

"It wasn't an accident with Jess then? Something killed her, didn't it?"

"Yes."

"What..."

"A demon."

The information hit you like a truck, the only thing that's keeping you sane was Sam's hands on your face. His hands that steadied you. His hands that sorted out your hair. His hands that grounded you. Him, Sam, that gave you the strength to do what was necessary.

You had to focus now. You had to sort out the mess at your feet. You needed a plan.

"Okay," you almost whispered, Sam probably wouldn't have heard you if his eyes weren't fixed on your face, your lips.

"We need to sort this out," you said, gesturing to the body on the floor and stealing yourself against the development of your night. Your volume and confidence growing. "There are no cameras here due to attorney client privileges, so the narrative is ours to shape. If you lock me in these cuffs I can be hysterical when someone comes, say you broke out and he tried to protect me but failed, you took my hair pin as a makeshift weapon and stabbed him, and then you both locked me up and ran." You nodded and the narrative came together logically and coherently, they would have no reason for you to lie given what you'd just gone through. Or allegedly went through.

"Why didn't we just kill you?" Dean asked, pointing out a key flaw in the plan.

You paused briefly thinking.

"You didn't kill me because Sam remembered me and thought to spare my life." You said quietly, "It shows some humanity, which would help if for some reason you both ever went to trial."

"Okay anything else?" Sam asked, his hands still lingering on you.

"You took your file with you as well so you know everything the police have on you and you went and collected your stuff from the storage lockers which officer smith had the keys for." You concluded hinting at them as to what their next steps are.

The pair of them just looked at you stunned, Sam's hands falling from your face.

"Yeah, good plan." Dean looked you up and down, "I'll go and grab our stuff. Sammy, sort our lawyer out."

Dean bent down and took the keys from Smith's lifeless body and began walking down the hallways, whistling as he went. This was just another day in the office to him.

"You sure you want to do this?" Sam asked, "you'll face a lot of questions, you might slip up, today's been a lot I don't want to put you through anymore."

He was worried about you. Worried that this would be pinned on you. Worried that he just threw your life off course, just like what happened to him.

"I'll be fine Sam really." You assured him, "It's you I'm more worried about, I'm assuming this constitutes as your 'day job'?"

"Yeah, it's the family business." He said gesturing sarcastically around him, "saving people, hunting things."

"Must be tough, no connections just always on the run, basically alone." You looked at him uncertainly.

He avoided his gaze as he spoke. "I've got Dean and there is a good network of hunters."

"Hunters?" You questioned.

"People like us." He clarified.

"How is there a whole side of the world I didn’t even know about?" You said almost to yourself rather than to Sam.

"Most people don't." His reassuring words didn't do much to ease your mind.

"You said there's a 'good network' that implies that quite a few people do know."

A silence fell over the pair of you, which Sam took upon himself to break in a slightly awkward manner.

"Speaking of hunters..." He trailed off.

"What?" You asked, raising an eyebrow, "Think I should switch professions?" You mellow dramatically flexed your muscles causing Sam to laugh.

"No, no," he laughed, "Don't get me wrong you'd make a brilliant hunter but I'd rather not have to worry about you getting hurt."

His words sent a warm rush through your body. He would be worried about you.

"What is it then?" You asked.

"Well, a lot get caught by cops for murder and such when they actually just saved people's lives, since you're a solicitor"

"Not yet." You lightly corrected him.

"You're almost a qualified a solicitor," he amended, giving you a poignant look, "I was wondering if...." He trailed off uncertainly.

You filled in the blanks from his silence. He wanted you to be there contact. He wants to give you an expansive country wide clientele. He wanted to give you the freedom to escape while also being able to be there for your family. He was giving you your life on a silver platter.

"Past my details on, I'd be happy to do my bit." You say, a genuine smile passing your lips.

"Great, thanks." It was his turn to smile now. "I'll pass them onto this guy called Bobby. He kinda manages a lot of people in a way, everyone goes to him for advice and such, he'll get your contact information distributed." He explained rather quickly, almost awkward and self conscious in his cadence.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Thank you."

A silence fell over you both.

"I suppose I'd better erm..." Sam used his head to gesture to the cuffs of the table.

"Oh yeah," you laughed slightly, blush creeping up your neck, this whole situation was quite absurd.

The pair of you walked over to the table and you sat down. Somehow it now felt awkward between the two of you.

He gently placed your hands in the cuffs and tightened them. Then secured the cuffs so that you couldn't move. "You might be here a few hours I don't know when another officer will arrive I'm really sorry-"

You cut him off by grabbing his hand with your cuffed one. "Don't worry, I'll be fine." You reassured him, not quite ready to let go of his hand quite yet.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, "I'll call you as soon as I can so that way you have my number, okay?"

It was clear that neither of you wanted to leave this moment in the past, but with time being of the essence in Sam's case you both knew he couldn't stay here much longer.

"Okay." You confirmed with a nod of your head.

You both stilled. Hands still intertwined.

"Right well I... I'd better go." Sam said unconvincingly, lingering with his hand in yours for just a few more stolen seconds before he pulled away and walked towards the exit.

"Sam?" You said his name like a question, a prayer. You didn't want him to go. To leave you alone. You were scared. Or at least you knew you would be. With Sam here you felt safe, you felt a warmth around you. You didn't want to lose that, not just yet.

Sam wasted no time turning around when you called his name, waiting for you to speak again.

"Don't disappear from my life again."

A smile crept up his face that he tried to hide. It was his turn for his cheeks to turn a light shade of pink.

"Don't worry, I have no intentions of doing that." He walked back towards you, and held your hands again, "I promise."

His eyes were trained on yours, his beautiful eyes. They roamed your face for a moment, as if trying to commit every detail of you into memory. Then they lingered on your lips.

You felt your breath hitch as he leaned closer to you. His eyes quickly looked into yours for a split second as if to ask 'is this okay?' All you could do in response was nod.

And that's all he needed. You felt your eyes flutter shut as his lips gently and tentatively pressed against your own.

You felt yourself falling, more and more and more.

He pulled away all too soon. "I promise to call," he said as he pressed another quick kiss to your lips, it lasted only a split second but it was enough to send your head spinning once more.

As he made his way to the door he turned and gave you one final look before he disappeared from view.

The warmth that you felt lingered as you pressed your cuffed hands to your lips. Sam Winchester had just kissed you, twice. The very Sam Winchester who's currently wanted. At this moment you should have been thinking about the disastrous consequences of being caught, or the devastating news that monsters were actually real. However, all you could think about was his lips on yours and his promise that he would call. His promise that you knew he'd never break.

Who knew this night wouldn't turn out to be so boring after all? Maybe there was a silver lining being a duty solicitor.

♡♡♡

A/n: I started off using brittish law then, I just made it fit to the plot lmao, but one things for sure it's definitely not correct in terms of us law but it's fine...

Wc: 4.8k

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | june 3 - june 9

note: this chapter features me trying to find the right balance between "slow burn😈" and "OH MY GOD I'M SO BORED CAN THEY FUCK ALREADY", so enjoy that.

here is a link to chapter one! if you've forgotten what took place, i recommend skimming, or just read day 7 over again!

8:90 – HONEY

Mondays are Honey’s lazy days. It’s the last day of her weekend, since The Reading Nook isn’t open. She usually spends her day doing laundry and cooking for the week, but today, all she wants to do is lay in bed.

She hasn’t been unproductive, per se. She started her laundry and took a shower, even shaved her legs. She replaced her sheets, and then the allure of her bed called her back in. She cocooned herself under the covers and cracked open the book from her bedside table, but Honey’s eyes have just been sliding over the page. Her mind is elsewhere. 

She can’t stop thinking about Saturday night.

It was fun. She had fun.

From the first moment, she was comfortable. The boys treated her and Bea like their friends, people that they’d known for longer than a week. She had been apprehensive at first, then thankful that Bea was willing to leave with her if she wanted to, but she never really wanted to leave. The time just came and she knew that she couldn’t be there any longer.

The second Jack opened the door and she saw Luke and Cole holding Trevor back, she just felt light. 

Since leaving home, she really only had Bea. The old ladies are friendly enough, but it’s not the same. Before coming to Litchton, Honey and Bea went to a big high school. They knew a lot of people between the two of them and Bea was captain of the school’s state-championship-winning volleyball team their senior year. Honey’s parents were well known in the community and they were really involved in their church. 

She went from having plans every night with her friends, sneaking out of the house to get up to no good because she wasn’t legal yet, and being miserable because she was overcompensating for a feeling she couldn’t describe to… asking her best friend to go off grid with her in a tiny town that no one from their hometown knew. And Bea came.

Honey was happier this way, and Bea could adapt to any situation with a little time so long as the illusion of adventure was intact, but it was still lonely. She loves the home she made for herself in Litchton and how it taught her to be an adult, her own person rather than a version of her that was molded from her surroundings. At the same time, she misses knowing people her age.

Litchton, as great as it was to Honey, was the kind of little town that you flee when you leave for college after living there your whole life. The only time you come back is when you’re starting your family, or maybe even after your kids move away and you crave that small town life your parents enjoyed so much.

Or, if you’re Honey’s dad, you vacationed in the town as a kid and wanted your child to have the same experience. 

Long story short? There is an abundance of people under 18 and over the age of 50 in Litchton, but not so many 19-30 year olds.

It’s more of a problem for Bea. She’s the one who’s looking for a relationship. Honey is not looking for that. She’s not.

It’s nice to have a few new friends, though. Not Trevor, really, even though he seems desperate for Honey’s attention. Honey didn’t talk much with Luke, since the boy was quiet for most of the night. The most animated she saw him was when Trevor started his Zulu Run and Luke cheered him on. Quinn was at the pool table the whole night… until he was upstairs… but he seems like a cool guy. Jack is easy enough to talk to, when he’s not flirting. 

Honey’s not ashamed to admit that her favorite is Cole. He’s a sweetheart with a charming smile and thoughtful intentions. He’s a good person. Honey kind of wishes that she had met him when she and Bea first became friends– she can only imagine how precious he was as a child. Their trio would have been something the other kids envied and Honey and Cole would’ve been each others’ date to prom. 

He would’ve fit in really well with them, she thinks. He’s kind of like the male version of Bea. Maybe that’s why she likes him so much.

Her phone rings and it’s Bea’s name that flashes across the screen, speak of the Devil.

Honey answers and starts to say hello, but Bea cuts her off.

“I’m at your front door,” she says, then the line goes dead.

Honey pulls the phone away from her ear and stares at the screen. She scoffs and shakes her head, tossing the covers off and swinging her legs around the side of the bed. She’s just in the old boxers that she stole from her last boyfriend and a bralette, her laziest outfit. She doesn’t even consider changing as she walks to the door and opens it. Bea’s seen all this, and more, before.

“Good, you’re not wearing clothes,” Bea breathes out in relief as a greeting. She pushes past Honey and makes her way towards the bedroom. “I was going to make you take them off for this anyway.”

Honey rolls her head back and fakes a snore. She closes the front door and trails after Bea, finding the girl sitting on her bed when she reenters the room.

“Okay, before we get started, I want to give you a chance to tell me about your night after I left the room,” Bea says. “Oh, and I should probably tell you that Trevor was upset that you weren’t at church yesterday.”

“Okay,” Honey replies, her laugh strained. “That’s… weird.”

He likes you. He’s good. He’s trying. You should like him too.

Honey shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “Not much happened. Trevor did his Zulu Run, each of the boys chose a song for him to run to, and I left during Cole’s song. Jack walked me to the door.”

“Oh,” Bea drawls. She tilts her chin up and taps her nose. It’s a habit they both picked up when they were teenagers– a secret signal of sorts when they were talking shit at parties in their younger years. They do it when something is too ‘on the nose.’ It’s supposed to be clever– Honey thought of it. “So that’s why Trevor pushed Jack up against the wall, while he was naked, might I add, and asked him what the hell he was doing?”

Honey freezes, lips parted in surprise. Her eyebrows are furrowed and she hopes that she looks judgmental enough to hide the shock.

Bea tilts her head to the side slowly and smiles up at Honey, pulling one of her braids over her shoulder and twisting the end between her fingers. “Isn’t that so… interesting…?”

Honey licks along her top row of teeth and seethes at Bea. “No,” she snaps. “I don’t find that interesting.”

Bea rolls her eyes. “Fine. But you can’t fight this forever, Honey. I’m going to get you laid this summer, while we have this many willing participants, whether you like it or not.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what you did with Quinn? I know that’s why you’re here.”

Bea’s face lights up and she grins from ear to ear. “Honey, I know they’re all athletes, but, like… holy shit.”

She jumps into a long winded story that begins with the second Quinn bent over her to hit the 8 ball and she felt him against her behind. (“He wasn’t even hard yet, and I was practically swooning!”) Bea is gesticulating wildly, miming her movements and even climbing onto Honey’s lap at one point to recreate the position Quinn had her in. 

Bea’s downright dirty about it, and Honey squirms a bit. This happens every time Bea hooks up with someone, but it never becomes more comfortable for Honey. 

After Bea finishes describing the way that Quinn groaned when he came, all the while Honey is cringing because she’ll never look at Quinn the same again, she says: “You know, if you just started having sex again, I wouldn’t have to describe my hijinks to you.”

Honey laughs out loud, her jaw dropping at the statement. “You’re a liar!” She accuses, pointing a finger at Bea and pushing her over on the bed. 

Bea giggles into the covers, hiding her face from Honey. She shrugs and nods along as Honey continues her accusation.

“We’re going to keep doing this shit until the day we die!” Honey exclaims, her cheeks tight with how wide her smile is. Laughs keep bubbling up from her chest and interrupting her sentences. “Buzzy, when you get pregnant, I genuinely think you’re going to find some sperm and shove it up my cooch so we’re ‘experiencing everything at the same time.’ You freak!”

Bea howls with laughter, clutching at her stomach. “Fuck off!” 

“I swear! When you get married, I’m going to have to get an IUD just so I’m not fearing for my fucking life the whole time,” Honey retorts, grabbing her pillow from near the headboard. She whacks Bea with it as the girl squeals and tries to avoid the weapon. 

After a satisfying hit to the side of Bea’s head and a groan of contempt, Honey throws her pillow back up to the headboard and collapses into her sheets, her head turned to face Bea’s. They giggle and blink at each other for a minute, breathing in the smell of Honey’s fresh laundry. 

Honey’s eyes are half-covered by the top sheet and for a moment, when she catches a glimpse of Bea’s flushed cheeks, she thinks of all the times that they had sleepovers in Honey’s childhood bedroom and stayed up all night trying to stifle their laughter. 

Honey pushes herself up from her position and shuffles under the covers, pulling the sheets up to her chest. Bea joins her with a little groan. They sit together, facing forward, mirror images of each other.

“Was he really that good?” Honey asks softly.

“Better than Overalls Joe,” Bea replies.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Honey turns over, leaning against her pillow. Bea follows her lead and faces her, her hand tucked below her cheek in a little fist. Her face scrunches, catching on the skin of her palm.

“Does that change anything?” Honey asks. “Are you still going to hook up with all of them?”

Bea nods tentatively. She breathes out a sigh. “For a second, after we finished, I thought about not telling him. He was so sweet and great that I thought maybe I wouldn’t want to go through with everything, and you know how much I love the strong, silent type, but like. I don’t know.”

Honey searches her face for a clue. Bea still looks just as uncertain as she’s describing. She purses her lips and avoids eye contact with Honey, turning so she’s facing the ceiling. 

“You thought that you’d change your mind and you’d want a monogamous hookup situation, but when you finished with Quinn, you hadn’t,” Honey supplies. She’s still laying on her side, looking at Bea’s profile.

Bea bites the insides of her cheeks. “Yeah.”

“And you felt bad.”

“Yeah.”

“And you still feel bad.”

“Yeah.”

Honey finally shifts to lay on her back, reaching over to take Bea’s hand. They stare up at the fan on Honey’s ceiling. It’s dusty. Honey makes a mental note to clean it later. 

“He reacted well when I told him,” Bea says. “He was surprised, which I get, but then he kind of just shrugged. He said if I wanted to have a Slut Summer, then he wasn’t going to stop me. I referred to it as a Slut Summer first, by the way. He wasn’t being an asshole about it.”

“Do you regret it?” Honey asks.

“I needed to tell him. It would be so unfair to Quinn if I hooked up with him, got his hopes up, and then hooked up with one of his brothers.” Bea shrugs and shakes her head. “I feel gross about it because I know he was disappointed for a second, but I’d feel grosser if I didn’t tell him.”

“How did he act after you told him? After the shrug?”

“Well, he also told me that he just got out of a relationship, and then he acted normal for the rest of the day. He drove the boys to church and drove me home after. He was touching me in some way almost the whole time.” Bea drops Honey’s hand and picks at a hangnail. “And we made out when we were at my place.”

Honey’s lower lip juts out in an unimpressed look before she smiles. Good for Bea.

But she's not finished.

“I just— I saw how he looked at me when I first propositioned him.” Bea covers her face with both of her hands. “And he told me that if this had gone down when he was younger, it would've ruined him. I know he meant it to lighten the tension because he laughed… but, like… I can’t get that image out of my head. Baby Quinn getting his heart broken by a girl who didn't want more from him. It makes me feel like shit.”

“Maybe you should go over there,” Homey suggests. “You should talk to him some more and clear the air.”

“I can’t,” Bea complains. “I can't let him know that I care. Then he’ll have all the power.”

Honey rolls her eyes. “I don't think that’s how this works.”

“It's how I think it works!”

“Okay.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Eventually, Honey picks up her book from her nightstand and begins to read. Bea stares at the ceiling.

Ten minutes of thought later, she sits up abruptly.

“I'm going home,” Bea announces and leaves the bed, pulling her shoes on. “I'm drinking some of my calming tea and going to bed. I’ll see you at the store tomorrow?”

Honey looks over to her clock and snorts out a laugh. It’s only 5:15 in the evening. Bea’s going to be overtired by the time she wakes up in the morning. She’s planning to sleep for almost sixteen hours. “Be at work at ten,” Honey tells her. “You're scheduled then and the ladies are coming in.”

“Yadda yadda,” Bea replies, then waves goodbye and blows Honey a kiss. “I’ll get there when I get there, like every day other than Friday.”

Honey sniffs out a laugh, then returns to her book. It's just now getting good. The story follows a girl who is trying to create an anthology based on her hometown’s history and she’s spent the past few weeks interviewing the townies and local historians, just to stumble upon a town secret that no one really wants to talk about. 

Honey thinks it’s the best book she’s read so far this year.

Her alarm beeps at a quarter to six, and Honey puts her book away. She stretches under the covers, groaning at the satisfying pop of her joints as she does so. Honey throws the covers off of herself and leaves them messy as she changes out of her pajamas and into some spandex shorts and a long t-shirt. 

She grabs her mesh shoulder bag and her car keys, ready to head to the fruit stand outside of the grocery store. She had finished her peaches halfway through the week last time, so she needs to buy more today. She’s feeling like blueberries would be a good investment– maybe some blackberries. 

Honey keeps her head down, parking near The Reading Nook and walking along the sidewalk. She shuffles by a few townies with a nod, and turns the corner. She stops dead in her tracks.

Trevor.

He’s standing at the stand, two paper bags in his arms. He’s chatting with the vendor, a sweet woman named Joan who’s been working the booth for twenty years. She’s laughing and smiling at him and holding another little bag. Trevor bends at the knee and makes a joke as she tries to balance it precariously on top of his other groceries. 

Honey just hopes he’s leaving soon. She walks up to the booth and starts to peruse the apples, keeping to herself and hoping Trevor doesn’t see her before she leaves.

It’s a futile effort and she knows it.

“Honey!” Joan exclaims. “How are you doing, my dear?”

Honey smiles, soft and sweet at the woman. “Hi, Joan. I’m okay. I did some chores today, so I’m just happy to be out and about.”

“Well, you just let me know what you’re looking for today and I’ll give you my best,” Joan promises and leaves Honey to browse. 

“Hi,” Trevor says.

“Hello, Trevor,” Honey replies, not even looking up at him as she scans the selection for the best looking fruit. 

“Do you like tarts?” Trevor asks.

“They’re fine,” Honey replies. She picks up a carton of raspberries, ripe and red. “I prefer turnovers.”

“I was thinking about trying to bake something later,” Trevor tells her.

“That’s nice,” Honey says. She’s not an idiot. She knows what he’s hinting at. Trevor wants to hang out with her again, this time in a much more intimate setting. She’d be at their house, because she would not allow him to invite himself over, but the presence of the other boys wouldn’t mean much. “I’m sure Cole would love to watch you try to bake some tarts.”

“Cole would be a disaster,” Trevor laughs, like Honey just made the best joke he’s heard all day. 

“Maybe he would surprise you.” Honey turns to Joan, holding up her raspberries. “Are these ready? Or should I wait a little while for the next batch?”

“You know what I always say, Honey,” Joan answers. “The second batch is always the best.”

“Good point. Do you have a quart of blueberries around here somewhere?” Honey scans the stand, but she doesn’t see them.

Joan points to the other end of the stand, past Trevor.

For the first time since making it to the stand, Honey looks up at Trevor. She makes eye contact. His eyes are green and he’s happy and there’s this tiny smile on his face as he looks down at her.

“Excuse me,” Honey says. She tries to keep her voice hard, disinterested. 

Trevor continues to smile down at her, arms full of groceries. She focuses on the point slightly past him and squeezes by, her back towards the stand. She tries to avoid shoulder-checking him, but they brush arms anyway. Trevor’s skin is warm against hers, even if it’s just a fleeting pass.

“Would you like to come over and bake with me?” Trevor asks. “I’ll let you take home half the goods. I need someone with some experience to help me out, I’m not much of a baker and you seem like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s an enticing offer, only because Honey had so much fun the other night. She could probably convince all the other boys to help, and Trevor would hate that her attention isn’t completely on him.

“What kind of tarts?” Honey asks. “If I like the flavor, then I’ll come over.”

Trevor’s smile splits his face like he knows something Honey doesn’t. “Joan just sold me some of her best strawberries.” He tosses the older woman a wink.

“What a shame,” Honey muses, and bites back a smile at the way Trevor’s face falls. “I’m allergic.”

“What?” He asks, genuinely taken aback. “Bea said–” He cuts himself off and his eyes go wide, flushing to the tips of his ears at the inadvertent admission.

“‘Bea said?’” Honey repeats, tilting her head to the side. “What did Bea say?”

Trevor scowls at the ground and scuffs his shoes against the sidewalk. “She said you would like strawberries if I bought them for you,” he grumbles.

“Oh, poor baby,” Honey teases. “She tricked you, and you fell for it.”

Trevor rolls his eyes, but Honey can tell that he’s a little bit pleased with the endearing term, even as mean as she said it. 

“Go home, Trevor,” Honey says, her voice turning despondent instead of laced with laughter. “Don’t ask Bea for help with me again. If you want to win me over, you have to do it yourself.”

“Me-ow,” Joan chirps, reminding Honey that they have an audience.

Honey picks up a quart of blueberries and hands Joan a few dollars for the berries, placing the basket in her bag. She grabs a few peaches on the way back to her car, the payment covering the cost of those as well. She walks back to her car, catching a glimpse of Trevor loading his groceries into the trunk of his car. She quirks her eyebrows as she sees him scrub his hands over his face and pat his cheek, not unlike the wake up call she gave Jack on Saturday, saying something to himself.

Whatever. Honey came out on top of that conversation, yet again. One good night at the boys’ house doesn’t mean that Honey wants to hang out with Trevor again, even if she’s bringing donuts over on Friday.

9:90 – TREVOR

Trevor gave up on trying to fall asleep around 4 a.m. after tossing and turning all night. For a while, he scrolled on his phone and caught up with his friends’ Instagram posts. The rental house has WiFi, but it’s notoriously terrible being in the mountains and all, so Trevor’s stuff never loads. In the early morning hours, while none of the other boys are awake and scrolling, he’s able to load up three TikToks in a row once he tires of Instagram. It’s a luxury he hasn’t experienced in over a week. 

He chalks it up to excitement for the day– they’re getting to go on the ice for the first time since coming to North Carolina. Quinn is planning on packing up Trevor’s car around 9 and they’ll be on the road to Bojangles Coliseum, home of the Charlotte Checkers, soon after that. Trevor can’t wait to be back on the ice and have a real hockey practice, even if it’s self-led. 

But, at the same time, Trevor can’t chalk all of his inability to sleep up to excitement for the day.

No, some, if not most, of his inability to sleep was due to the fool he made of himself yesterday. 

He was so close to getting Honey to come over, so close to getting her alone in something that he could call a date, even if she didn’t consider it to be one. He had blindly trusted Bea, something he now knows not to do, and gone with the strawberries rather than ask Honey what kind of pastry she’d like most. 

Of course she’s allergic to strawberries– it only makes sense that Honey’s conniving best friend wants to enjoy Trevor’s plundering just as much as Honey does.

And Trevor knows that she enjoys it.

Poor baby.

Even with the ounces of condescension pooling around the words, Trevor cannot stop them from ringing through his head on a loop. Baby, baby, baby. He’s never been one for pet names, preferring his name or to be called Z, but he sort of wanted to fall at Honey’s knees and beg her to keep calling him that.

Which is peculiar.

Because Trevor doesn’t fall to his knees for anything, much less a girl, and much less one he barely knows.

He can’t seem to shake Honey from his mind, though. Part of it might be the fact that he’s not in a relationship at the moment and he’s used to being in the city over the summer, where he can go to bars and the country club and chat up plenty of nice girls his age. Trevor’s not sure that’s the case, though. It’s a good excuse, but he knows deep down that the reason he can’t shake Honey from his mind is that he likes her. He wants her to like him, too.

Disgusting.

He’s in his early twenties. He has no desire to settle down with someone yet, especially not at this point in his career. The hockey life is hard for him. He can only imagine how hard it would be for someone who had never been a part of that world, who had never had to deal with the constant travel and practices and commitments of the job.

And yet, he keeps catching himself thinking of moments where Honey is part of his life. She’s not, and he knows she’s not, but like when she came over on Saturday: she went toe-to-toe with Jack, decimated him enough that Cole gave her a trophy and a hug, and dominated the pool table. She never went easy on Trevor, nor on the other guys, and she fit. She was happy to be there, even when she caught herself and took a step back. 

Trevor can’t wait to see how beautiful she looks when she finally lets loose.

He’s a little embarrassed by his actions after she left, but only because he knows that the story has probably gotten back to her. Bea probably told her all about how Trevor pushed Jack up against the wall for getting Honey alone, probably overexaggerating the story to make Trevor look more like a fool. Obviously they didn’t do anything– Honey turned Jack down earlier in the night– but Trevor felt a very unfamiliar clench of rage in his gut that caused him to lash out at his best friend.

Not his most shining moment.

He would absolutely do it again.

However, Trevor will never get the chance to do it again if Honey never comes back to hang out with him. 

But he keeps coming back to those strawberries. Strawberries, Bea said. Trevor was a fool for thinking Bea would really teach him all the ways to get in with Honey. When Honey turned him down, and told him the reason, it took Trevor by surprise and he slipped up. He revealed that he had asked Bea for help and Honey grew delightedly wicked at the mention. Trevor watched her eyes light up, the joy fill them as she gained an opportunity to tear him down.

She loves to be in control, loves it to the point of reinforcing her walls that she’s built up for years and years, Trevor assumes, at any opportunity. He saw it in the way she switched from teasing to curt and serious within a moment. 

When he texted Bea afterward, upset and biting like a rabid dog, all Bea replied was: “you were never going to get her with my help. stop using me as a crutch. freak.”

And then an hour later, “do u think quinn is mad at me”, which Trevor never replied to, because he had no interest in asking Quinn if he was “mad at Bea.”

All he cares about is if Honey is mad at him. 

She didn’t seem like she was. Trevor just has a feeling that something is off and he needs to find a way to make up for it before he loses his chance to win her over. It’s dramatic, yes, but he needs to be on her good side. He needs it.

He cannot possibly think about this any longer.

Trevor swings his legs over the side of the bed and patters down to the kitchen, phone in hand. He printed out the recipe the day prior, preparing for Honey to come over and bake with him, but he had been too pouty to follow the directions last night.

He already can’t sleep, so he might as well cook. The sooner he makes those tarts, the sooner his housemates eat them all, which is ideal since he wants to forget this exchange as soon as possible. 

Trevor had bought these mini tart shells the day before, pre-baked and thrown into the fridge haphazardly in his frustration. He takes them out to prepare, then assembles the rest of his ingredients.

It’s slightly therapeutic, the baking. He blends ingredients together with a wooden spoon until the lumps are gone, he lets the ingredients simmer over apple juice. He watches as it solidifies and goes from two separate solids and liquids into a sugary glaze. He pours the glaze over the tarts and arranges the strawberries on top of the little shells. It takes him a while to get them all perfectly balanced. They kept falling over, much to his chagrin, and before he knows it, the sun is nearly rising. He’s got a tray of twenty-four tarts on his hands and not enough room in the freezer to chill them before they leave for Charlotte.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Then, again, he spits out, “Fuck.”

Trevor stares at the piles of frozen pizzas and chicken breast and steak that have accumulated in their freezer, bags of ice to be blended into drinks on hot days.

“Motherfucker,” Trevor growls, then covers his mouth. He glances towards the stairs, expecting one of the boys to make their way down at any moment.

When no one appears, he turns his attention back to the freezer.

Trevor hauls out the bags of ice, the stacks of food. He clears the freezer and grumbles, shoving the tarts onto a shelf. The strawberries fall over again and he has to fix them. He all but slams the food back into the fridge, unorganized and harsh. He forces the freezer door shut, the sound echoing throughout the house.

“Oh,” Trevor hears a sleepy voice say from behind him. He turns around, eyes wide, and finds Quinn in his boxers and a navy t-shirt at the bottom of the stairs. “I should’ve known you were the one making all this noise.”

“Sorry,” Trevor says. 

“What are you doing?” Quinn asks, rubbing his eyes before glaring at Trevor. “It’s not even six.”

“Are you mad at Bea?” Trevor replies, hearing frustration tinge his voice. He points an accusing finger at the older boy. “Because it’s her fault that I’m in this mess.”

Quinn raises his eyebrows, unimpressed with Trevor’s accusation. He opens his mouth to yawn, joining Trevor in the kitchen and sitting behind the counter. 

“I’m not mad at Bea,” Quinn says simply. “I admire what she’s doing.”

Trevor makes a face. “What’s she doing? You?”

Quinn growls a warning at Trevor. “I don’t have to explain her business to you. Yeah, she and I hooked up, and it was great. We’re going to keep hooking up. But she’s allowed to do whatever she wants. I told her if she wanted to have a Slut Summer, I wasn’t going to stop her.” He holds up a hand to cut Trevor off. “She called it a Slut Summer first, by the way. I’m not being an asshole about it.”

“Who’s she slutting it out with?” Trevor asks, laughing. “The only non-Hughes boys in this house are me and Cole and, quite frankly, I don’t want Bea like that. Cole’s also too short for her. There are no other guys in the town.”

“She is going to get whomever she wants,” Quinn says, voice cool. His face is calm. “Whether they are in this house or not.” He schools a tight, borderline-annoyed smile across his face. “What are you doing?”

“Baking,” Trevor snaps. 

Quinn snorts. “Sounds like you’re mad at Bea.”

“I am! She fucking– how do you know about that?”

“She told me, you idiot,” Quinn replies. “And I thought it was very funny.”

“When did she have time to fucking tell you–”

“Right when I got in the car, Trevor.” Quinn nods, a smug and satisfied expression on his stupid face. Trevor’s not biased. “She couldn’t stop laughing, even after she told me that you were about to buy strawberries for Honey… who is allergic to them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Trevor demands. “You knew I was going to the market just for that! We didn’t need anything. You made me pay for beer!”

“Because it was funny.” Quinn slaps his hands down on his thighs and shrugs. “Because I wanted to see this play out. My only regret is not going to the store with you and watching it play out in person.”

Trevor sneers at Quinn. “I hope she never sleeps with you again,” he grits out, sincere and nodding. 

Quinn narrows his eyes and leans in, voice quiet. “If she never sleeps with me again, then she will never bring your little friend around again. We both know that you can’t get her to come over on your own.”

He and Trevor maintain eye contact for a minute. Trevor is the first to break it, looking down and away with a clear of his throat. He steps back to the fridge and takes out the carton of eggs to make himself an omelet.

The boys traipse down the stairs in annoyingly long intervals. Jack is the last of the five to mosey down the stairs and make his breakfast, which is when Quinn leaves to pack Trevor’s car for their practice today.

Trevor is glad to be driving to Charlotte alone. Quinn’s words lodged themselves deep between his ribs and left him unsettled. He’s always been able to get the girl he wants and he’s been secure in that. But this is different– this is Honey, the first girl he’s ever wanted so much, and Quinn’s absolutely right. Trevor has no idea what he’s doing and has no chance at all.

And as Trevor runs sprints by himself during practice, just circling in laps over and over, he decides that Quinn is right. It will never happen. Honey would never be interested in him like that and she has made it very clear. Trevor will have to settle for being her friend, and only her friend. It’ll be hard enough to get her to like him, but he’ll have to do it if he wants even a slice of her at all. 

And on the drive home, the decision settles like a rock in his stomach. Trevor has never felt quite so unhappy in something that he has to accept. It’s her friendship or nothing at all, and Trevor will be damned if he receives nothing at all from Honey. 

10:90 – HONEY

It’s officially summer.

Ada was at the bookstore when Honey came to open it up this morning. Evidently, she had been up since the wee hours of the morning, plucking deep purple blackberries off of the vines behind her home until she had plenty for a pie. She could have baked it at home, but instead, Ada chose to bake the pie in the tiny, barely functional oven in the back. 

The Reading Nook has been filled with the scent of sweet, summery blackberries, and Honey cannot think of a better way to start the day.

Bea is late for work, obviously, but she strolls in with a coffee for Honey and a kiss on the cheek for Ada to make up for it. 

“Good morning girls,” Bea sings as she walks into The Reading Nook. She’s wearing a navy t-shirt that’s tied in a small knot around her midriff and a long, flowy orange skirt. 

“Is that my skirt?” Honey asks, accepting the coffee from her friend and zeroing in on her outfit. 

“I’m being Donna from Mamma Mia 2 today and I needed it,” Bea replies. 

“Oh, you’re just like Donna, alright,” Honey confirms, the thinly veiled insult darkening Bea’s face.

Bea opens her mouth to retort, but thinks better of it when her eyes flicker over to Ada. The sweet old lady might have a heart attack and die if she learns what Bea is planning for her summer. Instead, Bea paints a smile over her face.

“It smells good in here,” Bea says. “Did you bring us some sweets, Ada?”

“I am baking you a pie right now, Miss Bea,” Ada says, turning the page of her magazine with a polished finger. She doesn’t even look up at the girl as she speaks. She’s immersed in her activity, eyes scanning the page so she doesn’t miss a word. 

“Good, I ran out of desserts and no one bought me any strawberries this week.” Bea cuts her eyes at Honey.

“We already talked about this. If you want strawberries, go ask Trevor.” Honey’s expression is impassive. She and Bea had had a long discussion yesterday about her meddling and how it’s overstepping Honey’s boundaries.

Bea had agreed to let up, but she’s still pouting about it. 

“I just don’t understand why you’re not interested in him,” Bea hissed through gritted teeth, leaning into Honey’s space between the stacks. The knitting ladies are barely out of range, but Honey wouldn’t be surprised if they were craning their necks and listening in. She wouldn’t be surprised if Sacha turned up her hearing aid, just to try and catch their whispers. “He’s cute and he likes you. He bought fruit for you.”

“I don’t want him,” Honey reinforces. She’s repeated the same thing, in so many words, to Bea all morning. She even read the messages that Trevor sent Bea after the strawberry incident, with Bea’s permission, and all it did was stress her out. “And I don’t want you to help him anymore!”

“I’m not going to,” Bea promises. “But you should give him a chance.”

“No, Bea!” Honey looks around and lowers her voice again. “I’m not looking for a man, and if I were, I wouldn’t choose Trevor. I’m not like you, spreading my legs for every cute boy in the room.”

It was a bit too far, to be honest, and Honey apologized shortly after. They’re back to bickering like sisters, annoyed by the other but not enough for it to be a real argument. They easily could’ve ran into “real argument” territory with Honey’s comment and Bea’s pushing, but neither girl felt like that was necessary.

They’re better when they’re not fighting, anyway.

They’re kind of fighting anyway.

Honey gets to work doing her own thing– restocking shelves, checking customers out at the counter when Ada waves her over, while Bea talks to the customers as they shop. When she’s not talking to customers, she’s sitting in the back, typing out little messages on her phone. 

It’s suspicious, the way Bea went from rarely texting anybody to suddenly texting all the time. She’s more of a voice note kind of girl, so Honey has gotten used to hearing her record messages for her sisters and cousins, often vulgar and rarely edited. She goes off on tangents often, she yells into her phone whilst sitting in traffic, and yet lately, she’s been putting her thumbs to use. It’s weird.

Hours pass and Honey notices Bea on her phone often throughout the day, usually accompanied by a quick glance up to see who’s around her. If Honey didn’t know any better, she’d say that Bea is watching her movements to make sure she doesn’t creep up behind her.

It doesn’t matter, she decides. Bea can be cryptic all she wants. Honey doesn’t care about what she’s saying or who she’s talking to.

That’s a lie. She’s been fantasizing since lunchtime that Bea found a new boy to talk to over the summer, and she’ll relinquish her grip on her Slut Summer plans, and Honey will be free to ignore Trevor and his goons as long as possible. He will never be a thought in her head again.

Until the next time he shows up out of nowhere, she grumbles to herself. He’s making it so hard to forget that he even exists. She narrows her eyes at the mere thought of him. Trevor.

And the boys have a real knack for showing up out of nowhere, because as they’re closing down the shop for the night, literally right as Honey approaches the door to flip the door sign from “Open” to “Closed,” Quinn appears.

He waves awkwardly at Honey when she approaches the door, both of them reaching for the door handle at the same time. He laughs sheepishly and pulls his hand back, tucking it into his pockets with a soft smile. 

Honey opens the door. “Hi, Quinn,” she greets. Her heart feels like mush. He’s sweet and lame, but in a more mature and embarrassed way than Cole’s blatant lameness. Bea made a good choice for her first conquest. “We’re closing for the day.”

“That’s okay,” Quinn replies easily. His eyes are lit up by the lamplight to Honey’s right. “I was just hoping to talk to Bea.”

Honey’s eyes are drawn down by the soft curves of Quinn’s lips. She curses herself for a moment. She’d trade Trevor for Quinn any day, but she’s sure he invoked some sort of bro-code hands-off thing. Not that she cares. 

“Yeah,” Honey says with a nod. “She’s in the back. Come on in.” She steps away from the door and holds it open for Quinn.

He walks in, shaking his arms out as he enters the cool bookstore. He’s wearing a hoodie, but he had pushed the sleeves up due to the humid heat outside. The sleeves fall past his wrist and neatly curve under his fingers. 

Honey gestures for him to stand near the register. “I’ll go get her.” She retreats into the back, where Bea is slicing a blackberry pie into two, planning to transfer hers and Honey’s halves to a tupperware. She’s startled when she looks up to see Honey standing there with a smile on her face. 

“What?” Bea whispers, skeptical. “I wasn’t going to take the bigger half this time, I swear.”

“There’s a suitor at the door,” Honey simpers with a knowing smile. “He’s come to court.” Her voice slips into a British mockery, knowing that Bea had just started Bridgerton’s newest season. 

“Which one?” Bea asks, eager and bright. She puts the knife down and licks her fingers clean.

“Anthony,” Honey reveals, giggling. 

Bea gasps, her hand flying to her mouth and covering her lips. “You’re kidding,” she giggles back, grinning like a schoolgirl behind her fingers. She brushes her hair out of her face and bites her lip, repeating “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Honey tells her. “He’s at the register, waiting for you.”

Bea bounces on her toes, smoothing out her outfit. The orange skirt makes her sort of glow. Honey’s eyes soften as she watches her best friend. There is no one in this world like Bea. You can never hate her or be angry at her for long because she’s like sunshine. 

“Will you go? I’ll put your half of the pie in my fridge and reheat it for you tomorrow. I have a feeling you’ll be needing me to bring you breakfast in the morning.” Honey smirks at Bea, still laughing a little to herself. “Do you want me to open the store, too?”

Bea blushes, her tongue poking through her teeth. “Would you?” She teases, considering it. “I’ll text you, yeah? I should know what kind of encounter this is, and how we should proceed, in about thirty minutes. Thank you, Honeybear.”

“Of course,” Honey agrees with a smile, walking forward to take Bea’s place. As Bea walks away, Honey calls, “Hey.”

Bea turns, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “What?”

“I guess he’s not mad at you,” Honey replies with a final laugh at the finger guns Bea shoots at her before she walks away. 

She hears the door jingle open and closed five minutes later, after she’s split the pies and packed them into her bag. She fiddles around the kitchen a little longer, making sure to give them a head start before finishing up in the main room. 

She straightens a few books on a few carts, sorting a few books onto a different cart. 

Finally, she walks to the door. She pulls it shut and locks it behind her, walking the short distance to her car. She drives home in silence, listening to the wind whistle through her windows. 

She enters her home with a one-handed turn of her key, slamming the door behind her with a kick of her foot. She puts their food away, then decides to take hers to bed and eat it while reading. She grabs a fork on the way out of her kitchen, turning out the lights with her elbow as she walks. 

She enters her bedroom and navigates in the dark until she finds her lamp and flicks it on. The room fills with soft light and she settles into her bed, balancing her plate on her thigh as she reads against her bent knee. Honey raises the fork to her mouth as carefully as she can until she’s finished a slice of her dessert. 

She puts the plate away and tosses her book down to the end of her bed, leaning over to turn off her lamp. She barely touches it for the thousandth night in a row, swinging wildly to reach it. She settles against her pillow, snuggling in.

She waits. And waits. And waits, but her eyelids never grow heavy. Fuck. Her phone lights up with a text from Bea, so she gets up to read it: “So….. can you open the store for me tomorrow?” with a picture of Quinn’s legs extended next to her on the couch, stretched toward the ottoman. His thumb is rubbing over Bea’s knee in the live version of the picture. 

Honey’s stomach flips. Fuck. That can’t be what she was missing.

But immediately, as Honey watches Quinn’s thumb move over Bea’s skin, she gasps at the idea of a heavy, warm body behind her, ready to touch her in the same way. 

She cringes, exits away from the message, choosing not to respond. Of course she will. Of course she’ll open the store for Bea, she doesn’t need to confirm. She just needs to get away from that picture and the things she shouldn’t be thinking about. This is dangerous. Honey’s not looking for this. She’s fine on her own. 

Yeah, she’s fine on her own. Honey nods to herself, eyes wide as she readjusts under the covers. Her bed is just big enough for her to stretch out her limbs. She’d have to squeeze if there was another body here. It was fine when it was her and Bea for that year, but a man? He’d never fit. He’d have to hold Honey in place to keep from pushing her off the bed. She’d have to– God, feel another person against her all night. Ugh. 

But it’s a little appealing, if the man behind her pulls her tight against his front and nudges her neck before he kisses it with his perfect, tan, delicately curved nose–

Nope. Honey shakes the image away, opening her eyes to observe the still aloneness next to her on the mattress. She clears her throat and physically shakes her head. She closes her eyes again and focuses on the blackness behind her eyelids until she finally, mercilessly falls asleep.

She’s not looking for that.

11:90 – TREVOR

Today brings a huge challenge to Trevor and plops it at his feet like a dog spitting out a bird. The challenge is helpless and sad. He stares at it for minutes, hearing the seconds from the clock on his mantle nearby tick away. 

He has to return his library book today. He finished it last night in the game room while Cole chased Luke around with his own pool cue. Luke was surprisingly agile and able to escape upstairs without getting hit once. 

Trevor came out of his trance with a knock to his bedroom door.

“Get up!” Jack pesters. “Going to store! More beer! More fire! More tarts for you to bake!” He continues to pound on Trevor’s door with each word. His shouts are like a caveman’s, annoying and short. He must’ve watched that episode of the Office where Kevin shortens his sentence over breakfast this morning. Why say long word when short word do trick? or whatever.

Trevor grabs his book, feeling like it’s burning his hand. It’s like an anvil in his palm. He wrenches the door open mid pound and Jack stumbles into him. He whacks him over the head with the book. 

“I told you I was up,” he reminds Jack. “I just had to grab something before we left.” He holds the book away from Jack when he tries to snatch it.

Jack reaches for it anyway, playing the game, clawing at Trevor’s arm. He struggles out, “Now that you’ve given up on wooing Honey, maybe I want to be the one to give her a visit.” He manages to snatch at Trevor’s book one last time before it turns into a weapon and beats him away. Eventually, Jack surrenders and Trevor stalks away, starting the car and locking the doors so Jack can’t get in for the next minute. 

Luke giggles in the front seat, videoing Jack on his Snapchat through the passenger side window. Trevor watches Jack glare at Trevor through the phone screen while he pulls on the doorhandle, shaking it over and over and yelling at Trevor to unlock the door. 

Bea giggles in the backseat, perched mostly on Quinn’s lap, Cole’s arm pushed dangerously far away by Quinn’s elbow. Bea shakes her hair back into Cole’s face and he crinkles his nose, sad that he’s in the middle seat. 

“I hate it when we all ride in one car,” Cole grumbles under his breath, trying to breathe through Bea’s ponytail. He reaches over and kicks the door open for Jack, more aggressive than necessary. 

“Chill out, Sweetie,” Bea teases, leaning over to press a lipgloss-kiss onto Cole’s cheek. “You’re more eco-friendly this way. Big rich boy doesn’t care about the environment?” She faux-pouts at him and Cole makes a face at her. 

“Airlines hate him,” Quinn jokes quietly in Bea’s ear, causing her to howl and clutch at his chest. Quinn smiles, proud of himself.

Trevor speeds all the way to the town center, glaring at Bea and making Quinn hold onto her so she doesn’t spill into Cole’s lap. He hopes she’s getting carsick. She’s the reason he had to stop pursuing Honey. She ruined everything.

And, because Trevor is full of good fortune lately, Bea takes his hand and flounces toward The Reading Nook with him in tow. She waves at Quinn as they walk away, and laughs when he whistles. 

“Didn’t you wear those clothes yesterday?” Trevor spits out, walking faster than her.

“Jealous you can’t get laid?” Bea retorts, succeeding in snatching the book from Trevor’s grasp in a way Jack didn’t. They come to a stop a hundred feet from The Reading Nook. Bea plants her hands on her hips and heaves out a breath at Trevor.

“You fucked me over,” Trevor accuses. He stifles his temper, pushing it down. “Like… really, Bea?”

“I thought she would find your effort cute,” Bea explains. “And I thought she would go, because she loves to bake. And watch you struggle.”

“Well, it didn’t, and now I have no chance.”

Bea scoffs and shoves his book back to him. “You know what? Good luck in there. Let’s see if you’re right.” She stomps to the store and holds the door open for Trevor “Come on in.”

The Reading Nook has barely opened, so the only person there is a doe-eyed Honey, startled, behind the counter. She’s holding a book in front of her, on its final pages.  She stares at the open doorway, monitors Trevor’s movements as he approaches. Her lips are slightly parted and it looks like she might even be chewing some gum.

The book tilts down as Trevor comes to a stop in front of her. Her pupils grow behind her eyelashes. Trevor blames it on the shadow he cast on her face when he stood in front of the light. 

Trevor clears his throat and inches his book between her elbows, patting both hands on the bottom edges of the cover. He watches himself do it, centering the book perfectly. Then, he looks up into Honey’s eyes. 

He lathers on his best charm and says with a smile, “I’m here to return my book.”

Honey stares at him, quirking an eyebrow.

Trevor continues, voice soft and prodding, “See? I can be good, you didn’t have to chase me down.”

Honey blinks up at him, then breathes out a high laugh. She covers her mouth as it grows louder, muffling it as much as she can. “Oh my God,” she marvels, hand shaking as she places her index finger on the tip of her nose. “Is that how you treat your girls in California? Do they fall for that?”

Trevor’s smile drops and he glares at her. “Thanks. Can you point me in the direction of another book? I want to check out Alexander and the No Good, Terrible, Very Bad Day, please. I need to plagiarize it but change Alexander’s name to Trevor.”

He pushes the book towards her and she flinches back, offense splashing across her face at the movement. Trevor clenches his jaw and steps away. He watches her face sour, growing deadly.

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to take it out on me,” Honey snaps back. 

Trevor just scoffs and shakes his head and leaves the store. Bea never stopped holding the door, but she makes sure to slam it behind him in celebration. 

Is it that fucking laughable? His affection is something to make fun of, something to tease. It’s obvious. He really never stood a chance.

When they go to the golf course later, Trevor drills the ball farther than he’s ever driven it before.

12:90 – HONEY

It’s National Chocolate Ice Cream and National Donut Days. Honey promised Jack she’d bring donuts to the house tonight. 

She doesn’t want to. She really doesn’t want to see Trevor. She pales at the fact that she was ready to be nice to him until he turned against her. It was disgusting, the way his eyes rolled in annoyance. 

But she made a promise to Jack, and she likes to be with Cole, and Quinn is a sweet guy, so it can’t be that bad. It can’t be. She’ll hang out with them, maybe even get to know Luke. Bea can come, and probably fuck Quinn again, ask him if she can put his dick through the donut hole. 

That makes Honey laugh enough to push away the panic that comes with seeing that version of Trevor again. He was like– an entitled rich boy, very… West Coast surfer bro. It makes her shudder. She doesn’t want to see that again. 

It makes her think of the look her father gave her after she handed him the last check for the mountain house. He was protecting himself. He couldn’t show her he was sad. Bea insists that he was, that he couldn’t be that apathetic. Honey wishes desperately for that to be true.

She opens her eyes, staring at herself in the vanity mirror in Bea’s bedroom. She lifts her chin and takes a deep breath, evaluating the gold eyeliner Bea coated on her waterline, into a neat little cat-ear. She shakes her hair out, watching it catch the light, and clears her throat.

“You okay over there?” Bea asks, adjusting the pastel yellow strapless maxi dress on her chest. “You look rattled.”

“It’s nothing,” Honey deflects. 

“Baby-Honey, you haven’t been yourself since Quinn and I left the Nook the other night,” Bea muses, walking to stand behind Honey and run her fingers through her hair. “What’s up?”

Honey shakes her head again, causing Bea to pull back. Honey stands. She plasters a smile on her face and makes eye contact with Bea. “Absolutely nothing,” she chirps. “Let’s go.”

She’s struck by how different her outfit is than Bea’s. Her best friend is in a dress with cute clogs, earrings in her pierced holes and everything. Honey’s got on a homemade muscle tee, sleeves ripped off after cutting a small hole and a faded Nascar graphic on the front. You can’t even read the number anymore. The car could be 15, 16, 18, 19… she doesn’t know. She’s wearing those little biking shorts under the tee- barely peeking out due to its length. She looks like a slob. Bea looks regal.

Good. Why would Honey really need to impress anyone? She’s even only wearing this makeup because Bea wanted to try out her new palette. Honey has no one to impress.

Not fucking dipshit, angry Trevor, that’s for sure.

She grabs the box of donuts from Bea’s counter and stomps out to the car, biting her tongue so she doesn’t jostle the donuts too much as she holds the dozen with one hand and opens the door with the other. 

It’s Honey’s car, but Bea drives there, cradling the new bottle of red wine that she picked up at the liquor store before it closed for the evening like a baby. “It pairs well with chocolate,” Bea explained to Honey when she first revealed it.

They drive to the house with the windows up, one of Bea’s cutesy new girl-pop songs on the radio. She sings quietly and Honey smiles as her friend enjoys herself. Eventually, she picks up on the chorus and begins to sing along. Bea puts it on repeat and they sing together, up until they pull into the driveway and Bea turns the car off, drawing the key out of the ignition. She hands the key to Honey, who drops it in her purse. 

She adjusts the bralette beneath her muscle tee, then grabs the donut box and follows Bea into the house.

The wood isn’t any less jarring the second time. The boys have also never heard of mood lighting before, since each switch is set to its brightest setting. Honey squints into the brightness. Someone peeks out of the kitchen at the sound of the door opening and shutting and Honey is relieved to see that it’s Quinn. He waves them over.

Bea flutters over like a butterfly, kissing Quinn on the cheek as Honey turns the corner. She places the donuts on the counter near the island, across from Cole and Jack. Trevor is on the other end of the counter, the third seat down. She makes sure to place it out of his reach.

“I brought wine,” Bea tells Quinn, handing him the bottle. She starts to open drawers and rifle around for a bottle opener. 

Honey finds it on the counter and waves it at Bea, catching her attention with a whistle. She tosses it to the girl, Bea catching it with both hands and grinning like she’d won an egg toss. 

“Who wants some?” Bea asks. “We have to kill this bottle in record time.”

“Record time? Who needs that,” Jack laughs. “We should make a game out of it. Spin the bottle? Truth or dare?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Okay, Rom-Com,” Bea laughs. “You think that’s such a good idea?” 

“Sounds like a great idea to me,” Jack says. “I think we all need to bond more, and playing a game is one of the best ways to bond.”

“Hmm,” Bea hums, tapping her finger against her chin. She turns toward Quinn and scrunches her nose at him. “It couldn’t hurt?”

“No.” He leans down and pecks her lips. “Could be fun for you.”

“What should we play?” Bea asks, turning back to Jack. She takes a few steps back, until she’s wrapped up in Quinn’s arms with her back plastered against his chest. 

“Just Truth or Dare, probably. And if you don’t want to do your thing, then you can drink from the bottle. When we finish the bottle, we can have a little Seven Minutes in Heaven?” Jack shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but it’s clear that he thought this out.

Bea and Honey look to each other. “So frat,” Bea says knowingly as Honey grumbles, “Spin the rapist.”

Bea reacts to Honey’s comment and snorts out a laugh, shaking her head at the reference. 13 Going on 30 has been Honey’s favorite rom-com for years, since they first watched it when they were teens. The impact Billy Joel’s Vienna had on Honey since first watching the film is unquantifiable. 

“Okay, Jack,” Bea decides. “In that case, you get to go first. Truth or Dare?”

“Obviously dare,” Jack laughs out. 

Honey stifles a giggle as Cole rolls his eyes and finally opens the box of donuts, looking at each of them before choosing one. She joins him on that side of the counter, able to watch Bea and Quinn cuddle up to each other and fortunately removing Trevor from her line of sight.

“Strawberry with sprinkles, huh?” Honey asks. “I didn’t peg you as a pink boy.”

“I love pink,” Cole replies through a mouthful of donut. “Hi, Barbie, and all that. Trev made some good tarts the other day that were strawberry, too.”

Honey chuckles, then chooses her own donut– a caramel one with brownie crumbles on the top. She had asked Mark, the man who runs the small bakery near The Reading Nook, for an assorted dozen and he had given her some of his best work for the price of a plain glazed dozen. If she had revealed that the extras would probably go to the boys’ house, Mark likely wouldn’t have given her that discount. 

He likes his beers, and the boys keep buying up pack after pack from the grocery store, and Mark is left with the scraps. He told Honey that he’s looking forward to the end of the summer, when he’s the only man showing up at the store twice a week to get his beer. They restock it just for him.

That’s not to say he’s the only man in the town that drinks, but he’s the man who has the most opinions about different kinds of beer and how it’s made– a funny trait for someone who works with wheat and flour just as often as a beermaster.

“I dare you…” Bea trails off, tapping her index finger to her lips and looking around the room. She spots a broom hanging near the laundry room, a little offset from the kitchen. She points to it. “Oooh, you have to give us a little sexy pole dance around that thing.”

Quinn laughs into Bea’s hair at her dare, watching carefully as Jack looks between the broom and the wine bottle. Eventually, he shrugs. 

“Yeah, why not?” Jack agrees, pushing away from the counter and grabbing the broom off the wall. He holds it out in front of him and evaluates it, the bristles pushing against the floor. “Huh. This would be easier if I had music.”

Luke laughs quietly. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrows at Jack, waiting to see how this plays out. 

“I don’t really want to see this,” Honey whispers to Cole, a joking tone in her voice.

“Oh, but how can you look away?” Cole asks, taking another bite of his donut. “It’s like a car wreck.”

“It really is,” Honey agrees, laughing as Jack starts to circle the broom, then howling along with the rest of the room when he drops low and spreads his knees, bucking his hips forward.

“That’s enough,” Cole exclaims, holding his stomach and laughing so hard that he’s almost bent at the waist. His forehead almost rests on the counter. 

Honey pats him on the back, rubbing his shoulder as it shakes.

She catches Trevor’s eyes over Cole’s back, over Jack’s abandoned seat. They’re dark and she notices that his own laughter has stopped. She pulls her hand away from Cole and takes a step back, putting distance between them like she’s been burned. 

Trevor blinks, then looks away.

Honey suddenly realizes that he hasn’t said anything since she and Bea got here. Her lips part to say something– what, she’s not sure– but she changes her mind and looks away.

She’s not the only one who’s noticed, though.

“Z,” Jack says, hanging the broom back up on the wall. “Truth or Dare?”

“I’ll take a dare too, I guess,” Trevor says.

Jack smiles, devilishly. His eyes turn to Honey and for a moment, her heart stops as she thinks of all the things Jack could make Trevor do– all the things that she’s sure involve her. She shakes her head and looks away, missing the way Jack’s smile deflates and Trevor’s jaw clenches.

“You gotta give Cole a foot massage, my friend,” Jack decides, clasping his hands together. 

Cole fist pumps, kicking off his house shoes. “This is the best day ever,” Cole says. “I get donuts and a foot massage?” He raises his leg, pointing his toes and reaching out towards Trevor with them.

“Get that away from me,” Trevor snaps, leaning back in his chair as Cole’s foot begins to encroach on his personal space. “Let me see that wine.”

Luke passes him the bottle and Bea tosses him the bottle opener, which she was still holding onto. Honey thinks she had the full intention of opening it herself, but she’s too comfortable in Quinn’s arms to move at the moment.

Ew.

Trevor pulls the cork from the bottle deftly and drinks straight from the spout, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Honey watches it move. When he wrenches the bottle away, his bottom lip is stained purple. Honey feels her eyes go wide, but she manages to school her face before anyone notices.

Hopefully.

“Bea,” Trevor says.

“Hmm,” Bea hums in acknowledgement, looking at the hair on Quinn’s arms wrapped around her chest.

“Truth or Dare?”

“I’ll dare,” Bea decides.

“Let Quinn go through your phone for a minute,” Trevor says.

“A minute?” Bea laughs. “He won’t be able to do anything on there.” She dips her hand into the waistband of her top, just under her armpit, and digs out her phone. She hands it over to Quinn after unlocking it.

He scrolls along, holding the screen out in front of Bea so that she can see what he’s doing. They laugh about something, she cringes at something else, and Quinn kisses her cheek when she blushes. He shuts the phone off after a minute, true to the dare, and slides it into his back pocket. One of his hands makes its way to her hip, crossing over her stomach to rest there. The other remains across her shoulder, sweeping along her collarbones and holding her flush against him.

“Q,” Bea sighs. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” he says into her ear, voice low.

“What’s the worst thing you would do if you became invisible for a day?” Bea asks. “Like the most corrupt thing. I find it hard to believe you have a bad bone in your body.” She pushes her hips back, quirking her eyebrows as she does. 

Honey notices that Jack’s drinking her in, like her wiggling hips are a show for him.

“That’s a good question,” Quinn says, both hands flush on Bea’s hips now, dragging her movement to a stop. “I don’t know. It’s not bad, really, but I’d probably just blow off all my responsibilities and go out on the boat for the day. Drive myself around a bit, have lunch under the sun.” He shrugs. “Not think about hockey for a few hours.”

Bea pats his chest and tilts her head up to kiss the corner of his jaw. “You’re very dangerous, Quinn.”

“Very,” Quinn agrees. “So now it’s my turn to pick?”

“Yeah,” Bea says. “Don’t act like you don’t know how to play the game. You’re not that sheltered from the world. You had a life outside of hockey.”

Honey wonders when they had all this time to talk about hockey. She guesses it was some kind of pillow talk, knowing how Bea operates, trying to keep her man talking into the early hours of the morning. She always has so many questions and wants to know everything about everyone.

“Lukey, Truth or Dare?” Quinn asks.

Cole shakes his head and nudges Honey’s shoulder. “Always picked last, you and me, huh?”

Honey smiles at him and rolls her eyes.

Luke decides on truth as well, just like his oldest brother. Of course he does. Honey hasn’t seen much from Luke, but it’s obvious he’s not a “dare” kind of guy. At least, not while she and Bea are there. Maybe he’s more outgoing when it’s just him and the boys.

“Okay, be honest,” Quinn reminds Luke with a smile and a shared look at Jack. “What did you and that girl do last summer when you went upstairs and locked yourselves in Mom and Dad’s room?”

Honey’s jaw drops, mirroring the expression on Bea’s face. The rest of the boys break out in laughter, especially Jack.

“Yeah, Lukey,” Jack teases. “First, second, or third?”

Luke blushes to the roots of his hair and opens his mouth multiple times, with nothing coming out.

“Don’t tell me you went all the way to home base,” Quinn adds, his smile wide and wolfish. “In Mom and Dad’s bed?”

Luke looks absolutely tormented, miserable at the question. Honey can tell that they’ve been ragging on him about this since it happened and he’s desperately trying to maintain his dignity.

“Have a sip of the wine, Luke,” Honey comforts him. “You don’t need to be the guy who kisses and tells.”

Luke nods, sheepish and red to the tips of his ears, reaching forward to take the wine bottle from in front of Trevor. 

The boys boo and try to cajole him into revealing rather than drinking, and Honey for that matter for her role in the turn of events, but Bea shushes them with a finger to her lips. 

“You’re all acting like cavemen,” Bea admonishes. She turns to Luke. “I think it’s sweet that you’re keeping your private matters to yourself. That’s very respectful of yourself and the girl. Good job, Lukey.”

Honey smiles and giggles when Luke blushes red again and takes another sip of the wine after quietly stammering out a “Thank you.” He clears his throat and rubs a hand through his curls, making them messier than before. “Cole?”

Honey’s not even surprised that he doesn’t pick her or Bea. She wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t even look at them without blushing again. 

It was unfair for the boys to bring up the past, especially since he doesn’t want to share.

“Dare, buddy,” Cole replies, cool and confident. His cheeks are dimpling as he waits for Luke to think of a dare.

“You should eat the rest of your donut out of someone’s mouth,” Luke suggests. 

“Whose?” Cole asks, waving the last few bites out to everyone. “Bea?”

“Honey,” Jack corrects with a glance at Trevor.

Honey puts her hands up in front of her and she and Bea open their mouths at the same time, but Trevor beats them to it.

“She’s allergic to strawberry,” Trevor states. His voice is hard. “She can’t do the dare with Cole.”

“Why don’t you do it, Jack?” Bea asks. “Since you’re so willing to volunteer others for the job. Why not volunteer yourself?”

“Cuz I don’t want to Lady and the Tramp with Cole,” Jack replies, making a face. 

Honey doesn’t really like how Trevor jumped in and corrected Jack like she wasn’t even in the room with them. “I can do it,” she decides. “But we just have to finish my donut instead.”

“Yes!” Cole celebrates, raising his hand to high five Honey. “You and me, dude!”

Honey lets out a little laugh at that, raising her hand to slap it against Cole’s. She bites down on the end of her donut, holding most of it out far enough for Cole to take it between his teeth. He’s not going to kiss her or anything. Honey just has a feeling in her gut that Cole isn’t the kind to take advantage of a situation like that, and plus, she and Cole have a friendlier relationship. He has to understand that.

Honey looks over his shoulder at Trevor, who is watching her with steely eyes. He’s rigid in his seat. He doesn’t understand, not in the way Honey and Cole do. 

He takes in a deep breath, pinching his lips shut as Cole leans closer to Honey, taking a good ¾ of the last of her donut before pulling away. The dough rips in a weird way, leaving a bite dangling from the right side of his mouth. He smiles wide and gives Honey another high five. Trevor lets out a breath when Cole leans back in his chair and finishes chewing Honey’s donut. 

“Mm, that’s good,” Cole tells her. “What flavor was that?”

“Caramel with brownie,” Honey says, chewing her own bite. 

Cole nods in approval. “Can’t leave my buddy hanging,” he says. “Truth or Dare, Honey?”

“I’ll do a dare too,” Honey says. It’s an easy choice. She loves a good truth, but almost everyone has done dare, and she’s never one to back down from a challenge.

It seemed like a safe choice too, with Cole choosing what Honey is supposed to do. Until he opens his stupid mouth.

“I’m gonna pull out our whipped cream bottle and I think you’re gonna have to lick it off someone,” Cole announces, jumping down from his perch behind the counter and rounding the island to the fridge. He pulls out the red can and shakes it, uncapping it. 

Honey watches, knowing exactly her luck, as Cole points from man to man saying “Eeny, Meeny, Miney… Mo.” His finger, and the nozzle of the whipped cream can, land on Trevor. “Shirt off, Z.” Cole lifts the whipped cream bottle to his mouth and sprays a little bit onto his tongue. 

Honey feels frozen. Her feet are stuck in cement at the corner of the island and she eventually has to put her hand on the counter to ground herself. Her eyes flicker to Bea’s, wide like cornered prey. Bea meets her there. 

In that split second, it’s like they have a conversation. Honey can’t describe the thoughts that fly between them, given how quick they pass. 

With a slight shrug of one shoulder, Bea leaves it up to Honey. She could end it, take a sip of the wine if that’s what she wants. Honey isn’t even sure what she wants to do. She doesn’t– she doesn’t.– want to lick whipped cream off of Trevor. She doesn’t want her tongue to be that close to his body.

And yet, she finds herself nodding when she meets Trevor’s eyes. He waits until she does to pull off his shirt, revealing skin that makes Honey feel even more sluggish. She takes a moment to drink in his tan skin, adorned with his tattoos on his arms. Her eyes zero in on the delicate words on his ribs and she feels her lips part in surprise. Her fingers twitch at her sides, begging to reach out and trace over the script.

NO.

Not Trevor.

Yes, Trevor.

“I have a vision,” Cole announces, pulling Honey from her thoughts. He takes Honey’s hand and pulls her over towards the inside of the island. “Hop up.”

She follows his directions, skin crawling with anticipation for what’s coming next. She can’t believe she agreed to do this– with Trevor. With Trevor. The skin is cool against the tops of her thighs and she’s very aware of the way her muscle tee falls around her waist and reveals the edge of her bralette, and the skin around her middle. She clenches her fists as much as she can, fingers rounded around the edge of the counter. She doesn’t want to seem freaked out. She’s not going to be the girl who messes up the game and doesn’t go through with their dare.

Cole nudges the whipped cream can against one of her hands until she turns it over and takes it, feeling the cool aluminum in her hand. “Z, come stand in front of her.”

Honey hears him, refusing to turn around and look at him as he gets down from his chair and make his way over to Honey. She hears the movements loud as day, like there’s nothing else in the room except Trevor and her racing heart.

Trevor stations himself between Honey’s knees, resting his hands on either side of her legs. Her eyes are level with his here, on the counter, and she tries to ignore the thrill that his proximity sends down her spine.

“Alright.” Cole claps his hands and smiles. “You ready, Honey?”

Honey turns her head and takes a sharp inhale. “Yeah.”

She keeps her words short so her voice doesn’t shake.

“Why don’t you put some whipped cream on his collarbones for me, yeah?”

Bea’s mouth drops at Cole’s words, still in Quinn’s grasp. Honey has to stifle a giggle at her reaction. 

Honey presses her lips together and refocuses, hand shaking as she brings the can up to Trevor’s clavicles, startling herself at the sound when she pushes the trigger down to release the whip. She makes a tiny squeak, an embarrassing noise that has her closing her eyes. 

Trevor’s thumb moves closer and nudges her thigh.

Honey looks up, her eyes meeting his. Her breath is caught in her throat. His eyes are no longer steely and guarded. They’re soft and they’re searching her eyes for something. 

His thumb starts to move against her skin and she jumps, wrenching her eyes away from Trevor’s and quickly spreading another line of whipped cream on his other collarbone. She’d do anything to be able to ignore the pit in her stomach and the heat that is very rapidly filling it.

She turns to Cole, holding the can out to him. 

Cole raises his eyebrows. He raises his hands. “You’re not done yet.”

Bea twists in Quinn’s arms, staring up at him with an affronted, offended, betrayed look on her face. Honey can tell exactly what she wants to scream: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Honey’s jaw drops a little, then she clenches her jaw and takes the can back, cradling it on her thigh. It leaves a round circle when she picks it up again.

“From his belly button to his sternum.” Cole’s voice is hard and definite, but not mean. Honey wonders how long he’s been thinking about this, probably doing it at Trevor’s bidding. The only problem is, Trevor looked just as unaware as her and Bea. Just as unaware as the other boys– at least, the two in front of her.

Honey takes it back. Cole is her least favorite.

She sprays the whipped cream, grinding her teeth as she sees Trevor’s stomach muscles jump at the sensation. His hand comes to the top of her thigh, index finger tracing the ring of the can. Honey’s not even sure that he’s breathing. She’s not sure she is, either.

“His nipples,” Cole commands with a cheeky smile, looking past Honey and Trevor to Jack.

Honey whips her head around and looks at the other boy, smirking at Cole. He makes eye contact with Honey and raises his eyebrows, wiggling them like a devil. She almost wants to throw the can of whip at him, then pounce on Cole and take out his knees.

She scowls and dispenses a small amount of whip on each of Trevor’s nipples. He hisses at the cold and she looks up to check on him without a thought, only realizing what she’s done when his eyes meet hers.

“It’s fine,” Trevor breathes out. “Just cold.”

“Okay,” Honey replies, hoping he could even hear her. The statement might’ve died in the air between them and never reached his ears.

The can of whip starts to sputter like it’s running out, so Honey gives it a shake. She goes to set it down on the counter next to her, but Cole stops her again.

She’s going to break every single one of his fingers.

“One more,” Cole says with a nod and a lick of his lips. “Open up, Trev.”

“No,” Honey forces out. She’s just as taken aback by the word as Cole is– her refusal cut through the air like it was broadcast through the bluetooth speakers that run through the home. She takes a shaky deep breath, pushing away the image of her licking into Trevor’s mouth to get her final mouthful of whip. “Sorry. No.”

She refuses to look Trevor in the eye after that.

“That’s okay,” Cole says. He shrugs, not deterred. “His nose. Just the tip. Like Rudolph.”

That, Honey can do.

She uses the last little bit to cover the tip of Trevor’s nose, focusing on the line of his nose and the recently shaved skin above his top lip instead of the eyes that she can feel are boring into her face.

Finally, she sets the empty can down with a rattle and flicks her hair over her shoulder, facing Cole.

“Can I go?” She asks, hoping she sounds sassy and bored rather than freaked out, like how she is on the inside. She feels like her brain is on fire, completely fried and burning from the inside out. Her heart is pounding loud in her ears and her cheeks are stained red. 

“Start in the middle, then go down. Lick it off his nose last.”

Honey closes her eyes to calm herself, but she hears a slap of a hand against skin. She can only imagine that Bea reached out and slapped Cole’s arm– the yelp from the blonde and soft laugh from Quinn being tell-tale signs while Honey breathes. 

Trevor’s hand drops from her thigh and he takes a step back, putting a little space between them. 

Honey’s eyes snap open and they flash at Trevor’s. Where hers were once panicked and his were seeking, they seem to have completely switched roles now. Trevor’s fingertips still touch the counter next to Honey and their absence, but their closeness, feels like frostbite on Honey’s skin. It turns to steam against her fiery cheeks, releasing air into the space between them in time with Honey’s exhale. 

His breath catches in his throat and Honey sees the whipped cream start to drip from his stomach.

In an instant, right as the dollop of cream starts to separate from the rest of its line, Honey finds herself sliding off the counter to her knees to catch it in her mouth.

Her lips slide against Trevor’s skin, the muscles contracting and his happy trail brushing her bottom lip as she mouths over the sticky trail marking Trevor’s stomach. 

She looks up, up to Trevor’s face. He’s already looking at her with nothing but shock on his face, his mouth open and his eyes wild. His chest is heaving, trembling between breaths. 

Oh my God.

Honey’s gaze drops back to his skin, then finds that unbearable to look at as she rises up to his sternum. She can make out edges of the script on his ribs in her peripheral vision and squeezes her eyelids shut. She quickly realizes that she can’t navigate up Trevor’s body on feel alone. She has to look. 

Fuck.

She opens her eyes and finishes her path up to his sternum. She carefully licks the whipped cream off Trevor’s nipples, trying not to come into contact with them too much. She can’t just lick Trevor’s nipples. It’s not the same as if…

Trevor was licking whipped cream off of her nipples.

She forces the image away, like she’s spraying an asteroid with a fire extinguisher. 

Honey rises to his collarbones, mouthing over the sharp edges and dipping her tongue inside the pooled skin to get every drop.

She pulls away, barely, aiming to zero in on the dollop on Trevor’s nose, but fails. She finds herself face to face with Trevor, who still has the same expression on his face. His eyebrows are quirked, he can’t stop licking his lips between breaths, and he’s practically vibrating in front of Honey with the ache to stay still.

She suddenly feels fabric under her fingers and looks down, jaw dropping at the sight of her index fingers sneaking under his waistband, nestled snugly like they’ve made a home there. She wrenches them away, clutching the bottom of her muscle tee instead. 

She doesn’t move far, Trevor’s fingers like stone against the skin of her waist. Trevor’s fingers like stone against the skin of her waist. Honey heaves a breath in, stepping away from him and his fingers’ trembling brush against the lace band of her bralette. She gulps.

Trevor’s fingers catch on the bottom edge of her sleeves, or lack thereof, and her shirt ripples against her twisting stomach as the digits fall lamely to his sides. 

Honey knows that her eyes mirror Trevor’s now, matching instead of swapping roles like previously. They’re both wild and racing away from each other in their minds, but unable to look away. They’re tripping over their feet and running like there’s something chasing them, but their eyes are fixed on each others’ like they’re running towards each other in a starry reunion.

Honey wants. She’s overcome with this desire, so much so that she can’t even describe it. She just wants. She aches to go back in time and place the dollop of whipped cream on Trevor’s tongue instead and loses herself for a moment before the panic reminds her:

She’s not looking for that.

“You got a little something there,” Honey says, quiet and ashamed and a bit like the kid who does get picked last every time, reaching up to wipe the whipped cream off Trevor’s nose with her thumb. She licks the white dessert off her own skin, stepping away from Trevor. He’s following her, turning with her as she moves away. His own fingers twitch at his sides, one of his thumbs actually making its way up and hovering over the place where Honey’s index fingers rested on his waistband. 

She looks at Bea, tearing her eyes away from Trevor like a physical rip of a picture. She opens her mouth and locks her eyes with Bea’s, tilting her face so it’s slightly pointed towards the front hall. She chokes back a haggard gasp, feeling her throat start to grow sore with a teary ache.

I need to go. Please. Come with me. Be there for me. Please.

Bea untangles herself from Quinn’s arms, letting them drop to his sides without another thought. She eyes Cole and Jack, gaze piercing and hard, but it softens as it slides back to Honey.

“Goodnight, boys,” she bids, taking Honey’s arm and escorting them both to the door. 

A duet of goodbyes follow them from Quinn and Luke, but the jarring silence that echoes from the kitchen afterward scars Honey while Bea wrenches open the front door. It’s the same silence that surrounds them in Honey’s car.

She shivers in the passenger seat. Bea plucked the keys from Honey’s purse without asking and loaded them in the car, getting behind the wheel. She holds Honey’s hand over the middle console, fingers intertwined and heavy. She drives one-handed, her hair whipping her face. She hates to mess it up. Honey is grateful for the fresh air that chips at her face. It dries up the tear that escapes from the corner of her eye. 

Bea stays over. She cuddles Honey under the covers, clinging to Honey’s arm like a koala. Honey lies on her back and stares at the ceiling for hours. Bea is asleep, or close to it, next to her. The even breaths help her to regulate her own, enough that she can speak.

“It was like–” Honey gasps, pressing a hand to her chest as a breath escapes her like it was punched out. She centers herself. “We were back in Charlotte.”

“I know,” Bea breathes out, eyes still closed. She wraps one of her legs under Honey’s, her knee bent under Honey’s own, and her ankle crossing over Honey’s. 

“I felt– seventeen.”

“I know,” Bea repeats, her eyes fluttering open. Her hand comes up to rest on Honey’s own, monitoring the rise and fall of her own chest. Her heart is slowing and her gulps of air are less frequent. She’s fine.

“I’m not looking for that,” Honey mumbles, shaking the words out of her mouth. 

Bea just takes a deep breath at that, pressing her forehead into Honey’s temple.

“It’s okay if you are.”

Honey’s bottom lip quivers and she starts to leak tears, Bea’s reassurance turning the faucet and making the water flow. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Bea replies. Simple. Easy. No hesitation. Like there’s no other option.

“I came here to leave that behind me.” Honey squeezes her eyes shut, ashamed at the hot trails making their way down to her chin. “Not to, just, repeat it with some guy who’s leaving anyway.”

“Do you really see yourself as someone who’s going to be alone forever?” Bea wipes the tears from Honey’s cheeks with the hand that used to rest on her chest. “You love so hard, Honey. You need someone to give that to. It weighs on you.”

Honey shakes, turning so her body faces Bea’s. She reaches out and buries her face in Bea’s shoulder. 

Bea pets her hair. “He likes you.”

Honey nods.

“You feel– something.”

Honey sniffs, but nods again.

“I think it’s time you turn to face all of that,” Bea teases, her voice soft enough and just a little mocking of Honey’s words, the way only a best friend does when you’re crying into their shoulder. 

Honey pulls her face away and breathes out a little laugh and quirks a shy smile at Bea. She reaches up and pushes her hair away from her face. She wipes under her eyes with both thumbs, shaking the wetness away and laughing for real.

“Elephants are kind of big, huh?” Honey replies, sniffing between giggles. “Hard to ignore?”

Bea nods, tears prickling at the edges of her own eyes. 

The girls stare at each other and giggle, a fresh round of tears staining their cheeks. Honey’s hand slaps at her own chest, knocking at her heart like a concerned parent at a teen’s door. 

Honey can breathe again. She uses her lungs to make her laughs louder, harder. She curls into Bea’s hug, squirming on the bed together. They calm down eventually, and their eyes meet for a final time in the dark.

“I just– Trevor?” Honey giggles. “Really?”

“Love at first sight,” Bea snickers back sarcastically.

Honey waves a finger in Bea’s face. “That’s a little dramatic,” Honey corrects. She scoffs to herself. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Okay,” Bea agrees, shrugging. “Let me know.”

They’re quiet for a minute, smiling at each other. Honey rolls her eyes and turns over, facing the ceiling again. Bea cuddles back into her, latching onto Honey’s arm in her koala-way. 

“I invited them to our lake day tomorrow,” Bea announces just as Honey starts to fall asleep. She nudges her nose against Honey’s bicep. “You can see if you still feel the same way then.”

Honey inhales and holds the breath, eyes opening and focusing on the ceiling again.

Bea’s breaths even out and she falls asleep, but Honey barely manages to close her eyes before the clock flips to the dreaded “tomorrow.”

13:90 – TREVOR

Trevor hasn’t been fully soft since the first moment he stood between Honey’s legs last night. It’s proving to be a problem.

First, she had bolted from the house looking no better than a wild deer in the midst of a hunt, leaving Trevor standing with the ghost of her fingers in his waistband and a cock so hard that he could feel the blood rushing through it. 

Second, Cole and Jack had laughed at him for his very prominent hard-on when the girls left. It was their idea to have this stupid drinking game in the first place, and Cole’s bossiness that had set Trevor up. They had to have planned this out in advance.

Third, the cold shower he took right after Honey left hadn’t even done anything for him. Sure, it had caused his erection to flag briefly, just long enough that he could let out a breath and delude himself into thinking the moment was over.

His biggest problem is that each time he closes his eyes, he’s confronted with the vision of Honey on her knees below him. He can feel her tongue licking up his stomach and chest. He can feel the pressure of her fingertips against his skin.

It’s pure torture. 

Trevor has never felt more torn. He spent all of the last few days believing what Quinn said to him– that he doesn’t have a chance with Honey. He convinced himself to accept that he would only ever be her friend. Other than her dare last night, Honey made no moves to talk to Trevor or acknowledge him at all.

He’s confused. How on Earth can you go from ignoring Trevor to looking up at him, cheeks slightly hollowed as she laps up the whipped cream covering him, as if she were blowing his dick?

Fuck.

Trevor presses his palms to his eyes and leans his head back, causing the rocking chair he’s sitting in to wobble beneath him.

He was barely able to sleep last night and found that fresh air helped, so he sat out on the balcony. He watched the sunrise, barely conscious of the passage of time. He was trapped in an endless loop of Honey, on her knees. Honey, removing the cream from his nipples with a careful touch of her tongue. Honey, mouthing over his collarbones and sliding her fingers into his waistband like she wanted to touch him.

He’s helpless.

Trevor blinks and stares out into the woods, the dew from the morning making the wood of his balcony wet and shimmery. He feels… despondent, really. Like he’s tied to reality by a thin string of dread that accompanies his confusion. 

The fact is, she doesn’t want him. Anyone would’ve gotten lost in the moment. 

He knows that if any of the boys were in his position, they wouldn’t have been better off– Jack would’ve damn near come in his pants, Cole would have giggled because he’s ticklish and still would have found a way to get the girl to kiss him at the end, Luke would’ve frozen and would’ve spent the night in the same spot near the counter, replaying it over and over again. 

Quinn might be the only one left who would have a shred of dignity after a whipped cream encounter, and only because he’s been keeping up with Bea so well.

Ugh, and Bea’s name brings another problem to mind.

Trevor can’t bail on the lake trip that Bea invited them on when she stayed over the other night. The boys have been so excited, so ready to rent out a boat and a wakeboard so they can surf. They’ve been planning the trip meticulously, down to the minute. Trevor knows that he can’t bail because he’s the only one with Bea’s phone number– something she refuses to give out to the other boys, for some fucking reason. She won’t even rattle it off for Quinn to put into his phone– it would make the light night booty calls a little easier, Trevor thinks. 

Not that they’ve had that many. Just the two. Trevor was expecting a third last night, but with the way Honey ran out of the house…

Fuck, it was no surprise Bea went with her.

Honey looked rattled to her core, staring down at her hands and back up at Trevor like she had never seen them, or him, before in her life. She had guarded herself almost immediately, stepping away and flicking the whip off Trevor’s nose rather than licking it off and completing her bet. 

It’s Cole’s fault, and yet Trevor can’t help but feel responsible for the panic in Honey’s eyes and the abrupt end of the night. 

He can’t talk to her today. He can’t sit on the boat and see her in her little swimsuit. He wants her so badly– and not just to see if she really looks that ethereal when her lips are wrapped around his dick. 

He wants to talk about Leaving Orbit with her, the book she recommended that he so clearly enjoyed, even despite his bad mood the other day. He wants to poke fun at the other boys with her, team up to get revenge for that dare that made the air so tense between them. He wants to cuddle up next to her on the couch, pull her into his lap, and watch Shark Week documentaries and the Olympics later in the summer. He wants to hold her hand.

He has never wanted anything like this from any woman before. It’s never been this bad.

But he can’t have it– Trevor can tell that there’s something nagging at Honey. Maybe he’s too similar to an ex-boyfriend, or someone else that she doesn’t have the fondest of feelings for. Maybe she truly believes her little quips about his California lifestyle, and she can’t see herself with someone like that.

God, maybe she looked him up. He’s never had the best attitude on the ice, especially when he gets frustrated. He knows he’s a good player. He wants to show that off. He knows that sometimes, it comes at the expense of his team. He’s heard it all too well from the staff, from his coaches, from his teammates.

He’s dreading today. 

Trevor can’t even hide from it up on the balcony. Yeah, anyone who entered his bedroom wouldn’t be able to see him. His bed is perfectly made up, untouched from the night before. He was so frazzled last night that he cleaned his room, just to regain some order in his life. For all they would know, he disappeared– and yet, Cole manages to spot him below, from the chairs near the fire pit in the yard.

“There you are!” Cole exclaims, brandishing his spoon at Trevor. He looks down at his shorts for a split second. Trevor can only assume a drop of milk from his cereal splashed on his lap. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah, you tried really hard,” Trevor replies, an edge to his voice. He still hasn’t forgiven Cole, or Jack for that matter, for their ploy last night.

Cole’s face falls, then he shakes his head. “Are you ready for the lake or what?” His voice starts to mirror Trevor’s.

“All I need to do is put my fucking swimsuit on,” Trevor snaps. He stands from the rocking chair. 

Somehow, the meanest retort Cole can think of is “Don’t forget to bring your sunscreen!” like a nagging mother who’s just one complaint away from sending her child to his room. His words clash with the slam of Trevor’s sliding door.

Trevor grumbles to himself as he changes into one of the swimsuits he packed for himself, only ever really planning to use it in the hot tub. He’s excited, deep down, that they get to go to the lake and do some of the stuff that they usually do at the Michigan house. God, he can’t shake the Honey problem.

He does pack his sunscreen, the face lotion and body spray that he picked up last week at the grocery store when he and Jack wanted to lay out by the rink and tan. He even grabs the browning lotion he bought for pale ol’ Luke. It smells like bananas and coconuts.

Trudging downstairs, Trevor finds himself back at the scene of the crime. Instead of Honey on the counter, it’s the cooler, and instead of Trevor in front of her, it’s Quinn transferring beers from the fridge.

He chuckles when Trevor stops and stares at the cooler on the counter. 

“Thinking about something?” He asks. Trevor scowls when Quinn’s eyes pointedly drop to Trevor’s crotch and the semi that he’s, once again, sporting.

“Shut up,” Trevor growls, adjusting himself in his swim shorts. He clasps his hands in front of him, shielding himself from Quinn’s knowing smile.

Quinn shrugs and goes back to transferring beers to the cooler. 

Trevor steals a piece of ice and chews it, hoping to cool himself off. He makes himself a little bowl of cereal and scarfs it down. He checks the clock. It’s almost time to leave.

Fuck.

Bea’s picking them up in the truck she’s borrowing from Earl (only because Vera offered it up to them) in ten minutes. She and Honey are going to ride in the cab, while the boys are supposed to ride in the bed of the truck. It’s legal in North Carolina, apparently. Plus, it’s just a fifteen minute drive. The lake isn’t too far from their house. Trevor barely remembers reading about it on the AirBnB website when he booked the rental for the summer, but the host had referred to the place as a “reservoir” rather than a lake. Semantics. They don’t matter. 

He takes a deep breath, still not sure how to feel about seeing Honey again. He answers a couple questions from Quinn about how many beers he wants (a lot), if he has a towel for the lake (no, but Quinn can grab him one from the hall closet), and why he’s sulking so much (he doesn’t want to talk about it).

The minutes drag on and Trevor is scalding his hands with hot water washing his bowl when Bea honks from the driveway. He’s the last to make it to the front door and he’s shocked when he’s whacked in the face by a stray pool noodle. Where did Jack even find that?

Quinn is standing with his arms against the window pane of the passenger door, his head dipped and Bea’s phone in his hand. She takes it from him and says something quietly, then brings her hand to his jaw to draw his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. 

Trevor can see Honey’s silhouette behind the wheel, her hair knotted up on top of her head. There are flyaways everywhere, probably because of the open windows, but somehow it doesn’t look messy. Trevor can’t even see her face, but he has to close his eyes because she’s so pretty. 

He climbs into the truck bed, Quinn following shortly behind him, and tucks himself neatly into the corner of the tailgate. He takes in the other boys– the gray trunks on Cole, the towel around Luke’s neck, Quinn’s terrible navy crocs that he’s had since he was in high school. They kind of don’t fit him anymore, but they’re molded to his feet and he swears that they’re still perfect. Jack is using his pool noodle– origin still undetermined– as a method of recreating a certain Drake video. It would have been more funny if the video weren’t old news by now.

Trevor still kind of feels the string of dread and uncertainty tugging at him, but all of that crumbles away when Honey takes the first curve up the mountain. She speeds up in the old truck, dragging the wheel. Jack falls off the hump of the wheel where he was sitting as she turns, yelping wildly and losing his pool noodle in the fray. Cole snatches it up and takes the chance to hit him with it.

With each curve, it only gets worse. She’s got the boys in a fit of shouts and giggles as they scramble to find purchase in the back of the truck. Bea is laughing from the front seat, turned around to look out the back window, to take in the chaos firsthand. Her left hand is reaching out the window and holds Quinn’s right, keeping him in place.

Trevor’s laughing too, especially when Luke starts to slide into a supine position, his knuckles white with how hard he’s trying to stay upright. He continues to laugh as he looks up, past Bea, and meets Honey’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

Her gaze turns from soft to wide and alert in an instant, returning to the road the second she locks eyes with him. He can only imagine his own eyes look the same when he turns to face the peeling paint at the bottom of the truck bed.

They arrive at the reservoir in due time, parking in the lot near the boat rentals. Bea and Quinn take care of that, having called ahead a few days prior to get one of the bigger boats that could fit their entire party. Quinn shells over a few dollars in thanks, the cash seamlessly transitioning to the worker’s hand. 

The employee leads them to a ramp, where a boat not unlike the one they have at the Michigan house is parked. The boys climb on. Jack has reclaimed his pool noodle and has it tucked under his armpits, safely away from Cole’s grubby fingers.

Trevor finds a spot near the front of the boat, knowing that Quinn will want to drive and Bea will want to sit next to him. Or on his lap. Ew. He doesn’t want to see the blatant PDA from the two, but that’s not the only reason he’s strategically choosing his seat. 

Honey’s going to do the same thing– she’s going to stick to Bea’s side, if Trevor’s gut feeling is right, and that’s going to be that. 

He’ll avoid her, she’ll avoid him, and the day will be over before they know it.

Trevor pulls his shirt over his head and lays out on the cushions at the bow of the boat, covering his face with the item of clothing. He blocks out the sun and closes his eyes, feeling the sun prickle at his skin.

“Did you put your sunscreen on?” Cole asks, his annoying voice far too close to Trevor’s ear for his liking. 

Trevor swings out with a hand, hoping to connect and clock Cole on the side of the head, but as he rips the t-shirt from his face, all he sees is the boy jumping back and laughing with the rocking of the boat. 

“Why, do you want to help me?” Trevor retorts, frowning. 

Cole smiles. The edges of his mouth quirk up in a mischievous way and Trevor gears up to snap his shirt at the boy. Whatever’s about to leave his mouth is just going to piss Trevor off more.

He doesn’t say anything, at least not until he’s skipping away towards the back of the boat. Trevor squints at his retreating figure, but relaxes his shoulders a bit. 

“Honey!” Cole calls, dancing around the girl who has only just managed to get both feet on the boat. She watches him move around her, expression impassive. He extends a hand to help Bea onto the boat, to the chagrin of Quinn behind her. 

Trevor’s shoulders snap back up towards his ears, the line of his spine long and tight. He looks around for something to throw at Cole, something harder than just his t-shirt, but there’s nothing.

Cole talks on. “Trevor needs help with his sunscreen and he was asking for you.”

Honey’s gaze turns to Trevor’s expectantly. Her lips are slightly curved and her eyebrows are raised. 

“I wasn’t.” Trevor’s voice comes out strangled. “He’s just– causing trouble. Like yesterday.”

Immediately, he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. He shouldn’t have brought up what happened last night. It causes her lips to press into a thin line and makes her expression grow calculated. She’s scanning him like a robot would and it’s making his skin crawl.

She opens her mouth with a tsk and says, “I’ll do your back if you do mine.”

Cole and Jack hum and haw at that, dapping each other up. Bea finally flounces her way onto the vessel, creating waves and casting a spare look at Trevor. 

“And Cole, you have to do mine,” Bea adds, blinking at the boy innocently. She smiles at him, not quite reaching her eyes. “Since you’re so concerned about sun safety.”

“I’m pale.” Cole shrugs. “Someone has to think about it.”

Bea’s attention has already shifted past Cole’s shoulder. Quinn and Luke have both shrugged off their shirts and twisted their Yankees caps so they’re backwards on their heads. Luke has laid the towel along the swiveling passenger chair behind the raised console in the middle of the boat, blissfully unaware of the five pairs of eyes gawking at him and his brother.

“You’re pale?” Bea asks, incredulous. She points at the Hughes boys. “Look at that.” She fishmouths for a moment before rediscovering her voice. “Quinn, you didn’t look so fair-skinned when I last saw you without a shirt. Luke, you’re like a beacon at a lighthouse!” She turns back to Cole, her finger finding its way to his face. “You, at least, have some pink undertones. You’re made to burn. These guys are made to tan and it’s clear they’ve been neglecting their time in the sun.”

“That’s what I said,” Trevor agrees. He remembers the tanning lotion, sitting in one of his pockets, and digs it out. He waves it in front of Bea’s face, then tosses it to her. “I even brought some tanning lotion for them.”

Bea catches it and her face lights up. She shows Honey the logo on the front of the bottle and grins. “This kind always smells so good,” she praises. “Good choice, Trev.”

She stomps toward the boys, intention written all over her face. Luke’s back is turned to her once again, reverting back to the way it was before she called his name, but Bea views it as a canvas. She clicks open the bottle and gives it a shake, squirting the cool liquid all over Luke’s back in curves and twirls. 

Luke squeaks when she does it, lurching forward, but Bea chastises him and makes him hold still so she can rub it into his skin.

Trevor’s eyes move from that scene to the girl in front of him. She’s wearing a sweatshirt over her bathing suit, the cuffs rolled up above her wrist. It’s long enough to hide any shorts that she could be wearing. She’s looking at Bea with a tiny smile on her lips, head tilted to the side. Her legs are long and tan and she’s got a freckle behind her ear. 

Trevor aches to press his lips to her skin. Her flyaways would tickle the side of his face, the shell of her ear would smooth itself against the tip of his nose, and he’d be able to wrap his arms around her to pull her against his chest…

That’s enough of that.

He wants to touch her, he does. He wants to put sunscreen on her back and let her return the favor. He wants to be the one to slide his fingers under the straps of her top and dip into the waistband of her bottoms, just to make sure all of her skin is covered. Obviously. Nothing more.

Nothing more.

Oh my God, he wants to touch her so bad.

Trevor has to tear his eyes from Honey and clench his jaw, biting his tongue between his teeth to bring him back to reality. He’s back to sporting a semi– if it isn’t the consequences of his own thoughts– and he knows that if he touches her, if she touches him, he won’t be able to control himself.

“Looks like Bea’s out,” Trevor says, thinking quick on his feet. “I think Cole’s sunscreen is more important than mine, since he’s ‘made to burn.’” He takes out his sunscreen and claps it into Cole’s palm. “You and Honey can do each other up. I’m going to take a nap at the front. Wake me up when we start surfing.”

His eyes slide over Honey just before he walks away, and she looks puzzled. Trevor swallows a smile and returns to the bow of the boat, laying out and dropping his shirt over his face. 

He zones out, eyes closed and breath even. Someone joins him on the cushion at some point, just before the boat starts to lurch away from the dock. He feels the spray of the lake dampen his shirt and cool his skin. The sun is already starting to pick at his chest, his tolerance not as high as it is when they’re always on the boat in Michigan.

“You’re burning, Trevor.” 

Trevor startles, sitting up and ripping the shirt away from his face. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the sun.

Honey holds out his sunscreen. The can is in one hand, the face lotion in the other. She’s biting the inside of her cheek and staring at him.

Trevor reaches out and plucks the items from her grasp, purposefully avoiding her fingers. 

“Thanks,” Trevor says, looking anywhere but her face. He can’t look her in the eyes. He can’t touch her. He tucks them away, tying them into his shirt and tossing it to the side. He misses the way her eyes flash and fix on the movements of his fingers, her lips parting. He’s too busy making his way to his feet and turning away. “I think I’m going to borrow the tanning oil from Luke, though. I’ll probably get him to do my back. Cole already did yours, right?”

Honey just hums and nods. Trevor looks up just long enough to take in the tight smile on her face. He can see that her eyes are rimmed with sunglasses, so he’s safe from the look in her eyes. 

Trevor raises his fingers in a half-hearted wave before he walks away, joining Luke and Jack at the back of the boat. They’ve each got a hand in Cole’s pockets, making sure he doesn’t fly away as he stands on a bench and ties the lead-ropes they brought to the canopy. 

Bea sits on Quinn’s thigh as he drives the boat, arms around his shoulders and laughing at the boys. Her eyes flicker with alarm as Trevor approaches, and she turns to face the front of the boat, rising off Quinn’s lap slightly to peek around the console.

Trevor hears her scoff and hop off Quinn’s lap, pattering away with light steps. He pays her no mind– just gives Cole a lovetap on the stomach so he doubles over. Jack and Luke laugh and Cole glares at Trevor, but the bickering transforms their area of the boat into a bubble where only they live. Quinn visits sometimes, to switch out once they’ve got the surfboard ready, but the day belongs to Jack, Luke, Cole, and Trevor.

Honey and Bea tan in the front and Trevor misses every pointed glare from Bea and sneaking, evaluating glance from Honey that comes his way.

14:90 – HONEY

Honey and Bea are sitting at the picnic table in Honey’s backyard. They’re sipping tea and the sun is setting. Honey blows on the surface of her mug, keeping it raised to her lips to take a sip.

She and Bea have been hanging out all day. 

Honey was in this position at sunrise, sipping coffee out of the same mug and looking at the same mountains. 

They’ve mostly sat in silence all day, reading their books or scrolling on their phones. Honey finishes the book she had been reading, so they break into The Reading Nook as soon as Bea wakes up, and Honey borrows a new one. She’s over a quarter of the way through the new book now, but the sun has set too much for her to continue reading.

So, they drink tea. They drove to Bea’s house to get some calming tea, then back to Honey’s. Bea made the tea while Honey sat and breathed, listening to the birds sing their eggs to sleep. They sip their tea, but Honey knows that time is running out. Bea’s been patient enough.

“I think it’s time we talk about what happened these past two days,” Bea says, setting her mug on the flat of the table. “Really, really talk.”

Honey sighs, putting her own mug down. “Yeah, I know.”

“I only have two questions for you, Honey,” Bea says. She laces her fingers together and leans in, like a principal or a school counselor. 

Honey wants to laugh. It’s like an intervention. “What are your questions, Bea-girl?” She asks with a breath of a laugh and a roll of her eyes.

“Question one,” Bea pauses for effect, tilting her head to the side and widening her eyes. “How did you feel about Trevor after you licked, uh, everything off of his body?” She gestures with her hand, waving it in a circle. She tilts her chin up and smiles, sarcastically in pain, at Honey. 

“I was thinking–”

Bea interrupts. “Nuh-uh. I don’t care about what you were thinking. What were you feeling about Trevor? And not once you started thinking about home, or any of that. The second you looked at him: what were you feeling?”

Honey’s face twists, her nose crinkling. She hates when Bea plays therapist.

“I felt like…” Honey trails off, thinking back. She gnaws on her bottom lip, looking at the dark masses of leaves rustle on the trees surrounding her home. “It was warm. I felt… light. If Trevor hadn’t had his hands on my waist, I might’ve… been like that puddle guy… in Sky High.” Her voice gets quieter with every pause and Honey is very conscious of the fact that she’s referencing the cult-classic ‘DCOM’ Sky High in her therapy session with her best friend.

Bea’s conscious of the reference, too, staring at Honey. Her jaw is dropped and she’s filled with mild aghast, just like Honey. She shuts her mouth, closes her eyes, and nods to herself before opening them again.

“Question two. How did you feel after Trevor went to the back of the boat yesterday?”

Honey knew it was coming, but the memory still tugs at her. 

She doesn’t get it. Trevor had been so… talkative, at first. He had sought Honey out and, as much as she hates to admit it, being chased was nice. Trevor had stood out from the first day, so much so that she wouldn’t even consider the other boys if they asked– and Jack did ask, that one time. 

It was like a complete 180º after the dare. He steps away from her, he can’t meet her eyes, he found not one, but two excuses to get away from Honey after she offered to put sunscreen on his back. Yeah, she figured Cole was joking and setting them up for disaster, but she was ready to role with it after having that conversation with Bea on Friday.

Trevor froze when she was around and avoided Honey like a fucking. plague.

Honey’s silence speaks for itself, because Bea opens her mouth to continue.

“Maybe–”

Honey talks over her, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t– think he likes me.”

She takes a breath before opening her eyes again. 

Bea stares at Honey, her first two fingers covering her mouth. 

Honey blinks and looks down at her hands, wrapping them around her mug to save them from the sudden frostbite spreading over her fingers. “If he felt like I did after that dare… he wouldn’t have ignored me yesterday.” Honey presses her tongue into her top teeth, clamping her lips shut. The edges of her eyes are prickling with wetness again.

Bea reaches across the table and takes one of her hands.

“If that’s how he feels, then he’s stupid,” Bea says, voice definite. “He would be an idiot to stop chasing you.”

“I wish it was as easy as you and Quinn,” Honey admits. She stares at the warped and chipped wood under their hands. She’s sick to her stomach for a second, having déjà vu of the same image five years earlier, when she and Bea left Charlotte and spent their first night here. They didn’t even have mugs yet. They just talked and held hands and took in their new home. It’s the same feeling.

Bea shakes her head. “It’s not the same. Quinn and I aren’t–” She pauses to scoff, a grimace across her face. “We’re hooking up. We both know that and we don’t want anything more. That’s why it’s so easy.”

“But you felt so bad when you had to tell him,” Honey argues.

“I felt guilty.” Bea shrugs. “It passed.”

They sit in silence for a little while longer. Bea drops Honey’s hands and returns to her tea. 

Honey looks down at her tea and brings it to her lips, sipping. She takes a second sip, clearing her throat. 

“I want to be wanted,” Honey says. She feels silly saying it, the phrase obvious. Everyone wants to be wanted. She’s not special. To make herself feel better, she adds, partially as a joke: “And I want to have sex.”

“It’s been a long time since you said that,” Bea replies and Honey’s heart soars. She always understands exactly what Honey means. She always knows exactly what to say. Honey covers her face with her hands, overwhelmed. Bea continues. “It doesn’t have to be silly old Trevor, since he’s a loser.”

“Yeah… I don’t want any of the others,” Honey laughs.

Bea scoffs, defensive. “Yeah, and I wasn’t gonna give you any of ‘em.”

They laugh together, heads thrown back. Bea’s foot stomps against the dirt. 

When they quiet down, Bea adds with a grin, “I was just thinking that we could have a night out or something. Wilkesboro has to have something you can settle for. Just for a fuck, you know?”

Honey nods, smiling. She raises her tea to her lips and swallows the last of it. The mug clatters when she sets it down.

“Would it,” she starts, her smile breaking into a toothy, tilted beam. “Would it be so bad if I wanted it to be Trevor?”

Bea squeals and wiggles. She grabs Honey’s hands and squeezes, bouncing in her seat. She’s so excited that it causes Honey to break out into a fresh round of embarrassed giggles, shielding her face from the aftermath of her admission.

“We’re going on double dates,” Bea makes Honey promise, linking their pinkies. “We are. Just talk to him… tomorrow…” She wiggles her eyebrows. “And tell him that you want him to flirt with you again.”

“Well, it’s not that easy,” Honey denies, rolling her eyes.

“Isn’t it, though?” Bea squints one of her eyes shut and tilts her head, making a face at Honey. She smooths her expression and makes her eyes wide, blinking innocently as she mocks: “‘You know, you should really keep flirting with me, Trev. You never know when it’ll pay off.’ See?” 

Honey laughs in disbelief. “Yeah, okay. I’ll say exactly that.”

“Fine, if that’s so hard, go find me a pen. Then I have to go home. It’s late.” Bea bosses, pointing towards Honey’s living room. When Honey stands, she smiles again, sickly-sweet. “Thank you, Baby-Honey.”

“Whatever,” Honey replies, standing and finding a Sharpie in her junk drawer. She overemphasizes the nickname sarcastically when she returns to the table: “Buzzy.”

Bea sticks her tongue out at Honey and holds her hand out expectantly. Honey clicks her tongue in annoyance, but puts her hand in Bea’s, her palm facing up. Bea leans over her, stretching Honey’s skin so it’s taut. She scribbles something onto Honey’s hand, at one point pulling out her phone to read a message. She nods when she’s done and reaches up to draw a little heart on the inside of Honey’s wrist. She blows a kiss at Honey and slaps the marker in her hand, closing her fingers around the marker. Bea stands, takes her mug, and drops it off in the sink before she walks out of Honey’s front door. 

Honey raises her other hand in a belated wave, barely looking. She returns to her other hand, unfurling her fingers. Scrawled on her palm are ten digits and Trevor’s name. 

It’s a phone number.

Honey pales. She can’t text Trevor. She has to tell him to keep things going in person, not behind a screen. That’s not who she is. She hasn’t acted like this in five years, and she’s not planning on reverting to old habits. No, she has to go see Trevor tomorrow. 

Monday!

Tomorrow, the fruit stand is open. Trevor knows that Honey goes to the fruit stand on Mondays, and if he’s interested at all, he’ll show up. It’s, like, a ‘thing’ now, right?

Yeah. She’ll see him at the fruit stand tomorrow. If she doesn’t, then she’ll know how he feels for sure. She won’t have to text, she won’t have to go track Trevor down– it’ll be easy, like how Honey wants it to be. Quinn and Bea aren’t the only people who can have it easy.

[adelliet]

Joel Miller x F!reader

Relax for me

Summary: You work at Jackson as a helper not only for kids but for everyone, but no one is kind of there for you. Every men in here aren't just your type, unless someone appeared here and show you how to treat a woman right.

Warnings: 15+, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (piv), dominant, dirty talk a bit, nicknames, one mention of Y/N, beeast playing, soft Joel, apocalypse period

A/N: Hi! I am so sorry for mistakes, if there are any, but english isn't my first language. Enjoy, sending love!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You are washing dishes right now, trying to get off every dirt you could see by your sharp eyes. You already had a half of dishes done, half still waiting for you. It was boring, you have to admit it, but at least you have a window right infront of you, so you could see every act or move that someone do outside. It would be nice, but the town is very quiet, as usual, and nothing is really happening.

You sigh tiredly, as you look back at your hands, washing the already clean and nice white ceramic plate. You put it to the dripper right next to you, and as you reached for another plate to wash, you heard horses and people chattering loudly outside. Your attention was immediately drawn to these sounds and you peered out of the window curiously, pupils dilated and eyes as big as buttons.

Your washing motions suddenly slowed as you saw several men on horses, and behind them were two people you hadn't seen before in the city. They looked like travelers, as if they got lost here. On one horse was a little girl, around 15 years old you would say, while on the other was an older big man who immediately caught your eyes, but also your whole body. When you saw him, goosebumps ran up your spine and your legs and arms began to shake. You had to put the plates down and stop washing or you would have broken something because of how much you were shaking at the sight of the handsome man.

This time you stopped watching the other people and surroundings and just focused on the handsome old man who looked surprised when he focused on someone from the big group of people, that were standing curiously around them. He quickly dismounted from his horse, as Tommy approached him. You raised an eyebrow at him in confusion, as you saw Tommy and the man hugging each other. It seemed like they were pretty good friends and hadn't seen each other for a long time. You figured that was exactly how it was and got a little mad at Tommy, when he didn't tell you about the man. But your rage only lasted for a moment, when you then saw how Tommy was leading the girl and your dream man straight to you, to your house, where you were just washing the dishes.

You started panicking a little, your shaking started raising and you couldn't evem hold something in your hands, because if you do, you would let it fall immediately. You have no idea what to do, the only thing that was on your mind right now was looking a little good infront of the unknown man. That's why you look at the window, so you could see yourself in it a little, and started to style your hair. But there wasn't really much you could do about it, because after a while you heard the wooden door creak and the cold winter wind enveloped the whole house, including you. You were a little knocked up by the coldness, but you weren't shaking so much as you were with the nervousness and excitement of seeing this man face to face in a moment.

“So you can be here now, and then we can figure out where you will be living next” you heard Tommy saying this to the new people, and the steps, that you could definitely say they contained two big men and one tiny girl. You turn around to be ready and put your hands behind you, making your boobs pop out a little. You set a big cute smile on your face and wait, till everyone will see you and you will see them too.

They finally appeared around the corner. Of course there was Tommy and the little girl, but it was the man who looked even more attractive up close that caught your attention. His mustache and beard, which were slightly gray with age, and his soft hair, which curled slightly and was gray-silver in color. He was wearing a brown coat with a checkered dark green shirt underneath that you longed to wear. You'd bet everything he must look amazing under all those clothes.

You stared at him like he was a beautiful painting, like a living version of the mona lisa. You couldn't take your eyes off him, your body just wouldn't let you, and the man felt the same way. As soon as he saw you, he didn't take his eyes off you just like you couldn't take yours. He even stopped paying attention to anything Tommy said or what the little girl said, his focus was only on you. You could catch a glimpse of his beautiful brown eyes, which reminded you of warmth and sunshine, as if you were lying on the beach and the rays of the sun were tanning your whole body in pimps.

Tommy started realising, that there is something between you two, because the way and the lenght you were staring at each other, wasn't definitely normal. That's why he started to act more, to get both of your attention. He clear his throat pretty loudly and started talking intensely and distinctly. “Okay lovebirds, I think it's time to introduce yourselfs” he tap few times with his palm on the man's back pretty hard, till he was finally focused only on Tommy.

“This is my brother, Joel, and there is…uh…” he wanted to talk about the little girl, tha were standing beside Joel like some oath, but he didn't know who exactly she was, so she introduced herself. “Ellie, Joel's cargo” she joked making you chuckle slightly. When Joel saw and heard your sweet soft laugh, his heart melted and his facial muscles automatically formed into a loving smile. Tommy started being more and more suspicious about Joel, because he never saw him smile like that, not even at a woman.

“Hi” you said really quietly, they hardly even hear you and you wave shyly, at Joel and Ellie, your face turn red as Joel's smile got bigger after your cute move. He just nodded as a greeting back and he still didn't take his eyes off yours, his smile still held on his face as if it was stuck. Even Ellie looked surprised at Joel's reaction too, it wasn't really common behavior from him. She put on a mischievous smile as she kept glancing at you and at Joel, in circles and alternately. Tommy was in a similar situation, but at least he managed to get Joel's attention for a moment.

“And this is our helper, Y/N” Tommy made your job easier and introduced you. You didn't hear much of what Joel responded to your name, but you could read from his lips that he repeated your name silently to himself with with loving eyes and his smile still didn't drop until you broke eye contact with him, and looked at Tommy, who made it clear to you that from now, you are taking care of both of them. “She will show you around and show you your nee rooms. Be nice to her" he added to Joel's ear and pat him on Joel's back, which made him balance a little, but he coped it well.

When Tommy left, you do as he told and take control of them. “Follow me” you said with a gorgeus smile on your face, looking at Ellie but when you look at Joel again, your face started being so warm that you needed to look away. You get infront of them, so that they could see where are you going. You led them to the second floor, up the stairs where there were several doors. You walked over to the two of them, that were at the end of the hall, and waited for them to come up to you so, they could hear and see you. “So these two rooms are free, exactly for you. It's up to you how you split them up now" you said and pointed your hand at the doors next to you, so they could see a demonstration. Ellie immediately rushed to the door that was closer to you. You therefore stepped away from it to give her a better passage inside.

When she entered into the room, "Holy fuck!" was heard, which caused a slight joy and laughter in you. Joel chuckled too, but still apologized for Ellie. "I'm sorry, Ellie doesn't know her manners-" "It's okay, I understand her” you snapped at Joel but not in a rude way. “Joel, you need to fucking see it-!” “ELLIE!” Joel raised his voice a little, trying to point out to her not to speak obscenely at last, but she was so impressed with her new room that she did not even notice this little thing.

“Well come in and see by yourself” You nodded your head towards the door that was only inches away from the one Ellie had just appropriated. Joel turned towards the bright cherry red door, opened it slowly and safely, and stepped smoothly inside. Normally you would have left him to meditate in his room by himself, but clearly, this was not a normal situation, at least for you. Joel left the door open, thus indicating that he expects you to follow him there.

You didn't cross the line, that split the hallway and the room, but you get closer to the door to look at Joel, how he walk around the room and ran two fingers over the furniture, making you felt a little pulsw down your panties, as you watch his big fingers. Of course your mind started working immediately, and you imagined and creat a milion, maybe bilion scenarios of Joel, putting these fingers into you, making you come without seconds. You needed to stop these thoughts, otherwise you would literally leaked the wettnes through your shorts. “Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?”

When you ask him this question, you could see his slight, devilish smile appeared on his face and he took a deep breath as he tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. Oh god he's seriously torturing you! You kept yourself from making any sound of excitement. If you had a dick, it would already be up long time ago, but instead you have a complete fire in your panties. You needed to cross your legs to keep the fire only in this area, and also so that Joel wouldn't know anything. After he take a deep breath, he turned his head to you, still smirking at you. “Even though i like it, call me Joel” he said, now his body was directly facing you too.

“Okay Joel, is there anything?” You voice was kind of shaky as you said his name. It felt so strange but good, maybe too good. “No, I don't think so princess” your legs started shaking as he teasing you with the nickname he just called you. Even that your pussy was literally dying for Joel's cock, and you whole body, including your voice, was fully shaking, you trying to kept your decency. “A-alright. Good night then” you ran away quickly, closing his doors and smile at him, one last time, as the smallest inch that still left, before you close the door fully, hit and you could make the last eye contact for today.

You quickly get to your room, closing your door right behind you, and sat on the floor, relaxing your back and head on the white door, that you just closed. “Oh my gosh” you whimpered in the air, trying to process what just happened. How can a human, make you feel like this? That you cannot talk, walk, or do anything. That he could say anything, and you would do it right away. You were surprised by your reactions at Joel's words, but you weren't really surprised either. When you recapitulated the whole thing in your head, you would always react the same way over and over again, that's just the way it is.

As you finally, aftwr a while, went to the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed, you couldn't stop thinking about Joel, his shirt, his bushy hair that you'd love to run your fingers through and scratch his head, his incredibly amazing puppy eyes, the which you could look at for hours and never stop being entertained, and best of all, his hands. He wasn't very muscular, like some bodybuilder, but he was muscular to you. His hands look big from a distance, what must they look like up close? How it must look on your cheeks, your hips...oh god.

The horniness that Joel aroused in you, began to increase with every millisecond just thinking about him. Not only did he start doing mischief in your vagina, but also all over your body. You wanted so badly to pleasure yourself, to touch yourself and come over the man of your dreams, but your anxiety wouldn't handle it. After all, the man you'd be touching yourself over is only a few feet away, what if he heard you? Or worse, what if he caught you? You couldn't let this happen and you had to endure it through gritted teeth and finally go to sleep.

~~~

Few minutes past, to be specific half hour, and you were finally smooth and clean, ready to go to sleep. Everything was going smoothly until you decided not to go to sleep yet. After all, Ellie and Joel are your guests, you have to take care of them, it's your duty, your job. So you decided, in just a low-cut top and light shorts, to go check on both of them. When you lightly and quietly knocked on Ellie's door, nothing came, so you decided to walk in slowly. Ellie was already in bed sleeping under the covers, so you just turned off the lights and closed the door back, you didn't want to wake her up. Now comes the hard part, Joel.

You take a deep, deep breath before you knock on his door, quietly too, and wait for answer. He was clearly awake, because you heard him saying: “open”. You walk in then, steady and slowly, and your eyes immediately catch Joel laying in his bed with a knife in his hand. You got scared at first, but he calmed you down as he explained that he just cleaned the knife and examined it closely. “I-i just wanted to ask you if you need anything, before I go to sleep” you said, pointing your thumb behind you, to show that your room is in the hallway on the other side. Joel was only staring at you for a moment, without a single word. His eyes darkened all of the sudden and you could felt the cold, coming from his, now dark black eyes. “There is actually”

Your heartbeat started raising, as his hungry eyes travels up and down, checking your body and clothes you wore. You both knew, that you are fully naked behind them. You had no bra, no panties, no underwear at all. You never sleep with underwear on and this night was no different. You felt goosebumps running fast and intense from your legs to your shoulders as Joel slowly stood up. He looked like a bear, a hungry wild animal that is still gentle. “W-w-what is it?” You asked really quietly, your voice shaky and stressed, as he slowly moved closer and closer to you. You had mixed feelings of horror and fear, but excitement and anticipation at the same time. His smirk still hasn't fade out yet.

You getting ready to step behind you, as Joel was getting really closer, but he stopped at a pretty distance from you, so you don't even need to back up. He stood right infront of you, still checking you out without any feeling of embarrassment or awkwardness, not at all, he looks pretty confident. After a while, he finally look at your eyes, making the most intense and exciting eye contact in your whole life. “Can you show me how to make my bed? You know after the apocalypse I wasn't able to even see a normal bed in a few years” he said, slightly in his normal husky voice and scratched his neck as his head tilted back on the bed. You didn't know if you were more relieved or sad that he didn't say what you wanted, but either way you calmed down and got some of your confidence back.

“Yeah, sure” you said with a smile finally and calm face, and walked around Joel, feeling his eyes glued on you. When you get close enough to the bed, you started your 'teaching'. “So you just take this side, and you put it right here, nice and straight…” you said as you were folding his shriveled duvet. You were mostly focused on showing Joel how to make the bed, but you knew very well that he was right behind you, and apparently not looking at the bed at all. “And with that, you do just one more step, and you're done!” You straightened up and happily watched the perfectly placed comforter on the man's bed. You were proud of yourself because you had never done it so well. “Well and-” you turned your back to the bed only to bump into Joel's huge chest that was dangerously close to you.

Horrified, you looked up, only to see Joel with his sly smirk again. You really started to panic in this situation. You could smell his alcohol smell mixed with the smell of nature and weapons, you loved it. “Uh I- um” you trying to find the words but you just can't. This was the situation you were thinking before, that he made you just lise your words and balance too, which showed itself in a moment. Joel was slightly moving forward, so he forced you to back up, but since the bed that you touched with your feet was right behind you, you unexpectedly bumped into it, lost your balance and fell on it. The fall was accompanied by a slight squeal, thanks to the shock and surprise.

You were sitting on the bed, your arms leaning on the bed, and you watched Joel gracefully drop to his knees. You didn't stop looking at each others eyes, his eyes were so mesmerizing and he is all too aware of it. You widened your eyes as Joel's smile get bigger, when he slowly starts touching your legs with his big, big hands and arms. He was scrubbing some part of your legs with his thumb, making you sqeeze the sheet under you. Joel was trying to read from your eyes and see, if you like it or not, but it was really difficult. You looked scared but excited at the same time, and you actually were scared and excited.

“W-we can't” you whispered, thinking Joel won't even hear you but he clearly did, and answer immediately. “Why not?” His hands started slowly and steady spreading your legs apart, making his view on your very sensitive area from your whole body. You exhale deeply as he do that, trying not to scream. “Is it because of my brother?” he asked gently, teasing you as his hands goes further to your thighs, closer and closer to your entrance. You watched every move he made, and it felt so fucking good. The feeling of his massive hands on your thights, the warm that went through your whole body, it was an incredible feeling.

You shooke your head to no, and still watch him with a big pupils. “Then what is stopping us?” his voice was groany with hunger and lust, only for you. His hands were now only few, really few centimetres from where you were desperate for his fingers to have, and not only for the fingers. “I don't know” you were so innocent and quiet as a mouse. If only Joel knew all the things you imagined you would do with him, he would look at you completely differently, but since he doesn't, he saw you exactly like this, quiet and innocent, which attracted him immensely.

Before you even finish your sentence, he he attacked your lips drastically and desperately with his own, placing both hands on your cheeks so he could correct your face as he pleased. You imagined that Joel was a good kisser, but you couldn't have imagined this much in your wildest dreams. The way your lips met, the way your tongues touched, the way his hands hold your head tight, your heart was melting. Just like you, Joel loved the way your saliva mingled, the way you didn't even fight your tongue too much, showing your submissiveness. Of course he would have kissed you much longer, but this was not in his plan.

He pulled away from your lips, immediately made eye contact with you and slowly leaned down, right between your legs. You started to get a little stressed and nervous, so you stopped thinking about everything and just focused on Joel's touches, only on him. He smile as he saw your worried eyes and your shaking legs, it made him feel powerful. “Promise me, you will make that noises as much as your body will allow” he said, licking his index and middle finger and with puffy chocolate eyes he waited for your answer. You just nodded your head briskly and watched eagerly as his hands removed your shorts in one powerful movement, ending up at your ankles on the ground. Now you were directly exposed, your main sexual organ and Joel could proudly say he was the first man to see it.

He then waited no more seconds and gently put his index finger in your entrance, making you moan quietly and close your eyes. It wasn't painfull, of course it wasn't, but it was something different. The feeling that someone else is putting his hands inside you, even better when it was Joel, gosh your butterflies in your stomach started going wild. He then began to lightly curl his finger inside you, making you throw your head back and sigh softly but clearly. This was all just the beginning.

Unbeknownst to you, he subtly stuck his middle finger in as well, which made you sigh louder, but still formally. Your surprise made you feel even better and you enjoyed his big fingers in your small vagina. A few minutes and your legs started to open and close on their own, occasionally touching Joel's head by mistake, but he loved it. It was all beautiful but something was missing, which Joel added in a moment. He added his other hand to the situation, gently rubbing against your most sensitive part of your body, your clit, and this was just something. You were twitching all over, you couldn't not move, it wasn't possible. The way both his hands and fingers were interlocked, they created an even bigger fire down there.

He watched you like a statue. He recorded your every movement, even if it was just a tiny one, perhaps invisible to the naked eye. He trying to learn your body, your moves, everything about you. He try a magical things with his fingers inside you, and try to find out what position of them make you feel the best. It didn't take long for him to find the exact way to make you moan louder and more often.

You weren't yourself anymore You flinched as Joel teased your clit and made a complete ripple inside you with his fingers. All the worries and stress and problems were suddenly there when you felt that you were approaching the edge. It felt like a battle in your lower abdomen, excitement and the feeling of having to go to the bathroom rushed through your whole body, and you knew very well that you wouldn't last too long. His thick big fingers inside you made you stretch so much, that after that, you could fit in there anything.

“Oh fuck~” you sighed as you started feeling the climax taking total control over you. Joel were staring at you like a creep, smiling that you will come in a minute on his hands. “C'mon princess” Joel tries to cheer you up a little and it definitely helps, because every time you heard Joel's deep warm voice, you whole body started heating up in a unimaginable speed. You imagined in your life a lot, you have very good fantasy, but you wouldn't have imagined this even for God's sake. The excitement, the passion, the heat and the feeling of fullness was so beautiful that you thought for a moment that Jesus was fucking you with his hands.

“Oh my- Joel~”

There it comes. You feel it. The strange feeling to get it all out and fearing that it will be an awkward moment. The feeling that makes you quickly throw your head back, close your eyes tightly and dig your nails right into the covers beneath you, thightened your walls around Joel's fingers so that he knew too, that you gonna come in a second. Moaning Joel's name across the whole room, you finally realise your self on his hand.

You didn't really care if anyone heard you or not, the only thing you could focus on right now was your unforgettable orgasm causes only by Joel's fingers. After the nice tickling that spreads all over your body, including your lady part, you struggle to catch your breath, eyes still closed. Now all your senses came back and you started to blush in embarrassment. You quickly opened your eyes and lowered your head only to see a wickedly smiling Joel who was as happy as if he had just received a Christmas present, as far as possible your orgasm was a present for Joel, but definitely not the last one.

“Good girl sweetheart,” he said with a comforting smile on his face, not bealiving that he really exist how gorgeous this man is. “-but I am not done with you yet” the soft smile immediately transformed into a devilish grin. But before you could even widen your eyes in fear and raise your eyebrows, Joel stopped you and the surprised gasp turned into a comforting moan.

Joel now had his lips glued to your vagina, his tongue inside you again, it went smoothly as you were already wet all over from the previous orgasm. His large sculpted nose rubbed pleasantly against your rather sensitive clitoris, which you couldn't take anymore, and you had to make another physical contact with Joel. You grabbed his soft gray hair and very gently that he didn't even feel it whenever you flinched at his curling of his tongue inside you. Once again, all your senses went blank and all you could feel was his wet tongue, bulbous nose and velvety hair. You didn't even notice how loud you were as you sighed with delight at Joel's name and vulgarities over and over. At the same time, you didn't care that now you don't look like the decent and well-mannered girl you did when you met.

Joel wanted to talk to you, to make you feel safe and horny at the same time, but he really couldn't as his full face were on your labia, but he still groan into you, sending the vibration of his voice to your cervix. How much your body were overstimulated, you knew you wouldn't hold your realise in for too long. The heat that goes from Joel's mouth to your cheeks, made your face goes red but not only because of the hot air. The room was soon filled with nothing but your sighs and Joel's mumbling into your genitalia. Joel knew exactly what he was fucking doing.

The way his big palms going back and forth on your thighs, where he sometimes squeezed them gently, the way he sometimes pressed his nose on purpose against your clitoris, which caused a pained squeak to escape from your languid lips, and the most important part, how his most flexible muscle in his body made different shapes, moving from side to side, front to back and in and out of your hole. All these combinations together drove you crazy. His beard tickled you slightly and sometimes it stung, which made it worse...or better? Your strokes of Joel's hair started to get stronger and more intense as you felt that tight feeling again not only in your stomach but also in your vagina.

“Joel I am gonna-“

You said real quick, like you were in a rush and you actually were, because in a few seconds after you said that, your sweet liquid came out from you, right inside Joel's mouth, making him hum in in pleasure as he sipped all your juice. Your eyes wide opened, your chest moving up and down in a rapid speed, your mouth trying to get enough oxygen into your lungs so that not only your breathing but also your heartbeat finally calms down and returns to the normal position it was before you experienced all of this with Joel.

He let you rest for a while and gather strength. Meanwhile, he licked off all your liquid that was still left on his mustache and fingers, which he didn't have time to eat earlier. When you started seeing normaly again and everything wasn't blurry anymore, you looked at Joel again, with a relief and a relaxing light smile. To be honest, you didn't feel the least bit embarrassed, more like guilty that he had given you two orgasms in quick succession and you hadn't done anything for him. “Are you okay princess?” he asked with his deep but soft voice, raising both of his eyebrows so that he give you his cute chocolate puppy eyes. You couldn't really talk, so you just nodded with your heavily breath and the sweat were dropping from your forehead.

His face immediately formed into a grin of happiness, but after a moment you could see nothing but darkness, black and cold from his eyes again, which permeated the entire room at an abnormal speed. Goosebumps automatically appeared on all parts of your body and you shivered slightly as the chill went down there as well. You wanted to ask him, if he want something too, you would do anything. Even if he want to fuck in your ass, you would allow it, but before you could even breath in and say something, your lips were on Joel's, where you could still taste your sweet juice.

They were very aggressive and rough, he even bit your lips a few times, making you bleed from them slightly, but you loved it. He was tasting your saliva and wrestling your tongue. His body weighed you down so much that you had to lie on your back on the bed and this automatically wrapped your arms around Joel's neck while his were on your bare sides. “Your lips taste amazing” he growled as he attacked them again, his large warm palm traveling down your body. You felt his hand on your stomach, slowly riding up until he bumped into your light t-shirt, which was a very light challenge for Joel. He gently moved his hand under the t-shirt where he found your bare breasts and squeezed one of them tightly, causing you to moan into the kisses. You could feel his devilish smirk after you moan, so of course he put a bigger tension in holding your breast, which caused that you needed to break the kiss and breath the air.

“You like that, don't ya?” he asked, voice like a hungry wolf and fingers moving slightly around your nipple. Your eyes were still closed, you didn't even had that confidence to open them and look at Joel, how hungry he was for you. As he massaged your breast gently but hard at the same time, you heard the belt unfasten quickly and immediately after a sound of dropping some material on the floor, which you logically deduced that Joel had just removed his pants with only one hand, and really quickly without inhibitions. It turns you even more on feeling his cock's head on your thights, and you could say only from that, that it's huge as fuck.

“Are you ready sweetheart?” he asked gently, slowing his moving with his hand around your boob and focusing on your face, to see your answer. You open your eyes finally, little curious how his dick is looking, but his eyes trapped you from looking anywhere else, but only in his dark eyes with a lust. You nodded with agreement, but you were still little frightened about it, and of course Joel recognized it on you. That was the reason why he moved his palm to your cheek and gently stroked it with his thumb, making you feel a little more comfortable and safe. A tear were dropping from your eyes down your face, still from the last two orgasm you had earlier but not only because of them.

His puppy eyes tells you that it's gonna be okay, that you don't need to worry about it. Joel didn't even need to say anything to make you trust him, so when you relaxed your eyes and whole body, Joel immediately took advantage and slowly entered you with his penis. Even though you thought it would be painless, it certainly wasn't. Joel wasn't even halfway through and you were already squealing in pain, more and more tears welling up in your eyes and you had to bite your lips with your teeth so hard they started to bleed. Your back arched and your walls closed, not allowing Joel to continue any further. He groans as you stopped him before he was even halfway there. “C'mon babygirl, relax for me” he said, started rubbing your cheek by his thumb again, but this time all you could focus on was that feeling of fullness and you couldn't even imagine that anything else could fit in there.

“Princess look at me” your eyes still closed, but your body sligtly relax as you used to the lenght, or at least temporary length for now. “Look at me” Joel repeat himself, with more roughness and aggression in his voice that it automatically forced you to open your eyes and look at his chubby face. You were still bitting your lips, as you try to eased the pain. “Can you relax for me?” deep, comforting and the ear-pleasing voice intoxicated you so much that without you doing anything, your body practically relaxed on its own, making more room for Joel to continue and push him all the way into you. He didn't hesitate for a second and slowly pushed it in, even though you were more relaxed than before, it still hurt. He stretched you so hard that you thought you might burst, it looks like his lenght was infinite.

“Good girl, good girl-“ his voice cracked as he was getting closer to put all his lenght into you, and as your walls started getting slowly tightened around his cock. You felt that you won't take any more, that this is your maximum but apparently, it wasn't. Few inches left and Joel lose his patience about taking it slowly, so when he was really close to the root, he pushed it aggressively into you so much, that the sound of the slap could be heard along with your loud sigh, full of pleasure but relief at the same time. “Wasn't that hard, was it?” he whispered with a little pain, as he tries so much to hold back his natural instinct to thrust into you hardly.

You shake your head for answer, your vision gray and blurry, all sounds muffled and all you felt and sensed was Joel and his cock inside you. “Focus on my voice alright?” his voice was sweet but harsh and rough at the same time, but above all it was soothing. He has exactly the kind of voice that would make you fall asleep within minutes. You nodded again, not using your words or speaking and you started getting ready for the pushing. But you couldn't prepare enough for that, it's impossible.

Joel slowly, smoothly and lightly started thrusting into you, which was uncomfortable at first and you had to hold on so you wouldn't kick Joel away with your legs, but after a while of thrusting it just got better and better. It started to become more smooth as you slowly but surely started to fill again with your endless juice. Your pained moans slowly began to turn into full pleasure and your legs opened, feeling you want more. Joel quickly picked up on all these signs and understood that he should start adding speed, which he did. The sound of his pelvis slapping against your ass, the breaths he made and the wet sounds, god it was amazing!

It didn't take long for him to find that sweet spot deep inside, that made you even wilder, than when he licked or fingered you. As he was speeding up his speed as well as the force of his thrusts, his sighs gets louder and more devastated, but they weren't as loud as yours. “That's right baby, just like that” pulling him out of you, and then all the way in again, makes you jumped a little and digging your nails into the back of his neck, which was already so scratched. He thrust it into you faster and faster. And again and again and again. “F-fuck” he groans as his orgasm started being too close, so was yours. You started curling your toes and thick closing your eyes, as you felt that you are going to come soon too.

It really didn't take too long, and after a few fast and hard thrust of Joel, your walls thightened, wanting to pull his dick away and the cold and fresh feeling of realise swallowed you whole as you sighed Joel's name one last time as loudly and cuttingly as you could. Joel didn't last long as his cock was wrapped around your walls anyway, and moments after you reached your orgasm, you heard Joel's attractive and loud growl like a bear, as he threw his head back and filled you all over with his cum.

You both stayed like that for a while, breathing like you had just run a marathon and sweating just as much. But after a while, Joel needed more rest, so he gently pulled his massive cock out of you, which was again an incredibly pleasant feeling, and collapses right next to you. You both had your eyes closed, all you could hear was your hot breaths. You were so tired, exhausted and out of energy that there was no way you were going back to your room and Joel totally respected and understood that. He himself was abnormally tired.

“Great job princess” he complimented you after a while when he finally had enough oxygen in him to speak. You couldn't help but smile at his praise. Right after he said that you felt the sensation of a large hand underneath you, pulling you closer to the hot sweaty male body. You purred pleasantly and rested your head on his toned chest, listening to his heartbeat. After a while, when your bodies weren't so overheated with adrenaline, Joel covered you both with the blanket you had laid so nicely.

“Hope we gonna see each other more often” he said, finally in his normal relaxing voice. You smiled even more when he said that. “I swear on my life we will” making both of you giggled a bit, Joel gives you a sweet little kiss into your hair for goodnight. You move a bit to make yourself comfortable and it didn't took you long enough to fall asleep.

And there you are, sleeping in big man's arms, making your dream come true, after a wild night you never forget, because it was your best night you ever had, and the best part is, that this isn't definitely your last night like that.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Rebuilding

You all have been so kind <3 It isn't much but I figured we need a win :D Here is the win :D

There will probably come another drabble between this one and the last one about Dream dealing with all he learned but I wanted fluff so we going out of order again!

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

No edits or beta. We just having fun <3

*------------------*

Dream hums as he packs some snacks. He had been waiting impatiently for this day. Cross had texted him that the meeting would have to wait as it were the holidays with them in their universe.

But! Those have finally passed!

Which means…

Dream grins as he checks his own little present. He is excited to see Nightmare. See how his now little brother is doing.

It still hurts to not be the one to look after Nightmare. But Dream had managed to at least accept that for now.

Too much had happened between them for them to just pick things up as they were. And Dream will admit that he is a little afraid that he will end up letting the memories cloud his own judgement and behaviour concerning Nightmare.

So. They are taking small steps! Kind of like playdates.

Dream hadn’t minded the name much. It is cute. Even if he is still sad it is needed.

Dream takes a deep breath and hugs his bag close “Baby steps Dream. Just take small steps.”

For now he has a little brother to see and cuddle. Dream’s goal at the moment is to convince Nightmare that Dream does love him. Dream figured that is a good first step over trying to convince him that he had always loved him.

Dream texts the gang that he is going to the meeting spot before leaving the phone in his house. He knows people can track phones and stuff and he is not leading anyone to his little brother.

Dream concentrates his staff and powers and connects to the ride universe. He steps through and looks around.

It seems that this universe has a small town at least. Probably a locked universe than. As the gang doesn’t take risks. A locked one without knowledge about the multiverse, and probably far away from anyone who may have seen any skeletons.

Dream hums as he skips through the beautiful little winter wonderland town. The snow is nice and fluffy and the many coloured lights are beautiful. There are little stalls with some things for sale and Dream can see a little frozen lake in the distance. Oh! Maybe he and Nightmare can go ice skating?

Blue taught Dream all about it after Dream admitted that he never actually experienced winter. Which was weird to Blue as he grew up in a snowy town. They drag Ink along and had a lot of fun.

Dream snickers as he now knows why Blue had been so pushy about dragging Ink along too. But playing matchmaker is for later!

Dream looks around and grins as he spots the others. Seems like it is just Dust and Cross today with Nightmare. Dream rushes to their side and can’t help but think back to the first time he heard about their ‘child.’.

Back then Dream had still believed the worst of Nightmare. When the actual proof that Nightmare had always just been himself had been right in front of him.

Dream really needed to learn to look fully at situations before making decisions.

But that is for later. He happily goes over to Dust, Cross and Nightmare. Nightmare is sitting on Cross’s lap and seems to be people watching. He is wearing a large jacket, very thick looking pants and snow boats. Not to forget an adorable frog beanie.

No doubt to protect the scars on his skull and keep him warm.

Dream smiles “Hey guys!”

Dust looks at him bored and nods as greeting. Cross gives a small smile back “Hey Dream.”

Nightmare looks away from the people and shoots him a tiny smile “Hey…”

It was already so worth it. All the effort and work and careful steps. Because his brother finally smiled at him again. It may be after Gyftmas but Dream knows this is the best gift he could have gotten.

Dust gets up first and takes Nightmare over as Cross carefully rights himself.

Dream snickers to himself.

Cross looks confused as he gets up after one of his feet sliding a little bit “What?”

Dream shakes his skull before smiling “It is just… remember how the last time I met you guys with Nightmare you guys said he was yours?” he grins more “Apparently you were telling the truth after all.” Even if it is still hard to not have Nightmare with him. It is getting easier to accept the gang as his twins parents. It is just the obvious care they show. How to are so careful with him. It is hard to not see this as something good for his brother.

Cross sputters as he blushes slightly embarrassed.

Nightmare blinks and tilts his skull “I remember that.” He looks at Cross with a frown “You are not good at improv.”

Cross sputters again and looks with betrayal at Nightmare “Nightlight!”

That is another thing. Their nickname for his brother? Their little nightlight? Adorable. 10 out of 10. Dream will not let anyone interfere.

Dust chuckles and shoots Cross an amused look “Still ended up being right.” even more amused “Even about the relationship.”

Cross looks even more embarrassed as he looks to the side “If I had known I would get bullied I wouldn’t have come.”

Dust hums and shoots Nightmare a look. Nightmare looks back with a doubtful look and Dust nods “I agree Nightmare. He is bluffing.” More amused at Cross “You would have come either way.” Then Dust walks a bit closer and pulls Cross’s skull down a bit to enable him to easily kiss his cheek.

That is something Dream still needs to get used to. The four of them dating. It is just not something Dream had expected! Thought that is because of the fact that Dream only knew them when fighting. Who knows?! Maybe they had been dating for years and Dream just never knew- wait.

Dream gives them a strict look “You guys better keep it at handholding and kissing in front of Nightmare.”

Nightmare frowns at Dream “I know that kinda stuff!”

Dream sighs and gets a faraway look “How far I have fallen to let my little brother see those sinful things when he is just a baby.”

Nightmare pouts as he huffs “We fought before!”

Dust laughs and just nuzzles the grumpy baby. Cross grins amused as well “Yeah so sinful. Premarital handholding.” Which just causes Dust to snort again as Nightmare pouts.

Dream smiles and giggles “Sorry sorry.” He looks at Nightmare “It is great to see you again. How were your holidays?”

Nightmare keeps pouting and thinks for a moment before relaxing a bit “They were nice. We had food and did some stuff around town. Looking at things.” He looks back at Dream “How was Gyftmas?”

Dream makes a so-so motions “It was alright. There was this big party which I just visited to show my face. Afterwards I went back to Blue’s with Ink and the three of us and Blue’s brother had a bit of a more private celebration.” Which included Dream trying to push Blue and Ink under the mistletoe. He was kind of successful as Dream managed to get them under there. But Ink just stared at the little plant before proclaiming he had an idea for a drawing and he rushed off.

Dream and Blue drunk some whiskey after that together with Stretch.

Nightmare tilts his skull “I thought you liked the big parties?”

Dream shrugs as he walks with the family “They are okay. Mostly because it used to just give me a lot of energy thanks to all the positive emotions going around. Nowadays they are more of a hassle than anything.” He rolls his eye lights “People keep demanding I do the things nad stuff I used to do. Honestly some people never learn.”

Dust and Cross nod in agreement as Nightmare shrugs “Some people don’t want to learn. Can’t make them.”

Dream nods “Very true. But tell me how have you been!” and he looks hopeful.

Nightmare thinks for a moment before slowly starting to talk about how the winter hit and so there is a lot of snow. He mentions he doesn’t like the cold but the snow is pretty. And that his classes are going better.

Nightmare huffs unhappily “Math is still stupid.”

Cross looks amused “Just need to practise is Night. You will get it eventually.”

This actually surprises Dream a lot “But you had about a thousand calculations and stuff about the balance in your office.”

Nightmare makes some motions before sighing “It is different now…”

Dust actually speaks again “We think it is because he is a child again. The boost made him older using god magic. We wouldn’t be surprised if it changed him in some other things as well. Like how his magic had a different colour. It could have also assisted a lot with the way he thougth about things.”

Dream nods “Like an aid? Or a cheat sheet?”

Dust shrugs but nods.

Cross shrugs himself “We aren’t sure. It isn’t like we can test it and Nightmare thought that was just who he was.”

Nightmare nods “It felt like me. Not like I was still six. I felt like an adult… I think.”

Dream smiles “Well. It doesn’t matter now. We can just assume the magic aided you with everything.”

Nightmare shoots him a considering look before smiling a tiny bit again “Yeah.”

They get into town and Dream looks hopeful at Nightmare and Dust as he mutters “I was wondering… If I could… Could I please hold Nightmare again?”

Dust thinks for a moment and looks down at Nightmare. Nightmare gives him a nod. Which causes Dust to give him a nod and carefully hand Nightmare over.

Dream pulls Nightmare as close against him as he can while still being gentle. Nightmare is still healing. He almost died and got very hurt. Dream has to make sure he is careful.

Dream smiles as he nuzzles Nightmare softly “I am so happy to see you again. I love you.” I love you so much Nighty.

Nightmare hums and just hugs him back.

Their souls may no longer be in sync as they used to be but at least it seems that Dream’s hugs also mean something to Nightmare. Which may be all Dream gets but he will hold unto it greedily.

It just feels so good to have Nightmare near. To be able to hold and hug him.

They just let him hold his tiny twin. Enjoy the feeling of him close again. Dream never gets over this. He hadn’t realised how much he had missed his brother’s hugs until he finally got one again. He wonders if that is what starving feels like.

They sit down on a bench and Dream just asks his brother things. As long as Nightmare is open to it Dream is trying to get to know him again. Learn what he likes and dislikes. Which books he reads and which movies he watches.

Dream has heard so many facts about bats.

Nightmare tilts his skull “Gyftmas, or Christmas isn’t as much of a present holiday in our universe.” Their universe. The place the called home and settled. The very same that Error hid again and refuses to give the new coordinates to.

Dream frowns “So you didn’t get presents?”

Nightmare looks a bit shyer “I did get stuff!” then he looks embarrassed and crosses his arms “Dads are still used to giving gifts and stuff.”

Cross nods “We got him a few small things…” he rubs his neck “It was a special happening! A holiday! It seems criminal to not get him things!”

Dream laughs and nods “Oh I fully agree…” and he slowly rises his little present “I promise it isn’t a lot… just a present… Happy Gyftmas.” It is the first holiday where he has his brother with him again.

Nightmare stares with shock at the present before looking slightly panicked at Dust and Cross before muttering “I didn’t… I didn’t get anything… I didn’t know…”

Dream just hugs his little brother closer “I know. It is okay. Maybe I shouldn’t have surprised you…” or maybe he should have asked any of the four if this was okay?! He just wanted to surprise Nighty with something. “I just wanted to give you something okay? That is it.” he holds Nightmare close and smiles “You already gave me this chance Nighty… There isn’t anything else I want.”

Nightmare still looks unsure as he stares at the present. Cross rubs Nighty’s cheek “It is okay Nightlight. If you want we can check the stalls?”

Nightmare looks at the stalls and nods “yeah.” He holds his hands out to Cross and Cross takes him back. Dream is sad to let go of him but doesn’t fight it as Cross and Nightmare move towards the stalls.

Dream frowns at the present “I shouldn’t have surprised him.”

Dust snorts “You are fine. Nightmare just still has this idea that he owns people things when he gets stuff. We are still working on it.”

Dream blinks and thinks “Oh… is that why you guys gave him gifts for the last holiday?”

Dust nods “Yup. He is still learning to just be a kid again.”

Dream laughs and nods “I can’t imagine how hard that is…” For Nightmare to have to unlearn 500 years of trauma and responsibilities.

Dust shrugs “We are making progress.”

They sit in silence as they wait. Dust is very quiet and Dream rubs his hands. He is still not sued to Dust. He is just so eerily quiet and unmoving. Almost like a statue, and Dream can know as he used to be one.

The first few times Dream tried to fill the silence but nothing what he said seemed to be able to pull Dust into a conversation. Maybe Dust just doesn’t want to talk to him or maybe Dust is just quiet. Dream isn’t sure.

A memory enters his mind and Dream gets ready “I euh… had a question.”

Dust hums and waits.

Dream takes a deep breath “Have you guys been to Dreamtale? And… euh… have you seen any of us per chance?”

Dust thinks for a moment before nodding.

Dream shoots upright “Seriously?! Was Nightmare little at that point?” another nod.

Dream leans back and mutters “So I wasn’t going insane?”

Dust snorts and shoots him a look “Nightmare saw you through a window and he said you saw him too. Calling him ‘Nighty’ and he made a break for it.” and he looks back forwards.

Dream just leans back. Holy shit. All this time he thought it was somekind of magical hallucination or something. Nope. His actual brother. Dream can’t believe it. He went back to Dreamtale to get answers. And he got his answers but again he hadn’t considered what the sighting could mean.

At least Dream will excuse himself for just assuming it was a hallucination. Who would assume that it is your actual brother who was an adult the last time you knowingly saw him!?

Which is when Cross and Nightmare return to them. As soon as they get near Nightmare holds out a present. It is packed with the generic holiday wrapping paper and Dream happily takes the present after which he gives his own back to Nightmare.

Dream takes care to unwrap the gift and smiles at the small snowglobe. It has this town in it with the lake and Dream smiles happily at Nightmare “I love it.” and he isn’t even kidding. This place now holds a special place in his soul. A reminder is very nice to have. He will think of this moment each time he sees it.

Nightmare looks away embarrassed and shrugs as he opens the present only to stare.

Dream looks nervously at the small wooden bat he had tried to carve. He rubs his arm “I am still getting back into it… But well… You really like bats…” and they used to carve each other these statues…

Nightmare traces the carved wood and holds it close. A soft thanks is muttered and Dream feels himself relax. Nightmare always gets this shy about things he liked, even when they were kids together.

They end up relocating to the lake to get away from the other people. Only to see a small stall renting out ice skates and a few people skating.

Dream smiles at Nightmare “Want to learn how to skate? I can teach you!”

Nightmare frowns as he thinks it over. Dust and Cross share a look and seem to speak without making any sounds before both nodding. Apparently they are accepting of the idea! Great!

Nightmare looks up at his two dads and Cross smiles “I can’t skate myself.”

Dust rolls his eyes “I can. While Dream teaches you Night I will teach Cross.”

Dream looks confused at Dust “You can skate?”

Dust shrugs “Snowdin.”

Right. Of course. Duh.

They get four pair of skates and Dust helps Nightmare with his, and afterwards helps Cross with his as well. Cross looks deeply embarrassed as he mutters “Just never skated before…”

Dust shrugs “it is fine.”

They get to the lake and Dream is quick to focus all his attention on Nightmare. He helps him stand and find his balance and then a slowly helps him move a tiny bit.

It takes a while but soon enough Nightmare is smiling and having fun as they skate. Dream grins and happily shows off his moves to Nightmare when he has his balance.

Dream smiles as he just enjoys his day. And he hopes he will get many more just like this.

*------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

Oh also. @spotaus haha almost forgot to add you that time!

[welldonebeca]

The Groupie (1)

Summary: When Team Free Will, your favourite band, stoped by your town, you decide to make the night memorable by visiting their tour bus. And then you are found. (And fucked.) Pairing: TFW (Samx Dean, Castiel) x F!Reader. WC: 1.5k words Warnings: Band AU. Smut. Tension. Dirty talking. Pussy slapping. Oral sex.

Masterlist

You checked your surrounding before sliding open the bus door.

People would think you were crazy. And maybe you were, a little bit.

Team Free Will was in your town for the first and maybe only time, and you couldn't skip their show.

You had seen them in other places, but this was your homeland, and you needed to make it epic.

There was a lot that could go wrong, but you were young, and you would only be young once.

You’d never been this ambitious before, but you had come to this concert with an empty stomach, some well-hidden alcohol and a big crush on their drummer.

So maybe you threw your panties at him. And then flashed your tits at him, and loved to see him all flustered when he realised what had happened.

And now you were ending your night by getting in his tour bus without his knowledge.

You weren't going to be a creepy stalker, just take a picture.

And maybe steal a shirt.

And if anyone showed up you'd just lie and say you wanted to get your underwear back.

Their tour bus was beautiful.

It looked classy, and well decorated, and the second floor even had four beds!

You even laid down on one, rubbing yourself all over the sheets and inhaling the manly scent around him.

Oh, to be fucked in such a comfortable bed, right in the road... anyone who was in a tall enough car or building would be able to see you right through the window being fucked stupid.

Dammit... you were horny.

Walking around without your underwear a flashing a guy during a concert was a little too much for your brain to handle.

But before you could think of what to even do, the door opened downstairs, and you heard someone entering before closing it.

Oh shit.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Fuck, you were screwed.

"Come down, I've seen you already," a bored voice called you.

Was that Castiel?

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my-

"I'm not calling again."

You put your shoes on quickly, rushing down with your face burning deeply.

"I'm sorry," you apologised quickly. "I was just curious. And-"

When you reached the middle of the stairs, he was holding your panties in a single finger with a deadpan look on his face.

"And you were looking for this?" he asked. "Before I even arrived?"

You closed your mouth.

Oh.

"You know how many fans have used that excuse with me?" he asked.

You swung a little on the balls of your feet.

"Two?" you asked, embarrassed.

He sighed.

"This month? Four."

You pouted a little.

And there you thought you were being original.

"But your aim was really good," he told you, sitting down on a large couch. "Dean joked that you could be a sniper with that throw."

You giggled, swinging a little side to side.

"And what did he say about the rest?" you teased him.

Castiel moved his jaw slowly, watching you.

"That if I didn't fuck you, he might as well do," he rested an arm over the back of the feat. "That no girl throws her underwear and shows her tits if she doesn't want to be fucked."

You rubbed your thighs together. He was so nonchalant, as if it didn't even matter to him. Still, his bright blue eyes travelled down to watch you do it, and shook his head.

"Nor would she wear such a tiny little skirt.

You gulped, heart thundering in your chest.

"I just didn't expect you to show up so fast," he added. "I thought that maybe you would follow us into another state before getting bold, but here you are. You even helped yourself to the beds."

You flushed, not knowing what to do.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, looking down.

"Oh no, bad girl," he clicked his tongue. "You've made your bed."

You raised your eyes to him, and Castiel pushed your panties into his pocket before tapping the seat by his side.

"The door is right there, there is no one outside. If you want to lay on it, you do it now, or never."

You were so wet by that statement.

Just a fucking leaky whore.

You stepped closer to Castiel slowly, afraid that he would just throw you away, but he just watched as you sat down by his side.

"Show me," he requested, waving a hand as if to shoo you. "What did I do to you?"

It took you a minute to understand his instruction, but you spread your legs and gasped when Castiel put a hand between them, touching your pussy and collecting your wetness, taking it to his face to look at it and then touching your lip with his dry thumb.

"Open up," he hummed.

Castiel pushed his fingers into your lips and you sucked on them, pussy clenching around nothing as you did, and he watched you with a smirk on his lips.

"Look at you," he cooed. "Sweet leaky whore."

You whimpered at the words in your mind echoing through his lips.

He finally pulled his fingers out, and they were glistening with your saliva before moving them between your legs.

"So wet, but so tight," he hummed. "When was the last time you were even fucked?"

You squirmed.

"'s been a while," you confessed.

Castiel pushed two fingers into you, stretching your cunt, making you close your eyes at the sweet rubbing pleasure.

"Are you one of those groupies, riding your pencil cock boyfriend with a poster of us on the ceiling?" he asked, cheeky. "Imagining it's one of our cocks inside you and not his?"

You whined, feeling fucking called out.

"Castiel," you whimpered.

He chuckled.

"So you do," he cooed. "Oh, leaky whore. And here I am, making all of your dreams come true?"

You nodded.

"Yes," you whined, lightheaded. "Yes, please."

You were so horny you could even cum already.

He pulled his fingers away, still, watching you, and pinched your clit.

"And what do I get?" he raised his eyebrows.

You licked your lips.

"You can use me."

He could do whatever he wanted with you.

"Use you?" he asked.

"Fuck me," you added, eager, as his hand rested on your thigh, wet and strong where he squeezed you. "Any of my holes, all of them. You can even do it bare, I've never... I've never fucked without a condom before."

He licked his lips and spread your legs a little more, pushing your skirt up.

"I get to fill that little cunt?" he cooed, moving closer to you, lips hovering over yours. "And are you going to be good for me if I do? You're gonna be a good little leaky whore and obey your idol?"

You nodded obediently.

"Yes," you whined. "Yes, always."

Suddenly, he slapped your pussy, and you jumped, shocked.

"Castiel!"  you yelped.

"Beg me."

You looked into his eyes, watching you coldly.

"Please."

He slapped you again, and you gasped.

"Again."

"Please," you whined.

Another slap, and you could feel yourself leaking onto his hand.

"Please, Castiel, please," you cried. "Fuck me."

Another, harder, right on your clit, making your whole body tremble.

"Please, I need you."

He stopped and smiled, and kissed your cheek.

"Of course."

Castiel fell to his knees and put a single one of your knees over his shoulders before pulling you by your hips and burying his face into your cunt.

He licked and sucked you like you were the sweetest of desserts, devouring your cunt ferociously.

You gasped and pushed desperately against his face, his scratching beard be damned.

"Yes," you cried. "Castiel."

He grabbed and squeezed your thighs and your hips, nails running over the skin of your hips, taking you whole.

You closed your eyes, arching your body to him, moaning and crying on top of him.

"Please," you cried.

You were just about to cum when you heard the door opening, and tried to pull away from Castiel, but he didn't even care.

Instead, Castiel pinned you down and lifted your legs higher, spreading them as wide as they could go, leaving you right on display for his band members.

"Oh, hello," Dean greeted you.

"Oh, shit!" Sam gasped.

“The Groupie” was posted on my Patreon in January 2023. To read it and its 5-part sequel now, subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month and I promise you won’t regret it.

.

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​ @amythyststorm33​​ @shaelyn102 @yknott81​​ ​​@maximofftrash​​ @kgbrenner​​ @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80​ @mogaruke​ @shadowhunter7​​ @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever​​ @deemoriarty​​ @05spn18​​ @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​ @widowsfics​​ @frozenhuntress67​​ @averyrogers83​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​ @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega

Supernatural tags: @its-daydreamer23 @imagefanfictionlover @smalltowndivaj @tayrae515 @afanofmanystuffs @oneshoeshort @andkatiethings @wakanda-sometimes @akshi8278 @xoxabs88xox @izbelross @isabelle-faith @flamencodiva @lyarr24

Supernatural Kinky Fics (+18): @stoneyggirl2 @phoenixblack89 @that-dark-girl

[frogchiro]

I NEED MORE STRAY CHILDE AND CAT READER

YOU ASK AND I SHALL DELIVER (also i'm turning this into a possible lil threesome bc i need and i have 0 selfcontrol ;;)

fem!reader, hybrids, suggestive content, love triangle, age gap but reader is explicitly stated to be an adult, implied chubby reader, jealousy and feels, a tiny bit of angst?? but it's woven in between fluff so it's okay </3 also my terrible grammar

okay soooo...i was thinking about a kinda 'lady and the tramp' scenario but with a little twist? where you, the prized kitty girl, belong to an incredibly wealthy snezhnayan noblewoman. she is already on the older side, she never married or had kids and while living a lavish life full of extravagant banquets, travels across teyvat, meeting the most interesting people, sometimes it does get lonely in a big mansion you know? sure there are the servants and many other people who'd be more than willing to converse with her but a jumpy mousy handmaiden or some boring sycophantic dignitary or two can only do so much to be considered 'good' company.

after much thinking and careful consideration, the woman decided on buying a cat hybrid. the hybrid breeding business was booming all over teyvat, it basically became a staple for the wealthy to buy hybrids, dress them up like the most beautiful porcelain dolls and flaunting them on various official occasions like banquets or balls.

there was a large variety of well bred hybrids, all from most perfect and long lineages that would put the family histories of most noble houses to shame. from bunnies through sables, foxes, peacocks up to horse hybrids but it still wasn't perfect, all of them were boring; well, until she met you. a catgirl with fluffy shiny (h/c) fur combed and groomed to perfection, pointy ears standing high and proud and a lovely fluffy tail swishing as if annoyed by the disturbance behind you. from the second she saw you, she knew that you were the one that would keep her company. you were a cute young thing, just over 16 years old and the perfect combination of politeness, shyness and sassyness, not overly clingy and desperate to be bought but also not rude or hissy. yes, you'd be perfect.

and so began your new life with your new owner in a completely new environment. sure, you'd miss the facility where you grew up in but you were also excited what your future would hold for you and judging by the lady who bought you, you'd never have to worry about anything anymore.

a few years passed in bliss. you were now just over 20 and you really grew into your new life. ever since the nice lady brought you into your new home or rather a small palace, you lived a life of luxury as the favorite (and only!) pet of her ladyship. you had your own room, own bed stuffed to the brim with pillows and topped off with a silky see-through canopy, all designed in a lovely and tasteful (f/c) palette. you even had a personal chef and groomer! after all the favorite kitty of the household had to eat the best food and have her fur shiny and not a single tangle in sight; yes, life was calm and perfect for you.

well...at least until someone barged in at full speed. it was a ginger stray cat hybrid who called himself childe, ajax for friends which he insisted on becoming with you. stray hybrids weren't a rare sight to be honest, especially in a big metropolis like the capital city of snezhnaya, but they usually kept to the more shady parts of the town, scavenging the dark alleys and slums for scraps so it was quite a fright when suddenly a big, rough looking stray jumped over the fence and right next to the spot where you were sunning!

after hissing and yowling up a storm you realized that childe had no real ill intentions but you were still miffed about the situation, why was he here? how the hell did he even get here?

after a sheepish explanation from the scarred hybrid that he was just scavenging the area for food and he got wind of a new smell he just couldn't resist and had to check out the source! he really didn't expect for you to be the source and before he could retreat he slipped and fell into your garden and here he was...ta-daaa!

you didn't really buy it, the ginger cat literally spelled trouble by just looking at him but you kinda felt a little pity on him; he was a stray for gods know how long and while he was well build and very big, judging by the growl in his belly he didn't eat for a very long time.

just because you were a 'high-born' and belonging into a aristocratic family didn't mean you were cruel or heartless so you told the man to wait here for you as you sneaked into the kitchens and loaded a cloth full of different kinds of meats, cheeses and fruit and brought them back to him to eat. your heart squeezed painfully at the wide eyes of the stray as you gave him the wrapped cloth and wished him well, telling him not the eat trash anymore and if he were hungry then to just come here and you'll give him food.

and so started the quite unlikely friendship between you and the big stray, ajax, and you had to admit that the once seemingly meek and sheepish cat was actually the biggest troublemaker you ever saw! as your friendship progressed his true colors shone through and gave him an entirely new but lovable personality. ajax was funny, smart, cunning and a major flirt, often teasing you and making moves on you, then laughing boisterously when you flushed and hissed at him with your ears pulled flat against your head.

he even showed you his den! after weeks of convincing you to give into his pleas of sneaking out for the night because 'he wanted to show you something' you finally gave into his pleads and went with him, anxious to be away from your safe mansion but also excited for the new possible adventure.

what ajax hyped up to be his 'incredibly cool and super comfy den' was actually an old abandoned barn on the outskirts of the town. you weren't really impressed and by the look of your sour expression childe sweated a little but pulled you after him while promising that it looks much better on the inside...it really didn't but at least the attic of the barn was kept well enough and judging by the neat circle of old blankets, furs and pillows this was where the hybrid made his den and to be honest....it really was comfy.

you began to sneak out almost every night to meet childe at his barn, at least it gave you the privacy and you didn't have to worry about any patrolling guards or stray servants busting your secret friend.

soon the old barn became your second home and the circle of old raggedy blankets and pillows your new bed. it was quite liberating in some way to roll around in the nest with ajax, the catboy nothing but accommodating and happy to have you here with him. he loved to see you smile and purr up a storm when your were rolling around and nuzzling the blankets simultaneously leaving your delicious scent all over his place which often led to...some unsavory activities after you left.

but could you really blame him?! how can he not rub his cock and cum all over himself when he has the image of your perfect soft body burned into his brain and various sinful thoughts are occupying his mind the second he gets a whiff of your scent.

it will always be a secret but his favorite fantasy is of you abandoning your life at the mansion and have you run away with him. the thought of having you here with him at all times, hunting and providing for you, returning after each successful hunt to you as you smile and lick his cheek, the tiny mewls of your kitties the only noise in the otherwise silent barn besides the cracking fire in the rundown hearth and your loud purrs.

but this is all it will ever be, a fantasy. he couldn't possibly ever ask you of such a thing, such a sacrifice to satisfy his selfish desires especially after all the things you did for him. he knew painfully well that you are way out of his league, basically a princess to his tramp self; but that didn't mean he still couldn't cherish you and every moment he shared with you! yes, he was content with what he had. everything was perfect....until it wasn't.

while your lady didn't exactly know the details of where her prized catgirl went off to, she had the vague idea that you were...disappearing for the nights and coming back ruffled and dirty like some common stray and it got her thinking...what if you were lonely? what if you were just seeking out the presence of another hybrid? it wouldn't surprise her really, after all she was the one to buy you in the first place to quell her own loneliness so how could she be so selfish and possibly neglect the feelings of her favorite girl! and she knew just the perfect resolution for the issue...

imagine your surprise when one beautiful winter morning when you came down into the salon stretching and yawning to check out the noises that seemed to go on since the early hours only to notice your lady sitting on the recliner with a...hybrid standing right next to her.

you wouldn't lie when you said that you almost turned on your heel and made a beeline back to your room and hide under the various blankets of your nest. this hybrid...this...monster wasn't something you ever saw, even in childe.

the cat hybrid appeared to be older, much older than you with long flowing and well kept white hair topped with two pointy white ears and a neat beard. the man was tall, so very tall, and broad; his thick chest and arms partially covered by the fur coat he was wearing, but the most prominent feature of his were his piercing gray eyes. the slitted pupils looking almost like tiny diamonds inside his eyes when his stone cold gaze zeroed on your figure and you suddenly felt so tiny and exposed in your nightgown and see-through robe; your tail swishing anxiously behind you as the man glowered down on you.

finally after what felt like an eternity, your lady noticed you and beamed, jumping up from her seat and inviting you over to introduce the mysterious man.

his name was apparently pierro and he was the new cat hybrid your lady bought in order for you to no longer be lonely, plus judging by his sheer size he could also be your protector.

while your lady was happily rambling and telling you all about the process and all the benefits of pierro being here all you could do was stay quiet, ears pinned flat to your head as you and the big man had a staredown with you quickly loosing. you just didn't understand it! it was all a big misunderstanding! you weren't 'lonely' at all but on the other hand you guessed you got a little careless and sloppy about sneaking out to meet with childe. getting a bit too comfortable was a big mistake and you could understand it coming off as 'feeling lonely' to your lady, she probably was thinking that you were sneaking out to search for other cat people and now you were stuck with the older hybrid. maybe it wouldn't be so bad? after all, pierro looks like he's an older hybrid even for your extended lifespans, plus he doesn't really look like the type to chase you around and play or bother you, if anything he was looking at you like you're the one to bother him in your own damn house! ultimately there was nothing you could do anymore, pierro was here already and it looked like he was staying so you guessed you just had to suck it up for a bit and hold off on meeting with childe for the time being.

and so pierro stayed in the mansion for good. a few weeks passed already and honestly? it was better than you expected! just like you previously presumed pierro didn't bother you or even try to interact with you, most times keeping just to himself doing gods know what and yet you felt his constant presence, like a phantom lingering around you and keeping a keen eye on you.

even with this strange feeling you came around, breaking the invisible wall and actually trying to get pierro to at least like you a little bit which, to your great surprise, wasn't difficult at all.

the big cat hybrid was actually very pleasant to be around; he was mostly either reading something or lounging around on a recliner or next to one of the enormous fireplaces in the mansion and it provided a perfect opportunity to get to know each other. he had a very deep, rough and rumbling voice that send pleasant shivers down your spine any time you heard it, plus he seemed to naturally run hot so lounging next to him in front of the fire during a cold winter night proved to be a wonderful experience, his deep rumbling purrs vibrating and lulling you to sleep.

he even started to slowly allow himself to become more 'touchy' with you! at first it were just short and stiff nuzzles, just to acknowledge your existence, then it slowly evolved into more lingering touches, insistently rubbing his head against yours, grooming your fur with his tongue, wrapping his tail around yours and even full on spooning you when lounging on a fur rug. the ultimate sign of trust was when one night pierro invited you to his chamber to climb into his nest to cuddle and bond and you won't lie when you say you felt a hot tingle in your lower belly when you climbed into the enormous wonderfully soft nest that was drenched in his scent and you felt the man slowly rub his cheek upwards from the base of your tail to your shoulders and bit down softly, his huge fangs oh so gently clamping down on the back of your neck as he slowly pulled your back snugly to his broad hairy chest and laid down with you, his teeth still holding you.

the gesture was an incredibly intimate one, reserved only for mates but it made you feel all giddy and tingly inside, quiet purrs from deep within your chest mixing with pierro's rumbles and combined with the cracking fire from the heart it made for a wonderfully cozy and intimate soundscape.

you let pierro take care of you, his teeth finally letting loose of your neck to gently lick it with his rough tongue and growling lowly when he felt your hips shift under his, pulling you even closer and crushing you against his chest. his darling little kitten seemed to finally be relaxed in his presence, something he longed for from the very beginning when his new owner introduced you to each other. you finally stopped to sneak out so much the more open you became with each other and you no longer smelt like that wretched stray, childe.

pierro growled under his breath at even the thought of that tramp getting close to you and thinking he'd have any chance with you while you had him. instead he continued to lick you, down from your neck and towards your delicious full breasts feeling particulary naughty and sneaking a quick suck or two to your nipples, an answering delighted mewl from you all he needed to know.

now that the stray was out of the picture he had you all to himself and soon he'd mate you. while her ladyship was sometimes annoying him he had to begrudgingly thank her for bringing you two together although perhaps not in the way she thought. maybe you will present her with a nice healthy litter of well bred kittens next year with him as the proud father? who knows; for now though he had a needy kitty to take care of and the night was just starting~

unbeknownst to either of you, a pair of deep blue eyes was glaring at you from the balcony of the room. childe was furious, basically fuming from the inside but not at you, no, never at you, but at pierro for even thinking of trying to take you from him and at himself for allowing this to happen.

a few weeks back when pierro was just brought into the mansion you did warn childe that you'll be unable to sneak out as often as previously due to your lady bringing another hybrid into the household and to avoid suspicion you had to drastically cut down on your time together. at first he thought it wouldn't really bother him, he was a stray and used to being alone, but after so many weeks of having you so close, keeping him company and just simply being there for him made him feel dangerously attached to you and the knowledge that you had to stay away from him for an indefinite amount of time made him feel miserable and to add salt to the wound you now shared a space with another hybrid, pierro, out of everyone.

he vaguely knew the hybrid before; tall and broad in statue, stone cold exterior, a permanent scowl on his face that never seemed to wither. according to rumors the old hybrid had a lineage that reached as far as back to the ancient khaen'rhian people, due to that (and from what childe was aware) pierro couldn't be technically owned by someone, he was always just...there. so it had him baffled when he saw the man strolling through the gardens, his piercing diamond pupils turning into slits when they zeroed on him and made a face that could be only described as 'disgusted pity'. childe then pulled his ears back, the fur on his back standing on ends and was ready to pounce on him but retreated last second when he saw your soft body coming up from behind pierro and rubbing affectionately up against him. the ginger hybrid would lie when he said that his jaw almost hit the floor when he witnessed the scene and his blood boiled at the disgustingly smug look on pierro's face when he wrapped his long fluffy tail around you and returned your gesture before turning you around and walking away from him place of hiding like he was some afterthought you shouldn't be bothered with.

seeing you with the big hybrid, pierro, was like putting salt in the wound that he created for himself. why couldn't he confessed to you earlier? was he really such a coward that he couldn't even express his love for the girl of his dreams? and now he had to watch you being all lovely and cozy with the big male while he was left standing high and dry, plus he just knew that the white haired hybrid would rub his triumph all over his face the next chance he got.

'but just you wait', childe thought with a bitter scowl. it was just the beginning as sooner the abyss would freeze over than childe would admit defeat. you'd become his mate and he'd win your heart.

just you wait

[xi1dius]

Good Things Take Time

‼️whole thing (chapter 1/??) ‼️

summary: You’re simons new neighbour, recently moved to manchester to live with your (abusive) step-father and older brother.

tw!: swearing, suggested abuse, OFC THERES A F-BOY (not really mentioned so much, might make it more obvious in next chapters)

a got a ton of people liking and reblogging (for me atleast) the tester, so here is the whole one! <3

again, ask to be added to a tag list if you’d like

‼️NOT PROOFREAD‼️

The move had already been horrible, you’d moved half way across fucking England and it was horrible. Woking to Manchester, very different places but at the same time.. nothing has really changed.

The first day of school had been a living hell. The part you lived in was poor, unkept. It was straight unsafe, really. The school uniform was tacky and poorly made could you could only buy it from M&S or the clothes section in Sainsburys (that happens to be horribly tiny). It hardly even covered the residing bruises scattered round your body, though it was hard to hide the black eyes and bandaged broken nose.

The teachers sucked ass, there was hardly any sports clubs (only football and netball, bare english bloody minimum) or clubs in general, it was just a boring town.

See, as you walked home to your run-down, semi-desolate and gang filled neighbourhood, you notice another person walking just in from of you. Clearly older and part of your school (due to the uniform), but definately not in the same year. He stood impossibly tall for a teenager, messy blonde hair and a huntched over demeanour. His body was too big for the uniform, clearly, the trousers sitting above the ankle and blazer sleeves riding half way up his fore-arm. He was intimidating, in full.

After what seemed like an age of walking in your old and worn clark’s slip-on’s, the boy infront of you met up with another, a boy you had seen around school during the day. He was boisterous and clearly extroverted, having nearly tripped you up three times in the school corridor from him running whiel you tried to find your classes, recognised as Ben, a year 10.

You hastily passed them, not really in for a chat or too get caught up in whatever the hell was going on. Plus, your step-dad would be livid if you where too late and that was never a good thing, you honestly didn’t understand why your mother loved him so much.. it wasnt like the two where very dissimilar though..

Welp, that plan failed.

“Ay, lil’ lady. you’re the one who I knocked over, right? sorry bout that sweetheart.”

Ben stopped you in your tracks, a hand on your shoulder. There was nothing to do but turn round, look up to the honest to god GIANT. You but your lip a little, eyes scouring his chizzled face. You opened you mouth to reply, but the boy you walked behind spoke up.

“leave the girl alone, Ben.”

He spoke sternly, his voice was trough but ever so slightly timid.. something was off wohin, how’s thoughs only miltiplied as you noticed the large bruise over his right eye and left temple. Poor guy..

“God, so stuck up Simon. She’s fine with it, any girl would be.”

Cocky.. okay!.. good to know. back. away. from. Ben.

Ben soon backed off and you took a step back. With a quaint nod you finnaly spoke up, voice proving to be no less timid then Simons.

“That’s kay’..”

You quickly ran off, prompting an amused chuckle from Ben and a miniscule sigh from Simon. After a good few minutes of jogging down the road, holding onto the straps of your backpack so the heavy contents didn’t slow you down as much, you arrived home. slotting the keys into the door and trying to enter a squiggly as possible. you managed to get in without anyone calling out for you, only able to assume your step-father had passed out on the couch again.

You really didn’t want to stay here, i mean.. who would? Your mother, older brother and younger brother still weren’t home and staying here was just.. vile. It felt like your room wasn’t really yours (mainly because you shared it with your younger r brother and his stuff was EVERYWHERE) and it felt uncomfortable to be in generally. This is what prompted you to put your items away, change into something easy going (a Black hoodie and a pair of dark blue baggy dungarees). You put your hair down, it hanging around chest-length.

Putting on a old pair of black and white converse, you grabbed your phone and climbs out the window, hopping into the back garden below, grass brown and no sight of life of any sort. You made your way round and climbe diver the back gate, walking onto the street. It was time to explore, you though to yourself so you took a left turn and began to walk down the street, only to be toppled over by none other then..

Simon.

Simon Riley.

Well, that’s chapter one! i had fun writing this and i’ll probbably write another chapter.. i already have ideas in mind :)

[throughtrialbyfire]

𝐖𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 ♥

hello!! i'm on time once more <3 thank you to the amazing @skyrim-forever @umbracirrus and @thequeenofthewinter for tagging me this week!!

tagging the great @dirty-bosmer @changelingsandothernonsense @your-talos-is-problematic @orfeoarte @saltymaplesyrup

@wispstalk @gilgamish @archangelsunited @kookaburra1701 , and YOU reading this!! no pressure as always, i'm excited to see what everyone's been working on!

this is a tiny snippet from my rough draft of chapter 33 of Cycle of the Serpent! Viarmo has summoned the trio up to his office a few days before classes begin at the bard's college.

Even though he outwardly dismissed all worry about Viarmo's summons, Emeros couldn't help the gnarling bramble of nerves turning over in his abdomen. Sharp and poisonous, he had to wonder just what the headmaster could want with three of the new students. He didn't see anyone else with the letters, but perhaps this was something he did here and there to check on new people. For all he knew, the headmaster could have summoned Jorn the same way on his first day at the College. What did it matter, anyhow? If the trio were in deeper troubles, then it would be more than a polite letter under the door, certainly. The idea pecked at Emeros' mind, even as he made attempts to lift the spirits of his companions with discussion of the town itself. Solitude was a gorgeous city, and it wasn't hard to pick out details to bring up, from the stone walkways carefully laid to the buildings constructed of sturdy stone and surrounded by blooms of various flowers, but still, the cormorant bird of warning called in his mind, that this city was more than its opulence, and more than its histories. It was alive in a way that unsettled him. The march up to Viarmo's office lead them through the ground floor of the Bard's College asking for directions from Giraud, who pointed them the way. Then, several flights of stairs and a cramped tower's well, then a knock on a grand door. A call by a gravel-voiced man lead to Emeros pushing open the door, his friends behind him. "Ah, there's our newest students," came the voice, summoned from the throat of a sharp-faced Altmer, whose beard jutted out from his chin into a point. His blond hair was tucked underneath a grandly feathered cap, and every stretch of material on him bore shades of gold and teal. Expensive materials, and well kept, too, there was not an out of place stitch or mended tear on them as far as the Bosmer could see. He looked to Athenath, who fiddled with their hands, then to Wyndrelis, who shuffled his feet. "I take it you got my letter, then? Good, Arteus is a great messenger, but he tends to be a bit absent-minded at times."

"Forgive my forwardness-" Emeros began, cut off by Athenath stepping forward and starting their own sentence. "Can we ask what this is about? I didn't see anyone else with letters." They kept their eyes focused on Viarmo, but something tense caught in their voice, Emeros' gaze snagged on the edge of their shoulder. Viarmo leaned back in his chair, his barrel-figure elaborately dressed, complete with his darker teal, velvet cloak covering his shoulders, slits in its side making holes for his arms to move through. The headmaster didn't speak for a while, merely touched the tip of his tongue to the inside of his cheek, and Emeros' mind flooded with the worry that his friend had just made a grave mistake. He didn't voice this concern, however, as before he could put word to it, Viarmo laced his fingers together over his middle and smiled. In a low voice, as though sharing a secret with the trio, he said, "I hear you three were at Helgen. What's more, Phoebe tells me that you played a crucial role in the taking down of that dragon in Whiterun. Is this true?" The trio looked between one another, sharing glances understood in the tiniest shreds of expression. Athenath answered, "yes, sir. We, uh, didn't expect to… Encounter dragons, but we did." Viarmo leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on his well-polished, mahogany desk. It was definitely imported from Alinor, Emeros thought as he took in the details, drinking of the carved, frond-like shapes in the legs of the desk, along with its multiple drawers, its mother-of-pearl adornments, its strong stature. Each carving was the pinnacle of Aldmeri wealth, and he almost deigned to think of what it cost before dragging himself from such speculation. Whatever it amounted to was enough to dizzy him. Either Viarmo was a very celebrated bard in both the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion, or he had friends in high places, and he didn't find himself in the mood to question which one it was. "You do realize what this means, don't you?" Viarmo pressed after a long moment, as though giving the question much thought, himself. "The return of the dragons, that is." "We figure it's probably something very important to history, that's for sure," Athenath replied quickly, managing to bubble out a small, uncomfortable laugh. "Sir, may I ask what all of this is about? I know we didn't audition, but-" "Oh, nevermind that," Viarmo sat upright and waved the thought with a heavy hand away, "we've barely got enough students to justify a building right now. Yes, normally, we'd have you three audition and then carry out tasks for the College, but right now, well, it's a complex situation, you see. And what's more, with the war going on… I'm not surprised more bards are choosing to stay in their home cities or just flat out go to other provinces that aren't Skyrim." Athenath's shoulders relaxed as the headmaster spoke. The blond Altmer shifted his posture, rummaging around for extra paper and a quill, drenching the end in thick, good-quality ink. "Now, tell me about the dragons. What were they like?"

It wasn't hard to sum up the dragons themselves: large, threatening, big teeth, and they shouted men to pieces. They set fire with a word in a language none of them knew, and they swept across the land like a great shadow, death in its wake. Viarmo furiously wrote down every detail, asking a question here or there, and when the trio finished giving their account, he looked up with a clever grin. "You know, as Giraud would tell you, history is nine parts truth, and one part fiction. Your factual accounts of the dragons are invaluable to future generations of bards who may never get to see the beasts themselves, and the College thanks you for it." As he set the paper aside to dry, he flattened a palm in the direction of the door. "If you don't have any questions for me, then you're more than free to go. Classes begin on the sixth of Heartfire, so do be sure you have all your books and supplies. Your instructors will tell you what you need." Athenath gave a small nod, turning to the door, Emeros and Wyndrelis following close behind the younger Altmer. Dismissed, the trio made their way back down the squared, winding stairwell, and back to the ground floor. Several students were making their way around the main area, up and down the stairs to the dorms and kitchens, the large, museum-like room housing the instruments filled with more presences than the previous day. This would become routine, it seemed, for the next few days.

[mindful-of-ideas]

Preference: Peaky Blinders

- Being the youngest Shelby sibling

Characters : Arthur, Thomas, John, Ada and Finn

A/N: Based on this request here, by anon. I'm sorry it took so long!!

Arthur:

When you were a baby, your mom always made a point that all the boys were to help take care of you. She understood that the age gap between you and them was big, but she wanted to make sure that you had a relationship with your brothers

So, every now and then, Arthur would help by babysitting you. He would tell everyone he hated doing it, but the truth was that he loved it. There was something about you that calmed him. Maybe it was how tiny you were, how fragile you looked, but every time he held you, he felt much more calmer. Even as you got older, that feeling stayed. Every time you would be alone together, he would be more calm and gentle. When he stayed overnight to look after you, you didn’t have to be scared of the monsters under your bed, because you would fall asleep in his arms before even getting to bed.

As you grew up, however, you started to notice how violent Arthur could be towards others, and that scared you. So you drifted away from him slowly. You knew he would never hurt you, but his strength was still enough to scare little ten-year-old you.

However, one day, you came back from school with a black eye. Some guy had been teasing you and you finally had enough. The thing was, when you punch people, they tend to punch you back, hence the black eye. Upon seeing your face, Arthur went completely mad, but you tried to calm him down.

“You should see his face, this is nothing,” you said pointing to your eye.

“Still…” he grumbled, “let me take care of him.”

And after that day, Arthur decided he was going to teach you how to fight. This was something you have secretly always wished for since on one hand you wanted to be like your brothers and train, and on the other, you wanted Arthur to teach you again. Again, yes, because when you were younger and he was still babysitting you, he had taken the time to teach you how to draw. Everyone kind of knew he used to draw when your mother was still alive, but we were almost certain you were the only one who knew he still did it. Now, you were no master painter, so you would usually take out a book or study while he would draw, trying to furtively glance at what he was doing.

Even if he wasn’t babysitting you per se, you kept this up until you were finished with your secretarial studies. He would sometimes stay overnight on Tommy’s request, to keep an eye over you. For a period of time, it was the only way you could see him. You had decided to keep up with your studies, as your mother (and Tommy) would’ve wanted. Secretary sounded like an easy way out of Birmingham and a life away from crime. But as you got more and more educated, Arthur became more and more distant. You never truly understood it. How did learning about shorthand and typing meant that you didn't need your older brother anymore? When you moved out to work in London, you almost lost all contact with him.

After a few months of being a secretary, you got bored, bored and exasperated. You couldn’t stand the weird creepy men that were constantly flirting with you and the endless paper job that always had to be done for the next day but was almost never even used or looked at then. If it was only up to you, you would revisit the way the whole company worked, but it wasn’t. So, one day, you made a show of yourself and finally snapped. You screamed at everyone and left, going back home, going back to Birmingham. News travelled fast, and since Tommy had been the one to recommend you to that company, everyone knew what had happened before you even set foot in town. Arthur, he was overjoyed. Why? Because you just proved that you COULD be a little like him. But his joy just made you feel worse. You wanted to cry. You had lost your only way out of crime. You locked yourself in your rooms for days before someone could finally reach out to you, and it was Arthur. He didn’t say much, mumbled some kind of apology. But he sat by your side and waited. He waited until you rested your head on his chest and wrapped your arms around him. Then, he hugged you, held you close, just like when you were younger.

Tommy:

Tommy never really showed interest in you when you were younger. The age gap was big enough that you understood why he didn’t really care. And, truth be told, you didn’t mind that much either. Just because he didn’t show any particular interest, it didn’t mean that he didn’t care. Because he did. He cared deeply. After your mom died, he made sure you were never missing anything. He’s the one who decided that you and Finn should be raised by Polly. And he meant it when he said raised. He trusted her to make you into the best version of yourself and to make sure you could, if you wanted, live a life away from crime. He loved you enough to know that he wasn’t the best person to raise you.

When you were younger, he never babysat you. However, Polly always made sure to ask your brothers first when she needed help with you and Finn. She would also ask them when she didn’t need help. If it was only up to her, you would’ve grown up in the same house as your brothers, or in a house where they would always be in and out of, the way it would’ve been if your mother was still alive. But she knew this was impossible. Still, Tommy would sometimes come over to dinner or watch over you for the evening. Sometimes Polly proved to be convincing and Tommy would babysit you all day or all night. These were your favourite times. Maybe it was because you didn’t see him much or maybe it was because he was the only one to never baby you. He talked to you almost as if you were an adult and was always real with you. He would also answer all of your questions, even the craziest ones.

“But how come the trains can manage the curves, the wheels look too straight to handle that?”

“How about I take you to see them someday?”

“You would?”

“Of course.”

When he stayed the night, you would do everything to stay up as late as possible. But as it got darker and darker, you would get more and more scared. You could hear weird noises coming from outside, or was it from under your bed? Tommy, however, knew you could be reasoned with. You didn’t have to be afraid of the monsters under the bed because he could convince you, even for just one night, that they weren’t real.

Growing up, you stayed close to him. As unpredictable as he could be you knew you could always rely on him. He would help you no matter what. When you landed your first job, he sent you flowers but never came to congratulate you face to face. He knew how hard you were trying to appear as strong, tough and independent and he didn’t want to mess that up for you. Whenever he was in London, he would make sure to have dinner with you, paying for everything, of course. And you never asked where the money came from. As much as he tried to keep those dinners casual, he would always end up asking you too many questions about your work, your ambitions, your future.

He wasn’t disappointed when you lost your job, saying however how amazed he was that you lasted so long. He took you out to dinner that night, to celebrate “standing up to assholes and staying true to yourself”. He didn’t ask if you needed help to find a new job but left a flyer for a job in a science lab at your flat that night. It also mentioned that there were opportunities to go up the ladder by taking classes that they would pay for. You had always been a quick learner and weren’t too bad at science and math at school.

You got the job and invited him to dinner straight away.

“Of course you did!”

“You know what’s funny?”

“Umh…”

“At my old job, they were always saying how I need to have more chemistry with my boss, guess that won’t be an issue now.”

He snorted and started laughing.

It was one of the few times you had managed to make him laugh.

John:

John was already a teenager when you were born and he just had no time to give to a baby. That’s when he told his friends anyway. And to the girls, once he figured out they found it cute, he would say he was taking care of you. In reality, he did take care of you. Unlike Arthur and Tommy, he was home most of the time and had to help around a bit so that your mother wasn’t overwhelmed. He would mostly run errands but much preferred to stay home and take care of you. Once your mother died, he stayed around. In his mind, there was no reason for him to stop being there for you. Even if Polly thought he was more foolish than his brothers, more prone to make mistakes, she knew she could trust him when it came to taking care of you. She had no problem leaving Finn and you with him for days if she needed some time to herself.

Being around John always made you feel happier. There was something to him that just lifted your spirit, and made you want to laugh even when you were sad. He couldn’t quite bear seeing you unhappy or scared either. If you were afraid of the monsters under your bed, he would hunt them down for you, creating magical weapons with anything he could find just to see you smile before you fell asleep.

If you ever had problems, or just needed someone to listen to you really, you would go to him first. He would never judge you, of course, but as you got older he would sometimes scold you. Maybe it came with having kids of his own, you weren’t quite sure.

“Polly told me about the boy.”

“What, how did she know. That’s what I came here to talk about!”

“Y/N, you can’t just go around punching people.”

“He tried to… do… stuff to me.”

“Alright, where’s the bastard then!”

“Arthur is already on the case.”

“You told him all that?”

“No, he just saw the bruises and asked for a name, I gave it to him.”

“You okay though?”

“Yeah… I’m okay…”

He knew that if you wanted to talk more about what happened you would be back. And you were. It took you some time but you eventually told him everything. There wasn’t much he could actually do, but he listened and that was enough.

To everyone's surprise, he was the one who helped you the most when you moved to London. You wanted so badly to prove to everyone that you could make it on your own, but the truth was that you knew nothing, nothing at all. It took weeks before your apartment started to resemble somewhat like home. You were surviving of canned food and still hadn’t figured out how to do your laundry.

“Y/N, you know you can buy something else than canned food, right?”

“I know…”

“You know but…”

“But how do I cook it… what do I do with it?”

He laughed.

“Come on, we’ll buy some stuff and I show you.”

“While you’re here, how do I know when my laundry is clean? How long do I have to let it soak? Do I really need to split the white and the colours?”

And he had the answer to all your questions. With his own experience as a father and all the times he helped your mother as a teenager, it felt like he knew everything.

To him, you were always going to be the best aunt to his children. It was maybe the one thing that stressed you out, him having such high expectations about something you couldn’t really control. One day, Katie told you she hated you out of pure 5-year-old rage. You left the house that day crying, thinking you had failed as the coolest aunt. When he learned about what happened, John laughed before comforting you. He explained to you how Katie didn’t really mean that and that she actually probably already forgot about the whole thing. As he said that, the little girl came waltzing into the room and, as she saw you, her face lit up and she rushed over to hug you.

Ada:

When you were younger, she was all over you. She would dress you up, put makeup on you, take you out to do all the girly things. She was maybe the only one of your siblings to not shy away from showing you love. She would hug you and cover you with kisses whenever she could. She also made sure that you felt empowered, which was really important for her. Never did you feel like you were less just because you were a girl. You never had to be afraid of the monsters under the bed because they were too scared to go after a strong little girl like you.

Things took a turn once you got accepted into the typing program. You couldn’t tell if it was jealousy or not but she abruptly stopped making time for you. She wasn’t particularly rude or anything, just less present. One day, she came by to talk to Polly but found you, sobbing, instead. To your surprise, she didn’t hesitate and rushed to your side, trying to comfort you as best as she could. It was like the last few months of coldness never happened.

“What happened? Talk to me Y/N, I’m listening”

“It’s that stupid Beatrice and her stupid mom!”

“Who?” she asked, knowing you wouldn’t answer.

“She keeps making trouble in class, messing with everyone,” you said between sobs, “and she blames everything on me!”

Ada brushed your hair away from your face.

“And her fucking mom is the teacher, so of course she never believes me! And they talked of kicking me out… and… and… oh Ada, I’ve missed you!” you said hugging her tightly

Once you stopped crying and explained everything properly, she told you how to deal with Beatrice, in true Shelby fashion.

“And if that bitch messes with you again, I’ll handle it myself,” she added smiling.

After that, you had a lot of catching up to do. She explained how at first she had been jealous of you for finding an easy way out of Birmingham, but in the end, realized that it wasn’t such an easy way out in reality and that she could never do what you were doing. She respected your choice and told you how she admired your strength. It made you feel weird yet weirdly happy to know that the person you had looked up to all your childhood as a strong empowered role model was now looking up to you.

Once you moved to London, things got better. Even if you were younger, she was your best friend. And her little boy loved you! You were still not the best with children but you would do anything for that boy, just like you would do anything for John’s kids. When you got your first job, she took you shopping just like when you were younger. She was so happy for you.

And once you lost your first job, she didn’t say anything or taunt you. She took you out shopping again, to keep your mind off of things and let you hang out at her apartment as much as you needed. She was the first person you told about your new job at the science lab and she was even more happy for you than before. Once the classes started, she even helped you study and she was quite good at it. She could remember more of the stuff than you could, often finding weird but effective mnemotechnic tricks. You told her that she should apply herself, pushed her to do so, but she kept refusing. You were scared that by pushing her you might anger her again. This time, however, you took the time to talk to her before things got worse. She told you how, even though she was good at remembering the stuff, she didn’t have any interest in it. Not like you did. She didn’t take offence at you trying to help her find a job outside of the family business but it just wasn’t for her. You respected her choice and since then have been the best of friends.

Finn:

He has always been your best friend. Yes, you were younger than him but it wasn’t by much and it never really mattered. Unlike your older siblings, you barely had any memories of your mother and, when you were young, you couldn’t really see why they hated your father so much since you almost never heard of him. This shared lack of memories made you bond with Finn. Maybe you couldn’t remember your mom teaching you the alphabet, but you could remember the tone of her voice when she sang to you at night. You remembered her sweet and flowery smell when you would hug her and the coldness of her hands every time she went to pick you up from the couch to put you in bed. These things seemed too abstract to share with anyone else but Finn. He was the only one who could understand. He had this sensitive side to him that he would only reveal to you. The way you could both just lay on the floor and reminisce at such futile things war always a comfort to you.

When Polly took you in, there was no going back. You became inseparable. You shared a bedroom, tucked away at the end of a dark hallway. You weren’t afraid of the dark or monsters under the bed, you were too old for that now, but the eeriness of that hallway always made you both jumpy and left you on edge. Finn and you would then come up with the funniest stories to try and calm yourselves before going to bed. It almost always involved killing the obviously not-real monsters, just in case. You didn’t have to be afraid of the monsters under the bed because you would team up and invent the most successful monster repellent.

School was always a bit hard for you. A girl, a Shelby girl, trying to stay quiet and just do what they were told looked weird, out of place. You would literally be quiet and stay out of everyone’s way but still get picked on. It was like people wanted to get a reaction out of you, just to then shove in your face the fact that you were indeed just another Shelby. You were grateful for Finn and his friends. As soon as he took notice that you were being picked on, he made sure that his friends and he would hang out close to you. You had a few friends yourself, but they tended to scatter when bullies approached while Finn and his friends would always step in. He was also close to a few girls from his class and if they found you just reading alone outside, they would sit around you, playing with your hair, not letting anyone get too close. You weren’t scared of the bullies, you truly believed you could punch them in the face and win, but you hated the attention. You just wanted to go to school, learn, have fun and be left alone.

As Finn got older, he started ditching school more and more often. That was why he wasn’t there when you had to defend yourself.

“You managed?” he asked.

“I did.”

“I knew you would.”

“Right…”

“I’ll be there next time, I promise. But come here. I bet everyone told you they would beat up the guy but no one took the time to look at your eye?”

He was one of the only one of your siblings to actually know how to handle cuts, and bruises, and burns. Even the flu stood no chance in front of Finn. You were glad he was skipping less and less classes just to make sure you were okay. Maybe he couldn’t do math to save himself but he had a natural talent in understanding the human body. And its mind. You truly believed that if he stopped sleeping in English classes, he would get something better than average. He had such a wild imagination and such a great empathy, an understanding of human nature.

“That’s actually decent,” he once said picking up one of your essays.

“Thanks, I learned from the best,” you said pointing at your copy of Hamlet.

“Ahh Shakespeare…”

“No, you! Idiot. It’s your copy, and there are notes all over it!”

He was a bit bumped when you moved to London, mostly because he felt like he was trapped in Birmingham. He thought it was too late for him to deviate from the Peaky way. He had doomed himself and had to live with the consequences of his own decisions. You didn’t believe that, obviously, and made sure to let him know that, whenever he would realize it too, your door was open.

And he came. He was knocking at your door before you even learned that Tommy had kicked him out. You helped him as best as you could, but money was tight and, if you wanted Tommy to keep giving you your allowance, you had to hide the fact that Finn was staying with you. You didn’t agree with Tommy’s decision. Family was family. Kicking him out of the business was one thing, leaving him to fend for himself after promising him everything was another. Tommy knew that Finn had nothing apart from the Peaky Blinders. What he did was unfair. You hoped that with time, Tommy would come around and change his mind. Meanwhile, you had to get this boy a job and he was in luck. Your friend at The Daily Herald had just told you they had been looking for young boys to help around with the printing presses.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

whoops had a dream about this au where sonic.exe was there for some reason and doodled them again. some notes:

sorta vaguely still takes place in the sonic universe just very au. the main divergence is both shadow and maria escaped the ark, lived in hiding for a long time, and while shadow eventually obviously got in touch with his relatives (since eggman is dumping his kids on him) but he faked maria's death after the Portal Incident. so like vaguely the sonic plot is going on in the background but stuff like sonic adventure 2 never happened and characters like rouge and shadow never really got involved with stuff.

sage and metal obviously aren’t twins, but they’re both vaguely on the level of 11-12 year olds. metal isn’t really past the mental state she was created at bc she was neglected so much, sage is only a few months old but she had to mature too quick bc. look at her father and her sister.

sage is generally the more rational of the two (bc she isn’t instantly killing people bc she’s bored mostly), though she's absolutely not as cold and logical as she appears. she's very driven to be “useful”, because she’s terrified that she’s been abandoned and that she wasn’t “good enough” and she doesn’t want to lose the few things she still has, which drives her into her intense investigation of anything abnormal she can find. her lil hat has a sage on it 💚

metal is. metal. she's a tiny whirlwind of anger and hate. she's the emotional sister, but not in the excited and enthusiastic sense she’s just extremely messed up emotionally and reacts with violence towards the slightest provocation. she does open up a bit after time with someone who treats her as a person (which makes her become extremely clingy towards shadow which he’s. concerned about) but even when out of her shell a bit her joy is violence. she's recently realised she’s a girl and is experimenting by going full 12 year old girly girl bc she hasn’t realised she’s a goth yet (and is honestly kind of having fun with glitter and sequins, especially after she learnt you can take peoples eyes out with them, but she will Not admit it ever)

shadow is fucking Concerned bc like. all he knows about these two at first is that they’re his nephew who’s trying to take over the world or somethings kids and he doesn’t want to have to deal with robot invasions into his town bc he’s fucking tired of life. he did Not expect the two most traumatised robot kids known to man. he’s still laying low in a small town where interpol won’t find him, but he’s aimless as shit and has like 0 friends. his protectiveness over maria lead to the argument that caused the Portal Incident, and in his guilt he’s lost sight of what he once promised in a singleminded quest to get her back. yes he runs a scam ass tourist trap. he hates every second of it it’s just good business when ur kind of a passive beacon of chaos energy and you cannot avoid weird shit.

maria robotnik inherited the genius in most of her family and wanted to use it for good, but due to her nids she knew her time was running out. blood transfusions from shadow kept her alive as an emergency treatment, but as her disease progressed she sunk more and more into her research and eventually felt like she was trapped and unable to spread her inventions before she passed, leading to her and shadow's falling out. also demon consorting. she managed to find a somewhat of a cure after the Portal Incident but at a high price, she still suffers with the majority of symptoms even worse than before and is very sickly and weak but won’t die from it progressing. she’s grown rather jaded and bitter, a far cry from her innocent self as a child, but she’s still optimistic and wants to help the world. starting with the murder children her lil baby cousin ivo built for some reason what the fuck she is getting those two therapy immediately.

since sonic adventure 2 never happened rogue never ended up involved in the plot but she did eventually meet shadow anyway, when she was still a teenager looking for gems Very Illegally (shadow gives off the same readings as a chaos emerald, unfortunately for her). he's kind of become a very grumpy mentor figure to her bc she still hangs out around him bc she finds him very funny to tease when she’s not out stealing gems. sage finds her cool (and has a bit of a crush, but she’s unaware bc she doesn’t really know about romance let alone lesbianism) and she lets metal stab things if he gives her jewellery to make her look the other way, so she kind of ends up becoming a cool older friend to the robotnik sisters tho she does think they’re kind of weird.

sonic.exe is here bc it’s funny for him to be bill and that’s the only reason. but that aside he's a demon fucking around before he implements his plan to turn the world into his playground. he's barely more mature than the siblings, roughly on the same level as a teenager (which was also the age maria was when she did her consorting with demons) but he’s also completely sadistic and an absolute asshole (which… is kind of true for metal too but she's vaguely developing a moral compass and a sense of humanity after having a semi decent guardian) and likes hurting people for fun. his form is edgy sonic bc he takes the form of something his targets recognise to fuck with them.

big literally just lives here. he moved back in after adventure 1. he's literally just chilling. good for him.

[fiikaela]

By the Blades We Meet

Ganondorf brainrot that was inspired by this prompt below. I accidentally wrote two chapters for this while procrastinating on chemistry and figured why not post it. so here's my take on the op's awesome idea

--

Chapter one

The man slumped onto the sand-strewn floor beneath your sandaled feet, all of his previous baffles and threats gone. You huffed a cool laughter, brushing off the dust that got onto your new desert set. As embarrassing as the clothes were, they weren't actually restrictive of your movements.

"T- Thank you." A small voice mumbled behind you, right, it was the Hylian girl this man tried to harass. The sound of her quiet voice snapped you back from your disappointment at the guy's lack of a good fight. He had strength, but only strength. You turned back to the girl and gave her a small smile.

"No problem."

Before she could say anything else or blabber more nonsense, you strapped your hat back on, and continued the road to Gerudo Town. You heard something about paying back from the girl, but you don't really care. Right now, you just want to find someone who can provide a fun fight with you. And it was said that the Gerudo were a race consisting entirely of women, and they were all raised as formidable warriors.

Life gets boring, it gets boring quick. Kakariko was a peaceful, quiet village. Entirely opposite of what you wanted. The martial arts that were supposed to be passed down for generations have faded, the usual masters at them have grown weak with time. You wanted excitement, wanted the power it feels to see hundreds of monsters crumbling at your feel, the thrill it feels to push your katana against a mighty opponent. You don't have to win, no, you don't want to win. You are tired to winning.

You just wanted a good fight.

One by one. Your challengers had all bowed in defeat. You skill grew exponentially with each passing fight, the fun it had to be defeated by someone when you were but a teenager had gone, as you had even passed the test provided by Impa's personal protectors. They had asked you stay and serve the people, telling you a promising future by serving the royal family. But that's not what you want.

You are the untamed wind that soars in the sky, the wild beast that chases the moon.

And all you want was to find someone who can beat you in battle.

The desert wind blew, as you found yourself at the entrance of the town. It was an oasis in the midst of the golden sand that stretched beyond the horizon. You looked up at the tall, brooding women guarding the the gates, their body shone with power and strength under the harsh sunlight. You were considered tall for a Sheikah, but you still feel dwarfed by their appearance. One of the women peeked down at you, her fiery eyebrow rising slightly. She eyed the guard next to her, and they moved the spears apart, opening the entrance.

You nodded, deciding that asking the guards for a fight may as well make you an unwelcomed guest in the town.

You paced slowly, taking in the unfamiliar layout into a map insider of your head. You wished you had a Sheikah slate with you, but that technology had been forgotten over time. There were shops, trinkets, and loud chattering. A group of laughing children ran past you, giggling as they swung their tiny, wooden weapons at each other. It was truly a town made for warriors, and you wondered why you didn't find it sooner.

You let your hand brush lightly against the sheathed katana, a habit you had developed ever since the childhood incidence where your weapon was stolen by a random Yiga member during a fight. It was quite stupid, and something that you feel ashamed of to recall.

Your ears perked up, having adjusted to the noise volume to catch on to the distant, faint sound of clattering. It sounded like weapon hitting against a each other, a noise that had your heart racing. Maybe there's a training session going on? You followed the sound, waving away the enthusiastic shopkeeper who called you over to look at her products. You turned right into a quiet valley, right over a bar that burst with laughter and clinking of glass. Over to a wall where the noises grew louder.

It was definitely weapons clattering, you can even hear the occasional grunt when a harder hit lands on what you presumed to be a shield. It sounded like fun, so you ran over to the open archway, and peered from the side.

A simple, open arena opened in front of you. Everyone in it wore the same armor as the two guards outside, their red mane of a hair tied into tall ponytails and buns. All of them were split into pairs, each pair holding on to either a spear, or a scimitar paired with a shield. Shouts and sweat filled the open arena. You scanned the place, noticing a few ones singled out on the side who practiced with a dummy, and the two people looking like their commanders standing on the top of a small stairway that raised off the ground.

One of them looked suspiciously like a man, towering even over the tall woman next to him. His arms were folded against his chest, and his attire unique from anyone you had seen. He wore a serious, yet intrigued expression on his face as he watched the training session. Nothing special other than the curious headpiece that hung on his forehead. You turned your attention back onto the fight, too bored to pay attention to the two spectators.

The Gerudo had a unique style of fighting. One that allowed them to make it look graceful even with the heavy weapons they wielded. But still, a quite simplistic one that you have confidence of winning against, even without a shield. You never liked those things anyways, as katana was the go-to weapon: light, fast, efficient, clean. Some Shiekah sorcery was also fun, but you need more digging and practicing on those to avoid the occasional failures they have. You only learnt them from watching the Yiga and the Shiekah doing it, so that explains why it is flawed when you try it.

A hind of boredom snuck their way into you, by now, you have grasped the basics of their movements. You supposed that the Gerudo would be more difficult to fight than any of the other races, but it still didn't seem enough. But at least they have the spirit to train their people, unlike the others who just gave up on it.

Something perked your attention, like a sudden ice cold water that was dumped onto your head. Your gaze snapped up, and was met with the piercing eyes of the odd man on the platform. He motioned toward the woman, who gave him a frown before snapping her eyes to you. You looked back into their hard gaze unflinchingly, and again turned back to the training, deciding to ignore them even as you felt their gaze drilling a hole through you.

The session seems to be approaching the end, as several women began to falter slightly in their movements, the one on top of the platform had raised her hand, giving a clear order to take a break. The fight ceased, the trainees scattered across the arena for a rest, sweat beaming on their sun-kissed, dark skin. It was beautiful, you wondered if you could join.

You stepped in, feeling their gazes as you crossed the weapons and walked slowly, but purposefully to the two commanders, who's eyes were both on you. Several resting trainees stood up, their hand holding tight on their weapons.

"State your purpose before you come any closer." What you assumed to be the woman commander spoke, her voice loud and forceful.

The man next to her sighed, "calm, it is not as if I cannot defend myself."

Ok, it's definitely a man then. He had a deep, pleasant voice that would make anything he says to sound enjoyable. You peered over curiously, it seems that he holds a high social status here.

You raised both of your hands as a show of your compliance. "I mean no harm to anyone, but the training have deeply intrigued me, and I wonder if I could join them as a challenge." You spoke carefully, fighting a lot of angry warrior women at once sounds fun, but it's not exactly what you want at the moment.

"Join us?" The commander said with a huff of bewilderment, "a Hylian like you cannot withstand our vigorous training." She shook her head, her tone prideful as she stared you down. You felt a smile pull at your lips.

"First of all, I am a Sheikah." You stated, your hands are still raised, but a casual smile had snuck onto your face, you noticed the man next to her turning his gaze on you, but you ignored it. He was probably just some dumb patron anyways. "But what if I bested all of you in a one to one, or all to one, combat?"

Silence fell around them, the woman burst into laughter and the man holding a bemused grin on his face.

"Sheikah, don't bite off more than what you can handle." He spoke directly to you for the first time, he was grinning in almost a menacing way, but his eyes were searchful as they bored into you. "If you get badly injured, it is not within our responsibility to help."

"Your majesty!" The commander next to him glared, "you can't be seriously considering this… foolish request from that Hylian?"

"Why not?" He looked over at her, his face full of confidence, "once our sisters are well-rested, they can surely challenge the Shiekah as they like. I've heard that the Shiekah tribe masters in secret martial art, wouldn't it be a good opportunity to see what the fearsome servant of the royal family have in stock for us, right?"

You clicked your tongue in annoyance, but deciding against telling them off from seeing you as a mere servant of others. You save all, you serve none. But does it matter to a sheep on the knife's edge?

The Gerudo women nodded, their wary eyes scanning over your body, sizing you up. So this man is apparently, a king, if not a prince, to this tribe. You vaguely recall some history book saying this phenomenon of a man every once a century, but you had assumed it to be just a fancible lie told by the king every generation to showcase his "uniqueness" to the outside. The commander gave you a death glare.

"Well then. You've heard the king, don't go easy on the Hylian." She turned, obviously angry. The man burst into a hearty laugh, putting a giant hand on her shoulder.

"Let's get started when anyone feels ready. Keep it at one on one for now."

--

i hope you enjoyed this short take (if anyone was going to read it)!! and we acc get to duel ganon in the next chapt :,)

i dont think this is going to follow any zelda timeline, could end up be a mashed together one from botw+totk. i havent finished totk yet

ps. ik the op updated their prompt, but since this one was written some day ago im going to keep it like this. Might add changes later but idk

Chapter two

[ashs-random-writing]

Strange assumptions

Chapter one

Ao3

—

Roman decided that he was bored of being a deity, and decided that he wanted to play pretend. Two years into masquerading as a mortal, he’s sure he’s mastered it.

His friends are glad that everyone in their circle is autistic

—

Roman was rather annoyed. As someone who constantly had to hide his true form from mortals, he was getting tired of being in the mortal realm. It wasn’t the worst, he had friends, he enjoyed the activities the mortal realm offered, but he didn’t like that he had to look like a human.

Humans were, first of all, tiny. As someone far more powerful than little mortals, he was supposed to be bigger than them. By a lot. Squishing down his form was still only one of his problems

He had to remove his horns, he had to change his skin, he had to make his eyes look more human-like, he had to dull down his teeth. It was exhausting. He looked what some humans would refer to as ‘demonic’, but he rejected that.

He was the physical incarnation of imagination of the fantasy genre. His horns were that of dragons, his skin the gold of a royal fae, his eyes the deep black of the darkest magic, his teeth the sharp of the mermaid, his voice that of a siren’s, his wings that of a fairy, and his ears of the elves.

And yet, he was forced to hide his beauty so as to not scare the little mortals. He didn’t mind too much, he liked the mortal realm otherwise. He had made himself a little identity as a human over the past two years.

Though, on the very very rare occasion that one would see his true form, they were scared. He found it somewhat funny, that they were so afraid of him, and he imagined how they’d react to his brother. His brother happened to embody the horror genre.

He hummed to himself as he walked around the town he had chosen to settle in for the past two years. He hadn’t worked out all the details of his persona just yet

He still hadn’t gotten a house. It was something that his human friends didn’t know, but they were asking why they’d never been to his house. Roman had no need for food, for sleep, or for anything that might mean he’d need a house

Usually on a nighttime, he’d walk to somewhere where no mortals were, like the woods, and he’d let his human form melt away. Luckily, no one who saw his true form made the connection between him and human-him.

Most people didn’t tell anyone about the giant they had seen, on account of not having the proof that would stop them from being called crazy. The rare few spiked a mild rumour, but it always faded out after a while.

Roman was glad. As much as he’d like to be himself more often, he’d rather not have to give up his little charade. He was having fun playing pretend.

He grinned, donning a red and gold outfit that his friends liked to say was a bit too extravagant, but Roman loved. He walked through town, towards the cafe where he was meeting his friends.

His friends were not yet there, but there were still several minutes left until their agreed meeting time. Logan always showed up exactly on time, and Virgil was usually late, and Patton was sometimes early, sometimes late, sometimes on time.

Roman enjoyed those little quirks. Humans had such range, in the way that they acted. It’s one of the things that made it bearable to play pretend as one of them.

He watched as the clock turned to 10:30 am, and suddenly Logan walked through the door. Right on time, as predicted.

“Logan! Hi,” he grinned, gesturing for the human to sit down. Logan returned the smile, not as enthusiastically, but Roman knew that Logan just wasn’t very good at outwardly showing emotion

“Roman, glad to see you early for once,” Logan said, in a tone that made it hard to tell if he was joking, but Roman had been friends with him since he had first decided to take up this little charade

He laughed

“Ah, well, you know me. Too many things going on to remember timings, but I was just so excited to see you all today!” He said, gesturing grandly

Logan shook his head slightly

“Of course… have the others shown up yet?” Logan asked, looking outside the window for a second, and then down at the table. Roman shook his head

“Not yet, but you know them, Patton will show up whenever he remembers, and Virgil will show up in about five minutes,” he said, watching the window

He hummed in thought

“Why does he show up almost exactly five minutes late every time we hang out, by the way?” He asked conversationally

Logan smiled

“He thinks it makes him look cooler, and that he doesn’t care about times, but he’s too anxious to show up any later than that,” he explained

His friends were great at observing

“Ah, that makes sense,” he nodded

People had strange little quirks, like Virgil, who tried very hard to be perceived as ‘cool’, but was far too worried about how people may think of him. Sometimes, he would find it hard to talk, but Roman didn’t mind

Logan had quirks too. Like the way he never changed his tone of voice, or had a hard time reading emotions. He liked talking about space, or bugs, or whatever cool thing he had decided to learn about

Patton also had quirks, with the way he was a lot clumsier than most humans, and he had a poor memory, leading to him being a little bit unpredictable. But he was very adamant about his morals, and little things he had to do

Roman liked to think he fit in quite nicely with his little group, despite not being mortal. Not that they knew that, of course, but he was thinking about potentially telling them. He and Logan talked for a few minutes, until the cafe door opened, revealing the tallest member of their group, Virgil.

Roman excitedly waved him over

“Hello!” He exclaimed, once Virgil had effectively slouched in the chair next to Logan

Virgil gave a two finger salute in greeting. Sometimes Virgil didn’t talk much.

Roman grinned widely.

They talked for close to two more minutes before Patton arrived

“Hi, guys- sorry I’m late!”

Patton wore a lot of little pins, some that Roman didn’t know the meaning of, but they looked cool. One was an infinity symbol coloured in rainbow stripes, one was blue and pink and white stripes, and another was just a cartoonish kitty.

They got to talking, and Roman had a lot of fun hanging out with them

Virgil brought up a topic a little later on in the hang-out session

“Did you guys hear that rumour got reignited? Someone else is claiming they saw that giant demon thing,”

Ah, right. An unfamiliar mortal had spotted him a few nights earlier.

Roman laughed

“Oh, please. That rumour has been resurfaced and re-buried a million times over since I’ve lived here. No one has brought any kind of new evidence, have they?” He said, smiling

He couldn’t let them figure him out without him telling them. He didn’t want his friends to be mad because he didn’t tell them.

He liked playing pretend. He liked his friends. He didn’t want to have to give up either of them because someone figured him out.

The conversation carried on progressing, away from Roman’s giant-form. He had to ignore his annoyance at being called a demon again. Getting upset over it would surely blow his cover

His friends left a little while later, and Roman decided to have a little wander. He smiled. He walked into the woods, and a small part of his disguise dropped with every step.

His teeth slowly sharpened, his skin slowly got shinier, and more gold in colour, and his eyes darkened. His horns slowly grew out of his hair, which had turned to blood red, rather than dark brown. He slowly grew in size until he was the size that reflected his perfect, powerful nature.

Soon enough, his form was his usual one, his wings sprouted from his back in a shimmering, glass-like shape.

He watched the stars, every little fairytale about them sprouting to mind. He was made to host them all. He knew that he had little freckles that looked like the stars, but they weren’t that prominent amongst the shining of his skin.

He could feel his jewellery wrapped around his horns. It was silver, contrasting to his skin of gold. There was a red ruby hovering in between silver chains. It was small to him, but compared to the things of the mortal realm, it was quite large.

He flexed his fingers, looking at his beautiful claws.

He basked in the ability to share his true form with minimal chance of being seen. He was in a different place than last time. He had several sparkling jewels, and he had quite a bit of jewellery

He enjoyed the feeling of it.

He soon heard a small inhale from the side of him. He looked towards it and saw a little mortal. It took a few seconds of staring for him to register who exactly it was

“Virgil,” he breathed out, almost in shock

Virgil was not supposed to have found him. He was going to tell Virgil and the rest of his friends on his own accord.

The little mortal looked scared, and he started to back away from Roman.

Roman impulsively grabbed him. He couldn’t let Virgil go and tell everyone before Roman had a chance to explain.

“Stop- stop squirming, just let me explain before you run away, okay?” He said, trying to keep a hold of his friend, who was very rudely making it hard for him.

“Virgil, stop! I’m not going to hurt you,” he tried in vain

“Look, I’ll put you back down on the ground if you promise not to run away, okay?” Virgil looked at him with wide eyes, and trembling breath.

Roman slowly lowered him to the ground and let go, preparing to grab again if his friend ran. Virgil took a few jittery steps back but didn’t start running.

“Okay…” Roman sighed, before continuing “Just, try not to freak out?”

He felt himself shrinking, his horns and wings retreating, and his skin taking on a more fleshy texture and look. His eyes would look human now as well, and his hair would‘ve darkened. Virgil stared at him

He smiled sheepishly

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I was planning on telling you all next week. I’d understand if you’re mad at me for keeping this whole thing secret, but I had no clue how you’d respond, and I’ve had so much fun pretending to be human and I like you all being my friends, and I didn’t want to lose that if you reacted badly, and- and, oh my, I’m rambling again.. just- sorry,” he spoke quickly, wringing his hands together

Virgil gaped at him.

“Roman?! You- you’re the demon thing?”

Roman groaned

“Ugh, why does everyone assume I’m a demon? I mean, what kind of demon has my looks, what kind of demon has fairy wings?” He crossed his arms

Virgil stared at him, obviously in shock

Roman ran a hand through his hair in stress, only to realise something

“Oh dear, my hair is simply a mess,” he said, conjuring a mirror to hand, and looking at his hair.

It always was somewhat dishevelled after he turned into his mortal form; his horns tended to mess with its structure. Today, it seemed worse. He magically changed his hair a few times until it looked absolutely perfect.

He turned back to Virgil, who was staring at him with some kind of emotion that Roman didn’t know enough about mortal emotion to identify.

“Did you really have to fix your hair right now?” He asked, almost bitingly

Roman blinked in surprise. Of course he did; his hair was a mess, it needed to be fixed.

Virgil looked at his face and sighed

“Okay, never mind. If you don’t mind me asking, if you aren’t a demon, then, uh, what are you?”

Roman paused for a moment, trying to find the correct words.

—

Virgil had a small, tight-knit group of friends. There was him, Patton, Logan, and Roman. There was sort-of an unspoken acknowledgment that all of them had autism.

Logan had a few accommodations he brought places, like earplugs, and a rubix cube if he got overwhelmed. He had a hard time reading and expressing emotions, but he was pretty nice and very thoughtful.

Patton was very open about his autism, wearing pins and bringing a lot of fidget toys around. He had a lot of trouble with coordination and fine motor skills, but he was always trying to make something. Patton also, unfortunately, was quite bad at telling when someone was taking advantage of him

Roman didn’t often mention his autism, but he was always fidgeting with something. He was always overly expressive, and didn’t always understand social rules, and had a bit of volume control difficulty. He always wore the same silver bracelet. He clearly had a special interest in fairytales, as well

Virgil had a lot of sensory issues, meaning he often had his headphones on and his hoodie. He sometimes went non-verbal, but his friends were very supportive about it. He wasn’t very good at talking to people, so he had quite a bit of anxiety

But, he was mostly fine around his friends. He had known them for years, after all. He had fun hanging around with them.

There was a rumour that floated around their town every so often: that there was a giant demon in the woods.

Virgil didn’t really believe in it, but there were several people who had claimed to have seen it. They all said that it was just sat there, doing whatever, and that it would look at them, and ignore them as it went back to what it was doing.

Virgil didn’t know what to think. The rumour only resurfaced every 4 months or so.

He and his friends hung out about once a week, and they enjoyed chatting. They had never been to Roman’s house, though, but he didn’t mind. Some people just didn’t like having people in their house.

After their hang out session this time, he noticed that Roman just walked into the woods. It was getting dark, he’d hate to know that something could’ve happened to Roman because Virgil just let him wander into the woods at night

He, after a long moment of deliberation, decided to follow him. He couldn’t see where Roman was any more, but he just carried on walking.

It was fully dark before he found something. He froze in place, looking at the giant before him

It had golden skin, shining in the moonlight, and blood red hair. It’s horns were long and twisting, fading from gold to black, and it had a red outfit. It was adorned in silver jewellery, wrapping around its horns, its arms, and its hands. He inhaled sharply, and it looked at him

It had eyes darker than the sky, and teeth sharper than its horns. It stared at him, before speaking.

How- how did it know his name? There was something familiar in the voice, but it sounded different, almost inhuman.

He took a shaky step back, but it lunged, wrapping its hand around him, and giving Virgil a close up of the razor sharp claws.

He was lifted off the ground and he struggled relentlessly against the grip, trying to get away

“Look, I’ll put you back down on the ground if you promise not to run away, okay?” It said, readjusting its grip on him.

Virgil nodded, trying to suppress his panic. He was very slowly placed on the ground.

He took a few quick steps back, but didn’t get too far, wary of the giant creature’s hands that were still very close to him

“Okay…” It sighed, a loud sound that had an accompanying gust of wind “Just, try not to freak out?”

Don’t freak out? That was a bit late, he thought bitterly, before finding his eyes transfixed on its slowly changing body.

Its form grew shorter, its horns depleted and its skin turned from golden to brown. The jewellery it wore slowly disappeared until it was nothing but a very familiar silver bracelet. Its hair darkened to a very dark brown.

He stared in shock as that thing turned into his friend. He couldn’t correlate the two in his mind. He stared as Roman launched into a rambling explanation about what was going on

He couldn’t listen.

“Roman?! You- you’re the demon thing?” He said after a few seconds

Roman protested against the demon allegations, before seemingly realising that his hair was a mess

Virgil was almost in shock, as Roman paused the whole revelations to fix his hair, with a mirror that had supposedly appeared from nowhere

Virgil rubbed his forehead after determining that Roman had really, actually decided that right then was the perfect time to do his hair.

“Okay, never mind. If you don’t mind me asking, if you aren’t a demon, then, uh, what are you?” He asked, almost tentatively.

Roman fidgeted with his hands and paused for a moment

“Well, I think the best word to use would be deity. I’m the physical representation of imagination in the fantasy genre,”

Virgil blinked

What did that even mean? What was Roman talking about?!

—

@a-chilly-pepper @da3dm