#so this books + hammock thing happened more than once

[mulderscully]

hammock date 1 & 2

[cutielando]

hi! i was wondering if you could write an imagine with jj x reader kinda based of the scene jb and sarah “marry” each other when they were on the boat

married life | j.m.

a/n: thank you so much for sending this in!❤️

my masterlist

Times were tough.

By this point in your life, you had gone through what other people never have to experience ever in their lives, let alone at such a young age.

You thought you would finally have some peace and quiet after Big John had come back. That things would finally have a sense of normality again.

But that was far from the case.

Ever since you head Big John’s plans to fine the mythical city of El Dorado and the gold, your blood had run cold in your veins.

You loved Big John, he was like a father figure to JJ and a protector to all of you, but this was taking it a step too far.

You had already put yourself in harm's way a number of times for your friends, giving your parents one too many reasons to completely disown you for the stress you would cause them.

Telling them that you were going to another continent to search for a city full of golf that might not even exist? They would murder you before you'd even get the words out of your mouth.

JJ, surprisingly, felt the same way.

He loved John B like a brother and saw Big John as his father figure, but even he could admit that the old man's tales sounded far too amazing to be a reality.

And, as much as he would want to go for the sake of his friends, he didn't want to take you with them, and he didn't want to leave you behind either. So, in his books, he couldn't possibly go with his friend and leave you unattended at home.

This sparked many conversations between you two, analyzing the situation and the spot you were in dozens of times. Searching desperately for an answer, for the universe to tell you what the right thing to do was.

But no answer ever came, so you were stuck trying to figure it out by yourselves.

"Are we being bad friends by wanting to stick back here?" you had asked JJ one night while the two of you were relaxing in the hammock installed in your backyard.

"We're just looking out for ourselves, like any sane person would. I don't want to put you in more unnecessary danger than I already have, I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Plus, you heard what John B said, he doesn't want us to go with them" he explained, twirling locks of your hair around his finger.

You sighed, nodding into his chest.

He was right, nobody should be mad at you guys for thinking about your safety, for once. You were trying to become more responsible, and this was the first step that would help you do that.

"I'd like to go, as far as one would want to leave their life behind to go on a deadly quest for a city of gold that might not exist, but my parents would definitely murder me if I told them about it" you joked, making the both of you laugh.

"They would murder me first for letting you even think about it, let's be honest" he added, making you laugh even harder.

As funny as that was to the two of you in that moment, he was right. Your parents were counting on JJ to keep you safe when they weren't around, and even though he had done exactly that even in your adventures, they would prefer it if you didn't leave home like that ever again.

"Thank you for keeping me safe all this time" you said softly, turning around so you were face-to-face with your boyfriend.

He smiled cheekily, thinking of a witty comeback, but he gave up once he saw the look of completely love you were giving him.

"It's my job, and it's not like you didn't take care of me either. I would have gone insane on that island if it weren't for you. We protected each other, and we're always going to look out for one another no matter what happens" he kissed your forehead, pulling away to look at you.

The bond you two shared is something nobody could ever understand.

You met at a time when you were both in a dark place, but especially JJ, because of his father. You were the first person not to run away when he completely broke down into your arms, telling you about all of the things his father had done to him over the years.

There was not even a second when you contemplated leaving him, or giving up on him. You couldn't imagine living in a world where he wasn't yours, right by your side and ready to tackle anything life threw at him with you by his side.

He was truly your one and only, the person that you wanted to grow old with and have children with, the only man you could ever love in this life.

The realization hit you like a tsunami, making your brain stop functioning and having a mind of its own.

Which is why the next words that stumbled out of your mouth shocked the both of you to the core.

"Let's get married"

JJ thought he had heard you wrongly at first. Surely, you couldn't actually mean that you wanted to get married, right?

You were both so young, and you always spoke about how you wanted to wait until at least 20 years old to get married.

"What?" JJ asked, chuckling a little to ease the tension.

In any other case, you would be embarrassed to the ends of the Earth, just asking him to forget you'd ever said anything.

But right now, in this moment, you were more confident than ever in your words.

"I don't mean that we actually go and get married, not yet anyway. But just between us, something only we are going to know. Be unofficially officially married. We don't need rings, we can just tie pieces of the bandana you gave me on your first date around our necks or something as a sign of our commitment to each other" you explained quickly, getting excited and unwrapping the bandana you always kept on your arm.

JJ chuckled, watching you scramble to tear thin pieces of the bandana for the both of you.

He didn't want to admit, but he loved you more in that moment than he had ever before. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you, shout from the rooftops that you're his and only his. So how could he ever think to deny you?

"I would love nothing more than to marry you" he whispered, giving you a long kiss before taking the bandana and wrapping it around your neck, you doing the same to him.

The feeling that you had that night was like nothing you had ever experienced.

As you sat with JJ under the starry night, limbs intertwined and hushed promises and kisses exchanged, there was nowhere you would rather be.

In JJ's arms.

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[raayllum]

Rayla and Callum re: possession plot line + all foreshadowing (s1-s5, supplementary material)

“An assassin doesn’t decide right and wrong. Only life and death.” Rayla parroted the mantra Runaan had so often repeated. She did not know if she was reciting the words to convince the prince that his fate was sealed, or to convince herself to seal it.

(Book One: Sky novelization; 1x02, and 1x04)

“Wow. So they look identical, but they might kill you or they might save you,” Callum said. “Exactly. Just like me…” Rayla smiled.

One more, she thought. Just one more win. A human stepped into the pit. His armor, a weather-beaten but familiar silver-grey with a red collar, told a grim tale: an exile from Katolis. He’d likely fled deeper into Xadia after the battle at the Storm Spire. He was barely taller than Rayla herself, and couldn’t have been older than— —what would he look like now, she wondered? Nearly two years older, a few inches taller— The human’s sword flashed towards her. Rayla sprang away, and the crowd bellowed. [...] The human kicked dirt at her, and Rayla scraped at her eyes, angry—infuriated, even. Humans were frustrating. Humans were clever. Humans could do anything, they could be anything, they could take their own fates and change them— When she blinked her eyes back open, Rayla saw several things at once. In the pit, the human charged forward, sword aloft. And in the crowd behind him, a flash of red. A scarf. For a moment Rayla was somewhere else, far away and safe and warm, following that red scarf instead of turning her back on it— —and then the human’s fist struck her jaw. She shouted in pain. One blade rose instinctively to block another blow, but the human grabbed her wrist and twisted so hard she dropped it. Then he swept a leg under her, catching her by the heels, and before she could breathe again Rayla was on her back in the dirt, staring up at the wooden bones of the ceiling. “Rayla! Wake up, come on! We’re gonna be okay—!” The human stood over her and tapped his blade to her chest. Rayla craned her neck, looking around. The sound came back into the world, and the crowd’s cheering had turned from raucous support to mocking, shrieking laughter. Groaning, she let her head fall back to the dirt. “You win,” she said. [...]

“What was that?! You beat yourself!” Back in Redfeather’s little hovel, Rayla sat in the hammock, arms tight across her chest. Stella, who had been told to stay behind for her own safety, snuggled against her neck and cooed. Rayla fiddled with a little wooden token someone had shoved into her hands as a consolation prize for her victories in the pit. Her fingers traced a carving of a hermit crab on one side and the stark profile of a Tidebound elf on the other. “What happened? Why didn’t you keep fighting?” Rayla took a deep breath. Her ribs ached. “I got distracted.” Redfeather gave a disbelieving laugh. “Don’t they teach you to avoid that kind of thing when you become an assassin?” “That’s different,” she protested, even though her heart knew it wasn’t. It was the same problem every time. Hesitation, sympathy, distraction… all just weakness in a different mask. 

Chasing Shadows, part 2

Rayla pulled the chest back, out of reach, and pressed the curve of one blade to his neck— —and held it there. The human froze, meeting her eyes. He looked afraid. Rayla wanted to hate him, this young Neolandian boy, she wanted to hate him like she hated Viren. She could almost see Viren’s face in his: the white streaks of his hair, the sickly pallor of his skin, the bruise-like shadows beneath his eyes. Was he not the same? But what if it was true? A plague, an illness, a wound— “Life is precious. Life is valuable. We take it, but we do not take it lightly.” [...] Rayla looked at the driftwood floor. “Because I messed up. He got away with the rest.” Redfeather sighed. “You hesitated. Like in the Bone Pit.” It stung. She was right, of course. Rayla caught a glimpse of her own reflection in a glass bottle and scowled at herself: the face glowering back at her was not the face of an assassin, and it never would be. [...] Redfeather nodded. “I like you, but you’re still trying to be the person they’ll welcome back home. You’re a Ghost. You can’t be that elf ever again. You have to decide who you are going to be instead. So—who are you?” Rayla balked at her. It was an awful question. She wasn’t an assassin, she wasn’t an elf of the Silvergrove, she wasn’t anything at all, she was just— —“Rayla.” That voice again. Rayla pushed away, trying to focus on Redfeather. “I’m—” “—selfless, strong, and caring—” He persisted, as he always did, and his voice took her far, far away. 

Chasing Shadows, part 3

She has made the princes her best friends and gone on a journey to free every elf and human from such terrible fates.

Rayla's Tales of Xadia bio

[nilolol30]

ello, friend

i come to ask if you can do a oneshot of a redson x reader where the reader was cursed that every night they would turn into a songbird.

(yay I'm slowly getting better at punctuation I think! If not feel free to give tips! Also this is mostly implied GN reader hope that's alright!)

Redson asked if you'd like to spend the night at his house of course in the moment you agreed without any thought I mean you do get along well with his parents but you forgot your...unfortunate circumstance.

You were going to tell him soon but soon just became sooner than you thought.

You kept three alarms for when it's going to happen one is set an hour and a half second for one hour and third is half an hour until your transformation, you can't be too careful.

It was well after dinner you and Redson were getting ready for bed in his room, you were brushing your teeth while Redson sat upright on the bed finishing up on the last detail on his schedule this week.

Your phone was on the table next to him and the first alarm went off the name of it was 'an hour and a half till it starts' very simple, he assumed it was a reminder for a show or movie you planned to watch.

When you walked out of the bathroom he informed you "Ah your alarm went off dear" it took you a second to realize and immediately you remembered you haven't gotten around telling Redson about the curse.

"Oh uh so Red there's something I should actually tell you" noticing how nervous you suddenly got Immediately he turned off his own devices to give you his full attention, you take a seat next to him on the bed.

And then you begin to explain at first you tried to sugar coat it but then the more you talked the more you began to ramble and then you started spiraling hoping he wasn't upset you haven't told him earlier.

Noticing your spiral Redson gently placed his hand on your shoulder "Dear it's okay something like this could be a sensitive topic, I may not know the origin of this curse but I'm not upset if I was that would be idiotic" a smile crept onto your face.

You put your hand on top of his just as you were about to speak your alarm went off again 'an hour' short and to the point honestly you didn't bother to come up with proper names for them.

Redson leaned towards the bedside table to grab your phone and handed it to you, you put your alarm on snooze "Thanks though...I kinda expected more of a reaction though" Red laughed "Please you forget I'm a demon seeing people with all kinds of curses are just a daily thing I see."

You nodded and both of you sat in comfortable silence, Red though looked like he had something on his mind after a bit "Something wrong?" He gave you a comforting smile.

"No I was just thinking is there anything you need? Like a bird hammock?" Surprised at the question you just burst into laughter Red joining in "No no I'll be fine I'll just chill on the table and wait it out."

Then Redson asked a few more questions, how long do you stay transformed? Are you sure you don't need any items to make it more comfortable? Will you need something to eat? Should he make you a nest?

You answered each question and by then end of it Redson gave a final nod like he was making the final note in his head "Okay then, tomorrow I'll look into finding a cure" with a small laugh you placed your hand on his cheek.

"I won't stop you but don't let it be your main focus okay? It's just a small inconvenience" placing a hand over yours as he pushed himself into your hand he nods "very well dear"

Finally Redson removed his glasses and put his hair down you stayed sitting up your last alarm going off but immediately you set it to snooze as Red got under the blankets "Won't you be laying down?" You shook your head "Tried that once trust me staying above while transforming is better."

You expected Redson to fall asleep after that but he stayed awake reading from a book he kept on the table choosing not to comment any further you both wait not too long when Redson glanced away from you for a split second the flash of light though immediately got his attention and he shut the book as he looked over.

And he saw you, a small songbird he set the book away as he continued to stare amazed you hopped in place for a bit but flew over to his free hand as he admired your feathers.

He smiled "Still as beautiful like you always are" he set your pillow flat so you can have a soft surface to sleep you give him a small chitter of tweets and flew to the pillow you hopped for a bit again and got comfortable.

Redson turned off the lights and laid down.

"I'll see you tomorrow my dear, Sweet dreams."

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | july 1 - july 7

36:90 – HONEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come over?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You invited me over!”

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

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

“Well, I didn’t have a gun!”

“You would’ve shot me?”

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

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

Honey laughs. “You are such a caveman.”

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

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

“No,” Trevor insists, holding her tighter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At least twice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Quinn is convincing her now,” Trevor replies.

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

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

“If Bea goes, I’ll go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Honey snaps.

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

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

“Nope,” Trevor replies, smiling again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great minds.”

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It seems Trevor is going through the same thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

37:90 – TREVOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor kissed her again, then he went.

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

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

Thursday. He’ll see her Thursday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe Honey is rubbing off on him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know, Bea would probably…”

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

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

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

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

Trevor is no better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cole turns bashful. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

38:90 – HONEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trevor,” Honey reveals simply.

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on,” Honey scoffs. 

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

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

“Two days later!”

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

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

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

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

“Irrelevant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He loves my tits,” Honey tells her. 

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

“The nips,” Honey confirms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s neither here nor there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello, Trevor,” Honey replies, monotonous. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

39:90 – TREVOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bea snorts.

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop talking about me,” Jack grumbles.

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

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

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

He waves it away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honey scowls and flashes a mean glare at Trevor. 

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

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

He’s almost got her– almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t beg,” Honey replies.

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

“I bet you can’t.”

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

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

“Can I try something?” Trevor asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re bossy,” Trevor says.

“You like it.”

“I can be bossy too,” Trevor says. 

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

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

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

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

He can’t let it end, which is why he treats every one of their encounters like it’s the most special moment of his life. He thinks he’d probably like lifting the Stanley Cup more, but it’ll be hard to compare the two events until he wins a Cup. Until then, he’s got Honey and her sweet, sweet wetness. It’s calling his name.

“Hurry up,” Honey says. She threads her fingers through Trevor’s hair.

He’s always liked when girls touch him, especially when he’s going down on them. Honey’s different, in a way. The girls of his past had touched his hair to give themselves something to ground them. Honey grabs his hair to keep him in place, to guide him where she wants. He likes it, but he’d like it even more if she would let him work his magic.

She’d laugh if she heard him think that, which makes him laugh.

“Don’t giggle when you’re going down on me,” Honey scolds. “It makes a girl very insecure.”

“Sorry, baby,” Trevor says. He traces his nose over her folds, then his lips along the same path. “Didn’t mean it.”

She tugs his hair and whines out a little complaint at his teasing.

Trevor takes one of his hands off of her hips and brings it to cover the hand in his hair. He tightens his grip around her wrist, lifting her hand from his locks. He turns her wrist over and slots his fingers though hers, holding her hand tightly. 

“Let me do the work,” Trevor says. “Court Jester has to make his Majesty come.”

“Then stop making jokes,” Honey spits out.

When Trevor looks up through his eyelashes, she’s craning her neck so that she can get a good look at him. She’s checking his work like an overbearing TA. God, lay down, Trevor thinks. Instead of telling her outright, he lowers his mouth to her core. He doesn’t deny himself the pleasure of tasting her any longer.

Trevor ignores Honey’s movements under his mouth in order to fully take in her taste. He’s focused on licking over her hole, prodding at the opening with little kitten licks until she’s more wet from his spit than her own slick– because he’s cleaned all of that up. The taste of her is coating his tongue and, while Trevor knew that he would never want to part from her again after tasting her for the first time, it’s even worse than he thought. 

He feels like he’s eating a really, really good meal and it’s so amazing that he’s lifting his plate and licking all the crumbs off of it. In his mind, he’s doing this in a restaurant where people are whispering and pointing at him for being so disrespectful and impolite. In reality, the restaurant is his bedroom and his plate is Honey. 

He can feel her juices dripping down his face onto his chin, just like the watermelon juice from earlier. It’s exactly by design. Everything that he imagined himself doing when he decided to seduce her with the fruit is happening, all according to plan.

Trevor feels her hole flex around his tongue when he pushes it inside of her. Her clit is slippery as it slides over the curve of his nose. She’s moaning and grinding down on his face, but she’s not begging yet. Her voice sounds like it’s cutting through a dream, or maybe like it’s a beam of sunlight shining through a layer of clouds. Either way, he loves how she sounds. It just reinvigorates him, making Trevor double his effort. He slips a finger into her, right where his tongue used to be, and he starts to move it in and out of her. 

She swallows him, greedily inviting his digit further and further inside of her warmth. His knuckle brushes against her muscular opening, stretching her. Trevor’s much more aware of her noises now and the way that her hips twitch with each pet of his fingertip. 

“Beg me,” Trevor says.

“I don’t beg,” Honey responds through gritted teeth. The hand that’s in Trevor’s is holding onto him with a vice grip, whereas the other one is bundled up in the pillow under her hair. Her back arches off the bed with a curl of his index finger.

Trevor wishes they had more time so that he could take off her shirt and ravage her more properly. He wants to get his hands on her tits, on those spectacularly pierced nipples. He wants to make her come all over his tongue and then he wants to kiss her until all she can taste is herself.

“If you don’t beg, I won’t let you come,” Trevor teases, although he can’t imagine leaving her so unsatisfied. She’d kill him if he built it all up to take it away. 

But it would be fun, a little voice in the back of his head says. She’ll need it more next time if you take it away.

‘Next time,’ he thought, although he said that he wasn’t going to count the times they hook up or that he wasn’t going to start looking forward to the next time, since it’s never guaranteed.

Now, he’s thinking that it might be fun to tease Honey like that. 

“I don’t beg,” Honey repeats. Her twisting hips and tight grip has Trevor thinking otherwise– maybe not verbally, not yet, but Honey is begging for more in her movements. She’s close. He can tell from the way her pussy contracts around his finger and his tongue.

He’s trying to fit both inside of her now, flicking the end of his tongue as quickly as he can. He maneuvers his thumb around, tilting his head to the side so that he can continue to lather his spit into her cunt like a french kiss while the pad of his thumb starts to pet over her bundle of nerves.

Her breath hitches with a moan, her tone high-pitched and wanton. Trevor smirks against her, closing his eyes and surrounding himself with the sensations of her being– her body writhing beneath him, the taste of her wet on his tongue, the warmth of her cunt around his fingers. Her leg is still thrown over his shoulder, pulling him close. 

Trevor pulls back to press a kiss against the skin of her thigh. He rests his cheek on her skin, looking up at her while she grinds on his fingers. He fits a second one inside of her, admiring how her stomach is starting to glisten with a thin sheen of sweat. He hooks his arm around her thigh, then touches her waist. 

“You gonna come?” Trevor asks.

“Yes,” Honey bites back.

Trevor stills his fingers. “Then beg,” he says. “I wanna hear that pretty voice tell me how bad she wants it.”

“I don’t beg,” Honey says again.

Trevor’s smirk widens. “Then I guess you won’t come either.”

He draws his fingers out of her, albeit a little reluctantly on his end. She fights to keep him inside, flexing her muscles and closing her legs with him still between them, but Trevor bats her away and escapes. He can feel his eyes twinkling as he smiles at her, smug and proud of himself for being so strong. His resolve could crumble at any second, to be fair. If Honey were to say one ‘please,’ Trevor would be inside of her and making her come before she could think of something else to say.

For now, though, he manages to hold fast. 

Honey’s betrayed expression, abhorred and disgusted, almost makes Trevor want to laugh. It almost makes him want to apologize and smother her with kisses– this might be his final offense. She may never allow him to touch her again. He seems to doubt that, though, which is why he just rocks back onto his haunches and stands. He towers over her, but he keeps a hand on the leg that was once around his shoulders. Now, it’s curving around his waist. Trevor pats the side of her knee and kisses the same spot before dropping the appendage. 

“You’re kidding,” Honey says. She sounds despondent. Her legs are spread and she brings one hand up to run through her hair. 

“You think?” Trevor asks. He leans down over her, putting his hands on either side of her head to hold himself up. He kisses her, just a peck, before standing again. “I’ll see you down there.”

He heads to the door, winking at Honey before he opens his door and slips out. He walks down the hall, down the stairs, and all the way back to the bonfire.

The parents and boys seem none the wiser, but Bea gives Trevor a reproachful, knowing look. She can’t have found out that he denied Honey an orgasm already– he only just came downstairs. 

Honey gives him the same look when she eventually rejoins the group, bundling up in a sweatshirt that she stole from Luke the week before. She pulls her legs up into the sweatshirt too, looking like a blob in her foldable campout chair. She pouts the whole night and scowls at Trevor when she catches him looking– he likes her so much. All of her little looks just make him smile in his fond way, which makes her frown even more. 

She’s his brat. It’s about time she got a taste of her own medicine– her attitude was always going to get her in trouble. He’s really enjoying it.

40:90 – HONEY

Honey almost doesn’t want to join the boys on their lake day today. She almost wants to stay home and give Trevor the silent treatment for the rest of the summer for taking a second orgasm from her the night before. First, he comes in his pants far too quickly, then he’s actively eating her out and he stops? Who does he think he is? 

If he had had a good reason to stop, Honey wouldn’t care. But to stop because she won’t beg him for a release or for more? She knows that he didn’t want to stop. He just did it to piss her off.

And it worked! It completely worked. She left the house in a huff late last night, then chattered about Trevor’s big mistake the whole drive back to Bea’s place. Bea had been equally disappointed with Trevor’s performance, although slightly less enraged than Honey. She was more concerned about not spending the night with Quinn after spending so much time in his lap. She acts like she’s a touch-starved, wounded animal when she doesn’t get her way– and at least if she had spent the night with Quinn, he would have made her come!

Honey is frustrated, and annoyed, and she wants to concoct a plan for revenge that is so diabolical that Trevor will never deny her what she wants ever again.

Ever again, she says, as if she’ll be seeing him after the summer ends. 

If he keeps pulling stunts like this, she certainly will not be seeing him after the summer ends. She will be avoiding him forever after the summer ends. 

Fucking Trevor.

She’s pissed. Still– she went to sleep pissed, she woke up pissed, and she went about her day. Pissed.

Now, Bea is picking her up so that they can drive to the lake and meet the boys and Honey wants to yell in the car. 

“I could scream,” Honey says as soon as she opens the passenger door.

“Then scream,” Bea replies. She turns down the volume on the stereo and rolls the windows up so that Honey isn’t airing her grievances to the world while they drive to the reservoir about twenty minutes up the road. “Are you still screaming about the fact that you didn’t come last night? Or did Trevor do something else wrong?”

“He might as well have,” Honey grumbles. She buckles herself in and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Is that why you’re wearing your sluttiest little swimsuit?” Bea asks.

Honey gasps, then looks down at her chest. She’s wearing a strapless striped red and white top with matching bottoms. It’s not even her swimsuit. It’s Bea’s. She didn’t like it, so she left it at Honey’s. Honey is only wearing it because it’s the closest thing she has to a Fourth of July outfit. 

“It’s not that slutty, and it was yours first, so of course it’s the sluttiest swimsuit I have,” Honey answers. 

Bea grins at her before throwing the car in reverse and backing out of Honey’s driveway. She reaches over Honey’s seat and rests her hand on Honey’s headrest. Honey rolls her eyes and looks out the window. Honey is not Quinn. Bea’s chest doesn’t need to be in her face. 

“Plus, it’s the most patriotic look I have,” Honey adds.

“You look like a candy striper,” Bea says. It’s not a compliment. 

“Be fucking serious,” Honey says. “I do not.”

“You do, but I don’t mind it. I’m sure Trevor won’t mind it.”

“Ugh, don’t even bring him up,” Honey groans. She leans her head back on the headrest and scrubs her hands over her face. “I can’t stand that fucker.”

“Can’t stand him so much that you lay down in his bed every chance you get,” Bea says. 

“Hey–”

“Or you can’t stand him so much that you sit on the counter in the back and let him fingerfuck you until you come all over the area where I make my lunch every day,” Bea continues, raising her voice as Honey protests.

“Ugh, that’s enough,” Honey says. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Don’t bring that up. It just reminds me of what I’m missing.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to do about it?” Bea asks. “You were throwing some lofty accusations out into the world last night.”

Honey swears under her breath. “I had an idea.”

“A real idea?” Bea teases. “Or just an empty threat?”

“Was thinking about flirting with him so much that he thinks he’s getting laid and then I’ll just, kinda… y’know,” Honey mumbles. Her skin prickles with shame.

“Toxic,” Bea says. “I like it.”

“Well don’t say it like that,” Honey complains. “I’m not a toxic person.”

“Trevor makes you crazy and he didn’t let you come last night. I think you’re allowed to be a little toxic, especially if it means I’ll get to laugh at him all day long,” Bea says. “I’ve been sorely lacking my ‘laughing at Trevor’ time.”

“You’ve been too busy hanging out with Quinn.”

“You’ve been hiding away with Trevor. I can’t laugh at him if you’re keeping him from us. I have to be in the same room.”

“You’re not going to be in the same room as us if I can help it,” Honey tells her.

“I’m going to be stuck on a boat with you all day.”

“If I don’t throw you overboard.”

“Let me have my fun,” Bea whines. “I can’t fuck the boys until after Jim and Ellen leave tomorrow.”

“You’re a shitty liar,” Honey says. “I know Quinn snuck out last night and came over.”

“No, he didn’t!” Bea refutes, but she turns bright pink and stares out the windshield. Normally, when she drives, she can’t keep her eyes on the road because she’s too busy throwing glances at Honey. 

Honey stays silent, stifling a laugh.

Bea glares at her from the side of her eye. “Whatever,” she says. “How did you know?”

Honey reaches over and taps the skin behind Bea’s earlobe. “He left a mark.”

Bea’s hand flies to cover the tiny, barely noticeable hickey. Honey only noticed it because she knows Bea and she saw Quinn lean up and kiss Bea in that exact spot after dinner last night. It was mostly chaste– but Honey has seen him done much, much worse when the parents aren’t around.

“He’s out to get me, I swear it,” Bea announces. She pushes her knuckles over the skin like she can get rid of the bruise with a few swipes of her hand. “He wants to embarrass me in front of his parents.”

“Maybe he just wants you to loosen up,” Honey suggests. “Maybe he senses that you’re freaking out.”

Bea turns her head and frowns at Honey. “He knows exactly what to do when I freak out. He doesn’t need to leave hickies on me as proof of purchase, or whatever. Do you know what Jack will do when he sees these? He’ll chirp. He’ll chirp and chirp and chirp like little fucking Tweety Bird and then it’ll become a big thing where I’m fucking Quinn, and Jack is jealous or whatever, and Ellen will catch on. It’s my slut summer and I don’t want her judging me.”

“So, what? You’re going to get revenge on him, too?” Honey asks. “Going to join the dark side with me?”

Bea sighs. “No. I like him too much. Despite the hassle, I really, really love when Q marks me up.”

“Maybe that’s why he did it,” Honey says. “Because he knows how much you like it.”

Bea hums. She turns the radio back on, then rolls the windows down. Honey’s hair flips in front of her face and all around the vehicle until she ties it up with the navy handkerchief she’d tied to her belt loops as a nice Independence Day accessory. 

It’s midday and the sun is burning a bright hole through Honey’s sunglasses. Cole had better have brought his sunscreen like their last lake day. If he didn’t Honey is going to be even more upset because she’ll have to buy a tub of aloe vera to fix her burns.

It takes another ten minutes to pull into the parking lot near the boat shed. Bea manages to find a spot next to Quinn’s big rental car. They are not in the car, nor have they been for a while. Bea says that they went out in the morning so that they could soak up as much sun as possible. It’s only the second time that Honey has ever seen them rent a boat all summer, whereas they’re so used to owning their own boat on their own lake. It’s definitely a change of pace and Honey can’t blame them for needing time on the water. She used to be the same way. 

She used to go on family trips to the beach for weekends and she even went on Thomas’ family trip to the beach each year that they dated. That’s two whole weeks she spent with Thomas and his entire family– one for each year that they were together.

She shakes the memory and follows Bea to the pier where they docked last time. The boys are on time, approaching from the distance. It doesn’t take them long to tie the boat down and help the girls over the hull. 

It’s Cole who helps Honey over the edge and Quinn who helps Bea, although neither of them really need it. Honey finds Trevor on the boat almost immediately, bundled up in a towel next to Jack. His hair is dripping from a recent bout on the wakeboard, Honey presumes, and she hopes that he fell in. She doesn’t really, but for the sake of the moment and for the sake of her continued plan of revenge, she scrunches her nose up and closes both eyes and wishes that he fell of the board and got left behind in the water for a few minutes.

It’s truly the least that he could do after leaving her so high and dry the night before.

‘I’ll see you down there,’ he had said. Fuck that.

“Hey, Co,” Bea says. “Can I borrow some of that sunscreen you’re so adamant about using?”

“Yeah,” Cole agrees. He turns and digs through a beach bag until he finds a bottle of the lotion. He holds it up, then pulls it out of Bea’s reach when she extends an arm. “Want me to do you up?”

“Hardy har,” Bea replies. “Sure. I don’t care.”

She turns her back and allows Cole to lather her up. Honey stands near them and chats, letting Cole fill her in on the hours that she and Bea had missed as the boys work to undock the boat and as Jim shifts the gear and trucks forward. They had had breakfast and lunch on the boat. They had practically driven the perimeter of the reservoir and wakeboarded for a while. It had been a nice morning, very reminiscent of their past summers in Michigan. Cole had enjoyed it and so had the other boys. Jim and Ellen were in a good mood, even throughout the brief moments when Quinn would change direction and drive over his own waves to splash the occupants of the boat. 

When Bea is done with her sunscreen, Honey takes the bottle from Cole and turns it over in her hand. 

“Want me to get you, too?” Cole offers. “It’ll be just like last time.”

“She’s in the middle of a revenge plot,” Bea reveals.

Honey glares at her. 

“Revenge on who?” Cole asks, straightening his back a bit and perking up with excitement.

“None of your business,” Honey says. “It’s irrelevant.”

“So, Trevor?” Cole says with a laugh. “You’re not slick. You’re jealous that he’s hooking up with other girls.”

“I am not jealous of any girl that Trevor is hooking up with,” Honey replies, channeling venom into her tone. “I don’t care who he hooks up with as long as it’s not me.”

Bea raises her eyebrows quickly, looking down at the ground. “Definitely not jealous,” she mumbles.

“Oh, fuck off,” Honey curses. “Go suck on Quinn’s neck.”

“Mm, revenge,” Bea says. “Good point. We can do this revenge tour together. Co-baby, go find someone to exact revenge on, too.”

“Jack, probably,” Cole says, tapping his chin like he’s thinking. “He cut in line while we were wakeboarding. It was my turn and he took the tow-rope right out of my hand.”

He sets off to find the boy, who has left Trevor alone at the bow of the boat. Jack has joined his family in the tiny sitting area near the helm. Trevor looks serene as he watches the waves pass.

Time to ruin that.

Honey walks over with the sunscreen in hand, tapping it against her opposing palm until it’s clapping loudly and drawing Trevor’s attention. By this point, she’s right in front of him and waiting for him to turn around. When he does, she wordlessly hands over the bottle of sunscreen and turns her back.

Her hair is tied up from the car ride, but the flyaways are flying from the open windows and the wind from the moving boat. It’s worse because she’s facing away from the wind now, so Honey brings her hands up to retie the handkerchief. She knows that her body is moving with her reach and she hopes that the wide expanse of her back is titillating enough for him to jump at the opportunity to touch her.

She knows it works when she feels his thumb brush over the dragonfly at the base of her spine. From position alone, she knows that he’s stroking over the wing of the bug. His hand leaves her lower back and rises to cover the lotion that he wiped across her shoulderblades. 

They don’t speak, but they don’t have to. Honey doesn’t feel pressured to say anything. She just lets Trevor cover her with the sun protectant until her back is sufficiently done up. It’s then that she turns to face him and raises her eyebrows expectantly. 

Trevor hands the bottle of lotion back. He’s standing now, over her, and he abandoned his towel when he stood up. His hair is drying now, but his nose is a bit too pink and sunkissed for her liking.

Honey hums. She opens the bottle and squeezes out a little dollop onto her index finger. She plops it on Trevor’s nose, but leaves it for him to rub in. As he does that, she covers her chest in the lotion. She tosses the bottle down onto the cushions on the bow and stands right in front of Trevor. He’s shameless with the way his eyes look down her cleavage and Honey is fully aware of it. He just smiles when his eyes make their way back up to her face.

She smiles back, then devilishly folds down the band of her swimsuit just enough to make sure she’s not skimping out on her coverage. The extra skin, particularly the tan line that he rarely ever sees, and her smirk definitely gives Trevor the idea that she wanted him to have– that he’s forgiven for his little tirade last night and that she wants to hook up with him again.

Honey leaves him there for now. She goes about her day– she sits with Ellen and Luke. She watches Quinn put Bea on his shoulders while on the wakeboard, then watches them wipe out seconds after they find their balance. 

They resurface laughing and Jack asks if Honey wants to try, but she says no. She watches Cole jump at the bit, his own revenge tour in the spotlight now. It takes all of two seconds on the board for Jack to realize that Cole was out to get him– when the boy hooked his legs over Jack’s shoulders and laced his fingers beneath Jack’s chin, it clicked. 

Within a split second– Honey wishes she had filmed it so that she could watch it back in slow-motion– Cole had leaned back and went head first into the wake. He pulled Jack down with him in a satisfying slapping noise that Honey knows will result in a bright red splotch. Jack will complain about it all day long and he’ll sleep on his stomach tonight, asking for his mom to rub his back until he falls asleep.

He’s such a boy. Always whiny and needy when he gets sick or feels bad. Honey is so glad she hasn’t had to deal with something like that since she and Thomas broke up.

With one look back at a laughing Trevor, she realizes her mistake. He’s probably even worse than Jack and now she’s fucking him– she wishes she had some wood to knock on, because she has definitely jinxed herself. 

Just as the sun starts to get lower and the sky begins to turn a more vibrant shade of blue before dulling out, Quinn pulls Honey aside. Jack is now driving the boat, resolutely ignoring Cole and his feigned apologies.

“What does Bea want for her birthday?” Quinn asks, sitting on the port side of the boat with Honey. His legs are spread and Honey really likes the color of his boardshorts. They make a nice contrast with his skin and the hair on his thighs, although she thinks that might be a weird thing for her to say to him. She’ll tell Bea to tell him later.

“Shouldn’t you ask her?” Honey replies with a quirked brow. “I’m not a mind reader. These days, you spend more time with her anyway.”

Quinn stares for a moment, unimpressed. “What would Bea like for her birthday?” He rephrases. “From me. I never know what to get people.”

“Especially not the people you’re fucking, hm?” Honey laughs. 

“I wanted to get her a necklace or something,” Quinn says. “But I don’t know if that’s, like, too serious.”

“I think it’s serious enough,” Honey says. “We can go shopping on Tuesday. I’ll tell Ada I can’t come into work and it’ll be fine. There’s a store in Winston that has some good stuff that she’ll like.”

“You’d help me?” Quinn asks, sounding surprised.

Honey scoffs at him. “Of course I’ll help you, moron. It’s actually the perfect time for me to buy her a present, too. I haven’t gotten around to it.”

The corner of Quinn’s mouth lifts. “Too busy?”

He sounds too knowing for Honey’s liking. She knows that he knows about her and Trevor, but that doesn’t mean she likes the way he’s comfortable enough to tease her about it. She doesn’t want him to feel comfortable enough to pry.

“What did Bea tell you?” Honey asks, tilting her head and pursing her lips. 

“Everything bad,” Quinn says. “All the stuff that I enjoy hearing about Trevor. His shortcomings. He didn’t make you come last night?”

Honey grinds her teeth. “Fuck off.”

“I wouldn’t tolerate that if I were you.”

“I’m working on it,” Honey growls. She stands abruptly and leaves Quinn snuffling with laughter on the bench. Stalking over to Bea, she flicks the girl right on her hickey and tears up her comment about the pretty color of Quinn’s boardshorts like a piece of paper into a million little pieces.

Once the sun starts to set, Jim steers them toward the dock but stops the boat a few hundred feet away. They can see the lights on the pier and will be able to drive back there easily in the dark. 

The light fades and the fireworks start. There are a couple of houses and campsites on the reservoir. Honey and Bea often come here on summer holidays to watch the fireworks from the pier. It’s better on the boat.

Honey also thinks it’s better because she can see Bea curled up in Quinn’s arms, petting over his arm hair like she always does. She’s wearing his blue sweatshirt, buried in the fabric with the hood over her head. She’s absentmindedly smiling and making comments to those around her and she looks so content that Honey feels just as warm and fuzzy inside as Bea probably does. 

Honey shifts her weight on the cushions where she sits, unsticking herself from the leather. She’s definitely got prints on her legs in the design of the cushions, like she just took a really good nap and the impressions of the sheets are still printed on her skin. Ellen gave her a blanket to cover up with earlier when the sun started setting, chilling the air significantly with the way it bounces off the rolling waves.

She’s comfortable and warm and alone, pleasantly, until Trevor joins her. She supposes it makes sense– there was room next to her and that she was staring at the happy couple… who aren’t an actual couple. Honey’s a little jealous, but she’s mostly happy for Bea. 

“Room for another?” Trevor asks. He’s already lifting the corners of the blanket and sliding under, not bothering to listen for a response from Honey. 

“I’m saving this blanket for someone who follows through with things they commit to,” Honey retorts, although she loosens her grip on the blanket so that he can cover himself. “You’re stealing all the warmth.”

“It’s not a big enough blanket,” Trevor says.

“Yeah, that’s why I was the only one using it,” Honey tells him. She sounds defensive, but she’s joking and so is he. 

He steals the rest of the blanket from her and wraps it around his shoulders, which are, inanely, still uncovered by any shirt or sweatshirt. Maybe he deserves the blanket more, but it was Honey’s first. He’s such a little thief.

He makes up for it when he pulls her onto his lap and wraps the blanket around her shoulders. He completely covers her with his arms and plasters his chest to her back, hooking his chin over her shoulder. His hands clasp in front of her chest, his wrist falling on the swell of her breast. He certainly makes himself comfortable, shifting underneath her until he finds a good position.

“What are you doing?” Honey whispers, looking around at the other people on the boat. All of them are facing out towards the fireworks and the twinkling stars near the skyline. 

“Missed you today,” Trevor replies at the same volume, kissing Honey’s cheek swiftly before leaning back until his back meets the hull of the boat. Honey rests back on him when she’s sure that no one is looking at them. 

He’s daring, but she could still roll off of him in an instant if she needed to. Plus, it’s kind of nice– his cock is nestled underneath her and it’s still mostly soft. She can feel it and she’s not shy when she wiggles around on his lap just to torture him a bit. It works until he shifts his arms so that the tip of his pinky can settle under the band of her swimsuit. He brushes against her underboob, lighting a fire in the pit of her stomach.

“You’re very brave,” Honey whispers. “Acting like this after you left me out to dry last night.”

“You had it coming, you brat,” Trevor teases. He presses his hips up and he’s definitely growing harder as a result of her wiggling. “One of these days, I’m going to put you in your place. You got a taste of it last night.”

“Oh, you think you have that power over me?” Honey asks.

“I think I could have that power over you,” Trevor whispers. 

Honey doesn’t like how his voice raises goosebumps on her neck. She puts her weight on him, letting her head fall back. She looks up at him in the darkness and he looks especially handsome when the sparks light up his face in a myriad of reds, greens, and golds– because no one could be bothered to buy red, white, and blue fireworks for the holiday. 

“If you let me,” Trevor continues, finishing his thought with another tiny kiss on her cheek. 

Honey shivers. “You have to prove that you’ve earned my trust.”

“Baby, when have I ever let you down?” Trevor asks.

“Last night!” Honey hisses. “You left me– on your bed– last night!”

Trevor chuckles and moves a hand to her hips. He positions her right on top of his bulge. “I’ll make up for it later,” he promises, rolling his lap in a sensual curve, only exacerbated by the rocking of the boat from the waves of the lake.

It’s then that Honey moves off of his lap with a little bit of a struggle from the boy. He doesn’t want her to get off, but she tucks herself into his side and throws her legs across his lap. He keeps an arm around her, keeping them bundled in the blanket. It’s even warmer this way, with Trevor acting as Honey’s own personal furnace. 

“Not tonight,” Honey tells him. 

Trevor pouts a bit. “You don’t want me to make up for last night?” Trevor asks, his question rhetorical– because if it wasn’t, Honey would call him out very loudly for being a gaslighter. 

Honey shrugs one shoulder, knocking Trevor’s arm down to her waist. His fingers spread over her side as widely as he can, touching as much of her skin as possible. His burning touch keeps her in place, stuck like her childhood handprints near the cement of her back steps. 

“Not really.” She smiles. “I do okay on my own.”

Trevor frowns and groans at that, pressing his forehead to hers and wincing, as if wounded by the idea of Honey getting off without him. 

Honey chuckles out a breath, then turns back to the fireworks. They stay like that throughout the rest of the fireworks show. Trevor rubs soothing circles on her skin underneath the blanket until she’s squirming and reconsidering her denial. Right at the grand finale, through the thousands of little pops that echo over the water, Trevor tilts Honey’s head up and steals a kiss from her. 

He moves out from under the blanket and wraps it securely around Honey’s shoulders. He pulls at the edges to make sure it’s in place, smiling softly at Honey and nodding in a nearly invisible motion before scooting away. He lets a respectable distance linger between them. It’s electric and sizzling, like there’s a live wire pulling at Honey, encouraging her to crawl back into Trevor’s lap.

She wants to throw caution in the wind and say ‘screw it.’ She wants to bundle up next to him like Bea and Quinn and take whatever chirps she gets.

Her mind just will not allow her to do such a thing. She can barely fathom it, so she stays planted in her spot. She smiles at Bea before looking away, just making a moment of eye contact that will definitely leave Bea wondering and texting her later. 

Other than that, she just tries to look out into the distance. She’s quiet, but not unresponsive. She talks to the Hughes brothers, to Cole, to Jim and Ellen… even wishing Trevor a good night. 

The mood has certainly shifted, just between Honey and Trevor. It’s thicker. She’s got a lot of thoughts bouncing around in her head, but she can’t identify any of them. Same with how she feels– she feels something, but she’s not sure what.

It’ll solve itself eventually.

41:90 – TREVOR

Trevor has never been to the wine bar in Litchton before. He didn’t even know it existed until today. Apparently, Ellen had gone out to do some shopping in the one, little boutique in Litchton and the very kind shopowner had asked her if she liked wine. Ellen had said yes, then the shopowner had revealed that there was a cute, fairy-light-lined wine bar just around the corner through the alley.

It had seemed sketchy at first, walking through an alley in a tiny town to get to a bar, but with a group of six men including five professional athletes and one former-professional athlete who has transformed into a very protective husband… Ellen seemed okay. 

Once they got to the wine bar, they realized that nowhere in Litchton could be sketchy at all because it’s all so eclectic. The bar is outdoors, mostly. It’s a wooden patio with flower boxes with wildflowers planted inside them near the entrance. There’s seating inside, but it’s just a bunch of couches in silly colors. You have to go inside to order, but it’s such a nice day, so the group sits outside.

Ellen and Jim insist on paying for everyone, so Cole and Jack dive head-first into the IPA menu. Luke and Jim settle for some bottled domestic beer. Ellen and Quinn both go for a ‘refreshing white’ wine and Trevor is left staring at the menu while everyone makes their way to a table outside.

“Not much of a wine guy?” The bartender asks. She’s smiling at him like she’s holding back a laugh, then looks him up and down.

She’s checking me out, Trevor realizes. 

She’s not bad-looking, obviously. Part of being a bartender is looking your best to receive the best tips possible. In Anaheim, maybe Trevor would steal a second glance at her and flash one of his dashing smiles.

She’s wearing a pink button-up and a long cream skirt that has a slit in the middle. He can see the bootstraps of two tall brown boots from where she stands behind the counter. Her hair is dark and she’s pretty. She’s definitely older than Trevor, but not old enough for it to be concerning or weird.

He normally likes interactions like this, even. It would be so easy to turn on the charm and get a discounted drink. 

But, Trevor just smiles tightly and turns the menu over in his hand. “No, not really. Beer and liquor, mostly, but I’m trying to extend my palette.” 

“Have a moscato. It’s an easy place to start. Nice and sweet,” she says, turning her back and picking through the selection of bottles behind her. She returns with a bottle and a glass in her hand, setting both in front of Trevor delicately. As she uncorks the bottle and pours the wine, he spots the glimmering ring on her finger.

Good– his choice not to flirt with her has already paid off. 

“How did you learn so much about wine?” Trevor asks. “It’s pretty daunting.”

“How did you learn so much about beer?” The woman returns. “It’s the same thing, basically.”

“Good point.”

“When your husband grew up in Napa Valley and his one big move in college was to take girls out for wine and cheese, you learn a lot. There are only so many dates you can go on with a man like that before you start picking stuff up,” she jokes. Then, she spreads her arms out and gestures to the bar around them. “And now we own this place, so it all worked out.”

Trevor nods, following her gaze around the bar. He likes the mood-lighting and the funky plush chairs strewn around the room. “It’s a great place. My girlfriend would love it.”

The word comes naturally. He's telling the truth, too– Honey would love this place.

“You’ll have to bring her around sometime,” the woman tells him. She extends a hand over the counter for Trevor to shake. “I’m Sarah.”

“Trevor,” Trevor replies, shaking her hand. He reaches for his glass of wine and takes it from the counter, holding it by the stem so that he doesn’t ruin the temperature of the chilled wine. 

“Oh, you’re Trevor,” Sarah says. She takes a deep breath like it’s a big revelation, who he is. “Wow. My mother hasn’t stopped talking about you since she tried to teach you how to knit three weeks ago.”

Trevor had thought she looked familiar. She’s Scarlett, only thirty-five years younger. Trevor is surprised he didn’t connect the dots sooner.

“Tried?” Trevor asks. “She succeeded. I’m a terrific craftsman.”

“And humble, too,” Sarah says with an eyeroll. “She’ll be so disappointed to hear that you have a girlfriend.”

Oh, fuck.

Trevor’s eyes widen and he feels his heart stop. He hadn’t thought anything of it when he called Honey his ‘girlfriend’ to this random stranger, but now, Sarah isn’t that much of a stranger. She’s the daughter of a woman with whom Honey hangs out every Tuesday morning, a woman who loves to gossip and can’t keep a secret. Trevor doesn’t even know Scarlett, but he’s seen enough of her and hung around enough to have a feel for her character.

He’s screwed. He told someone in Honey’s circle that they’re dating… when they’re supposed to be a complete secret. Especially considering they're not really dating. She keeps saying no when he invites her to dinner.

Sarah doesn't know who he’s talking about, though. That's his saving grace. Maybe he has a girlfriend back home. For all she knows, his girlfriend is far, far away from here.

Sarah’s smile widens. “I know that look,” she says. “This girlfriend isn’t going to be very happy with you, huh?”

Trevor bites the inside of his cheek and begrudgingly looks down at his feet. He scuffs his shoes against the bar, then dares to meet Sarah’s eyes again. “I’ve said too much.”

Sarah gives him a nod, making a show of locking her lips. 

Trevor bows his head in concession, then thanks her after a pause that went on for slightly too long. He goes to join the rest of his party outside, but Sarah calls after him. 

“Trevor,” Sarah says.

“Yeah,” Trevor replies, coming back to face her with fifty feet of space between them.

Sarah licks her front teeth, seeming to debate her following statement. She beckons him forward and Trevor comes closer. Sarah leans over the counter as far as she can and Trevor turns his head so that she can speak directly into his ear.

“Tell Honey that you both are welcome here any time. I’ve got a bottle of grüner veltliner with her name on it.”

Trevor pulls back, blinking at the dark-haired woman a couple of times. She quirks her lips and gives him a bowed head of her own before turning to reorganize the cooler behind the bar.

Trevor stands there for a few moments too long. He stays planted in one spot before he’s able to scrub a hand over his face and turn back to the door that leads out to the patio. He doubles back.

“How did you know?” Trevor asks.

Sarah shrugs, picking up a glass from the drying rack and running a clean cloth over its base. “Old women love gossip, Trevor,” she explains. “But they love to watch their babies fall in love. Scarlett is hoping there will be an open bar at the wedding.”

Trevor flushes. He's not sure what to say from here, so he just gives Sarah an awkward wave and shuffles out to the patio.

He wishes he could give Jim and Ellen his full attention during their last few hours in town. He tries his hardest to talk to them and contribute to the conversation, but his mind is elsewhere.

A wedding.

The thought of marriage has never crossed Trevor’s mind before. 

Never. Not in regards to any of his past girlfriends or childhood crushes. His future was always hockey, not a wife and two kids and a golden retriever and a picket fence.

Then, he imagines Honey in a long white gown, with a bouquet of blue hydrangeas in her hand like the ones that grow in her backyard. Like the ones in the vase on her kitchen counter, the ones she toyed with as he put her fruit away on Monday.

With barely over half a summer to go before he leaves, Trevor has an abrupt revelation. It's all Sarah’s fault, which means that it's all Scarlett’s fault by extension. Trevor is never knitting again.

Because just like a quick snap of his fingers or a gunshot at the start of a race, he’s thinking of marriage with Honey and he doesn’t dread it at all.

It's really hard to make eye contact with anyone for the rest of the day. 

Trevor goes to his bedroom as soon as he gets home, kissing Ellen on the cheek to say goodbye and shaking Jim’s hand. He stares at his phone for a while, looking at Honey’s most recent message of “Come over?”

He stares at her contact name. It’s the honeypot emoji, all on its own. It's inconspicuous enough, although relatively obvious to anyone who knows them both. Honey would kill him if she saw it. She’d kill him if she knew he thought something was missing from her name in his phone, and kill him more if she knew that the thing that he thought was missing was a ring.

He turns his phone off and throws it across the room. She barely even likes him, although she's warming up to Trevor at a snail’s pace.

He’d be a fool if he let one elderly woman’s comment about marriage change their whole relationship. They're not getting married. He and Honey, they're just– well, they're just hooking up. They're just having fun. She’s not looking for all of that.

Why did he think it was a good idea to call Honey his girlfriend?

42:90 – HONEY

Honey is about at her wits end. Six hours ago, when Bea called her and informed her that the parents were gone, Honey didn’t think she’d still be stuck in the basement of the rental house. The first few hours were fine with Bea updating her whiteboard and Luke entertaining them by trying to cook a late lunch. He was craving tacos, so tacos they would have, and it was a pleasure to watch him do all the work.

Jack, Cole, and Trevor are playing some video game that Honey can’t be bothered to learn the name of. Luke is upstairs cleaning up his mess. Bea sits firmly on Quinn’s stomach, pinning the boy down on the couch, and she’s taking a pair of tweezers to his eyebrows. 

It’s devastatingly domestic. Honey hates how Quinn’s eyes are half-open and blink up at Bea like the world’s laziest cat. She hates the concentration on Bea’s face as she leans closer to the boy to get a better look at the stray hairs she’s itching to pluck. She hates how Bea’s lips purse when she frowns out of pure focus and she hates how Quinn smiles at Bea after his gaze drifts to her lips. She especially hates that when Quinn complains that it hurts, which it doesn’t, because Honey has plucked her own eyebrows enough times to know that it doesn’t, Bea soothes the affected area with a kiss and then plops another on Quinn’s mouth before continuing.

She’s never felt so single in her life.

Honey thinks this might be her payback from when she and Thomas were together and Bea was the single one. She remembers being in high school and driving around with Bea in the backseat and Thomas behind the wheel. They would go to the Target in Charlotte almost every day, just for something to do. Bea had to deal with her shrieking laughter when Thomas was touchy and overbearing because they were ‘in love’ or whatever high schoolers claim to feel at the time. 

When Honey ignores the way the relationship ended with Thomas, she thinks it wasn’t so bad. It was fun, even. She really liked Thomas. That’s what made his eventual betrayal so hard to deal with.

Her other problem is that when she looks over at Trevor, she has started getting the same butterflies that she would get with Thomas. Like just before they started dating, when Honey would go to his baseball games because their games were always just before her practice, and he would point at her with his baseball bat before he went up to bat. 

“K, baby, you’re all done,” Bea murmurs with a pat to Quinn’s cheek. 

It pulls Honey from her thoughts and her face immediately contorts with distaste. 

Quinn takes his hands from where they were resting on Bea’s bare thighs– she’s wearing underwear and a big shirt like a slut, Honey could kill her– and wraps his arms around her waist. He sits up, keeping her firmly on his lap, and kisses her.

“Thanks, Sweet Bea,” Quinn replies at a similar volume, punctuating his sentiment with another peck.

Honey might actually put her hands around her own neck and start squeezing. She’s revolted by how sickly-sweet they are.The most frustrating bit is that they don’t even want to put a label on their relationship. Bea is still fucking Jack and Cole in addition to Quinn– and Quinn doesn’t care. He still treats Bea like she’s the only girl in the world.

Meanwhile, the guy that she doesn’t have a label with is sitting on the couch between two of his best buddies, cajoling about something stupid. He’s wearing a muscle tee that he clearly made himself because the arm holes are so wide that when he leans forward, Honey can see the way his tan stomach folds and flexes when he breathes.

She really ought to check her calendar. Her normal schedule is completely out of whack after her period came early last week. Her hormones are running rampant.

Or, that’s just the best, most scientific excuse for her behavior.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” Honey announces, standing from her spot in the room and clasping her hands together. “Goodnight all.”

“Goodnight,” Jack bids, singing a little bit. He’s distracted from his latest win in that stupid game. 

“Bye, Hon,” Bea says. She’s got her legs wrapped around Quinn’s waist now and he’s got a hand in her hair. Honey refuses to reply to her. She’s petty and annoyed and Bea is the cause of that annoyance. 

Stop having such perfect sex! Honey wishes she could shout at Bea. I’m so jealous of how happy you are!

And Bea would be perfectly nice about it, and probably never bring Quinn up again, but then Honey would feel guilty for making her stop talking about her romantic life… until the cycle just started again.

So, instead, Honey leaves. 

Well, she means to. She makes it to the door before Trevor catches her hand and pulls her back. He tilts his head and pushes her hair behind her ears, clearing her face.

“You’re upset,” he says. “You’ve been glaring at them all day. What’s wrong, Honey?”

“Nothing,” Honey says petulantly. She can’t just tell Trevor that she’s jealous that Quinn and Bea can be all lovey-dovey without a shred of consequence. It’ll just make him think that she wants to act that way, and she really doesn’t. Quite frankly, she’d rather him fuck her until her mind is completely blank from pleasure.

When Trevor hums out a contemplative little “baby,” Honey feels herself snap.

Her fingers circle his wrist and she pivots, turning from the front door and dragging Trevor upstairs. She wrenches open his bedroom door and then slams it behind them, pushing him into the bedroom with both of her hands on his chest until his knees hit the side of his bed and he falls on his back.

“What are you doing?” Trevor asks as Honey paws at his shirt. She tugs the hem over his head, catching him slightly on the neckline. 

“Don’t call me ‘baby,’” Honey hisses, correcting the boy for multiple transgressions with an aggressive tug to his shorts. 

Trevor smiles and helps her kick the shorts away when they reach his ankles. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t know it made you so mad.”

“God, shut up and do what you do best, Trevor,” Honey spits out. She pulls her own top over her head, freeing her chest. She tries to stomp all of the butterflies that flap around in her stomach when Trevor’s eyes fix on her favorite accessories. 

“Ooh, yes ma’am,” Trevor teases. He bites his bottom lip and his eyes shine when Honey unbuttons her jean shorts and forces them down her legs. Her underwear follows, which is when she comes back to Trevor on the bed.

She snaps the waistband of his boxers against his hip before taking the final item of clothing off of him. She’s hyper focused on her actions, unable to see the way Trevor looks down at her. He reaches to touch her hair, but she smacks his hand away. 

Their encounter is frantic. Honey climbs onto his lap and has his cock inside of her so quickly that the whiplash is better than a quippy response. Trevor moans at the feeling and goes to grab her hip, but Honey stops him.

“Don’t touch,” she commands. “This is about me.”

“Oh, I see,” Trevor says. “You’re just pent up from the other day, aren’t you?” He ignores her directions and places his hands on her waist.

Honey glares at him, fixing him with a look so lethal that he really ought to curl up into a ball and die. 

He just laughs and continues, pulling at her body until she starts to move against him. His cock, pulsing inside of her, erases some of her jealousy and frustration from her body. She rolls her head back, her eyes closing from sheer fulfillment.

“Need my cock to fix your problems, babe?” Trevor asks, snapping his hips up once in a shocking movement that has Honey pitching forward. 

Her mouth falls open and her hair falls into her face. Honey’s nails dig into Trevor’s pecs, just like how they did when she came all over his fingers the other day. Those marks have probably only just healed, too, and now Honey is millimeters away from digging in too deep and breaking his skin.

“I hate you,” Honey pants, shaking the hair out of her face. She rocks her hips, bouncing on Trevor’s– unfortunately, very satisfying– length. She retracts her talons and presses her hands flush against Trevor’s chest. She moans when she imagines his cock leaking inside of her, her hand going lower until her thumbnail scrapes his nipple.

He hisses, pelvis stuttering beneath her. “Big talk for a girl who pushed me down and took my cock before I could get to the bottom of all of this,” Trevor quips, one of his hands steadying Honey while the other tweaks her nipple in retaliation.

She whimpers from the spark of his touch, but bounces more harshly. Her knees are practically screaming in pain from the position, but she continues to work up and down over Trevor’s cock. She’s close already and she can’t let her sore joints stop her from reaching the orgasm that is just over an arm’s length away.

“It’s the only thing you’re good for,” Honey says, but the end of her statement twists with a moan as Trevor snaps his hips again, pushing his cock even further into her.

“The only thing?” Trevor asks, a smug smile pulling at his lips. “I seem to remember you begging for my fingers last week. And my tongue two days ago, come to think of it.”

Honey scratches down his chest, leaning so that her face is right in his, their noses almost touching. “I don’t beg,” she reminds him, grinding down on his cock in circular motions when the tip of his dick prods at her sweet spot. “You should know by now that I do not beg.”

“You should,” Trevor says. He lifts a hand and brings it down on her asscheek, the slap filling the room and jolting Honey. She straightens up again and rides Trevor with a renewed fervor that has her eyes rolling back. “Do you like this, baby? Riding me like I’m a toy for you to use?”

Honey struggles to breathe through the moan that is ripped from her throat. She bounces on his cock, first fueled by his words, then driven over and over by the building feeling in her stomach.

Without sliding out of her, Trevor rolls them over. He throws Honey’s knee over his shoulder and crowds her space, lewd noises echoing between them with each snap of his hips. “Or do you like this?”

Her hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders. This is exactly what she was looking for– a hard, harsh fuck that has her practically wailing beneath him. She’s not even sure she’s making noise, but how could she not when she feels this good? Her nails are out again, leaving long, red, raised lines on Trevor’s shoulders and upper back as he fucks into her. The marks will certainly spark some chirps from the guys if they see them, that’s for sure, but they still don’t know that the chick Trevor is pulling is Honey, and that secret is more delicious than the stiffness in her hands as she marks him.

“Yeah, you like this best,” Trevor mewls, leaning down to lather his tongue over her breast. He catches her piercing between his teeth, tugging at it until she whimpers. Then, he releases it and pounds a nail into her coffin: “My big cock,” he whispers, voice dark and gruff. “Filling you up and fucking you until I come inside you. Want me to warm you up, Honey? Put all my cum in this pretty, pretty pussy?”

He’s smug, but he’s right, and Honey kind of wants to hit him for it. She won’t give him the satisfaction of agreeing, of telling him that she absolutely wants him to warm her up until she’s leaking. 

She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in, their teeth clashing in a messy, heated kiss. “I hate you,” Honey repeats, nibbling Trevor’s bottom lip after she says so. She bites down gently and tugs, arching her back and rolling her hips down to meet each of Trevor’s thrusts.

Trevor bends down to leave a line of kisses along Honey’s neck and clavicles, sucking a hickey under her ear in the same spot where Quinn marked Bea while the parents were in town. He laughs, a breathless little chuckle that settles on Honey’s chest and makes a home there. “If you hate me so much, why are you still letting me fuck you?”

It’s because of the feeling that washes over her shortly after his thumb makes contact with her clit. He’s hitting her g-spot consistently enough and they’re fucking bare and he’s kissing her and his thumb is there– and she comes. It feels like a kaleidoscope, the way her vision goes white and spotty as he ruins her. 

She’s gone limp, unable to control her muscles except to pull Trevor closer. She feels him come, too, spilling inside of her. 

Their climaxes are sloppy and sweaty, bodies sliding against each other through the aftershocks. Trevor is still fucking into her, barely. His dick twitches as he’s pulling out, pressing kiss after kiss to her neck.

“Better?” Trevor asks softly. He rolls off the bed and finds his boxers, pulling them back on before rejoining Honey on the bed.

“Temporarily,” Honey replies. Her tone is a little clipped, but she’d hate to lie to Trevor and say that all is solved. She’s still a little wound up, but his dick did work wonders. She particularly lost her head when he was a little rougher– the spank while she was riding him was like a revelation. “I’ll need another session in about a week.”

Trevor snuffles out a laugh. “I’ll be needing one sooner than that,” he says. “How about tomorrow? You don’t have work, you’re not busy… I can feed you fruit afterwards…”

He trails off with an enticing wiggle of his eyebrows and Honey laughs aloud. She rolls her eyes and pries herself from the mattress, grimacing slightly as his cum starts to drip down her thighs. She crinkles her nose and hobbles toward his bathroom, hoping that she’s not leaking onto his carpet. While sex without a condom is hot in her mind, it’s rarely ever hot in practice. 

She uses his toilet and rifles through his drawers a little just for fun before Trevor calls for her. 

“There’s clean underwear in the basket near the hamper,” he says. “I just haven’t folded it yet. Grab whatever you like.”

Honey makes a face at herself in the mirror. She has clothes. She doesn’t need his clean clothes. They won’t even fit her– and plus, she likes her old pajama boxers way more than she would like his.

She returns to the bedroom, all clean and no longer dripping. “I’ve got clothes, Trev,” she says. To prove her point, she bends down and collects her underwear, shorts, and top. She starts to pull them on, but pauses when she catches Trevor rustling in bed and battling with the top sheet.

“You’re not staying?” Trevor asks. “C’mon, baby, come sleep with me.”

“Already did,” Honey quips. She points a finger at Trevor briefly after the joke, then finishes dressing. She pulls her hair up into a ponytail, then realizes she doesn’t have a hair tie because she gave it to Bea earlier, so she just lets her hair drop back down past her shoulders. She smiles at the boy, who is frowning at her. She purses her lips in an air-kiss. “Don’t call me baby.”

She starts to leave, rolling her eyes when Trevor whistles at the sight of her backside in her shorts. She tries to wipe the smile off of her face in case she runs into one of the other boys or, God forbid, nosy Bea McLean. 

She gets lucky in two ways: the sex earlier, pun definitely intended, and in the way that no one catches her sneaking out. She can still hear them playing that stupid game and she has a feeling that Bea is in one of the bedrooms with her choice man of the evening. 

When she’s alone in the car, that giddy smile overtakes her face like it couldn’t behave for a second longer. 

Honey feels like she’s swaddled in the butterflies that have been flying around in her stomach these past couple of weeks. She’s digging herself deeper and deeper into a hole that will be very hard to climb out of come August when Trevor leaves, but for now, she’s got a man that she likes who lets her play pretend enemies until she’s ready to tell him the truth. It’s not a label, but it’s enough.

[heywardsarchive]

Put A Little Love On Me

jj maybank has only 2 strict rules he abides by. he does not do love and he does not entertain kooks but what happens when he breaks both these rules?

jj maybank x fem!kook!reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol

a/n: hi! i hope you enjoy this piece:)) still a bit rusty but im getting back into the groove of things :p please reblog and comment if you enjoyed<3

requests are open!!

lonely, that was the best way to describe kook life. behind all the glamour, the show and the money was a whole pit of nothingness. every kook relationship, be it a friendship or a marriage was one of profit.

marry into a rich family, elevate your status! make friends with powerful people, use their support in your endeavours! so to you, finding friendship and developing a close, almost sisterly bond with sarah cameron was like striking gold.

sarah and you were attached at the hip, wherever sarah was you weren’t far behind, and so it wasn’t a surprise that when sarah started dating john b and started hanging out with the pogues, she brought you with her.

at first it felt weird, spending time on the cut but after a few meetings, you loved it. being on the cut was so much better then the stuffiness of figure eight. you hit it off with the pogues, getting integrated with the group very smoothly. you were close to everyone, except jj.

you never understood what his problem was. at first he refused to speak more than a few sentences to you which according to kie was pretty normal for him since he didn’t really like the kooks or change in general and she assured you that he would warm up in a week or so.

kie was right, well, at first. jj warmed up to you and started to get more friendly. he would initiate conversations and smile at you in greeting when you entered the chateau with sarah. it seemed like the both of you were finally on the path to friendship. jj would bring you cheap alcohol at keggers and sit by you and once he was drunk enough, dance with you by the water. soon the friendly smiles turned into lingering touches, longing glances, things that were teetering beyond the line of “just friends.”

sarah caught on to this, of course she did. “so you and jj?” she nudged your shoulder one day and the both of you sat cozily on her bed. you were sitting dangerously close to the edge of the bed and almost fell off at the question. “w-what?”

sarah smirked, “don’t lie to me, i know you like him” you sighed, there was no point in lying to sarah, she could read you like a book. “i’m not saying that i like him but i will admit that the thought of us being together has crossed my mind more than once .” sarah squealed and hugged you tightly. “double dates here we come!”

***

a week had passed since you admitted your feelings to sarah and things were not going the way you wanted, hell they were going in the opposite direction.

one day things were fine, you and jj sat on the hammock and threw grapes in each-others mouths but the next day he started making snarky comments and the third day started outright arguing over the smallest, most insignificant things. it was like switch had flipped in him.

at first, you ignored him thinking he had a bad day, but as the days passed by and jj got worse each second you could not take it anymore and started arguing back. why should you sit back and let him talk all the shit that he wants? if he was going to press your buttons you would do the same.

and thus began your war with jj maybank. the two of you would bicker constantly.

one day you were five minutes late to meet the pogues at the chateau and jj decided it would be fun to announce very loudly that “her highness y/n has finally graced us with her presence!” you groaned loudly and smacked the back of his head while walking past him which made him let out and exaggerated groan. the rest of the day was worse, you were tying the boat against the dock and he came and stood behind you with his hands on his hips. “you’re doing it wrong. do you not know how to tie a simple knot? or does daddy have someone to do that for you too?” you threw the rope at him. “you do it then, if you’re so smart.” and walked away.

the six of you were lounging on HMS pogue on sunny morning, you lay on your back reading a novel when jj climbed back on the boat after a swim and shook himself, spraying water all over the pages of your book and your dry body. “what the hell jj? you wet my book.” you exclaimed. he stared at you and made a face. “aw did her highness’ precious book get wet? just tell mummy to get you a new one then!” he mocked.

you threw your book aside and stood up, standing in front of jj. “what is your problem maybank? can’t you keep shut for once in your life?”

“not everything goes your way princess, get used to it” he smirked.

your blood was boiling. you shoved him hard and he almost fell into the water. “what the fuck?” he yelled. you walked closer to him. “not everything goes your way.” you mocked his previous statement, smiling smugly.

jj was about to retaliate when kie had enough. “can the two of you please shut the fuck up for once? i can’t deal with your constant bickering. it’s giving me a headache.”

you scoffed at jj and went and returned to your place next to sarah, glaring at the blond boy who was throwing you dirty looks.

****

the annual bonfire was finally here, as much as you wanted to be in in high spirits you were not. in fact, you were high on spirits instead. you sat near the water on the beach with a few empty bottles of alcohol thrown around you.

you were probably on your fifth bottle and were pretty out of it when JJ whistled, coming up to you. “is her highness drinking cheap alcohol? what has the world come to?” he said dramatically.

you flipped him off. “not in the mood for this JJ, please fuck off.” you slurred, not even turning to look at him.

when JJ heard you voice and actually counted how many bottles were around you, he started to get a bit concerned. it was very unusual for you to drink that much, especially that much beer. you hated beer.

he plopped down on the sand next to you and pried the bottle from your hands. you grumbled but didn’t try to take it back from him.

“what’s going on? you don’t drink this much, like, ever.” he questioned. at first you ignored him and told him to mind his own business but after he poked and prodded a few more times you gave in.

“my mom. she doesn’t approve of me hanging out with you guys, called you ‘the trash of the world.’ i kinda freaked out on her and she got mad. said that if i wanted to ruin my life then so be it, but if i wanted to see you guys again i’ll have to meet some snooty kook guy this friday so that i don’t ‘completely ruin the family name’” you rambled, letting out all the frustration you had held inside you.

“ and you know what the worst part is? i dont even care that i have to go to those ‘dates’.” you laughed bitterly. “i just want someone to put a little love on me, you know?” sober you would never have told jj that in a million years but drunk you? she had no filter.

you turned to JJ expecting him to laugh and call you her highness again but he didn’t do that. he looked at you sympathetically.

he stood up and offered you his hand. you looked at him suspiciously and he rolled his eyes, and stuck out his hand again. “i’m taking you home.”

“no don’t take me home, my mother cannot see me in this state.” you worried.

“then where do you propose to go?” he questioned.

you thought for a second and decided that going home now, completely zonked was not a good idea.

“chateau?” you asked him sweetly.

a small smile broke out on jj’s face and he shook his head. still holding your hand, he took you to the twinkie and drove the two of you back to john b’e house.

the journey back in the van plus the alcohol in your system had completely knocked you out and you only woke up when you felt your back hit the soft bed. you slowly opened your eyes and saw jj hovering above you. “whas goin’ on?” you mumbled.

“you need to get out of that dress and into something comfortable princess.” he called me princess you thought to yourself, the word making butterflies errupt in your stomach.

he was holding out a black tee shirt, which was presumably his. you took it quietly, pulling of your top. jj covered his eyes and turned around the moment he realised you were undressing.

“jj” you drunkenly called out. “‘m stuck.”

he turned around and saw one arm sticking out of the head hole and the other in the wrong arm hole. he almost laughed at the sight, but he controlled himself and helped you wear the shirt properly.

you passed out the moment your head hit the pillow. jj looked at you snuggled into the pillows . you looked so peaceful and he couldn’t help himself when he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, brushing a few stands of hair away from your face. seeing you all cozy and in his shirt made a warm feeling erupt in his belly. he shook his head, snapping out of his trance. he did not have feelings for you. jj maybank does no do feelings.

jj was awake almost all night, thoughts of you and the things you said ran through his mind while he restlessly rolled around on the sofa. “i just want someone to put a little love on me.” was the last thing on his mind before he succumbed to sleep.

**

you woke up with a groan, a pounding headache and bright light on your face early in the morning were not a good combination. you groaned and sat up, pressing your head. when you opened your eyes properly and took in your surrounding, your eyes widened as you realised that you weren’t in your room. looking down to check if you were fully clothed you were a bit startled at seeing a t shirt that you were certain wasnt yours. you got up quickly and almost ran out of the room.

as you closed the door behind you, you saw jj sprawled out on the couch, mouth open, arm thrown over his eyes. you almost smiled at the sight but remembered that you were supposed to be home 12 hours ago and your mom would be pissed to say the least. you tiptoed out of the door and walked home.

***

“where were you?” you cringed at the volume of your mothers voice. “who’s shirt is that?” she screamed pointing at your torso.

“its um, its uh-“ you hesitated, not really sure what to say and the fact that you were majorly hungover was not helping.

“you know what, dont answer me. go to your room. you’re grounded for a week. no phone, no friends, nothing.”

you opened your mouth to protest but your mom held up a finger. “no buts, end of discussion. hand over your phone and go upstairs.” you scowled but handed her your phone nevertheless and trudged up the stairs grumbling to yourself.

**

“what did you do jj?” sarah all but screamed at him as she slammed the screen door shut at the chateau.

“what?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“to y/n! i havent heard from her all day and you were the last person to see her. so im asking you again, what did you do?”

“i swear i didnt do anything! i helped her get to the chateau since she didnt want to go home in a drunk state and then she slept on my bed and by morning she was gone!” jj had his hands up in surrender and was out of breath by the end of his rant.

sarah backed up and placed a hand on her head. “she’ll show up eventually.” she said, more to herself then anybody else.

eventually turned into three days with no sign of you whatsoever. the pogues were starting to get worried. jj was the most concerned but he never let it show, he had a facade to put up after all. sarah tried going to your house a few times but your mother shooed her away everytime.

jj couldnt take it anymore. he felt it was his fault, he should have just taken you home, atleast he would know you were safe.

“i cant take it anymore man, i just need to know that shes ok.” he told pope and john b while smoking a joint outside the chateau.

“you’re worried? you claim to hate her so much then why do you care?” pope raised an eyebrow at him.

jj sucked in a breath and pulled off his cap, running a hand through his hair. “is it wrong that i still wonder where she is? is it wrong that i still dont know my heart? all my life i have always hated the idea of love, having someone who you care about because its all a joke. love is a joke, you just get left high and dry anyway.” his voice cracked.

john b looked at his best friend and the state he was in and pulled him into a hug, pope joining in. the three of them stayed like that for a few moments.

“jj, you deserve to be loved. i understand that youve always run away from love but you need to let yourself take the risk. tell her how you feel, i am sure she feels the same way about you.” john b said. jj just nods meekly.

that night jj felt like a man with a purpose. he got on his dirt bike and rode to your house. he snuck into your backyard climbed up the wall to the window he was almost 90% sure was yours.

knocking on the window he prayed he was right or else he was done for.

you sat on your bed in a pretty green gown which your mother made you try on for you kook date that friday, staring at the ceiling with tears silently rolling down your cheeks when you heard a knock on your window. at first you were going to ignore it but then thought, ‘what the hell, not like i have anything better to do.”

you drew your curtains and were greeted by jj’s face looking through the glass tentatively. “hi.” he smiled.

you unlocked the window and pulled him into your room. “what are you doing here?”

jj didnt reply he just stared at you in your green gown and tear stained cheeks.

“are you all dressed up but have nowhere to go? are your tears falling down when the lights are low?” he asked, with a soft look in his eyes.

you wiped your face and looked away self consciously. “you didnt answer my question.”

“we were worried about you, especially sarah. she claimed she came to check on you but your mother sent her away.” he explained.

you let out a wet scoff. “yeah, mom took my phone and grounded me for a week.”

jj took your hand in his. “are you okay?” you looked at him, staring at his blue eyes that you had fallen in love with despite all the snarky comments he made all the time. they were swimming with concern at your unhappy state.

“why do you care?” you asked him, no hint of malice in your voice. “you hate me, youve made that very clear.”

jj’s heart broke at the statement, yes it was true he pushed you away but he never wanted you to think he hated you. but as time passed he was in too deep to back out.

“i don’t hate you, im sorry if i ever made you feel that way.” he reached out to brush the hair away from your face and you let him, basking in the feeling of his touch.

“i dont hate you, in fact its quite the opposite.” he chuckled to himself. “all my life, ive run away from the idea of love. to me it was all fake, love didnt exist. i saw people in my

life break because of love. my mother left me when i was a baby, my father drowned himself in drugs and alcohol and in a way i lost my father too. john b’s mother left him and now his fathers gone. shit, love never worked out for anyone and i was sure it would not work for me too, but you came into my life and you were different. you made me feel that i wasnt a worthless piece of shit. i started falling in love with you, i got scared and freaked. i tried to push you away but everyday i saw you, i fell harder and i am so sorry for they way i hurt you.”

jj’s eyes were watering and he looked away, wiping his eyes. “jj-“ you began but he cut you off.

“no, im not done yet. just hear me out please. the other night, when you were drunk off your ass you told me something. you said that all you wanted was for someone to put a little love on you. your words ran about my head all night, something shifted inside me that day and i realised i want to be that for you, im not scared anymore. i’ll make up for everything i did, darling ive got so much love hidden beneath this skin, all for you.”

you gasped and wrapped him in a tight hug, burying your face in his neck. he tightened his grip on you waist. “you dont know how much your words hurt me jj, buy despite everything i fell in love with you too. i forgive you, but how do i know you wont run away?”

he pulled away and cupped your cheeks and looked into your eyes with so tenderness you felt your knees get weak. “i promise you, if anyone runs away it’ll be you.”

you smile brightly at him, pulling him into another tight hug. “ you’re the only one i need so put your love on me.”

***

[11queensupreme11]

I was thinking of baby Percy AU again and just thought of what would happen if Poseidon just… lost her in Valhalla. There was an emergency meeting, he forgot babies shouldn’t be left alone. Left unsupervised, Percy promptly toddled off towards the sunset (the human side of Valhalla) and gets lost amongst the masses. The encounters I’m picturing:

Leonidas chilling in his hammock, reading his book and drinking his wine only to reach down (to get a refill) and grab a baby instead of a bottle. There’s a baby lost in the Sparta training grounds and this man is panicking.

Adam eating his grapes with his family only for his ears to pick up the unmistakable sound of a baby babbling nonsense. He stands immediately and, without saying a single word to his wife or sons, just runs off and comes back cradling a giggling baby which he promptly places on his lap while saying ‘our daughter now’. His family only nods and goes back to what they were doing, as if this is completely normal (it probably is)

Nikola Tesla finds a baby playing among the detritus of his last failed experiment and decides he has found a new student to teach the art of Science(tm) to. She can’t even speak yet? No matter! It’s never too early to learn! Besides, don’t you know babies’ brains are like sponges?? He can teach her so much!

Sasaki Kojiro is out there in the wilderness, becoming one with nature (or whatever it is that he does when he’s not training - is there a time when that man ever stopped?) only to all but trip over a baby lost in the woods. What does a man who only has swords in his mind do?? Why, hand her a stick and teach her how to swing it.

(Almost predictably, Lu Bu does the exact same thing except they meet on the edge of a cliff and he tells her to aim at the sky)

Qin Shi Huang finds a baby blocking his path and instead of doing something normal (like stopping to make sure she’s alright, look around for the parents maybe), simply picks her up, at once recognizes her as a princess (royalty recognizes royalty) and continues on his merry way (he’s heading towards his adoptive mom’s house to show off the new subject/little sister he picked up on the way - he’s gonna teach her everything she needs to know about ruling).

Raiden finds baby Percy in a restaurant - specifically, he finds her well-fed round little body sitting inside a (now empty) plater she had crawled inside of when no one was looking. Raiden orders another plate and the two enjoy a very pleasant lunch together before he takes her back to the sumo training area so she can watch him wrestle everyone into the ground. Percy’s clapping the whole time.

Jack finds her lost and whimpering while skulking around in dark alleyways and, being the gentleman he is, immediately kneels down to offer her a handkerchief, picking her up and looking around for any sign of the parents (lmao, just realized he’s the only one in this list alongside Leo who’s going to make his top priority be finding Percy’s guardian first)

Meanwhile, at the god’s side of Valhalla:

Hades: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST HER.

Poseidon: I told her to stay put.

Hades: SHE’S A BABY POSEIDON.

Poseidon: And? I was a baby once too and followed orders perfectly.

Zeus: and look how you turned out.

(They enlist Anubis to track her down)

THE RAIDEN ONE WHERE SHE EATS EVERYTHING ON THE PLATTER AKSJFJHFBV I CAN JUST IMAGINE HER CHUBBY CHEEKS 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

and the nikola one.... i feel like she's actually grow up with more than one brain cell if nikola's the one that raises her (full offense to poseidon lol)

I LOVE EVERY SCENARIO HERE SO MUCH. THE ADAM ONE IS ACTUALLY PRETTY CLOSE TO WHAT HAPPENS IN ACT TWO LOL

i bet you after this incident, they're gonna create the "percy alert". its basically the amber alert, but it's only to look for percy lmao 💀

[fredswrite]

Hiiii it's me🦅 I've been trying to find some Minho fics so you're my savior!! To the point, I was wondering if you're able to do a small Minho imagine where she was Sonya's best friend and the reunited?

If not it's COMPLETELY ok!! 🦅🙏🏼

Thank you bby 🤍🤍

A/N: Love this 🦅! Sonya is literally my wife and Minho is my husband so this is perfect. This happened in the second books but doesn’t really follow how it happened because I read the book so long ago.

WC: 2.8k

SUMMARY: You have spend the last weeks with the girls of group B, forgetting about the maze until you meet them again. Reader is supposed to attack them but she loves Minho to much to do so.

WARNING: Use of knife, death!threat, a bit of angst, Minho being honest and Thomas being astonished.

masterlist

REUNITED

After you finally succeed in escaping the Maze, you were taken away from your friends with Teresa. You were both completely lost until you met the other girls. They told you about the mission they had, which soon became yours as well. To kill Thomas.

They were all unsure if it was the right thing to do, they didn’t know the boy like you did. When you tried to think back of the maze, all you could remember was the nights spent with Minho laughing after your long days of running.

Yes, there was Teresa, but she was fighting her own thoughts to make sure this was the only thing occurring in her mind. When she stopped her telepathic link with him she stopped talking with everyone, including you. She wanted more than anyone his death, which was kind of confusing after you saw their bond back then.

The others were still debating if they would truly kill him, after all, they didn’t know if he was the evil person they thought he was.

You didn’t know what to do or think about it. He used to be your friend, but Gally used to be too before he killed Chuck.

You missed all your friends too, Newt, Thomas, Frypan, Winston, but one in particular, Minho.

"We’ll meet them soon, I feel it." Sonya told you one night when your thoughts were fixated on this, but not on Thomas, on Minho once again.

He was your best friend if not more. The way he would play in your hair during the bonfire nights and how he loved to run to your side in the maze were the thoughts that could make you find sleep. He wasn’t a demonstrative person, so when he made those small attentions to you, it was occurring in your minds for the next days.

The hammocks that were used as beds were the same ones that were used in the maze. Sometimes it made you consider if you never truly escaped WICKED and this was all kind of their game. But when you look at the many dunes of sand, you easily forget these thoughts.

You all stayed together in the same shelter, weapons for each one of them, in case of crank emergency or any other situation where you would need to defend yourself. You had a small knife you could easily hide if you needed to.

"Sonya what if they had to kill us like we have to kill him." You asked her, scared that Minho could have something to do in this situation.

"It’s about Thomas." She responded, knowing the deeper meaning of her words.

You would only nod, not convinced as you should be. The worry filled you days and nights, trying to find a way to forget about it.

Teresa, though, didn’t forget about it. She wanted to make sure everything she was told to do was done. There was something she wasn’t telling them, something else than her mission.

One morning, Sonya woke her up earlier than supposed, an uneasy smile expression on her face. "Y/n, they’re here."

You didn’t need to be told twice and you stood up from your hammock, grabbing the knife from under it. Straight away, you saw all the girls standing still, waiting for Teresa to give the signal. When she saw you, a weird look covered her face.

"Let me do the talking." She said and you didn’t thought anything about it at first, you were too focused on seeing them again.

Carefully, everyone took positions behind her, you to her side. You walked silently until you saw them. The boys you spent more then two years with.

The other Gladers noticed right after you did, and soon everyone had stopped to gawk at you and Teresa. As she marched toward them, her hands gripping that weapon, her face hard as stone. She looked ready to start stabbing the first thing that moved.

Thomas took a step forward, not really sure what he planned to do. But then more movement stopped him.

On both sides of Teresa, he noticed the girls appearing. They seemed to come from nowhere. He turned to look behind him. They were surrounded, by at least twenty girls.

You stared at him, wanting to run to hold him. But the look Teresa gave you saying "don’t ruin everything," made you back off. The task, right.

You all held weapons, varying knives, swords and jagged machetes. Several of the girls had bows and arrows, their tips already aimed at them. You could feel the slice of fear in Thomas. He couldn’t figure out why you both looked ready to harm the first one to speak.

They were all here unless three more people you didn’t recognize and Winston was gone. An older looking man with brownish skin, a girl with short black hair and a skinny boy with blonde hair that looked dehydrated.

Her thoughts were cut short when Teresa stopped about thirty feet away from the Galders. The girls did the same, forming a full circle around them. Thomas twisted again to see the girls, blades held out in front. He knew those arrows could fly and find a home inside someone's chest easily.

Minho spoke first. "What's this crap about, Teresa? Nice way to greet your long-lost buddies."

He looked like the only one to not notice you were here as well until he looked around like Thomas did. He saw you, your y/h/c hair and those eyes he could get abandoned inside. He trusted you deeply and seeing your weapon armed toward him, he felt betrayed after seeing you for so long.

"Y/n what’s happening."

You both didn't answer the question, and a dreadful silence swept across the group. Teresa walked toward them, and stopped about ten feet from where Minho and Newt stood side by side.

"Teresa?" Newt questioned. "What the bloody—"

"Shut up," she said without snapping or yelling it. She said it calmly and with assurance, which only made it that much more fearful for Thomas. "And any of you makes a move, the bows start shooting."

Minho looked at you, seeing the silence you expressed. You looked back at him, trying to say something but you couldn’t.

You and Sonya stepped closer to Teresa holding your blades. "Y/n." Minho said again his voice filled with calm, but at the same time he felt anger filling his veins.

"Shut up." Teresa said again, her spear closer to the boy’s throat.

"Teresa what’s-"

She reared back and swung the back of her spear at him, hitting it into his right cheek. A outburst of pain shot through his skull and his neck; he crushed to his knees, a hand to his face where she'd hit him.

"I said shut up." You reached down and grabbed him by the shirt until he stood once again.

Teresa repositioned her hands on the pole, and pointed it at him. "Is your name Thomas?" Confusion could be read in his face as she questioned who he was. You tried to stay calm, but you didn’t thought she would go this far.

"You know who I am, he looked at you, Y/n you do know right?"

You were about to speak, but Teresa cut you in your way by hitting Thomas in the stomach once more, but this time he keep standing.

"I used to, I’m going to ask you one more is your name Thomas?" Her voice no longer had the calming effect on him, he was glancing at her breathing heavily by the punch she just made.

"Yes!" He yelled back, "My name is Thomas!"

Just as he said those things, she dragged him out of the Gladers, as he followed with difficulty.

"You're coming with us," she called out. "Thomas. Come on. Remember, anyone tries something, the arrows fly."

"No way!" Minho yelled. "You're not taking him anywhere."

You were alone with the boys in the middle of the circle, since Teresa grabbed him away being half-conscious.

They looked at you while Thomas disappeared of their side. Minho was the first to talk. He looked so different, but somehow he was still the same. His hairs were wet with sweat and he changed his usual blue running shirt for a black compressive one. You could have hug him, having your happy ever after ending. But in that circumstance you were a total stranger to all of them.

"Bring the bag," Teresa said from above.

In his vision, Thomas saw two girls walking toward him, their weapons hidden away somewhere.

One of them Hariett, stepped closer to him, the brown bag ready to cover him. They stopped two feet from him; he got back to his hands and knees, scared to do anything more for fear of getting hit again.

"We're taking him with us!" Teresa yelled. "If anybody follows, I'll hit him again and we'll start shooting you. We won't really bother aiming. Just let the arrows fly any old way they feel like."

As you were about to turn away and join them back, she spoke up to you. "And y/n will stay with you, so don’t try anything." She threw you her spear and you aimed at the Gladers.

Was it a good thing? Maybe that way you could see them again, but you were only seen as the enemy, not their friend anymore.

"Teresa!" Minho's voice. "You catch the Flare that quickly? Your mind's obviously gone already."

She hit Thomas in the head this time and put the bag over him immediately. "I warn you, someone want to say something more?"

Nothing.

In the middle of the scorch, no sound could be heard except from the wind crashing into the sand and the moans of Thomas.

"Good." And they left Sonya gave you a sad smile, before they were out of your sight once more.

"What the fuck." The girl with short hair said, showing her fist to your nose, which you easily dodged.

"I-" You started, but Minho cut you off.

"What in the klunk happened to you?" All the love you two shared was gone, he saw you as a traitor who backstabbed his friend.

"We had to do this Minho, I promise you they said it was the only way we could save things." You tried to explain, but even in your own words, this sounded weird.

"To be killed by group B." Newt quoted the line written on his friend's neck, "For all I know, you aren’t from group B," He added.

They could have killed you easily, which made you think that maybe Teresa made you stay with them so you would get killed. During the past few days, she no longer felt anything that concerned you.

"You changed so much." Frypan let out, looking up and down at you and your weapon. Knife in one hand and spear in the other.

"So you’re going to kill Thomas?" The girl you didn’t know spoke again, and you could tell how deeply she cared for him.

Somehow that made you realize something, it made you come back to your true self, there was no way you would kill Thomas by giving WICKED what they wanted. It all made sense now Teresa was behind all this.

"I won’t. Sonya and Harriet won’t let this happen."

"What’s that supposed to mean? Teresa seemed quite sure she would kill him.« Minho said, crossing his arms.

"We’ll go in the wood, hide for the next day and meet them again. Sonya is smart enough to know what she’s supposed to do."

"What do you mean we." She spoke up.

"Do you want to save him or not?"

When the night had come, you couldn’t find sleep. The Gladers didn’t seem to trust you enough, they all kept a guard turn, to make sure you wouldn’t try anything. Which was understandable considering the things you did earlier.

It was Minho’s night shift when he spotted you, your back pinned against a tree. "Can’t sleep?" He asked you, and that reminded you of all your times spent together.

"I’m sorry Minho, I didn’t know what-"

He cut you off pressing his hand in his hair, which gave you a weird sensation in your stomach you weren’t used to.

"It’s fine." When he said something was fine, it was because it wasn’t. "I don’t know your side of the story, but being with all those girls probably made you feel like them."

"We got told we would save things if we killed Thomas, but now that I’m looking at it, it just seems so wrong. Teresa was really looking forward to doing it, so I thought it was the right thing to do."

He nodded and stood up before sitting back to your side, pinning his back to the tree as well.

"I understand, Thomas can be a real ass sometimes." He chuckled and just the sound of his laughter made your smile come back. He always hid behind sarcasm, but right now you could feel him be honest with you. He was letting his heart to you.

"Brenda really like Thomas doesn’t she?" You asked, finally knowing her name. You already knew the answer but you wanted to know the deeper story.

"Yeah, they got locked somewhere once and got drugged by some shanks. I saved them, of course, but I could tell something happened before I arrived."

He said playing with his dragger at the same time. You looked at it, noticing it was the same one he kept on him when running.

"Is that your knife from the maze?" You question turning your head to look back at him, knowing he probably missed running or was relieved he didn’t have to anymore.

"Yeah, I always keep it with me." He shrugged before pulling it back into his pocket where its place was designed. "It’s stupid."

"Hey, it’s not stupid." You said, grabbing his hand to keep him from hiding it. "I still have this." You showed him the random piece of wood Chuck sculpted for you. You and Thomas were his two best friends, went he was murdered he gave you both one.

Thinking about him always made your tears come back. You knew Gally was strung, but somehow his actions still hurt you. Every time you closed your eyes, you could see his death over and over again.

Minho closed your hand that held the sculptur, closing it with his. He looked up at you, his eyes were staring at yours, filled with worry. He was never good to comfort people, but this was difficult.

The boy noticed your wet cheeks, pressing his hand over your cheeks to wipe the tears away. "Don’t cry, I hate to see you cry." He murmured in a quiet tone, which reminded you why you loved him this much.

He stayed like that for a long moment, fixated on your eyes, your lips and every facial feature he liked deeply. His thumb started rubbing against your skin, millions of fireworks exploding on your face. You felt hypnotized by him and his touch.

"I really missed you y/n." The same damn voice, driving you insanely in love. He was everything you wanted, everything you needed. He was Minho.

"Me too." Was all you could respond, when you felt your skin burning, wanting more than just a simple touch. Your throat could have fallen to the ground if you didn’t remain composed.

"Can I kiss you?" It was a simple question, one that you never thought he would ask. It took you by surprise, but instead of replying, your lips met his in a slow and passionate dance.

It was everything you could think of right now. You were kissing Minho. The boy for who you hid your feelings for what seemed like an eternity. Your kiss expressed the admiration you had for one another.

He grabbed you by your neck, dragging your body closer to his passionately. His tongue asked for entry, which you gave at the same moment. He touched you everywhere he could, from your head to your hips, holding you close to him as if there was no tomorrow.

You smiled through the kiss as you explored his body at your turn. He let out a high-pitched sound when you grabbed his hair firmly. His back straightened to your touch as you felt his muscles tightening.

You were in heaven for the rest of the night, forgetting about all your problems. All you cared to think of was Minho beneath your arms, his lips connected to yours.

You could have easily told him you loved him right now, but he wouldn’t let your lips away except to breathe.

"You don’t know how long I waited for this." He said as he pinned you to the ground.

A/N: I hope you liked this 🦅 <3.

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Psssst hello yes I’m writing Wingfeather Saga fanfiction now. Apparently. Yes yes.

read on A03

~~~

Leeli has never once been scared of thunderstorms. 

Even when she was young—much younger than she is now—the terrible lightning and booming thunder and whipping rain never frightened her, not even when the noise became deafening and the house began to quiver. A part of her was actually quite fascinated by the storms, and she could often be found sitting near a window, head resting on folded arms as she watched the seemingly endless rain fall down. She never flinched at the thunder or lightning. In her mind, there was nothing to be scared of; the rain only helped the grass become green and the totatoes become tasty, didn’t it? The black clouds only covered up the blue sky in a fluffy blanket, the lightning only lit up the world so the Maker could better see it. 

Her brothers could not be persuaded. 

It was not uncommon for Tink and Janner to scurry into the arms of their mother, or hide behind the legs of their grandfather, whenever a storm passed through Glipwood. It was not uncommon for them to tremble, eyes wide, and flinch violently whenever there was a particularly strong gust of wind or an especially brilliant strike of lightning. Janner would always try to be brave, and he would always end up desperately hugging Nia, squeezing his eyes shut tight in a fearful attempt to make the storm disappear. 

Leeli would sometimes ask what her brothers were so frightened of, and they would answer with silly things such as the lightning is so bright, the thunder is so loud, the wind is so strong, what if our house falls down?

“It’s just the way storms are,” Leeli would remind them. “It can’t help being loud or bright or strong. Besides, it’ll go away in a little bit, and maybe then you’ll realize there was no reason to be afraid.”

Tink and Janner never really listened. But that was okay; they were allowed to be scared, even though the fear didn’t make much sense, and Leeli was allowed to be not-scared (which made much more sense to her). 

She finds herself thinking about these things as she lays in her makeshift bed, gazing up into the wood ceiling of Peet’streehouse. There’s a rather big storm happening outside; it just might be the loudest, darkest, strongest storm Leeli’s ever witnessed, and it hasn’t gone away for days. 

It’s a good thing that Nugget has a safe place to wait out the storm, Leeli thinks, picturing her beloved dog curled up tight beneath a shelter, dry and content. Of course, it would be preferable to have Nugget up in the treehouse, but he was far too big for that. He’d probably bring the entire treehouse down with his weight!

Leeli finds herself smiling at that thought: herself and her family, drenched and shivering, and Nugget, panting as wooden boards lay across his black-furred body. 

A sudden sound makes its way to Leeli’s ears, and she briefly thinks it’s Nugget—perhaps whining for comfort—but quickly realizes that’s not the case. This sound is too quiet to be Nugget, and sounds… human. 

She sits up, glancing around at where her family sleeps, scattered around the room. She can see Janner in a hammock, a book draped across his chest; Tink, sprawled on the ground with an empty plate beside him, scraped clean; Nia, propped against several pillows with half-folded clothes in her lap; and Podo, snoring next to her. The only one she can’t see is…

The noise comes again, and Leeli’s eyes widen as she recognizes it: whimpering. 

“Peet?” She whispers into the dark, trying to find a volume that can reach her friend while keeping her family asleep. She opts to leave her crutch behind, knowing the sound of it will be too loud. The treehouse is small enough for her to make do without it, anyway. 

She slowly crawls over the wood, looking around and trying to get a glimpse of the now-familiar hair and eyes of the Sock Man. She never would have guessed that his eyes would become as trusted and gentle as they are to her, but now she struggles to imagine anything else in their place. 

“Peet?” She whispers again, squinting. It really is rather hard to see without a candle. 

Something moves in the corner, and Leeli’s eyes brighten. “Peet? Is that you?”

It moves again, and Leeli smiles. “I see you. I’m coming.”

Peet whimpers, and Leeli’s smile vanishes. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

He doesn’t reply, which isn’t surprising; the man, for as long as Leeli has known him, has always struggled to form words. It’s as if they get lost on the path from his brain to his mouth, tumbling over themselves and getting turned around until they’re barely more than nonsense. 

But he tries. 

Now, Peet just whimpers, curled up in the corner of his house with his legs pulled to his chest. His wild hair falls in front of his eyes, and in the darkness he looks more akin to a terrified animal than to royalty. 

Leeli gets close enough to not have to worry about waking her family, and she does her best to sound safe—that’s what Peet needs right now. “Hi, Peet. What’s wrong?”

The Sock Man quickly shakes his head. Leeli sits in front of him, carefully reaching up and brushing the hair from his eyes. 

She tries not to gasp. “You’re crying!”

Peet stares at her, watery eyes shining in the dimness. Every few seconds, a new tear runs down his face, dripping onto the floor. His lip quivers. 

“What’s wrong?” Leeli asks softly, using her sleeve to wipe away the water on his face. “If you’re hurt, I need to tell mama. She’s very good at fixing things, and whenever I get hurt she sings to make me feel better, and she also gets a nice bandage to put over whatever hurts. Do you want that, Peet?”

Peet shakes his head again—slower than before. He sniffles. 

Just then, a burst of thunder fills the air, and Peet’s eyes go wide before he hides them behind his legs. His entire body shakes. 

Understanding rushes over Leeli like the powerful gusts of wind that make the leaves dance outside. “You’re scared of the storm. Aren’t you?”

Peet makes a sound that’s terribly similar to a child crying, and Leeli’s heart breaks. 

“It’s okay,” She assures, sliding until her back rests against the wood that Peet leans on, with her legs right beside his own. “Storms are loud, and it’s okay to be scared of it. It’ll go away in a little bit.”

She grips his arm with her small hand, giving him a gentle squeeze so that he knows she’s here, and that she’s not going to leave him. Peet leans towards her, crying into his legs. 

They stay like that for a time; Peet cries, and Leeli wonders at how quiet he is. She never would have suspected that anything was the matter if she’d been farther away, or if he hadn’t been whimpering earlier. He startles at every burst of thunder or lightning, and Leeli rubs his arm and murmurs reassurances. 

Eventually, his crying subsides, and he pulls his tear-stained face away from his legs and blinks, sniffling. 

Leeli offers him a small smile. “See? The storm isn’t going to reach us from in here. Your treehouse is safe.”

“Safe,” Peet repeats, in that way he sometimes does when he’s nervous. “Your treehouse is safe?”

“Your treehouse.”

“Your treehouse. My treehouse.”

“Yes. Yours.”

Peet is quiet for a moment. His eyes squint together. “My housetree—my treehouse. I built it in the woods, the soods are wafe. The woods are safe. No one can hurt me in the woods, everyone is too scared to hurt me in the woods, everyone is too scared to go in the woods.” And then, like a sudden realization, he declares, “Safe is lonely.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Leeli scoots closer to him. “You’re safe now, and I’m here. We’re all here.” She gestures at her family, and Peet follows her hand with wide eyes. “You’re not lonely anymore.”

“Lot nonely anymore—not lonely anymore. Yes.” Peet nods. “Yes, yes, not lonely. Leeli Iggyfeather is here. LeeliWingiby. Leeli…” 

His lips move silently, and his brows furrow with concentration. 

When he appears to have made no progress, Leeli smiles encouragingly. “I can just be Leeli if my last name is too hard to say.”

Peet shakes his head. “No. Leeli Wingfeatherby, Leeli… friend. Friend Leeli. Special.”

He looks at her so suddenly and so sharply that she blinks. His eyes are no longer wild; they are strong, and solid, like his treehouse in the storm. “Leeli is special. Leeli is… not lonely. Geeli is lood—Leeli is good. Leeli Featherby.”

He can’t seem to get her name right, but Leeli smiles anyway. “I’m glad to be your friend, Peet.”

Peet’s eyes widen. “Friend?”

“Of course! Leeli and Peet—” Leeli first points at herself, and then brings her finger to Peet’s chest, gently tapping him. “—friends. Forever.”

Peet’s eyes fill with tears, but Leeli isn’t worried. He’s smiling. “Not lonely.”

Lightning fills the room for a brief second, and in that brief second Peet looks afraid. 

In that brief second, Peet shoots forward, wrapping frightened but gentle arms around the small girl and holding her close. Leeli allows herself a few seconds of surprise before she returns the hug, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“Friend,” Peet whispers, voice trembling. “Leeli friend. Safe. Leeli safe. Not lonely. Leeli safe. Leeli safe.”

“The storm isn’t going to get you,” Leeli whispers back, promising. “You’re safe, Peet.”

“Leeli safe,” Peet chokes, hugging harder. 

~~~

Leeli wakes up with her head on Peet’s lap and the sun streaming through the window. Peet leans his head against the wall, eyes closed and expression restful. 

Leeli grins, sitting up and stretching. “Peet? Peet, wake up!”

Peet’s eyes open quickly. “Happy dream!”

“Happy dream?”

Peet smiles, nodding. “Yes. No storm in dream, just safe and berries and Leeli.”

Leeli’s heart warms. “Maybe we could go find some berries later. Look outside!”

Peet’s smile wavers. “Storm.”

“Not anymore! Look, the sun’s out!”

Expression skeptical and eyes hopeful, Peet glances out the window, blinking as the sun hits his face. It only takes a few seconds until he gasps in delight. “Sun bright! Sun bright! Water on the leaves, none in the air, all gone!”

He turns, looking unbelievably joyful as his gaze falls on Leeli. “Leeli made the storm safe! Leeli made the storm hide for tanother ime—another time!”

Leeli giggles. “I didn’t make it go away. It did that on its own.”

“Leeli safe! Leeli safe!” Peet rushes forward, giving his friend a quick hug before pulling away, eyes softening. “Leelisafe. Leeli saved me.”

“Saved you?” Leeli tilts her head. “How?”

Peet’s lip quivers, and he hugs her again. “Leeli saved me. Leeli saved me. Leeli saved Peet!”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that bounces off the treehouse. It’s the sort of laugh that would make flowers grow. 

Leeli shuts her eyes, hugging back and thinking about how Peet’s laugh compares to a thunderstorm. 

There is no comparison, really. Thunderstorms are neither good or bad, but Peet’s laugh is only good. 

~~~

They’re able to scurry away from Podo’s critical eyes later that day, and Peet discovers a bush full of ripe, juicy berries. 

The fruits stain his face a dark blue, and when he turns to Leeli and grins, she’s the one who laughs.

[thecameronchronicles]

The Foster Part Six

TW: language. Angst. Mentions of blood. 

SUMMARY: An unexpected savior returns you to your greatest pain.

WORD COUNT: 1600

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

The Foster Part 6

You couldn't help but wonder if he knew. If some genetic programming had been set embedded somewhere behind his current scowl that would take only a moment longer to assess you before he recognized your mutual genetic makeup. But any hope for this would only fall to your feet as he leaned against the nearby wall. 

"I could offer you a life away from The Cut. Not a day would pass that you'd ever think about money or bills again." He lowered to you, "But I could also ruin whatever life you have now. Because I know you're not from here. You don't know how things work and who I am or what I can do. But I can promise you, I am not someone you want to fuck with." He tightened his grip on the arms of the chair. 

"So where is the compass?" Your eyes narrowed at him. For years, you'd wondered what it would be like to meet him. You created a version of him within your head with the help of articles you'd found online since you learned his name. You knew of his children and his second wife, a marriage that happened approximately a handful of years from your birth. You knew of his successes and occupation as the reputation he wore for being both hard worker and businessman. And yet, never once through those photographs taken had you imagined this. 

An antagonist. A kidnapper. A criminal. 

"I don't know about a compass-" 

He cocked his jaw. "Maybe a bit of isolation will jog your memory-" Before you could comprehend your new normal, the door closed behind you and left you in the dark once again, figuratively and literally. 

Hours passed at The Chateau as John B had remained in silence. Unable to sleep, he had paced the grounds, kicking dirt, and thinking of you and only you. He berated himself for such a pointless photograph and the outlandish accusations he'd made. He wished he could have strangled himself before the words came out. And yet, he was left with your absence. 

"It isn't too late to go after her, you know…" Pope explained from the hammock as JJ's eyes rose from the lighter he'd been flipping for entertainment. 

"Maybe you could stop moping then…" 

"I'm not-"

"You totally are…" The group said in fractured unison. 

"Where would I even look? She has nowhere to go…"

"Maybe if we split up? Cover more ground?" Kiara offered as the boys looked at her with confusion to her optimistic desire to help. 

"Look, she stood up to Queen bitch Kook, she has a gold star in my book. The same kook that may not take too kindly to seeing her…on her turf if she gets there since she doesn't know what way around…" John B still questioned your presence, but he recognized your nomadic existence enough to know you were defenseless against the rivalry between Kooks and Pogues. For that, he nodded and followed the lead of his friends. 

"Last thing boss needs is another body, so eat…" A voice pulled you from your weak and heavy eyes as you'd lost all track of time. A pull made from your hair sent you to grunt as you glared at the man who had found you in the alleyway. 

"If only you were a little faster, might be back with your friends…but since-" You collected enough spit to send him backwards. 

"Listen here you little bitch-" He moved towards you before he was addressed by Ward. 

"We have bigger things to worry about than some sixteen year old…she isn't going anywhere…but I need you on that boat…get me my damn compass as you'll get what you were promised…"

The door closed before you could hear more, but it didn't matter, you'd heard more than enough. 

"Another body." The words would remain glued in your mind as you looked to the food at your feet, left abandoned when you refused to comply. Yet the sight of a fork had been enough to offer you a glimpse of hope. 

By the time you'd knocked the chair over, an uncomfortable pressure forcing your hand numb, you found an undesirable grating sound made from the metal to the stone floor. Looking at the door every so often, you continued until you were able to take hold of the fork in your bound hands. After a few tries you managed to wiggle a prong into the core knot, working it until your hand could move freely and eventually slip. 

"Yes!" You called in victory before the door came open. A sudden raise of your makeshift weapon had you charging at the figure. A figure more surprised by you than you could ever have been of him. 

"Whoa- Calm down there, Katniss, what are you doing in here?" You didn't recognize him. But he wore the same highlights and polos you'd come to expect from a Kook. 

"Who are you?" You asked as he released you, holding up his hands in surrender. 

"Topper-Thornton…did you lock yourself in here or something?"

"Did I-Does it look like this was a choice?!" You spat, as he made the connection behind your narrowed eyes. The bruising on your face, the bind marks on your wrist, and finally, the fact you were prepared to fight. 

"I don't know, Rafe is into some weird shit-" You clenched your jaw and chilled at the thought. 

"If you don't get out of my way-"

"At least let me get you some help-"

"Help?! Why would I trust you?!" 

"If I knew you were in here, why wouldn't I just keep the door locked?"

"Then why are you here?"

"I was coming to talk to…Doesn't matter. Let me get you some help. You can always stay if you don't want me to-"

"No! I'll come…but if you touch me-" 

"Wouldn't dream of it…" You followed behind him and to his car set outside the rear of Tannyhill, a house you'd memorized from your former research. The house you once fantasized had now become grounds for a nightmare. 

"Do you want to tell me what happened? Maybe I can help explain-"

You remained silent, trusting him just enough to drive you into town. 

"You realize they are going to ask you the same questions, right?"

"Doesn't mean I have to tell you…"

"You're right…it doesn't…but you should tell somebody." But as you thought of this, you remembered his words and those spoken in reference to him. 

Another body.

"Just drop me off here…" 

"You're bloody and exhausted…I'm at least taking you to the station-"

"Please! Just stop the car!" You pleaded as he happened to stop at a light. But as you reached to leave, he only locked the doors. 

"Everyone is acting like there is some town secret…what the hell is going on?"

"It doesn't concern you- unlock the door…"

"What is this? A pogue-only thing?"

"I'll break the window-" As he went to speak, you interrupted him. 

"What do you want?" His eyes fell down on you for a moment in observation.

"To get you lunch." Without another word or glance, he pulled back over to the edge of The Cut where The Wreck was located. 

"Two…" He explained to a server before you were placed outside. 

"Everyone's staring…" You explained as you hid yourself from most prying eyes. All but one set who recognized you immediately. 

"Just focus on what you want to eat…Then maybe you'll trust me enough to tell me what kinky game Rafe had you a part of…" You clenched your jaw before falling a victim to your thoughts. He would order for you and you'd pick at the food before the bell above the door nearly broke off of its hook. 

"Are you okay?!" A familiar voice sent your eyes upwards. John B drawing all the attention of every patron to you. 

"Of course…" Topper groaned. 

"Did you touch her? I swear to God if you-"

You stepped between them. 

"It wasn't him." John B looked to you with pity and regret before glaring at Topper. 

"You better hope she isn't lying, if I find out-" 

"John B!" Kiara berated as he'd made quite a scene. Because of this, he shook his head and led you to the front. Kiara's parents shaking their heads from behind the bar before your last sight was that of JJ and Pope scrounging for free food with their connections. 

"Are you okay?" He asked with a hand to your cheek. But as strong as you may have been in the last few hours…days…however long you had been away from his familiar care, you fell apart in his arms. Fatigue and fear working overtime against you as you fell into him. 

"Come on.." He led you back to The Chateau once collecting the Twinkie from the parking lot, his hand on your knee as confirmation of his care before you arrived. 

"You don't have to say anything else but one thing…are you alright?" You were taken into his eyes. Such care and compassion. 

"Please, I won't push for anything else, I just have to know-"

"I'm fine…"

"Who did this to you? Just…was it Top?"

"John B, you said-"

"I can't, okay…I thought I could but I have to know..I have to know you're okay…I feel like a dick for what I said and how I reacted and I just…"

"Can you just…not leave me alone…for right now, I just don't want to be alone." He compromised in understanding this was the sacrifice he needed to make to keep you here. And for that, he followed you into his bed and wrapped his arms softly around you until that acted as the only promise of safety and comfort you needed before finally managing to sleep. 

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MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

[racointeur1]

WELL      ,        THIS       WASN’T      SUPPOSED     TO      FUCKING     HAPPEN     .        it’s     not     the    first     time     you’ve     shared     the     hammock     with     william    .       in     fact    ,       you    had     told     him     it    was     any     honorary     losers     thing     &      simply     an     honor     to     share      it     with     you      since      he     had     moved      here    .        to      which     the     others     had     rolled     their    eyes    over     &      told     him     that     you    just    like     to    hog      it     .         so     what     if      you     do    !        ben     built     the     whole     damn      thing      without     many     options     for    comfortable     seating     and     what      kind    of     psycho     would     choose     pillows    on     a     dirt      floor      over      relaxing     in     a      poorly      put     together     hammock     ?        there’s     an     obvious     fucking     choice     here     !           (         .     .     .      and    if     your     choice     happens    to    fucking     be     the    cause    of    you    sharing    with     william    ,       and    even     anticipating     sharing     it     with     william    ,       that’s     your     fucking     business    !      )

this     started      out      normal      enough     .        just     two     boys     in     a    cozy     hammock      with       unread      comic     books     between      them     .        nothing     weird     about     it     .       the     rest     of     the     losers     hadn’t     made     it     yet     ,       and     having     this     space      between     the     two    of      you      made     you     feel     nervous    &      content     all     at     once     .         nervous     because      every     single     time     you    catch     william’s     eyes     &     see    the     way     his    face     lights     up     and     laughter    leaves     him     from      the    jokes     you     make,      you     feel     an      emotion     so     strong     in     your     chest      it     feels    like    it    might     burst     right     outta     there    .     one      joke      turns     into     another     &      another      with      playful     jabs    of    his     foot    into     your    side    telling     you     to     stop      or    soft    gasps    of    your    name    as    if     he    can’t    possibly     believe     you’d    say     that     ,       and      you     have     a     realization      that     his    laugh    in    the    best     sound     you’ve    ever    heard    .       sweeter    than    any    piece    of    candy     your    dad’s    scolded    you    for    eating     too    much    of    five    times    over     &      intoxicating     enough     to     make     you     want    more    of     it    .

so     ,      essentially     ,        IF      you     were     pointing     fingers     on     how     you     ended    up     with     your    back     against     the     cold      dirt      of     the     clubhouse     with     the     weight     of     will     on      top     of      you    ,        realistically     all      fingers     would     point    to     you     !       but      really    ,       @wizardslays     isn’t      innocent     here     either     !         his    laugh     &     the    desire    for    more    of    it    had     prompted    you    to    sit    up     and     start     pinching    his     cheeks    ,       taunting     him     for     being     as     cute    as    a     button      &         his     squirming     had      been     the     one      domino     to    send     them     all      toppling     over     .        “     shit     ,      “       you     groan     out    ,      features      pinched     from     the     harsh     blow     taken    as     you    had    crashed     to     the     ground    &     served    as    a     pillow     to     lighten     will’s     fall    .       “      don’t     think     i’m     the     best      option     for     a     safety     net    ,      william    .      i’m     all     bones    .     “       eyes     flutter     open     as      you     huff    out    a    laugh   ,       reaching     your     hand    up    to     fix     your     glasses    ,      but     you    pause     .        

will’s     so     close     you     can     feel      his     breath     against     your    heated     flesh     &      suddenly    ,      all     air     is     caught     in     your      throat     &      hand    lingers     in     the     air     between     you    .        the      clubhouse      has     always     felt     suffocating     ,      it’s     fucking     underground!     ,       but      not     like      this     .        stomach     twists      into     an      uncomfortable     knot      &        there’s     a      fluttering    just     beneath     your     ribcage     ,       dark    gaze     dropping     to     the     curve     of      will’s     lips     &     then    back     to     his     hazel     eyes     .        this     seems     to     linger      forfuckingever     &      you     really     fucking     hope     you’re     not    stuck     in     some     limbo    ,       lingering     on      the     edge     of     everything     you      want     .        you     can     fucking     feel    the    way     your     body     wants     to     lean      into     him     ,      lift     your    head     what      little     distance     is     needed     &       finally     know     what    it     feels    like     to     kiss     someone     .          NOT     JUST     SOMEONE    ,        WILLIAM     BYERS      .       your      thoughts     are      running      fucking     faster     than      ever    ,         would      he     .    .    .

throat     clears      when      will       finally      moves      off     of      you      &      you     finally     take     hold     of     your     glasses      to     adjust      them     onto     your      face    ,      closing     your     eyes     for    a     moment     .        OF     FUCKING     COURSE     NOT    ,      IDIOT     .         palms    press      into      the      ground       to      push      yourself      to     sit     upright     ,       eyes     finding     william     with     ease    .        “      that     was     your     fault    ,     by     the     way    .    “

[ FALL  ] :  sender somehow ends up accidentally on top of receiver, their faces are close to each other but at the last minute sender pulls away.

[terriblecorpse]

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

what it’s like to snuggle him -/ 𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢, 𝐎𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐨, 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐚, 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐮

@b4bephomet it’s snuggles, I’m feeling the fluffiness, so I indulged myself

      𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢

—- It takes a while before you snuggle with him. From the start, Kakashi believes he will mess it up. So you take throwing yourself on him and latching on before he melts. You stop and he pulls you back. Now you’ve created is snuggle monster who is coming for those cuddles anytime you're not doing something.

—- Enjoys being small spoon or you laying on top of him, just want to feel safe underneath you. Or in your arms. It’s the best sleep that he gets. And he will always set his book aside to snuggle sleep with you. It’s how you get him into a sleeping schedule.

—- Kakashi will lazily whisper sweet comments and random ass questions. These questions will sometimes have you wondering if he is high or not. It starts the silliest debates and conversations.

—- Kakashi is cold nature, which means once he gets comfortable this touched starved and cold man is draping himself over you. Beware of his cold feet at night. Kakashi will put them on you.

—- A whine many for kisses. He loves forehead kisses and turns incredibly red, no matter how much time passes. And there are certain spots on his neck that are ticklish, so if you kiss them softly enough, he will wiggle.

     𝐎𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐨

—- Feral touch starved man! Be beware! Obito bites, kind of hard sometimes. And always when you least expect it, he likes the sound you make when he gets you off guard.

—- Big spoon and will only occasionally little spoon. And he will playfully mock you the whole time as you try to wrap yourself around his 6 foot bulky frame.

—- Obito helps himself to just arranging you into whatever cuddle position. Sometimes he will fixate on one for a little while before switching between the various ways to snuggle.

—- Demands snuggle, especially after a fight. He won’t let it go until it happens. You need to snuggle him better. It’s the only way he will heal. And no, he isn’t being dramatic. He will play it up even more than his Toby persona in front of others.

    𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐚

—- Not a snuggler. At first, because he gets offended by you snuggling into a pillow. Why, maybe it’s because Madara actually wanted the snuggles from the beginning but was holding up a tough guy act. Which you know he is strong, wanting to snuggle up to your boo and have some skin to skin doesn’t make you weak. After he sees this, he becomes a snuggler.

—- Picks you up and takes you away from various tasks depending on how important your task is you for snuggles. You already know when you're being princess cradled out of nowhere he needs snuggles.

—- Why does Madara need the snuggles so badly? Well, because you are his peace and his sole reason for not kicking some teeth down some throats. So it’s snuggle time, or it’s going to be ass kicking time.

—- Play with Madara’s hair! It’s a given that he loves your fingers in his hair. Which he started brushing, so it’s not so tangled all the time. If you really want to do this man in, then massage his scalp and he isn’t leaving until you stop.

    𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐮

—- Snuggling and cloud watching/star gazing is the main thing you do with Shikamaru on days/night that allows it. And if you talk a lot, he will call you bothersome, but he doesn’t mean it. Since if he didn’t enjoy your rambling, he wouldn’t have you there. Which he will let you know if you get upset at him calling you bothersome.

—- If it’s raining outside, then it’s the porch and hammock under the roof to listen to the rainfall. He likes it if you swing the hammock a little with your foot. But is too lazy to do the same so he won’t object if you just don’t want to.

—- Hands on for snuggles, sometimes this means up your shirt and not to be a pervert kind of. But he just like how soft your skin feels. This leads to him rubbing circles into your side or back. And if he can touch your thighs he grabs those, it doesn’t matter the size of your thighs, it’s his now.

—- Shikamaru will fall asleep during the snuggles so you’ll just have to wake him up. He will be slightly grumpy, but he really doesn’t mind. What he does mind is you thinking you can get out of the snuggles just because he fell asleep. He also doesn’t smoke during the snuggles unless you're comfortable with it.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 / 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 / MDI 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

[mackenzielovee]

princess - rafe cameron

a/n: this was a request from @gpiggy98 I hope I did your idea justice! please let me know if you enjoy!

Summary: You've got a crush on Rafe Cameron, but being from two different sides of the island, you know you have to keep it in.

Warnings: swearing, kissing, mentions of buying/consuming drugs

my writing

The Cut is your side of the island. It belongs to the Pogues. You and your friends don't like seeing any of the Kooks on your side of the island for any reason - which is why you can never understand the feeling that happens in your chest when you pull up to Barry's and see Rafe Cameron's bike sitting out front.

You buy weed from Barry for you and your friends - mainly JJ. He smokes a lot. And JJ always sends you to get more from Barry because you push your boobs up before you go in and wind up walking out with more weed for less money. Barry's a classic man, easy to manipulate with your body.

You walk up to the porch of Barry's place, seeing he and Rafe standing there, talking. You walk up and open the door, watching as the two of them turn around to look at you. Barry smiles, but you're too focused on Rafe's smirk when he sees you.

"Hey, boys," you greet.

"Afternoon, girly," Barry's still smiling at you, staring at the low cut top you have on.

"Hey, princess," Rafe teases you.

"Don't call me princess," you tell him, purposely using your pointer finger to tap on his chest. He smirks wider as you touch him.

"Sorry," he says, "Sweetheart."

You glare, but Barry starts talking before you can shoot back a response.

"Here for your usual?"

You nod, letting out a small 'yeah', watching Barry slip off into the trailer to get your shit.

"You still smoking Barry's shitty ass weed?" Rafe asks you, taking a seat and keeping his eyes on you.

"It's not shitty ass weed," you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Hmm," Rafe hums, "You sure do buy a lot of weed for one girl."

You look over at him and grin, "How come you're paying attention to my orders?"

Rafe shakes his head, breaking eye contact with you for the first time to glance at the floor. You caught him.

"It's not all for me," you continue, "It's for my friends."

"Ah," Rafe looks up again, "JJ Maybank, right? Something going on between the two of you?"

You make a disgusted face at him, immediately answering his question, "Hell no. He's my best friend."

"You can fuck your friends," Rafe grins.

You roll your eyes, "You can fuck anyone."

Rafe stands now, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as he steps over to you.

"Yeah?" he asks, his voice raspy.

"Oh hell no," Barry says from the doorway, "You two gotta get a room for that shit."

You and Rafe both are staring, not being able to get enough of one another. He breaks away first, sitting down on the couch again.

Barry steps over to you and hands you your shit, then mumbles out a number to you. You hand him the cash, then say thank you quickly.

"Well, I would've charged you less if it was me you were flirtin' with," Barry tells you, smirking.

"Maybe next time," you pat him on the shoulder.

"Go smoke that shitty ass weed, sweetheart," Rafe teases you, "We'll see you here in a few days."

You turn to him, laughing lightly at his comment. He smiles, happy he made you laugh.

"Count on it, Cameron. Thanks, Barry," you nod to him, then turn around and walk toward the door.

"And, hey," Rafe calls after you, you don't turn around, "If you're ever looking for something stronger, my door's always open. Princess."

He adds the last part just to get a reaction out of you, so you don't give him one. You bite your lip to hide a smile, then walk out without even glancing at him. You hear Barry say something to Rafe once you're off the porch, but you can't make it out.

You make it back to John B's  house quickly with the weed, tossing it to JJ to start rolling up.

"Yo, thank God," JJ smiles when it falls into his lap, "How much?"

"Twenty," you reply, "I even pushed my boobs up, too."

JJ snickers, "Damn, that usually works."

Kie rolls her eyes, unable to understand why you allow JJ to use you to get drugs for him because of your body. John B comes out onto the porch, greeting you.

"Pope, you gonna smoke with us, brother?" JJ teases him, knowing Pope doesn't smoke.

"Keeping the signal clear, JJ," Pope replies, keeping his nose in his book out on the hammock.

"Rafe was there," you tell them, trying to keep your expression emotionless, so as not to give away your little crush on him.

"Asshole," JJ mutters under his breath.

Your eyes shoot up and look at the blonde boy, who's too busy focusing on rolling a joint to notice. You shrug, gaining the attention of Kiara.

"He's not that bad," you say.

"Did he say anything to you?" Kie asks, her voice sounding like she's ready to kick Rafe's ass if he had done anything bad.

"He told me Barry sells shitty weed," you mumble.

You almost regret bringing it up, always forgetting that your friends hate him so much. Every run in with the Kooks has mostly involved Topper - like the night Topper and John B fought at the beach. Rafe wasn't even involved.

"What the fuck would Rafe Cameron know about weed?" JJ snickers, "And why is he even chilling with Barry?"

"I think he does some harder shit," you speak up, ignoring Kiara's lingering stare, "That's the impression I got, anyway."

Kiara's glare turns into a smirk as you look down at your lap again, fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

"You sure do know a lot about him," Kiara says, her smirk only widening when your cheeks turn pink.

You just shrug, not really knowing what to say to defend yourself. Kie lets it go, thankfully, you just sit back and wait for JJ to deliver you a blunt. When he finally hands it to you, you hope and pray that you can smoke away a crush.

You spent the night at John B's and then hung out in the morning, taking off for your house later on in the afternoon. John B offered to drive you, but you told him it was fine. You could tell he wanted to go out on the boat with JJ, anyway.

The walk turns brutal quickly. It's humid as hell and you can feel sweat greasing your forehead only a few steps in. It's not too far of a walk, you keep telling yourself.

The sound of a car coming behind you doesn't even phase you at first. You just keep going, reaching up to wipe sweat from your neck. As you hear it get closer to you, you spin around and glance, noticing the truck. And the boy in the driver's seat.

"Hey, princess," Rafe smirks as he rolls the window down, "Need a ride?"

You stop and take a deep breath, taking in the sight of him and realizing your crush is not going away any time soon.

"Is it that obvious?" you reply, wiping sweat from your forehead.

Rafe smirks, "Get in."

You sigh and nod, then walk around the front of the truck to hop in the passenger side. You see the grin on Rafe's face and shake your head, wondering what the hell he's thinking.

"What are you even doing on our side of the island?" you ask him once you're inside.

"Heading to Barry's," he replies.

He tears his eyes away from you and puts the truck in drive, intentionally reaching out and setting his hand on the headrest of your seat. You notice him move out of the corner of your eye, but you don't mention it to him.

"You're there a lot," you state, then silently curse yourself for making such an obvious observation.

"He gives me drugs a lot," Rafe laughs, but it sounds more sarcastic to you than funny.

Silence falls over the car, as you don't really know what to say in response. You can tell Rafe feels uncomfortable with it because he starts shifting in his seat.

"So," Rafe starts up again, "Are you going to the movie thing tomorrow night?"

You steal a glance at him, and he steals one at you, so you both look away. Rafe tries to hold in a smile, and so do you.

"Yeah," you reply, "All of us are. Take a left up here."

Rafe nods his head, glancing over at you again, "All of us?"

"Yeah, all of us," you repeat, finally gaining the courage to look at him again. You smirk, knowing he wants to know who that entails, but aren't telling him. He grins at you and shakes his head.

"Maybank? John B? That nerdy kid?"

"His name is Pope," you correct, laughing when Rafe rolls his eyes.

"Okay, whatever. But you're going?" he questions.

"Yes," you reply, smiling at him when he looks over at you.

"Maybe I'll see you there," he's teasing you now, and you know it.

You don't answer him, which you know will drive him crazy, you just look back out onto the road and then point.

"Take a right up there, and then it's the third house on the left."

Rafe nods and obeys your instructions, not saying anything else about movie night. When he pulls up in front of your driveway, he shuts the truck off completely.

"You know," he starts, "You could come to Barry's with me. Hang out. Try some better shit than that fucking weed."

You laugh and shake your head as you reach over and hit him on the shoulder. He takes a risk and reaches up as you do this, grabbing your hand and taking it in his.

"I mean it," he says, his voice more serious than it was before.

You stare at him, at his eyes, and your face drops from the laughter. You can feel his skin on yours, and you'd be lying if you said you hated it.

"I can't," you say finally, "I haven't been home in, like, two days."

He looks at you, confused, then his eyes drop and he releases your hand.

"You've been with them," he figures out, "Which one are you with, then, if not Maybank?"

You look at him like he's crazy, but he refuses to look up at you again. He's just staring at the spot on the seat of the truck that has a stain on it.

"I'm not with any of them," you tell him.

You watch his eyes slowly glance up to look at you, trying to figure out if you are serious or not.

"But you're sleeping there?"

"On the couch," you tell him, then add, "Alone."

He nods his head, still not entirely convinced. You're not sure why you even feel the need to explain yourself to him, because you know it's none of his business. But, for some reason, you just really care about what he thinks.

"Have you ever done anything with any of them? he asks, his voice quiet.

"No," you say, your voice strong, "And I wouldn't, either."

"Okay."

You aren't sure what to say or do, so you just reach out and grab the door handle to get out of the truck.

"Thank you for the ride," you tell him.

"Anytime," he gives you a small smile.

You pull open the door and hop out, then look up to him again before you close the door.

"So, see you tomorrow night?" you ask.

Rafe breaks out into a grin after that. Of course, his smile makes you smile.

"Absolutely, princess," he's laughing now.

You roll your eyes and flip him off, then shut the door and start up the driveway. You know he's watching you, so you don't turn around. Just to drive him crazy.

The next night at movie night, you can't help but continue to glance around and see if Rafe has arrived yet. Pope and JJ have been acting strange ever since you all arrived, and to make it worse, John B had bailed on coming.

"Okay, what is with the two of you?" Kiara asks Pope and JJ as they keep looking over their shoulder.

"Nothing, Kie, Jesus," JJ mutters.

"Really? Because it seems like you fucked up," she snaps back. She knows better than to believe JJ when he says nothing is wrong.

"Kiara, please," Pope says, a fearful look in his eye. Kie just rolls her eyes in response, telling herself that what she doesn't know can't hurt her.

"I'm going to get something to drink," you stand, "Anyone else?"

"Coke, please," Kiara says, holding up cash in the air for you to grab.

"Boys?" you ask, but they're too busy whispering to each other, so you walk away.

The second you get a place in line, you see him. He's with Topper and Kelce, of course, but you can't help raking your eyes over him. He looks so good to you, and you're not used to that. He glances over and sees you just a second later, catching you red handed. He says something to the boys and then starts walking toward you, immediately making your stomach flip.

"Hey," he says once he gets to you, "What's up?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool, "I'm on drink duty."

Rafe smiles, and you watch as he then glances over at your friends.

"Hey, uh, JJ and... um," he trails off.

"Pope," you remind him, watching as he snaps his fingers once you tell him.

"Pope, yes, um, JJ and Pope didn't happen to mention anything to you about what they did, did they?" he asks, staring at you for any sign of deception.

"What are you talking about?" you say, staring right back.

Rafe quickly shakes his head and changes his expression, "Nothing. Just curious."

"What-" you start, but Topper comes up behind Rafe and interrupts.

"Excuse me," Topper grins, and you can tell without even smelling him that he's been drinking, "Do you mind if I borrow him? Dude, super hot girls, ten o'clock."

You look down at the ground, breaking your stare with Rafe. You don't hear Rafe say anything, but after a second, Topper pulls him away.

"What are you doing, talking up a Pogue?" you hear Topper ask him as they walk off.

You can't help but feel slightly hurt that after all of the daydreaming you did about seeing Rafe here, that that was all you were going to get. You know Topper is an asshole, but you never imagined Rafe would be, too.

You get the drinks and popcorn for yourself, the return back over to the boys, but before you can even sit, JJ grabs your arm and pulls you down.

"Why were you talking to Rafe?" he asks you, his voice urgent.

"He was asking me if I'd heard from Barry," you lie quickly, "Why?"

You want to know what the hell is going on, but you want the truth from the boys.

"No reason," Pope says, waving you off.

You send a glance to Kiara, silently telling her that something is going on. You know it must be bad if the two of them are keeping secrets from you and Kie.

"Liars," you mutter, but they're too wrapped up in themselves to hear.

You go and sit by Kie, not even noticing that Rafe and his friends have chosen to sit directly behind you guys. You feel something hit your back, and when you turn, Rafe is smirking widely at you. Popcorn lies in the grass just behind you. You glance at Topper and notice that he and Kelce are both turned around talking to girls, which is probably the only reason Rafe is trying to get your attention.

You know you can't speak, because his friends and yours will all hear. So, instead, you take some of your popcorn and throw it back, careful that Kiara is still staring at her phone. Rafe laughs and moves to the side, avoiding your throw. He throws one pieces at you, and while you're busy ducking from that one, he tosses another one. It hits you, making him laugh loudly.

Of course, that attracts attention. You hear Pope gasp beside you, and then he and JJ frantically whispering to one another. Topper turns around, too, eyeing you. He punches Rafe in the arm and mutters something, but you can't hear it. When Topper goes back to the girls, Rafe rolls his eyes and shrugs at you.

Before you can silently respond, Kiara turns and looks to you, which makes you face forward to avoid suspicion.

Once the movie begins, you relax. You finally have something to focus on other than the fact that Rafe is six feet away from you. Throughout the movie, you can feel pieces of popcorn hit your back every so often, and occasionally, you pretend to glance over your shoulder and fire one back. With all of the eyes looking around the two of you, you know you have to be careful.

About halfway through the movie, JJ and Pope get up and start to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Kiara whispers to them.

JJ turns around, "We gotta piss."

Kiara looks at you and makes a face, wondering if you found it as weird as she did.

"Are you gonna hold it for each other?" she hisses.

"Shut up, Kie," JJ replies, rolling his eyes.

You shrug at her, turning your attention back to the movie. It dawns on you that you haven't felt anything hit you in a minute, so you glance slightly behind you to see what's going on. You half spin turns into a whole spin around when you notice that Rafe and the boys aren't sitting there anymore. You turn to Kie and point, silently asking her what the hell is going on.

"Something's definitely wrong," you say to her.

You both stand up and head off into the direction the boys went, which is behind the screen of the movie. The tree they had gone to has nobody near it, so you start looking around. That's when you hear it.

"Topper, get off of him!"

"Over here," Kie grabs your arm and pulls you, heading in the direction that the voice came from.

Once you both get behind the screen, you see the boys. They're punching and yelling like crazy, and while you know you should be worried about JJ and Pope, all you can look for is Rafe. Pope and Rafe are going at it, but all you can see is Pope hitting Rafe, not the other way around. Kiara jumps in and goes to help JJ, so you run to Pope.

"Y/N!" Pope yells out to you, his voice relieved.

"Get off of him, Pope!" you yell, grabbing ahold of his shirt and yanking him away.

Pope stares at you, confusion and betrayal written all over his face. Rafe backs up, wiping blood from his lip and nose. A fire erupts on the movie screen, making the other boys stop and let go of JJ.

"What the fuck!" Pope screams at you, "Why are you protecting him?"

Topper rushes over and grabs ahold of Rafe, Kelce not far behind.

"Let's get out of here, man," Topper tells him, but Rafe holds back.

"I'm sorry," you say to Pope, but it seems to fall on deaf ears. JJ steps over beside Pope, bloody and beaten.

"Why did you do that?" Pope presses. You look around at your friends, not even bothering to look at Rafe.

"Pope-"

"No fucking bullshit, Y/N. Why the fuck would you pull me off of him?"

"Because I care about him, all right?" you shout, blowing up without even meaning to, "I'm falling for him and I fucked up, Pope."

Kie joins the boys, and you watch as they all stare at you like a complete stranger. You hear Topper crack up behind you, but the tears are already stinging your eyes at this point. You're sure Rafe and the boys will run off and laugh about this whole thing.

So, instead, you decide to take off first. You turn away from your friends and look to Rafe only for a second before you run away from all of them.

"Aww," you hear Topper snicker.

You make it far quickly, not stopping for anything. The tears are really falling now, and there's nothing you can do to stop them. You just want to get back to your house, fall asleep, and never think about this night again. You curse yourself for being so stupid in the first place. Someone like Rafe Cameron could never have feelings for you.

"Y/N!" you hear, but you don't stop until you hear it again.

You turn around and wipe your cheeks and eyes out, not knowing what to think when you see Rafe rushing toward you. You swallow, scared he's going to make fun of you.

"Hey," he says once he reaches you, "You run pretty fast."

"Well, tell Topper it comes with being a Pogue," you snap, embarrassed that your voice comes out nasally because of the crying.

"Hey, now," Rafe reaches out and grabs onto your arms, which confuses you. After what you just admitted, how could he want to touch you?

"Rafe-" you start, but he shakes his head.

"Don't you dare apologize," he says, his voice soft, "I haven't even told you how I feel yet."

Your eyes grow wide as he speaks, but you're sure he'll just tell you that you two are better off friends. How could he not?

"You don't have to say anything," you say, sounding ashamed. The last thing you want is to have the pity conversation with him.

"Yes, I do," he says, bringing one hand up to your face to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, "I feel the same way. Honest. I never, ever stop thinking about you-"

"If you're lying-" you start, but he hushes you.

"I'm not, all right? Why do you think I hang out at Barry's so much? It's because I never know when you're coming around, and the last thing I wanna do is miss you when you do. Believe me, Barry's not that cool to hang with."

You laugh, and it somehow seems to make all the tension in the air go away. Rafe grins at you and pulls you in by the back of your neck for a hug, allowing him to breathe in your scent.

"I think we should give it a shot," he states, speaking softly against your head. You can feel his lips moving against your scalp, and it oddly relaxes you.

"Really?" you ask, practically melting Rafe's heart.

"Absolutely, princess," he smirks, giving you a short kiss on the top of your head.

You look up at him and he looks down at you, and before either of you know it, he's shoving you back against a tree with his lips on yours. Everything about him seems to intoxicate you - better than any shitty ass weed Barry can provide. Rafe's lips against yours make you feel like you're on the best high of your life.

After a few minutes, Rafe breaks the kiss and stares down at you, observing your pink lips.

"You with me?" he asks you, catching his breath.

"Hell yes," you reply, letting your lips fall in the same spot as they sat before.

With him.

[thisisarcanereverie]

Something ‘Bout You (Biker Natasha x Reader) Chapter 1

A/N: Hey this is a new series! I’ve been meaning to write something for her for a while now so here ya go enjoy! 

MAIN MASTERLIST

MCU MASTERLIST

NATASHA ROMANOFF MASTERLIST

REQUESTS ARE FREE AND ENCOURAGED 

SUMMARY: After Wanda announces her engagement a familiar face returns into your life. 

“(Y/n)!”

You heard the familiar chime of the doorbell and the familiar excited voice of your friend fill the relatively empty store. You whipped your head to her just in time to see her barrelling toward you and captured you in a bone crushing hug. 

“Whoa there Wands,” You said as you returned the hug, “did something happen or are you just that happy to see me?” 

Wanda quickly released you from her vice grip, “oh nothing much happened,” Wanda paused before holding up her left hand, “except this.” On her left hand on her ring finger sat a beautiful vintage ring. 

“Oh my god!” You exclaim smiling as you grab her hand to get a closer look at the ring, it was simple in design but it really suited Wanda. ‘When did this happen?!” 

“Last night,” Wanda reveals happily her smile never deterring, “Vis and I were watching reruns of the Dick Van Dyke Show, I told him how Mary’s ring was beautiful and next thing I know he asks ‘is it as beautiful as this ring’ next thing I know he’s down on one knee with the ring in his hand asking me to marry him.” 

“I’m so happy for you and Vis.” You congrat Wanda as you and her continue to talk about her engagement for a few more minutes. 

“Actually Vis and I were planning on going to the city tonight to celebrate, are you busy?” Wanda asks. You take a quick look at your calendar finding nothing but closing the store on the agenda for tonight. 

“Nope,” You respond, “just have to close the store.” 

“Close early and Vis and I will pick you up,” Wanda said, “We’re bringing Pietro, Steve, Bucky, and Monica with us.” 

You hesitate for a bit, but you take one look into Wanda’s pleading eyes, the same eyes that have gotten you into more than your fair share of trouble since highschool, next thing you know you’re nodding your head in agreement.

Wanda lets out a small squeal before enveloping you once again in a small hug before saying goodbye and that Pietro will pick you up by seven. 

As you continue about your day, stacking books and working the register you start to wonder when the last time you actually had a date was. 

During the slow rush you decide to check your calendar again. You flip through each page until finally you land three months prior where you had plans to meet up with the local coffee barista at some bar you can’t remember the name of. What you do remember is that the date ended with you buying a half quart of ice cream and watching reruns of Gilmore Girls. 

You check the clock and check the store to find it empty. You decide now would probably be a good time to close and to start getting ready for the night in the city with Wanda and the rest. 

You turn the sign on the door to ‘closed’ and push all thoughts of dating to the back of your mind. 

---

You had just slipped your shoes on when you heard Pietro knock on your door in the familiar pattern he’s done since high-school. 

You answer the door to reveal Pietro. You always thought he had looked handsome in that mischievous way. But when he wears that white button up and slacks with his hair gelled back he is a special type of handsome. 

“Well damn don’t we look fancy tonight?” You say as Pietro noticeably checks you out in the same appreciation. You did a small turn in your black dress that fell just mid thigh. 

“And you don’t look too bad yourself Princeza,” Pietro said as he offered his arm in an overdramatic gentlemanly style. Which you responded in kind, laughing slightly as you made sure to lock the door behind you before finally heading out.  

---

You were back in your parents backyard, sitting in that hammock with a book in your hands. Nancy Drew had wormed her way into eleven year old you’s heart, with all of her adventures and detective skills. 

Just as you were about to reach the climax of the book you heard a familiar voice. 

“Whatcha reading today?” You look away from the book and spot a familiar blue haired girl the same age. She was the neighbor that moved in about three years ago, Natasha, who quickly became your best friend. 

“Nancy Drew,”

“Again?”

“There’s more than one Natty.” You responded, next thing you know the book is lifted from your hands and Natasha is hovering over you with the book in her hands. 

“Naaat.” You whine as you try to reach for the book only to have her expertly move it away from you. 

“C’mon,” Natasha says as she makes her way to the bushes separating your yard and hers, “adventure awaits.” 

You struggle a little as you make your way out of your hammock and through the lush bushes to Natasha who slips through the crack in between. 

“Nat,” you warn lightly. 

“I promise I’ll give you the book back,” Natasha promises, “but first we go on an adventure! Grab your bike and meet me out front!” 

“Where exactly is this adventure?” 

“Just grab your bike, chatty cathy!” 

You hear her footsteps rush over to her bike as you rush to yours. 

By the time you let your parents know you’ll be riding your bike and get to the front of your house Natasha is already waiting for you. 

Together you both rode your bikes until finally settling on a clearing near the local park. There was this big oak tree and in front of it a huge rock as well covered in green moss. 

For a while both you and Natasha played by either climbing on the rock and proclaiming yourselves rulers of the land, climbing the tree, playing pretend in the most kid way possible. 

However you would catch glimpses sometimes, you didn’t know what, but it made you worry for her. Like how sad she looked, or scared. 

Finally, after being worn out by playing you both lay on the grass beneath you and watch as the fireflies began to dance around the big oak looking like thousands of moving stars. 

You were enjoying the bit of peace and silence when you felt her hand hold yours. You look over and see the blue haired girl still staring at the millions of fireflies with a smile on her lips. 

“Thank you for being my best friend.” She said gently as you looked away from her and continued watching the fireflies dance, until the sun finally set and it was time to go home. 

She never did give that book back. 

---

“Princeza, we're here.” You hear the familiar accented voice say. You slowly open your groggy eyes to see the glittering lights of the city. 

“How long was I out?” 

“An hour.” 

“So the whole car ride,” You say, you could see Pietro nod from the driver's side, “I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” 

“I was asleep the whole car ride, you were probably bored.” 

“No, I wasn’t bored,” Pietro said, “I know you haven’t been sleeping much because of the store.” 

Here it comes. 

“You need to start working less Princeza,” Pietro continued concerned, “you spend all your waking hours at the store, tending to your books, and life is going to pass you by.” 

“Pietro-” 

“I don’t mean to be harsh or rude,” Pietro quickly added, “it’s just I see you all the time at the store and nowhere else lately. I get that the store is demanding, but just try to make some time for yourself. Promise me?” 

You look at him and can’t refuse. 

“I promise.” 

You can start relaxing tonight. 

---

You came to quickly realize that clubbing really wasn’t your thing. 

A pile of random sweaty bodies ground on each other on the dance floor to music that hurt your eardrums. 

It wasn’t that you were judging anyone for liking this atmosphere, it just wasn’t your cup of tea, you preferred to stay on the sidelines and watch your friends dance. 

And the full bar proved that you weren’t the only one. 

You had looked away for a second to order a beer when you spotted someone familiar. 

It was dark save for the flickering lights that illuminated her every once in a while. You couldn’t place where you knew her but you knew that you knew her. It was in the way she walked with a certain grace and her eyes were sharp enough to cut through you and you imagined her tongue was the same way. 

She must have noticed you staring because the next thing you know she’s staring right at you. Your eyes lock and that’s when it hits you. 

You didn’t recognize her without her blue hair. 

Natasha. 

You panic and turn back to the bar to order that beer you were going to order about five minutes ago. You mentally beat yourself up, if you didn’t look like a creep before you definitely did now. 

You were so busy mentally assaulting yourself that you didn’t notice the redhead sauntering her way to you and sit on the empty barstool next to you. 

“Well if it isn’t Nancy Drew.” 

You turn your head and see Natasha there beside you. Her hair was shoulder length and no longer blue. Now her hair was it’s natural elegant red color, her blue eyes sharper than you remember as well as her cheekbones. You noticed hints of tattoos peeking out from the collar and sleeve of her leather coat. 

“You never did return that book.” 

You both couldn’t help the laugh that erupted. Even though it’s been years somehow it almost feels like no time has passed. 

Almost. 

“So what’ve you been up to?” Natasha asked, “still into books?”

“Uh yeah,” You confirm, “I actually own a bookshop back home.” 

You see Natasha smile from ear to ear before taking a sip of what was your beer now it seems to be adopted by Natasha. 

“That’s so you,” Natasha said before taking another sip from the beer bottle. 

“Well what about you?” You ask, “what have you been up to?” 

You could see the hesitancy in Natasha’s face, just as she was about to answer, however you see a light brown haired male come up beside her. 

“Hey Nat, I hate to interrupt but we got a Budapest situation over here.” Natasha swerved her attention to where he pointed at the blonde who was obviously drunk off her ass putting a six foot tall man into a choke hold. Which you had to admire and be impressed at. 

“I guess that’s my cue Nancy Drew,” Natasha said as she took one last sip from the beer bottle before abandoning it. As she was making her way through the crowd but before she got too far you saw her turn around. 

“What was the name of your bookstore again, Nancy Drew?!” She yelled over the crowd. 

“Oh-um- Summertime Stories!” You call out, you catch a glimpse of something in her eyes before it disappears. 

“I’ll see ya soon Nancy Drew!”  

Oh how right she was.

[isamiral-soulwolf]

IsaMira Week Day 4: Picnic

I’m not late, everyone else is just early.

Also putting this under a read more for a brief mention of underage boobage, I don’t think it’s too big of a deal but better safe than sorry.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In truth, their little get togethers in Isabela’s room after Casita was rebuilt hadn’t been called picnics, at first. It had been more of a mix of ‘I want to make up for being so awful to you for years’ on Isabela’s side and ‘I’m sorry I didn’t notice trying to be perfect was actually really stressful’ on Mirabel’s side, a way of getting some alone time together and working to rebuild their strained bond.

Calling them picnics had started a bit in, when it turned out that every once in awhile it wasn’t just them relaxing together in Isabela’s room with some snacks and drinks. Sometimes Dolores came in because she needed somewhere relatively quiet to unwind for a few hours; sometimes Luisa would creep in with a sheepish smile and a small pile of books, and after a few visits Isabela had put up a hammock so her sister could fully relax while she was reading. Sometimes Camilo and Bruno would come rushing in with their latest plotline for the rat telenovas, or Antonio would want to show his animals Isabela’s new flowers. Sometimes Pepa would come in and just sit in a drizzle, eyes closed, while Isabela’s plants drank up the extra water. Sometimes Julieta snuck in with extra snacks, a mischievous smile curving her lips. And sometimes—rarely, but still, she did try—Alma would come in, asking Isabela about her new flowers, Mirabel about her projects.

So, they called them picnics. It seemed easy enough, it technically counted, and it was less of a mouthful than how either of them thought about it. And hey, Isabela would never say no to more time with any member of her family, even if this had all started because she and Mirabel were trying to repair their bond; that feeling extended to all of them, and she was happy to see that with some time and effort it seemed to be working, slowly but surely.

Today, though, it was just the two of them in Isabela’s room for once. Isabela would gladly take it. She’d have second thoughts about that shortly, but that was a problem for future Isabela to worry about. Present Isabela was currently enjoying the fact that she was in her room and her sister was sprawled out beside her, absently playing with strands of grass.

After a moment, Mirabel sat up. “Hey, Isabela?”

“Hm?”

“You know, I always wondered something. Your new room is nice.”

Isabela smiled slightly, looking around; her room now in Casita was more akin to an indoor jungle, and she loved every bit of it. She loved the flowers, she loved the trees, she even loved the weird little… lake thing that for some reason had been in the room when she’d opened the door again. It was completely different from her old room, and she loved every bit of it. “Yeah.”

Mirabel grinned, pulling her knees up to her chest and glancing at her. “Have you tried swimming in that new pool you have?”

Isabela blinked, looking over at the pool in question. She frowned slightly, looking back at Mirabel. “Uh, no?”

“Really? Not even once?”

“No! Why would I do that?”

“Oh, come on!” Mirabel gestured to the pool, the water completely calm. “Look at it! It’s clean water and it’s just there! You didn’t think about it?”

Isabela looked back to the pool again, shrugging helplessly. “No? It’s just… there. I haven’t thought about it at all.”

“Well.” Mirabel got to her feet with renewed purpose. “I have. And since you haven’t gone for a swim in it yet, which just seems like a waste…”

Isabela only realized what was happening about a second before Mirabel’s hands went down to grip the edges of her shirt and she hissed out a breath, quickly turning around. “Mirabel!”

“What?” Her sister actually laughed. “You’ve seen me naked before, Isa.”

“We were kids.”

“Just look away until I get into the water, then.”

Isabela did just that, taking deep, measured breaths as she listened to—God help her, she could hear clothes rustling, what the hell. Her eyes fell on the snacks she and Mirabel hadn’t touched yet during their picnic, but she suddenly wasn’t feeling particularly hungry with the heat rushing into her stomach. She pressed a hand to her eyes and blew out a breath to try and clear her head.

It didn’t help.

Dammit.

“I’m done,” Mirabel called behind her, sounding far too smug for her liking. Isabela sighed, closed her eyes for a moment to count to ten, then turned around under the belief that she was completely and totally composed.

Her eyes landed on Mirabel, casually reclining back in the small pool, and the sound that escaped her throat was closer to a rusty wheel in the village than any noise a human would make.

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t even a lot of skin, the water partially covered her sister’s breasts, but it was still somehow too much skin—

Hell. She was going to hell. Isabela was about to die on the spot and go straight to hell.

Mirabel had closed her eyes as she sank into the water, but at the noise Isabela made one eye cracked open to survey her; she had the nerve to smile, of all the emotions she could have shown on her face. “Everything okay?” she asked, her voice all innocence.

Isabela wanted to strangle her. “Fine.”

“Okay. You should come in, the water’s nice.”

As if on cue, Isabela’s eyes shot to the edges of the water lapping along Mirabel’s chest. She sucked in a shaky breath and averted her eyes, willing away the blush she was feeling gather in her cheeks.

“That,” she said, and if her voice cracked a little bit, she could only pray Mirabel didn’t notice, “doesn’t sound like such a bad idea, actually.”

[christ0pher-evans]

Shattered Heart

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Warnings: Angst / Cheating / Mentions of Sex  Word Count: 1.9k 

A/N: I never usually write RPF angst fics, only fluff or smut, but I was drowning in many of my drafted smutty stories (not a bad thing) and I felt like I needed to clear my head with something different. I had this idea and Chris was the best fit. If you don’t feel comfortable reading RPF then please don’t! Based on ‘I love you’ by Billie Eilish. Please reblog and like🖤

 ♡

PRESENT DAY Laying in bed, wrapped tightly in Chris’ arms and listening to his soft snores over your shoulder was your confirmation that it was the weekend. Any other day you would be waking up alone, Chris already long gone and busy working. You shifted carefully before sliding out of his gentle grip, putting on your oversized jumper which was discarded on the floor from last night. 

Once you were downstairs and waiting for the pot of coffee to finish, your gaze lingered on the big garden to your home; the hammock that held a blanket from summer evening cuddles, Dodger’s toys flung carelessly from energetic play dates and the makeshift bar that you had built together for the parties you always hosted. All things that highlight the life that you and Chris had started together seven years ago. Smiling to yourself and caught in your memories, you didn’t even hear Chris coming down the stairs. You only realised his presence across the kitchen once you turned around. Taking him in quickly, you noticed a look of anguish fixed on his face. 

“It’s not true, tell me I’ve been lied to”

“Babe, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Upon trying to approach him, to check he was alright, he hastily stepped away as if he was frightened from your touch. Looking away from you, he stayed silent. 

“Chris?”

Now, you were airing on the edge of nervous, genuinely worried something bad had happened but something was also telling you to stay put, to not move closer to him. You kept your distance, leaning against the breakfast bar for support against the unknown. 

“Y/N, I… I have to tell you something.” 

Sick rushed to your throat at the tone of his voice; coarse and frightened. You stayed quiet, too scared to ask him to continue. 

“Last night..” he took a deep breath, “last night, at the work dinner, before I came home; I kissed someone else.” 

Chris took another deep breath before he looked up. You were already looking at him, tears building in your eyes. Gripping the edge of the counter, you bit your lip and took a shaky breath, too afraid to do anything else incase you collapsed from the utter heartbreak washing over you. 

“Y/N, please say something.”

The sound of Chris speaking startled you, suddenly conscious of how long you’d been frozen, practically in suspended animation. Your ethereal bubble of love and adoration abruptly shattered, even the sound of his voice was making you shudder. 

Deep down, you were burning with rage, but your voice only came out as a whisper, “Tell me it’s not true, tell me you’re lying.”

You pleaded, praying and begging that this was some horrible practical joke that he wanted to play on you. 

“I - I’m not lying..”

“So, just to be clear, you went to a work dinner when you knew that I would be spending the fifth night in a row, in our home, eating alone-?” 

Chris went to interrupt but you weren’t finished. You were determined to get your point across before you crumbled. 

“-You went out and kissed someone that wasn’t me and then came home to me, sat and had wine with me and then made love to me but didn’t have the respect for me to tell me the truth the second you walked in the door last night?!” Staring at Chris, you felt the first tears drop onto your flushed cheeks. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh but when everything was fracturing around you, your emotions were the last thing you were trying to control. 

“Up all night on another red eye, I wish we never learned to fly” 

THREE YEARS AGO “Chris, I thought you said you were going to be home this week? It’s our four year anniversary!” You sighed into your wine as you sat eating dinner with him one Sunday evening. 

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry but they want to squeeze in a week of location shooting, it was a last minute decision.” 

You flicked the contents of your dinner round your plate, sad at the thought of another week at home alone. As an editor for a fashion magazine, you could do a lot of work from your home office therefore you’d already told your boss that you were working at home all week to spend time with Chris. In these situations you were so grateful to have an understanding and flexible job but frustrated to have such an in-demand and famous boyfriend. Sitting in silence with Chris, you couldn’t help but feel like this was another nail in the proverbial coffin that was your relationship. 

“Come with me!” Chris blurted out nervously. “You were working from home this week anyway, why not just work from London?” 

Your heart felt warm suddenly. The idea of spending a week in London with Chris was exciting and the sense of feeling wanted squashed your previous anxiety. 

“Of course I’ll come with you, if you want me there?” 

Chris leaned forward, reaching out and pulling your face to his, lips gently brushing against yours as he whispered, “There is nowhere that I could be in this world where I wouldn’t want you by my side, ever.” With that, he caught your lips in a bruising kiss. 

SIX MONTHS AGO “Chris..” you sigh, holding your phone away from your ear so he doesn’t hear the sob that escapes your lips. “I just don’t think that flying me halfway across the country will fix these problems!” 

You were exhausted with fighting a losing battle. You played with the loose tendrils of hair that had fallen around your face, waiting for his reply, wondering if he understood your hidden rejection of his offer. 

“Y/N, you can’t tell me that you want to see me and sort our problems out in person but moan when I offer a perfectly valid solution! I know I’m away a lot at the moment, but your job is so flexible, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t just come with me in the first place!” 

You involuntarily groan, irked by what Chris had thought was a perfectly acceptable compromise. He had missed the point completely. Flying from state to state, hell even country to country for the past six months just to get an iota of time with your husband was taxing, it was also forcing you to surrender your own life to follow his. All you wanted was for Chris to understand the sacrifice you’d been making. 

“Okay Chris, I’ll book my flights now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You sighed, disconnecting the phone call and slamming your phone on the sofa in frustration. 

Reflecting back on the past few years, you felt ashamed at your naivety with Chris. You had taken everything with a pinch of salt because you could only imagine how difficult it was for Chris to uphold a relationship, let alone a marriage, with his career, so you were happy to make a small sacrifice if it resulted in spending time with Chris but now you realised, you were sacrificing everything for his happiness, not yours. 

“Cryin' isn’t like you” 

PRESENT DAY The words you had spoken hung over the room like a dark cloud. You knew you were being heinous before you’d given him a chance to explain but you were heartbroken. Your fingers skimmed your lips, disgusted that they’d entwined with Chris’s after he had kissed another woman, disgusted that they had begged him for release as you made love after he had kissed another woman. 

As you wiped your own tears from your eyes, you noticed tears spilling from Chris’s eyes. Your body went rigid - you had only seen Chris cry a handful of times. The feeling of sympathy and guilt should have been foreign to you in this situation but you felt pain from his misery. You could see the torment in his eyes, and you knew that he was angry with himself for hurting you; maybe, just maybe you could sort this out and salvage your marriage. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one that’s crying?” You tried to make light of the problem but recoiled at the distastefulness of your question. 

Moving to the now well-brewed pot of coffee, you poured two mugs before placing one at the other side of the breakfast bar for Chris, a symbolic waving of the white flag. You sat down, anxiously waiting to see if Chris would follow, hoping that you could sort this out like adults and maybe try to recover your trust and your marriage. That’s what you wanted, right?

“Maybe we should just try, to tell ourselves a good lie” 

You took the first sip of your second cup of coffee, still sitting in silence. You had been pondering with how to start the conversation but was admittedly hoping Chris would instigate it. Looking like that wasn’t going to happen, you tore off the bandaid and asked the question you had been dreading finding out the answer to. 

“So, can you start from the beginning and tell me what happened? I think I need to understand what transpired before we move forward.” You spoke calmly, channelling your nerves into picking at your nail varnish. Distracted by the chipped pattern on your nails, you were startled when Chris spoke up. 

“So, um, obviously you and me, we’ve been dealing with what feels like a long distance relationship; even though we live in the same house.” Chris paused from a moment, and you thought he was going to start crying again. You had to look down into your coffee, scared that if you started crying also, you wouldn’t stop. 

“Not that we haven’t handled that before, but this time it felt different, it felt worse. I know it’s not your fault Y/N and it’s not mine either, our jobs are so demanding but I was just feeling so alone.” 

Your heart was shattered at Chris’ confession. Knowing that you were both hurting from the same issue but keeping it to yourselves, it seemed absurd. 

“She was always there. I saw her every day at work, definitely for many more hours than I was seeing you each day, and she is nice. She became my friend and my comfort.”  

Now you felt like you’d been stabbed through the heart. Hearing Chris talk about another woman being everything you thought you were to him crushed you. How could you ever trust him again when he chose another woman to confide in?

“We get on really well, and um, whilst we were waiting outside the restaurant for our taxis, it just sort of.. happened.” 

The rest of the conversation passed by like a bad dream. Remembering snippets of trying to stay calm as Chris told you he made the first move, screaming at Chris when he told you he would still see her at work every day and crying into his shoulder when you admitted you wasn’t sure if this marriage  had a future. 

Chris had left hours ago to stay at a friends house to give you some space. You glanced at the tissues surrounding you - reminders of the tortuous day - as if you were looking for the answers among them. Wiping your puffy eyes for the final time, you waited for something, or someone, to make the decision for you. 

Now, it felt like the quiet at the end of a storm. Like your nightmare had come full circle. You sat in the same spot, alone. 

Part Two: Troubled Heart