#under the cut is just extra tidbits

[sobredunia]

FINALLY. AFTER A WHOLE YEAR OF WORKING ON THIS. I HAVE MADE (almost) AN ENTIRE MINUTE OF THE PINK ANIMATION. MY COMPUTER IS DYING. SEND HELP

MASSIVE TAGLIST UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE I PUT SO MUCH EFFORT ON THIS I REFUSE TO LET IT GET ONLY LIKE 20 NOTES

@rotkad @sansxfuckyou @blackfright @beetroot-merchant @ashingtonkisihita @h3xt0r @bree-sae @helloidkwhatimdoing-0 @zecrisketch

aight that was the art taglist now the extras

@dr-mothman @akuma-tenshi @sunset-of-the-void @astro-inthestars @zephyrnine @wist-eri @scivious @choccymilllk @ask-nonny-anything @radioroxx @hiveswap @valid-name @specklx @kami-kun1003 @wackpedion @highoncatfood @georgeharrisonsboywife @chaoticangelsbeatupgod @sleepy-mushr00m @thatoneluckybee @floataaaa @therealcallmekd @noodle-persom @magodangretsus @j-axis @personalshredder

also if you've actually clicked under the readmore. surprise! here are the backgrounds / a gif. from newest to oldest

(had to divide this in two so i could put Yora in the middle and make it seem like a reflection)

(THE TREES TOOK ME SO FUCKING LONG DUDE THERE WERE LIKE 5 LAYERS OF THEM. for some reason this gif looks better in discord than it does on my computer's file player??)

(heho totally normal vending machine go brr. bit of a shame you only ever see the first half of the background F)

(house baybeyy. for some reason i vividly and explicitly remember watching a video shitting on a children's book written and drawn by ai as i was doing the windows around the door)

(fun fact the lil animation tidbits of yora showering were part of the background itself. in the animation this background is actually 4 pngs that rapidly change. same with the scrolling down shot actually. but for that i had to do some mindfuckery tricks to slowly move each png down at a steady pace. for some reason i just remembered that as i was doing that i was watching a video documentary about the development of this old japanese game called swamp or smth?? what)

(the room!! i did the blanket on a sepparate layer so it's not here. literally whenever i had to pause animating itself to go do a background to add in the shot my work on this project would grind to a halt bc i did NOT like doing backgrounds and kinda dreaded them)

also another fun fact. i began working on this animation before kenikari's demo was even out, on january. i wanted to post the full two days before i released the demo, to build up hype. oh, young me. foolish young me. you idiot. you baby dumbass. you bufoon

[maychorian]

Dungeon Meshi has fully consumed me, especially a certain tiny union man, and I want to ramble about Chilchuck's traumatic backstory for a bit. Mild manga spoilers under the cut.

The first time I read the manga I missed this bit, since I was reading an online version that didn't have all the extras included. Since I've come across this litte omake, though, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. It just explains so much about why Chilchuck is the way he is.

First, at a surface level, it's interesting that this backstory only comes out in the framework of talking about a monster. Chilchuck is offering basically an anecdote about succubi, adding to the conversation he and his party are having about a monster species. It's all very casual and offhand. No one even remarks on what that experience would have meant to Chilchuck on a personal level, and he doesn't dwell on it, either. You have to wonder if Chilchuck would have ever mentioned it at all if they weren't specifically talking about succubi.

But holy heck, just think about this for a moment. On one of Chilchuck's first outings as an adventurer, possibly the first time he joined a party, his fellow adventurers were planning to feed him to a monster. He's only alive now because he had the instinct that something was wrong and had the speed, wisdom, and stealth to run away. He could have died. He could have been murdered. And it's implied that this happens to half-foots frequently in this world.

How traumatizing would that have been for a young adventurer? The people he should have been able to trust to have his back were literally planning his death, all for monetary gain. He was treated as disposable, a resource to be exploited, not a person. Not only is there the trauma of narrowly escaping death here, there's also the trauma of being mistreated and abused by other thinking, intelligent beings.

No freaking wonder he has trust issues. He's been working with Laios and his party for three years at this point and he's never shared a single solitary personal detail about his life, not even his age. He can't bear to allow any vulnerability to show, because he can't allow himself to be taken advantage of again. No wonder he's so prickly and wary. No wonder he's so sensitive to being viewed as anything other than a capable, skilled, fully realized and autonomous adult. No wonder he shies away from affection and any hint of closeness, especially in the early chapters of the manga.

I'm amazed that Chilchuck had the strength and fortitude to stay in the business at all. He considered his options and took steps to keep himself safe, including only accepting pay in advance and starting a union to protect himself and other half-foots. (Another tidbit you don't get at first in the story--Chilchuck is not just a member of a union or the leader, he started the whole dang thing to begin with.)

But what's so lovely, and wonderful, what makes this story take over my brain so completely and utterly, is that Chilchuck doesn't stay this way. Over the course of the manga, he opens up more and more. He allows himself to be emotionally vulnerable; he shares more and more details of his life. He treats Marcille and Izutsumi like daughters, Laios and Senshi like brothers. He loves them and allows himself to be loved in return.

And that's one of many reasons that Dungeon Meshi is one of the best found-family stories I've come across in a long, long time.

[deadbeat-motel]

ᗩᒪᗩᔕTOᖇ ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

I finally got to the design I hate the most, Alastor.

I'm not a fan of my design simplified to meet the cast's more cartoony style. I tried my best but might draw him some other time with my actual style.

Anyway, my thoughts are under the cut:

My issues with their Original designs:

What can I say that hasn't been already said by so many others?

Red overpowers his entire design and he barely stands out of the background, sometimes he blends with it at times.

Supposedly a mixed person yet the average audience member who watches the show with no context can't tell that he is. I don't want to hear about how mixed people can be pale-skinned because he was never written as a white-passing poc in mind. His Creole background was an excuse to use voodoo in the show and merchandising.

Another Vivzie character that dons a shoulder-padded suit. I believe he's one of the 5 others that has this repeating design trait (Angel Dust, Charlie, Pentious, Lucifer, Valentino, Vox)

His hair bothers me a lot. A 1930s man having a scene kid's haircut? I have a hard time believing that for the sake of the show. Also, not to mention he has that awkward undercut that ends up making him a scuffed Willy Wonka cosplayer.

Twink...

Personal tidbit, but I'm not sure what his staff's design even is? an egg with a microphone in it?

The thought process:

First of all, gave him a darker skin tone, that light grey doesn't cut it for me, unfortunately.

Also heard that his inspiration was Dr. Facilier and with that in mind, I wanted to make him look like him a bit more like him.

The mostly grey and black color palette was inspired by 99monchrome's take on Alastor. Teddy's take is pretty amazing.

If I remember, there was something about him being hunted and shot at like a deer while escaping the authorities. The headshot manifests as a small red X on his forehead.

Gave him a pencil moustache since I wanted him to look like a grown man in the 1930s. Plus, there is a seemingly noticeable lack of facial hair on every male character in this show. (If you're showing me an example of the opposite, please do not give me some background character or any Helluva boss character.)

An extra set of teeth will appear within the slits on his mouth, forming to prevent Alastor from being ever able to frown.

His mouth is also constantly bleeding.

A small detail that would be easy to miss but his eyes are radio dials.

He has a tail and fur on his body because I think it's cute.

Sort of like Velvette in the series, I do want to have Alastor drastically change hairstyles from time to time. Dreads, Twists, Straightened, Buzzed, etc.

A little detail just important to me is that his eyebrows go from thin to thick at its ends.

He does have fur all over his body.

[dunmeshistash]

Hello!

I'm Cyan (or anything you wanna call me) this blog started as just a stash for Dungeon Meshi extras and worldbuilding details but expanded as people asked questions and I did my best to answer! Hope you find it as useful as I do. I try my best to categorize my posts so they're easy to find but sometimes I forget.

If you'd like to share something you compiled yourself feel free to send it to me and I'll reblog it! You can also send a submission if you'd prefer. The main goal is to share Dungeon Meshi information :3

Consider checking the FAQ before sending an ask!

FAQ

Spoilers are tagged as "Dungeon Meshi Spoilers"

Please support the author by purchasing the manga if available in your region.

TERFs and other bigots aren't welcome

Icon and Banner

Ryoko Kui's Blog

Tag list under the cut

Types of post

For referencing - Canon things and other information you might want to go back to. Now I'm also using art reference when relevant

Compilation - Posts where I compile lots of canon art/sketches about a specific subject.

Dunmeshi thoughts - My own non canon thoughts. I also use the tag speculation when relevant

Dunmeshi complaint - Tag for more negative subjects/discourse in case you wanna block that. I usually go back and delete the ones that don't seem productive

Asks - Since I post quite a lot of asks I decided to divide them into some tags so they're easier to filter: Lore ask | Character ask | Meta ask | About Cyan

Parties

Laio's Party: Laios Touden | Marcille Donato | Chilchuck Tims | Senshi of Izganda | Izutsumi | Falin Touden

Kabru's Party: Kabru of Utaya, Diamond of Sadena, Mickbell Tomas, Kuro, Rinsha Fana, Holm Kranom

Tansu's Party: Tansu Floke, Yarn Floke, Kiki Floke, Kaka Floke, Namari of Kahka Brud

Shuro's Party: Shuro (Toshiro Nakamoto), Hien, Benichidori, Maizuro, Inutade

Canaries: Mithrun, Pattadol, Lycion, Fleki, Otta, Cithis

Races:

Tallman

Dwarf

Elf

Gnome

Half-Foot

Ogre

Demi humans

Orc

Kobold

Sources (<- check this if you're confused where the extras come from):

Adventurers Bible

Daydream Hour

Monster Tidbits

Bluray

Other tags:

Worldbuilding

Maps

Magic System

Post Canon (Extras about the story after the story)

Clothing (Details about character's clothes and in world fashion)

Dunmeshi Extra (extra comics that aren't in the main story)

Rooms

Modern Clothing

Dunmeshi anime vs manga (comparisons or panels missing from the anime)

Monsters:

Red Dragon

Chimera Falin

Mermaid

I'll be updating as I add posts/figure out how to tag stuff

About me: Cyan - Adult - She/He - Brazilian

[beeshoesometimesdraws]

*throws god au Moon at you and skedaddles*

Lune is the god of time and change, enveloping both the tide of the sea and just general change, which goes with him being the keeper of the passage of time.

Despite being a variant of Moon he is not the god directly responsible for the cycle of the night nor day and his role as the keeper of time, while still somewhat involved, does not make him responsible for the duties involving death and life and the afterlife.

He is the god mortals go to most often than not when they seek more time and/or change within their lives—what that change entails or why they wish for more time heavily influence wether or not Lune will answer their prayers.

extra doodles + lore tidbits under cut

Lune’s domain or realm takes the form of a vast icy sea paradise, seemingly inhabitable and desolate to others but perfect for a lone wolf god like Lune. Little balls of light that are basically the embodiments of different times in past and present and future as well as varying timelines float around within the large ice cave that is the center point of his domain; touching one of these balls of light directly will not do anything for any mortal unless they are granted access by Lune himself, which very rarely happens to avoid any errors and mistakes with time.

Gods can shapeshift into whatever they please though all of them usually have forms they favor within and outside of their realms, Lune’s being that of an orca-like mer creature.

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | june 24 - june 30

note: welcome to the start of honey and trevor's very complicated relationship and some of my favorite subplots ;) we've officially surpassed the 100k mark for total words on this fic and we've got a while to go. apologies but also– this is the extended-extended cut !!

29:90 – TREVOR

They say you learn something new every day. 

Today, Trevor has learned that he should really check out the window before he walks outside in nothing but his compression shorts. He also learned that he should really do his laundry before he runs out of clothes– or that he should just steal clothes from Jack when he runs out of shorts. 

Why, you ask? Why did Trevor learn these tidbits on a Monday in Litchton, North Carolina?

Well, because on this particular Monday in Litchton, North Carolina, there are two girls laying in Trevor’s backyard. 

No one had told him that the girls were coming over. If they had, maybe Trevor would have stayed inside. Of course, that would’ve been hard with Honey just a hundred yards away in a bikini top, but he could’ve at least waited until his laundry was done. Honey has seen him in less than the compression shorts, but Bea has not. 

And Bea made Trevor’s outfit her problem as soon as she spotted him. She sat up from the flat deck chair that she dragged out from under the covered patio and whistled, pushing her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head. Her hair is pulled up into a knot and she’s wearing a thin strip that is a sad excuse for a tube top. 

“Hoo-wee, Trevor!” She calls. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Trevor scowls, glaring at Bea from the side of his eye as he pulls on his skates and laces them. “Fuck off, Bea. I’m doing laundry right now.”

“And we’re honored, really,” Bea continues, sarcastic and biting. She folds her hands in a prayer in front of her chest and nods at Trevor, eyes wide. 

Honey giggles at her comment, leaning up on her elbows. Her hair is braided into two pigtails and she’s in a bright pink strappy bikini and her tiny daisy dukes that Trevor likes so much. She squints against the sun, one of her eyes completely shut under the shadow of her hand. 

Quinn uses his stick to pick up the wiffle-ball they’ve been using for their scrimmages and tosses it in a high arc towards Bea. It lands in her lap, resulting in an exclamation from Bea, and the girl hands the ball off to Honey. Trevor’s girl positively launches the ball at Quinn, a wicked whistle sounding as the ball makes its way towards Quinn and hits him in the stomach with a resounding thwap.

Quinn groans and doubles over, catching the ball in his palm before it drops to the ground. “Fuck, Honey.”

Honey just shrugs and closes her eyes, laying back down on the deck chair and covering her eyes with the bend of her elbow.

“Bea-girl, come play hockey,” Jack calls. “We need a sixth. You can be on the Hughes team. We’ll sub Luke out since you’re probably shit.”

“Hey, I was an athlete!” Bea exclaims. She stands up and pulls one of Quinn’s Bauer shirts over her head, tying the front into a little knot. “You have no idea.”

“No idea,” Honey echoes. 

Trevor looks at the girl and gives her a secret kind of smile, one that’s reserved specifically for her, but Honey doesn’t look his way. She’s still hidden beneath her elbow. 

“Come show us your athleticism then,” Jack challenges. “You don’t even have to wear skates.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we don’t have a pair of blades for a girl,” Cole teases, skating up to the edge of the rink and taking Bea’s hand to help her step over the wall.

“I hope you won’t go easy on me just because I’m a girl,” Bea replies, her steps careful and calculated as she makes her way onto the rink. She looks around like she’s sizing up the court, surveying end to end.

Luke skates up with an extra one of Cole’s sticks, handing the item off to Bea. He toes the ground with his skate and does a spin, circling around the girl. “I won’t go easy on you, Bea.”

“He’s only saying that because Jack kicked him off the team with his brothers,” Trevor warns. “He’s going to get you.”

Luke offers Bea a coy little smile and skates away, stealing the wiffle-ball from Quinn with an agile poke of his stick.

“First to 21, cornhole rules,” Cole tells Bea, skating up to knock shoulders with Quinn. 

“Cornhole rules?” Bea exclaims. “You fuckers think I want to play for that long? I came over here to tan and get laid before my work week starts.”

“Buzzy, just get in front of the goal and stop complaining,” Honey calls. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Exactly, Buzzy,” Cole adds, bouncing a little. 

Jack and Trevor meet at the center of their rink, knocking heads before pulling back and setting up for the face-off. They did it accidentally once when they were kids, then it became like tradition for their summer scrimmages. Luke holds the wiffle-ball with an ungloved hand, then drops it, and the boys fight for it. Jack wins and Luke is already blocking Bea from getting open, maneuvering around her easily in his skates. 

It quickly becomes evident that Bea will be no help to the team of the Hughes brothers, to the point that Trevor, Luke, and Cole don’t even need to defend against her. Even when Quinn sends her the ball, encouraging her to shoot at the open goal, she struggles with the stick.

“My sport didn’t have a stick,” Bea grumbles when she misses another pass and Luke scoops it away from her, flicking the wiffle-ball up so that it sails through the air and bounces into the opposing net. “If we played volleyball, I’d fuck you all up.”

“I’m sure you would,” Quinn commiserates, skating up to plant a slap on Bea’s ass. She snarls at him and spanks him with her stick in retaliation. He laughs and kisses her cheek, mid-game, then skates off to fight with Luke.

The game doesn’t make it to 21 points– well, technically Trevor’s team wins because he and Cole continue to shoot at the net after Bea quits. They’re maybe halfway through the game when she huffs and puffs and tries to step over the wall to exit the rink, but Jack skates up and wraps his arms around her middle. He carries her over to the center of the rink and sets her down, putting the stick back in her hands and reaching for a puck. 

“Pass with me, Bea. I’ll teach you so you’re not so shit next time we play, yeah?” Jack says, dribbling a loose puck between his legs. He’s just showing off now. 

“One sec,” Bea replies, turning around and settling her hands on her hips. She eyes Trevor, then beckons him over. 

Dutifully, Trevor skates over. He towers over Bea with the blades laced up around his ankles and it’s particularly satisfying to look down at her. That is, until Bea wraps her fist in the cloth of his shirt and tugs him down so his ear is next to her mouth.

“I know she told you about Thomas,” Bea murmurs, quiet enough that Jack can’t hear her. “And she’s embarrassed that you know, so she’s going to ignore you today, probably. You can’t let her push you away.”

Trevor pulls back, making eye contact with Bea. He’s sure he looks alarmed. He thought that Honey’s revelation would result in them getting closer, in her sharing more stuff about her life with Trevor, but he supposes he was wrong. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. 

Bea pulls him back down. “Let me explain it like this: do you know that tweet where that girl said ‘In order to date me, you have to defeat my seven evil exes’ or something?” 

She waits until he nods to continue. He doesn’t think he should correct her and tell her that the seven evil exes are actually from Scott Pilgrim, not some chronically online girl’s imagination.  

“Honey doesn’t have seven evil exes. She has one, but he fucked her over seven ways to Sunday, and she’s going to push you away a hundred times before she realizes her mistake. It’s just the way she acts. Trauma, and whatnot. Don’t fucking back off, dude. Your fragile little ego can’t be your priority here, not when you’re the first person that Honey’s been remotely interested in since Thomas ruined her fucking life.”

Bea pushes him away and Trevor rolls backwards due to the momentum. He’s nodding in assent, but Bea has already turned to Jack and reached her stick out to poke at the puck, which he’s doing a spectacular job of keeping from the girl. 

Trevor returns to his own shooting, aiming for the crossbar and hoping to deflect the pucks into the goal. It’s completely precision-shooting, although normally there’s a goalie’s big head in his way, hiding the crossbar from view. 

Quinn is passing with Luke, flicks of their sticks sending the puck from one end of the rink to the other without effort. Cole has completely abandoned the rink, opting instead to wander over to Honey’s chair and take Bea’s spot. He’s sitting with his legs stretched toward Honey, driving the blades of his wheels back and forth over her thighs. Honey is rubbing her face in exasperation, but she’s not pushing him away.

Trevor thinks she secretly likes the attention that the boys give her. They don’t flirt with her, which is great for Trevor, and she doesn’t want them to, which is even better for Trevor. He thinks that Honey enjoys having more friends than just Bea, even if she pretends to be annoyed by the antics of the guys. It’s easy and normal.

This same feeling washes over Trevor more and more frequently lately: that this would be a life where he’s perfectly happy. His whole life, he’s felt like he’s needed hockey. He made his friends through hockey, made his career by playing hockey, and enjoyed life because of his sport. 

Spending the summer in Litchton, even just so far, has taught Trevor that he would be fine in this life that Bea and Honey live. They go to work on the weekdays, they hang with their friends on the weekend, and they don’t get caught up in the outside world. It’s a nice life, simple and easy, and Trevor envies them a little bit. 

At the end of the summer, he has to return home to Anaheim, or maybe even to a new home if the trade rumors are anything to go off of. No one from Anaheim has called him to say that they’re considering trading him, so Trevor isn’t worried, but the whole world seems to believe he won’t be back. It would be harder to have to move away from Anaheim in addition to leaving Honey on this side of the country.

He’s mourning the moment already, he realizes. Lately he’s been filled with that painstaking dread that comes with having the best summer of your life and knowing it will just come to a close in two months time.

Not wanting to get caught up in his own thoughts, Trevor shakes his head. He leaves the rink and sets his stick against the edge of the house, sitting down in a juvenile plop like a child to unlace his blades. 

He remembers that he’s just in his compression shorts, and his laundry is probably finished, so he heads inside instead of going to kick Cole off Bea’s chair like he wants to. He’ll talk to Honey later. For now, he’d like to make himself decent.

Trevor gathers his dry laundry into a clump, holding it in his arms and hoping he’s not dropping socks all over the place on his trek from the laundry room to his bedroom. He dumps the load onto his bed and starts to fold the laundry, making a mental note to pick up the items he lost later. It won’t be the first time one of the boys let their laundry lay out until they went back to get it. 

He’s not even sure all of this will fit in his dresser, to be honest. At one point it did, but now he’s not sure. Maybe the drawers will just be overfilled and hard to shut. 

There’s a slight method to his madness, but it’s not all that real. He usually starts with the clothes that go in his bottom drawer, like his pants and shorts. He folds all of those up into a neat pile, then he starts on his shirts.

A timid knock reaches his door before it creaks open. 

“Hey,” Honey says. She holds up two fistfuls of laundry– mostly socks, but a pair of Trevor’s briefs are dangling from her hand. “You dropped some stuff.”

“Thanks,” Trevor said, gesturing towards the pile of unfolded laundry. “You can just toss them on there.”

Honey obliges, leaving the socks and briefs in a jumbled pile atop his other clothes. She then reaches for one of his shirts, lifting it into the air to smooth the wrinkles before folding it.

Oh. She’s staying to help him, then.

She adds to his pile, although she doesn’t focus on the shirts like Trevor does. She varies throughout and she’s not exactly shy when she picks up his underwear and folds it into a little square.

Trevor’s not sure what to say, so he says nothing at all. 

“Bea and Jack are hooking up,” Honey says eventually. 

“Oh,” Trevor replies. He’s matching up socks now, only a few left. He’s down to a bunch that don’t match, but he might just pack them away together and wear them mismatched. Cole has always loved a mismatched sock, but Trevor isn’t necessarily a fan.

“She thought of a solution for his, uh… lack of endurance,” Honey continues. She picks up the pile of Trevor’s shirts and walks over to his dresser, opening the drawer and setting the pile down, then pushes the drawer shut with her hip. “Do you want to know what it is?”

“Sure,” Trevor says. He takes two ankle socks and folds them together into a little ball. “What’s she doing with him?”

“She’s setting a timer while he fucks her,” Honey explains, a devilish smirk growing on her face. 

Trevor balks. “She’s doing what?” He exclaims, jaw hanging open.

Honey’s smile only grows, delighted to get a reaction out of Trevor. “She’s timing him, and– and–” she waves her finger in front of Trevor’s face. “If he beats his personal record, then she’s going to give him a treat.”

“What kind of treat?” Trevor asks, laughing at the idea of it. 

Jack’s always been quick in bed– Trevor would know, after that failed threesome he and Jack considered back when they were on the same team– but Trevor never expected that to be a mainstay in his sexual life. He had hoped it was just once, or maybe just the first time Jack hooks up with a girl– allegedly, the boy “gets nervous.” It seems as though Bea is searching for her own conclusions, treating Jack’s incompetence as grounds for an experiment. 

Trevor will have to tell Bea that he likes how she thinks. Later, when she’s done– but probably after the girls leave. He’ll text her.

“I’m not really sure,” Honey says with a shrug. “I think she bought a pack of M&Ms to give him. Like she’ll give him five M&Ms if he beats his record– it’s a resealable bag of candy– and she’ll only give him one if he gets close but doesn’t beat it.”

Trevor feels like he’s floating with how ecstatic this news makes him. “She’s bribing him with candy until he starts lasting long enough,” Trevor summarizes, a crooked smile taking over his face. “That’s sick.”

“I know. She’s funny.”

A silence falls between them, growing more and more awkward with each passing second. Honey stands near the door, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing her opposite tricep like she’s cold. 

Trevor puts the last of his clothes away, then turns to smile softly at Honey. “Thanks for the help.”

“Yeah, well,” Honey says, sheepish all of a sudden. “When I saw all the socks and underwear on the ground, I thought you’d need it.”

Trevor nods, debating whether or not he should walk over and touch her the way that he wants to– but now that she’s shy and reaching for the door, he decides against it.

Instead, he turns to the dresser and finds a pair of sweats to pull over his compression shorts. The shorts are doing him no favors and he doesn’t need to embarrass himself by growing a little stiff at the thought of the easy domesticity he and Honey just experienced, folding his clothes together. He gets a flashing vision of Honey’s clothes sprinkled amongst his own, and Trevor turns to say something to her, but she’s already gone.

30:90 – HONEY

For the first time in a while, Honey gathers her knitting bag and sets out to open The Reading Nook. She’s planning to join the ladies at their knitting circle today and continue her big blanket. She only really knows how to knit squares and rectangles, despite Gillian offering to teach her time and time again. She’s made more scarves and blankets than she needs and usually donates them to the Salvation Army in Winston before the winter sets in. 

The Reading Nook is cold when Honey unlocks the door and steps through the threshold, which is fine by her. The ladies might complain, but Honey thinks it’s refreshing. She’s wearing a ribbed t-shirt, cropped close to the hem of her long skirt. It falls around mid-calf and she got it from the little thrift store down the street last spring. It’s green and floral with cream trimming on the bottom and Honey loves how it swishes.

She opens the store quickly. There’s not much to do during openings except sweep, but even that is barely necessary. Honey’s bored almost from the get-go, but the ladies start to file in just as the store opens. 

Rosalind appears first, with Scarlett and Vera not far behind her. Honey joins them at the table, sitting at the head of the long surface. She unfurls a little bit of her yarn and sets the skein on the table, adjusting in her chair to get down to business.

When Sacha and Gillian join their group, they’re delighted to see Honey at the table. Sacha kisses her cheeks and insists that Honey stays seated rather than standing to hug the woman. Gillian brought bagels, freshly made. She also brings cream cheese, which is “unfortunately store-bought.”

Honey supplies a fresh patch of blackberries, washed and dumped carefully in a little ceramic bowl that the ladies pass around. She got them from the fruit stand yesterday after she left the boys’ house, and although she had meant to ask Trevor if he wanted to ride in the car with her to the store, she never actually did. Instead, she just folded his laundry with him and they talked about Jack and Bea for a split second– it was the only thing Honey could think of that might get a reaction out of Trevor. He was so quiet the day before, but Honey also thinks she might be going crazy.

It’s been a long time since she wanted to hook up with a guy consistently and she feels seventeen again, toxic and overthinking each of her interactions with the boy. It’s the exact same behavior that she loathed so much as a teen, part of the behavior that she vowed to drop when she left Charlotte and moved to Litchton.

So, she left without inviting Trevor to the fruit stand. He must have forgotten that it was a Monday, because he didn’t show. Not that she was looking– she was in and out quickly, ready to go home and take a shower and go to bed. She had almost forgotten how Cole rubbed his grimy-ass rollerblades along her leg while she was tanning, but when she spotted the streak of dirt along her thigh, she was itching to get in the shower and wash it away.

The women gossip about sweet nothings– so-and-so didn’t show up to church on Sunday, this person’s cousin visited from out of town and treated the staff at Scruffy’s like trash (probably a side effect of when said cousin moved up north for college and they lost all their southern hospitality), and other small-town travesties that really aren’t so large in the long run.

The conversation veers toward the upcoming July 4th holiday and what Honey is planning to do– nothing yet, but probably the lake with Bea like every other year. The ladies ask about Bea’s birthday, which is coming up in about two weeks, reminding Honey that she has to go present shopping soon.

That conversation, devolving from Bea’s birthday into a scandalous tale of how Rosalind saw Bea and a “young brunet” walking down Main Street after church on Sunday hand-in-hand, turns toward the boys. 

Honey keeps her mouth shut as Vera raves about Cole, using her adopted nickname for the boy and gushing about how kind he is. She does not mention his evil streak or his annoying tendencies. 

Scarlett mentions that she had seen two of the others around, buying water tubes and toys a few weeks ago. Honey assumes she means Luke and Jack. Scarlett had not spoken to the boys, but she did think they were handsome, and she once again expressed that if she were younger and more available, she might try to scoop one of them up. Honey holds back a laugh at that, thinking that Bea is doing the exact same thing, but she’s scooping each of them. In another life, Scarlett and Bea are best friends who have a body count competition and, possibly, are sister wives.

No one seems to have met Quinn, although they’ve evidently spotted him when he’s with Bea, so Honey fills in a few of the blanks. 

Just as they get to Trevor, who Vera calls ‘Bear’ and speaks about with slightly less intense praise, the bell on the door jingles and they all have to shut up because their chatter seems to have summoned the boy.

“You all started without me?” Trevor asks with a faux-pout, crossing his arms over his chest pointedly at Scarlett. “After you taught me how to knit two weeks ago?”

“Well, young man, when you didn’t show up last week, we didn’t know what to do with ourselves!” Sacha exclaims, wagging a finger at Trevor like she’s actually scolding him. 

“I didn’t realize you were such a knitter,” Honey teases, a polite smile etched across her face. 

Trevor matches it and Honey doesn’t miss how the edges of his face soften when he makes eye contact with her. “I didn’t realize that you could’ve been teaching me how to knit all along,” he says. 

Honey rolls her eyes. “Yes, Trevor, because I have the patience to teach you how to knit.” 

She’s being sarcastic, a little mean even, just because Trevor’s face makes it so obvious how he feels about her. Ada punished Honey for being mean to him a few days prior, but Ada’s not here right now. The other ladies are and Honey doesn’t want them getting any ideas or spreading any gossip– Trevor’s features, all filled with admiration for Honey, are almost as dangerous as his words could be. There’s a chance that anyone who looks hard enough would be able to deduce that Honey and Trevor have a particular relationship and Honey is determined to keep that from happening.

It appears as though, yet again, Trevor doesn’t give a shit about her desired discretion.

“You left something at the house yesterday,” Trevor says. “I figured I’d bring it to you.”

Honey makes a face. “Did I? Maybe it’s Bea’s. I don’t think I left anything.”

Trevor shrugs, hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I’ll just put it in the back room and you can look at it later.”

“You don’t work here,” Honey denies with a laugh. “You can’t just go in the back room.” She stands from her chair. “C’mon.”

She’s too busy leading Trevor to the back room to notice the self-satisfied little smile that grows on Trevor’s face.

When she opens the door and walks through it, Trevor follows and closes the door behind him with a quiet click. He takes his hands out of his pockets and he’s holding nothing– nor does it look like he has anything in his pockets.

Aw, shit. Honey realizes. I’ve walked right into his little trap.

She tilts her head to the side and takes a deep breath, quirking an eyebrow at the boy. “Don’t tell me that you’re only here because you wanted to see me,” she says.

“I wouldn’t say that’s the only reason,” Trevor says. He reaches for Honey and she backs up. He rolls his eyes and follows her forward, placing them back in the same position as they were two weeks ago. Honey’s back is against the counter and Trevor stands in front of her, arms on either side of her body, hands along the counter.

It reminds her of the whipped cream incident, which is not the thing to be thinking about right now.

Trevor’s smirking a little when she meets his eyes. “Hi,” he says quietly.

The change is so abrupt that Honey blinks in surprise. “Hi?” She replies, uncertain.

Trevor raises a hand and pushes a strand of Honey’s hair behind her ear. “I missed you.”

“You missed me.”

“Terribly.”

“And so you concocted a plan to get me alone?”

“Well, I knew Bea wouldn’t be in yet and those old ladies out there don’t need your attention,” Trevor surmises. He leans closer, whispering into Honey’s ear. “I need your attention.” He brushes a kiss against Honey’s earlobe before pulling away, smug.

Honey can feel her cheeks growing red. “You need my attention. Is that your way of saying that your dick is broken? Because I can refer you to the doctor– he’s just down the street.”

Trevor laughs out loud. “God, Honey, you never let my lines work, huh?”

“You need new lines,” she says. “It’s a shame these ones have gotten you this far. But, say what you will about Californians and puck bunnies–”

“Puck bunnies,” Trevor repeats, glee lighting up his eyes. “Have you been doing research, Honey? Been reading about hockey lingo lately?”

“No,” Honey denies, growing even more red. “Absolutely not.”

Trevor hums, clearly not believing her. “Okay.”

That’s all he says. Honey gawks at him. “What do you want?” She asks.

“I realized last night that I haven’t returned the favor yet,” Trevor says. “You’ve made me come twice and I haven’t made you come at all.” He frowns, hoping to draw her sympathy, but his eyes are still dancing with a little laughter and a lot of confidence. 

Honey’s mouth makes a little ‘o’ and she raises her eyebrows. Her head is tilted up, looking at Trevor from her smaller stature, and she fumbles a little when Trevor’s hands close on her waist. His thumbs stroke over her clothed skin and Honey allows herself to be pulled closer, or maybe Trevor just steps in and traps her against the counter. She can’t be too sure.

Until he lifts her by the waist and sets her on the counter, her long skirt folded underneath her. It’s too thin and Honey realizes that she’s a little warm and damp in her underwear just from Trevor’s proximity– yet another unconscious reaction that she’d put an end to if she could. How dare she grow wet from absolutely nothing.

“You want to know how I realized that?” Trevor asks, nudging her nose with his. 

Honey leans back before his lips can touch hers. “Realized what?” She asks, voice heavy. Her eyelids feel droopy, like when she and Bea booked a two-hour couples-massage two years back that was so relaxing that they both had to sit in the car and nap before driving back to the house. 

Trevor chuckles, just air leaving his mouth instead of real noise. His eyes are zeroed in on her lips, Honey notices, and she licks them because they suddenly feel very, very dry. “Realized that I hadn’t made you come yet, Honey. Do you want to know how I realized?”

“Um,” is the intelligent reply that Honey comes up with. She might as well be a PhD student when she comes up with a shrug, barely constituting an agreement. Trevor’s so close to her. She can smell him– she can’t place the scent, but she knows that Trevor smells rich. Like, money-rich, not strong-and-overwhelmingly-potent-rich.

“I was thinking about how delicately you were folding my laundry,” Trevor says. “At first. Then, I was reminded that your fingers once wrapped around my dick and made me come without any of our friends knowing. Your fingers looked so good around me, and I was thinking about how badly I wanted to see them there again…”

Honey lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She wants to stare at Trevor’s eyes, but instead she’s drawn to the way his mouth forms his words and the tiny peeks of his tongue against his teeth as he speaks.

“Which is when I thought to myself, I haven’t shown Honey what my fingers can do,” Trevor continues. He licks his lips, then bites down on the lower. It’s a little chapped, maybe from sun. He needs to wear more chapstick. 

Honey’s chest is heaving, her stomach pushing against the band of her skirt in this position in an uncomfortable way. Maybe Trevor should just take it off. HUH? Nope, nope–

“So now I’m here, and I thought I’d tell you that you left an orgasm at the house because it’s stupid and I thought you’d laugh at me,” Trevor finishes. “And I know how much you like laughing at me.”

“Because I hate you,” Honey supplies, sounding entirely unconvincing.

“Duh,” Trevor agrees. “But I just can’t get enough of you.”

He noses at her nose again before his mouth seals over her own. He kisses her deeply, like she’s sinking into a warm bath after a long day, and Honey sighs against him. 

She’s leaning forward into him, touching his sides over his cotton shirt. Trevor’s hand is sliding over her cheek, the other bunching up her skirt over her knee so that he can get a grip on her skin. When she pulls away, he asks for permission.

“Can I make you come on my fingers, Honey?” Trevor asks, index finger toeing the line and digging a burning path into her skin as he runs it over her inner thigh. “Please?”

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely,” Honey replies, pulling him in again. Her teeth knock against his when he laughs, but he wastes no time to flip her skirt up and reach his hand underneath the fabric. 

“Do I need to start saying “yes ma’am” and “no ma’am” when I’m in your presence?” Trevor teases. “Just to keep up my good manners?”

“If you want to keep getting laid,” Honey affirms, practically spoon-feeding the words onto his tongue. Her eyes are closed, but she can feel the way Trevor’s smiling against her lips. 

“Oh, baby, I want to keep getting laid,” Trevor assures her. His fingers tap over her clothed mound, sliding his nail along the seam of her panties.

“Don’t call me baby,” Honey admonishes.

“What can I call you?” Trevor asks. 

“My name,” Honey answers. “Or ‘your Royal Highness.’” 

Trevor hums in acknowledgement, petting over Honey’s core. He’s still kissing her, just brushing his lips against hers in cute pecks that leave her whining for more and looping her arms around Trevor’s neck to keep him close. 

“Your Royal Highness sounds perfect,” Trevor mumbles.

“Would you hurry the fuck up and finger me already?” Honey berates, tugging the hair at the nape of Trevor’s neck. 

“Yes, your Royal Highness.” 

Trevor pets over her panties twice more, running his finger all the way from her slit to the patch of skin just past her clit, then he removes his hand. Honey nearly growls, but Trevor shifts his other hand under her skirt and uses both to pull her panties down her legs. He taps her hip so that she shifts on the counter, able to slide her underwear off and place them in his pocket for safekeeping. His fingers, callused and rough against her wet skin, spread her folds and rub over her entrance. 

Honey shudders, her mouth opening against Trevor’s when he presses two into her from the get-go, up to the first knuckle. She swerves his next kiss, gasping with her breath fanning across his cheeks and rolling her hips against his fingers. 

“Sorry,” Trevor whispers. He presses his lips to her cheekbone, further embellishing her blush with the sweet gesture. “We have to be quick. I have a feeling some old ladies might come looking for us if we’re gone too long.”

“Don’t talk about them right now,” Honey groans, patting her hand against Trevor’s hand with an ounce of force behind it. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Trevor agrees.

“Just make me come,” Honey bosses, sliding forward on the counter. She spreads her knees and Trevor steps closer, his fingers filling her up. His fingers are thin, and long, and Honey’s fingers are stiff with how tight she’s holding him against her. She moans aloud when the wide, bulbous second knuckles of his fingers work past her entrance, then slaps a hand over her mouth. It brings Trevor even closer, with the bend of her elbow securely against the back of his neck. 

He laughs at the noise, shushing her quietly. He brings his other hand up to her chin and meets her lips. “You make some pretty noises, Honey, but we can’t let anyone else hear them,” Trevor whispers like it’s a shared joke between them. “Those are just for me.”

“You wish,” Honey bites back, just as Trevor draws another noise out of her with a pointed stroke of his fingers. 

“Mmm, I do,” Trevor murmurs. “You feel even better than I thought you would.”

“Trevor.” Honey grinds against him, tugging at the chest of his t-shirt.

“So warm and wet for me,” Trevor continues.

“Maybe I’m not thinking about you,” Honey gasps out. “Maybe I’m thinking about someone else.”

“Doesn’t matter– no one else is here,” Trevor replies. “Just me and my pretty girl.”

“Your Royal Highness,” Honey corrects, feeling Trevor’s fingers prod at her in a way that’s making her teeter along the edge of an orgasm– the first orgasm she’s experienced with a man since Thomas, she realizes. Sure, she’s had them alone, but she’d forgotten how mind-numbingly good it was to relinquish control and let someone else bring her pleasure. 

“Exactly, my Royal Highness. Why don’t you focus on coming instead of bossing me around?” Trevor increases his tempo then, rubbing the heel of his hand not-quite over her clit, but close enough and with enough pressure to make Honey keen and arch her back into him. 

Her nipples are hard, practically poking through her shirt. The fabric of her top, against the fabric of his top, with the hard muscle of his torso beneath it sends a rush through Honey’s body. Her mouth hangs open as she comes, bouncing a little bit with quivering thighs on Trevor’s fingers to prolong the feeling that comes over her. Honey’s head lolls back against the cabinets, the knob digging into the skin at the base of her skull in an uncomfortable way. Normally, Honey would be bothered, but she can’t care less about the pain in her neck when Trevor’s fingers are still moving inside of her and his lips are molded against hers, swallowing each sound she makes. 

When she comes down, Trevor kisses her one last time and pulls her skirt back down. He reaches over and runs his fingers under the faucet, wiping them with a paper towel once he deems them clean enough. 

“Not hungry?” Honey asks, her vision a little blurry after squeezing them so tight when she came. 

“If you think the first time I’m going to taste you is by licking my fingers, you’re sorely mistaken,” Trevor chides. He draws her panties out of his pocket and holds them up. “Can I keep these?”

“No way!” Honey exclaims, a laugh escaping her. “I am not letting you keep my underwear, you freak. I’m definitely not walking around this store all day with no panties on, Trevor. Give ‘em back.”

Trevor just wiggles his eyebrows and bites down on the waistband of the panties, leaving them dangling from his mouth as he slides to his knees. He pulls Honey’s ankles through the leg holes, then releases his grip on the waistband to draw them up her legs. 

Honey shifts her hips again so he can pull them up, laughing as Trevor’s head disappears and makes a lump under her skirt. She pops him on the head like a Whack-A-Mole and Trevor lets out a little “hey!” when she does. 

Just before he retreats, he pats her hips goodbye and brushes a kiss against her clit. Honey can hear him whisper something under his breath before he kisses there again, then he pulls her skirt off until his head is free. He smiles up at Honey, that same stupid smile on his face, and the dipshit has the nerve to wink at her.

“You are such a loser,” Honey tells him, exasperated. Once he’s far enough away, she slides down from the counter and onto her feet. 

“Mmm, you like it,” Trevor says, leaning in to kiss her again, but Honey just pushes him away.

“Get outta here,” she commands, trying to hold back a smile and failing. She pushes him to the door and he stumbles through it, laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” Vera asks, pausing her knitting.

“Trevor thinks he’s got jokes,” Honey says with a frown, her palms pressed against the small of Trevor’s back as she pushes him towards the entrance to The Reading Nook. He does not make it very easy for her. She’s able to wrench the door open and use her shoulder to push him out of the building, which makes him laugh again. He waves goodbye before he walks away.

After returning to the table, a lethal eye roll on Honey’s face in plain view for all the women to see, Scarlett speaks up. “What did he give you?”

“Nothing but grief,” Honey says with a nod and a huff of annoyance. “Here’s your scoop for the gossip circle, ladies– that boy is nothing but a loser.”

She’s overplaying it, but he really is. She just hopes that her voice doesn’t sound as fond about his loserish tendencies as the pitter-patter of her heart makes them out to be.

Honey returns to her own project, head down and avoiding the eyes of the ladies. They certainly have more questions, but Honey will not entertain the teases that these women are capable of. She already gets teased enough, even if their statements are made out of love and belonging.

The bell jingles above the door again and Bea walks in, sipping at the straw of her coffee. Later, when she goes to assemble her lunch on the counter, Honey is going to have to politely steer her towards the table. Then, Honey will have to explain why Bea can’t make her lunch on the counter until after Honey cleans it, and then they’ll squeal in the back room until Ada pops her head in and tells them to quiet down.

For now, though, Honey just wants to sit with her secret and feel her lips buzz with the mesmerizing phantom press of Trevor’s.

31:90 – TREVOR

Trevor doesn’t wake up to an alarm. He set one, he did, but instead, he wakes up to text after text from Bea.

what time are the guys leaving today

is quinn getting his haircut before or after he leaves

why aren’t you awake yet

when is the flight

which airport are they flying out of???

where are the awards again?

trevor get UP it’s almost 9 and i actually went to work on time today i’m BORED

oh and another thing

don’t think we’re not having a conversation about how you fingered honey on MYYYYY counter

with the ladies in the next room over?? you are an exhibitionist and i do not like the bad influence you have on honey

my workplace should not be brought into your sexcapades IDIOT

omg WAKE UPPPPPP

trevor

trevor

trevor

trevor

trevor

trevor

She’s still typing when Trevor finally wakes up and grabs his phone, irate and ready to chuck it across the room so that he can get that last twenty minutes of sleep before Quinn says it’s time to head to Charlotte.

will you stop by the nook before you leave so i can say goodbye

The thin line of Trevor’s patience finally snaps. He clicks through his phone, clicking on the blue number under Bea’s contact and bringing the phone to his ear. She picks up on the fourth ring and Trevor doesn’t let her take a breath before he snaps at her. “Give Quinn your fucking phone number so you don’t wake me up with a shit ton of pointless messages, Bea McLean.”

He’s pissed off and the girl has the nerve to laugh. “At least I got your attention.”

From a distance, Honey voice reaches the telephone. “Who is that?”

“It’s Trevor.”

“Oh.”

Trevor shakes off Honey’s “oh” as best he can. He’s hoping that her face conveyed more excitement about Trevor’s presence on the phone than her voice did. 

She seemed to like it when he fingered her on the counter. She was just as sassy as always, something Trevor wouldn’t trade for shit, and he cataloged every second of it for later– later, as in, when he got home and wrapped the same hand that was inside of her around his dick and stroked himself to a very quick release.

Trevor speaks again. “Why are you so against giving him your number?”

“Not him, dummy. If the other boys catch wind that I gave him my number, they’ll start demanding it.”

“The other boys?” Trevor asks.

“Jack.”

“Yeah.” Trevor pauses, rubbing his hand over his face. “So you need us to come to your work so you can give Quinn’s hair a goodbye kiss?”

“Tell him he’s not allowed in the store,” Honey says.

Trevor assumes she’s joking, but if she wasn’t, he’d be mad that she said that. He knows what Bea said about her one hundred attempts to push him away, but that’s just plain mean. What if he wanted to read a book? Would he have to send Cole to pick it up for him?

Luckily, Bea has Trevor’s back. “You didn’t seem to mind him being in the store yesterday.”

At the same time, Trevor doesn’t want to push his luck. Sometimes, with Honey, it seems like he goes one step forward and two steps back. He doesn’t want to give her a reason to pull away from him. “Tell her I can stay in the car.”

“What if I don’t want you to stay in the car? What if I want all of you to come into the store so Quinn and I can have a quickie in the back?” Bea asks, her tone pointed not at Trevor, but at Honey, who Trevor assumes is still hovering in the background. 

“In public?” Honey exclaims.

“As if you’re any better,” Bea says.

“Can you focus on me for a second? I don’t want to talk to you any longer than I have to,” Trevor says, speaking up so that Bea certainly can hear him. He snaps his fingers next to the speaker for a couple of seconds just to annoy the girl. “We’re headed to the Charlotte airport in like ten. I don’t think we have time to stop by and see you.”

“Well, how early will you be?” Bea sasses, a frown evident from the tone of her voice. “At the airport.”

“Q is on Dad Mode and wants to go two hours early.”

“Tell him that’s fucked. And then tell him that I’ll be mad at him if he doesn’t see me before he leaves.”

“Didn’t you come over yesterday and take a nap with him?” Trevor pinches his bottom lip and speaks through the muffle. 

Bea hums over the phone, high-pitched and obvious. 

“No one wants to hear about that,” Honey admonishes. 

“Go away. I’m talking to Trevor.”

“You’re barely talking to Trevor!” Trevor snaps. “You can’t just send me twenty texts and then talk more to Honey than to me–”

“So you’re jealous…”

“I want you to stop annoying me. Give Quinn your phone number–”

“That’s not going to happen…”

“And get out of my business!”

Trevor pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up. He tosses it with a loud clatter onto the floor and experiences a brief moment of reprieve and silence before someone in the kitchen hits the ceiling with the broom. He bets it’s Cole. He recently watched the episode of Friends where Mr. Heckles died and he’s starting banging the broom against the ceiling “in memoriam” of the side character. 

Trevor rolls out of bed and pulls on a shirt, swapping his boxers for a new pair and pulling his jeans on. 

When he walks down the hall, he bangs on Luke and Quinn’s door. “Bea says she doesn't give a shit if you're late to the airport, she wants to say goodbye before your stupid haircut,” he announces through the wood of the door, hoping that the boys are doing their normal last-minute packing. He’s proven right when a muffled “okay” comes through the door and Trevor retreats, but not after he tells the boys that they’re leaving in five minutes and they’d better be in the car by then, or Trevor will make sure they never make it to the award show.

They don't make it to the car in time and, although he’s annoyed, Trevor’s threat was an empty one. He already abandoned Quinn in Charlotte once and he thinks Quinn might kill him if he pulls the same thing (but opposite) a second time.

Both Trevor and Cole tag along for the ride to the airport. They take Trevor’s car and the two non-Hughes ride in the front seat. The short ride to The Reading Nook reminds Trevor why they don’t normally allow the brothers to ride together in the backseat– because they’re annoying. Luke wasn’t even helpful this time– the mediator of the family refused to sit in the middle because his legs are too long, which left Quinn or Jack to take the middle and Quinn outright refused, despite being the shortest. 

Trevor can’t believe they have to drive all the way to Charlotte with the Hughes brothers in the back. It’s no wonder their parents bought a car with a third row and banished Jack to the “way-way back.” Trevor is considering trading his car in for Quinn’s rental car on the way out of town– the third row would give him reprieve. There’s only so many times Cole can turn up the music to drown out the brotherly bickering before the stereo is turned to maximum volume. 

Jack spills out of the car when they make it to The Reading Nook, barely letting Trevor shift the car into park before he’s climbing out and spreading his arms wide just because he can. He does the same with his feet, standing wide and starfishing vertically in the middle of the sidewalk, his head tilted back and eyes closed. There’s no regard for the passersby, nor for the brothers that are climbing out of the car after him.

Luke reminds him of his existence quickly with a sharp pat to the back of Jack’s head, knocking his hat off and taking it with him into the store. Jack chases after him, the front bell ringing as they barge through the door and disturb the quiet atmosphere of the Nook that Trevor has come to enjoy.

Cole and Quinn follow behind the boys at a normal pace and Cole holds the door open for Quinn, who gets an armful of Bea as soon as he crosses the threshold. 

Trevor watches from the car, true to his word. He catches Bea’s million-dollar-smile (her words, not his) as she throws her arms around Quinn’s neck and automatically intertwines her fingers in his hair. She blows a kiss at Trevor when she sees him, barely looking past Quinn to acknowledge the boy before she turns back to the man she’s all over. Trevor can’t see Quinn’s face, but he can imagine the content on Quinn’s features as Bea fusses over him and ignores the other boys.

Cole eventually makes his way into the store as well, leaving the door to close behind him. Trevor sees his own reflection against the glass, then turns back to the wheel.

He runs his fingernails along the stitching of the wheel. He goes around the whole circle, then traces the logo in the center of the wheel over and over. Eventually, he tires of that, and closes his eyes. He leans back against the headrest and plans the week out in his head– today, the Hughes boys leave. Tomorrow is the award show, then on Friday, Cole wants to bust out the hot tub since they haven’t used it yet. The boys come back on Saturday morning, filling the house again. 

Trevor has two days of peace. He’s happy for Quinn and Luke, nominated for the Norris and the Calder respectively, but he can’t wait to get some peace and quiet. If he’s lucky, Bea won’t bother him until Saturday when the boys get back.

His eyes are still closed when the passenger door opens and someone shuffles in. Assuming it’s Cole, or maybe even Luke, Trevor keeps his eyes closed and doesn’t acknowledge them.

“I wasn’t serious, you know. You’re allowed to come in the store.”

Trevor startles at Honey’s voice, his hands accidentally making contact with the horn and honking it. When he looks at her, she’s smiling, and he blushes.

“I wasn’t sure,” Trevor replies. “I didn’t want to overstep.”

Honey stares at him, unimpressed. “You fingered me in the back room of my work with the ladies in the other room and then asked to keep my panties. You’re either at zero or one hundred, aren’t you, Trevor?”

Trevor smiles, a little sheepish. “So you liked it?” He asks, biting down on his bottom lip after the question leaves him. One of his hands rubs over the hem of his shorts, fingers dipping under the fabric to toy with it. 

Honey hesitates, tapping her finger to her chin and looking up at the ceiling of the car to delay her answer even further, but Trevor knows that she’s just doing so to get on his nerves. “You were fine.”

“Fine?” Trevor demands. 

Honey shrugs. 

“You’re a dirty liar, Honey,” Trevor says. “I made you come in minutes and I barely touched your clit.”

“That was your problem. It could’ve gone faster.”

Trevor’s jaw is slack, then he laughs a little. “So you didn’t like it?”

Honey shrugs again, but there’s a little smile pulling at her lips. Trevor takes that as a good sign.

“You’re being mean to me when we both know that when I fingerfucked you, you couldn’t stop moaning for me,” Trevor says with an ounce of pride leaking into his statement.

“Just because you and I were the only two people in the room doesn’t mean I was moaning for you. How do you know for sure that I was thinking about you? I believe I brought this up yesterday, too.” Honey raises her eyebrows like a challenge.

Trevor leans into her space, over the center console. His elbows dig into the barely-cushioned leather and he knows his eyes are half-lidded from the way Honey leans back and tilts her chin up, appearing unaffected by his movements. She never falls for his sultry, go-to flirtatious expressions. “You definitely weren’t thinking about what would happen if we got caught,” Trevor says. “And who’s to say I would’ve stopped even if we had?”

Honey purses her lips, eyebrows turned down as she presses her tongue to the back of her front teeth. She stares at Trevor for a moment, evaluating him, then she turns and lets herself out of the car. She slams the passenger door in Trevor’s face and stomps toward the entrance of the store. 

Trevor rolls down the window and calls after her. “Too much?”

“You’re really banned from my store now,” Honey replies, not turning to look back. She wrenches the door open, bell jangling merrily in sharp contrast to the scowl that Trevor is sure adorns her face, then slams that behind her.

Within a minute, the boys shuffle out of the store awkwardly and clamber into the car. Jack ends up in the middle seat again, waiting for Quinn to climb in after him. 

Quinn hesitates before getting in the car, reluctant to let go of Bea’s hand. Trevor watches as he gives her a soft little smile and mumbles something before leaning over to kiss her cheek. 

Bea nods and puts her hand in his hair again, tilting his head down so she can kiss the brown mess. Then, she squeezes his hand and wishes him luck. She peers into the car. “You too, Lukey. Good luck.”

Quinn lets her go, then climbs into the car. Bea shuts the door for him, then waves goodbye. She turns and walks back into the store, and not five minutes later, Trevor gets a text from the girl.

thank you good sir i’ll make sure honey doesn’t ban you entirely

Then, another few minutes later, a picture of the front window of the shop that now hosts a “No Trevors Allowed” sign in the bottom corner of the window. Trevor saves the picture to his phone with a little smile. Honey’s dramatic. He likes her so much. 

32:90 – HONEY

Honey was hoping that with Quinn, Luke, and Jack gone for the next few days, she’d be free to sit at home and ignore Trevor’s looming presence. She could start her newest book– a romance, because she’s had a desire to read something trashy lately. She could bake something, or keep working on her knitting, or just go to bed early and rest. 

But Honey should’ve known that that would be too much to ask. 

Bea wants to watch the award show and she wants to watch it with the boys, since her libido has increased by leaps and bounds since she started hooking up with people regularly again and Cole’s the only boy left in town. Honey is sure that Bea will put him to use over the next two days. 

Honey tried to hide in the Nook again before closing, but she failed for a second time. She likes to think that she can outwit Bea, but the girls know each other so well that neither of them can get very far into something secret without the other finding out– or finding their hiding place. Next time she wants to avoid hanging out with the boys at Bea’s request, she’ll just ask Ada if she can leave early. If that doesn’t work, she’ll just escape when Bea isn’t looking and skip out on the end of her shift.

What’s Ada going to do? Fire her?

The worst part about Bea dragging Honey to the boys’ house is that Bea walked to work and Honey had only enough gas to get home before filling up the following morning… so she had to fill up her tank and Bea did not offer to pay, although it was her idea to go to the rental house in the first place.

Now, Honey is sat between Bea and Cole with a full hand of Uno cards, trying to shield her cards from the prying eyes of the blond boy on one side and ignore the girl on her other. Trevor is sat on the loveseat, flicking through the channels before finding ESPN and tossing the remote onto the table before them. He’s got his own hand of cards, but he’s left them out on the table for everyone to see. Bea has been reaching over and plucking his worst cards out of the pile on his turn. She’s also been working overtime to make sure Trevor receives every +4 card that she can find.

“When does the show start?” Bea asks, reaching forward to spread Trevor’s cards out even further.

“Seven,” Trevor replies, checking his watch and sounding bored. He hugs a pillow against his chest and yawns. Instead of returning to the game of Uno, he keeps his eyes on the television and lets Bea do whatever she wants with his cards.

Honey frowns, but then focuses back on her cards. She bats Cole away, then picks one of her cards and lays it down. She covers her hand, hiding it from view, and looks at the television. 

The announcers seem to be discussing various sports, just talking back and forth about stats and statistics. A lot of it is focused on hockey, with the awards coming up, and Honey raises her eyebrows when she sees a clip of Quinn hitting an opposing player, rocking the guy and spinning in a one-legged circle with the momentum. Other than the spin, he barely moved on the ice. He didn’t stumble at all from the weight of the other man crashing into him. 

Honey finds herself nodding at the sight of it, as if in a trance, then she shakes herself out of it. She returns to the Uno game, catching a side eye from Cole that was much too obvious to be a serious action as she reviews her cards.

Bea wins the game, because of course she does. She and her family are by-the-rulebook Uno players, so Bea almost always wins just by her sheer knowledge of what you can and cannot do in the game. 

Honey also thinks she might just be a very convincing liar.

Before they know it, the announcers are signing off for the night and ESPN is segueing into the NHL Awards. There’s impressive animations on the channel, clips of the players that are tastefully thrown together by the production team, and a live look at some of the families walking down the carpet. 

Honey is more excited about the creation of the broadcast than the contents of the broadcast itself, if you can’t tell. 

Bea slams the pack of cards on the table just as the cameramen start to show players and their guests. 

“Wow, they’re a gorgeous couple,” Bea marvels, drinking in the mint-colored suit and dress on a pair. 

The woman is blonde with some of the longest, possibly heaviest earrings Honey has ever seen and the man has a bright smile. His cheeks and nose seem a little sunburnt, but only in a way that glows. 

“That’s one of the guys Quinn is up against,” Trevor says.

Bea immediately frowns. “Then I hate their outfits and any talent he possesses,” she gripes, crossing her arms over her chest. 

She holds that position until a man with a mustache comes on the screen wearing the most jarring outfit Honey has ever seen. Whoever styled this man did not realize they were styling a premier athlete– they were told that his aesthetic was Cape-Cod Grandmother. Honey hopes that’s the case at least– she’d never get over it if this was the man’s actual style.

Bea agrees, speaking as if she can read Honey’s thoughts. “Holy shit, Emily Gilmore,” she breathes out.

Cole chokes on his yawn, whacking himself on the chest as his breath stutters. He looks up at the TV and starts laughing, rolling on the couch and clutching at his stomach. His face is contorted like he’s miserable from laughing so hard, growing red in the face. 

Trevor casts him a glare, bewildered. “Who’s Emily Gilmore?”

The way Trevor says her name sends Cole into another fit of giggles and Honey can barely suppress a smile. The boy’s smile is contagious.

“She’s, like, an old money Connecticut grandma,” Bea exclaims, grinning wildly as Cole chortles. “It’s from a show. What’s so funny, Co-Ca?”

“He’s making the Leafs look fucking stupid,” Cole forces out between laughs. He gulps down a few deep breaths to calm himself, then giggles again. 

“You’re lucky the Hughes boys didn’t hear you say that,” Trevor says. “You know how they hate when you poke fun at their childhood team just because they’re your rival.”

Bea shushes them all. “Speaking of the Hughes!” She points at the TV, eyes glued to the screen. She won’t even blink. 

Honey shakes her head fondly, then turns to catch what Bea’s looking at. 

She sees Luke first, with a sleek black suit and a tie that Honey can’t quite decide the color of– beige? gold? tan? Regardless of the color, it looks good on him, adding a pop of color to the outfit that’s just classy enough on Luke to not be overkill. He’s smiling wide, looking charming at the camera. Honey has never seen him turn on the charm like this before– but it’s impressive. He looks at home, even though once his smile fades between photos he looks back to his normal self. Maybe it finally set in that he was at the NHL Awards and that he’s nominated for once, not just attending with family. Honey hopes he’s not too nervous.

Quinn is next, looking mature in his black suit with the black tie. Whereas a colorful tie helped Luke out, color would just distract from the pure confidence Quinn exudes. He’s walking around like he’s already won the title of Best Defenseman, smirking at cameras and fixing his jacket. His hands go in his pockets after that and Honey admires his belt, a smooth black leather with a silver buckle. They’re simple and he looks smug, almost, in the outfit.

Honey looks over at Bea, who is biting the side of her bottom lip. 

She returns to Quinn. She notices that his hair was cropped much shorter, to an almost corporate length. Honey recalls the first time she met Trevor, when he said that all the buys were business partners. Quinn could definitely pass as an executive of a company, raking in the big bucks in a high-level office. 

“Has he always had that scar on his cheek?” Honey asks.

Bea shakes her head, still facing forward. “He just got it this past season, during the playoffs,” she tells Honey before Trevor or Cole can supply the information.

Jack isn’t shown right away, which is kind of disappointing for Honey. She would’ve liked to see all the boys right away. Honey leans forward to grab a handful of pretzels from Cole’s bowl of snacks. She catches Trevor watching her out of the corner of his eye when she sits back on the couch. She frowns, then chews a pretzel.

“Has their mom always been that gorgeous?” Bea asks, sounding awed. 

Honey looks to the TV and catches a blonde woman in a loose white shirt and black pants, looking delighted but reserved on the screen. Honey can imagine her as someone who would bake some brownies as a housewarming gift for her new neighbors upon their move into the neighborhood. Her hands are aged with love and although there are lines starting to peek at the corners of her eyes and cheeks, Honey immediately has nothing but respect for Mrs. Hughes.

She’s standing with an older man and Jack, holding onto the arm of Mr. Hughes with a casual intimacy that Honey audibly murmurs at. Mr. Hughes is smiling, close-lipped but proud as his sons join them. 

“She has Jack’s smile,” Bea says softly, sounding touched. “That’s so special.”

Speaking of Jack, Honey admires his outfit. He’s wearing a steely, almost metallic-iron suit with a black button-up beneath it. His suit wouldn’t be so eye-catching if he were wearing a white button-up, plus it would wash him out. He’s not wearing a tie, which makes him stand out, but his only problem is that Honey wishes he had taken more time with his hair. It doesn’t look as good as she knows it can, which is frustrating. 

The camera cuts away from the family after they catch that initial shot, so Honey loses the boys. Bea sighs at the same time, laying back as if she can bury herself between couch cushions. She frowns at the loss of the Hughes brothers and Trevor chuckles out a little laugh. 

“You know you get to meet them for Fourth of July,” he mentions, smirking at Bea.

The girl’s expression drops with her jaw, her eyes flashing. “What?” She asks, blinking rapidly. She sits forward again. “His parents are coming for the Fourth?”

Trevor laughs sharply and nods. “Yeah, Quinn didn’t tell you yet? They decided to come last week. They said the Michigan house seemed too empty this summer without them.”

Cole jumps in. “Plus, once they heard Jamie got invited on our ‘top-secret-vacation,’ they didn’t believe the excuse that we wanted to be alone this summer,” he laughs. “But you can’t really complain when Ellen and Jim are around. That reminds me, we have to find a new golf course for when Big J comes.” He’s speaking solely to Trevor and Honey rolls her eyes at the nickname– Mr. Hughes must hate it when Cole calls him ‘Big J.’

“Why didn’t you guys tell me sooner?” Bea cries, throwing her hands up. She runs one of her hands through her hair, gathering it out of her face. She ties her hair up with the elastic on her wrist and fans herself like she’s sweating. “I can’t meet their parents when I’m fucking all three of them.”

“Four if you count me,” Cole adds. “I’m like their adopted son. I’ve met their grandma and she loves me.”

Honey laughs aloud at that.

“All grandmas seem to like you, eh, Coley?” Trevor teases. “Vera loves you more than anyone else in Litchton.”

“Oh, God,” Honey groans, rolling her eyes. “You can never bring him to Knitting Circle.”

Everyone grows quiet for a second and Honey seems to realize what she said. She laughed with Trevor. 

Noooooooooo–

“Has Trevor gone to Knitting Circle with all the old ladies?” Bea asks, giggling. She looks elated to have found yet another thing to bother Trevor about and Cole looks mildly interested, a smile growing on his face. 

“You know how to knit?” Cole asks, poking his tongue between his teeth and sticking it out at Trevor with a crinkle of his nose. 

Trevor shrugs. “I needed a hobby for the summer. I was bored and stumbled on it one morning. Honey hates it when I show up.”

He looks over at her, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head in a tiny nod. His lips quirk, but barely.

Honey suddenly realizes that he’s staying true to his promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone. She doesn’t know why she doubted him, except for that flower incident outside the fruit stand, and she feels like it’s unbearable to look at him any longer. She blinks quickly and wrenches her gaze away from him before she can do something stupid like smile.

“Maybe I have to come to Knitting Circle,” Cole threatens, smiling wildly. “I have been looking for something to do this summer.”

“No, you can’t come,” Trevor says. “It’s my special thing.”

“Yours and Honey’s special thing,” Cole groans. “That’s not fair. Why do you want to exclude me so bad?”

“It’s not a Trevor and Honey thing,” Honey insists. “He just shows up and I have to be there because I’m the only one who shows up to work on time.”

“Not true!” Bea denies, upset. “I showed up on time yesterday.”

“And that was the first time since…?” Honey asks, reaching over and pinching Bea’s thigh. 

Bea bats her hand away and pouts, curling up into a ball on the couch. She’s still sitting upright, but she nestles herself in the corner of the cushions and the armchair, her knees pulled tight to her chest. She steals Honey’s blanket and wraps it around herself. 

“Shut up,” Bea says. “The show is starting.”

Honey returns her attention to the screen and the group of four grows quiet. Bea audibly coos and pinches her fingers at the TV when she sees all three brothers sitting on a couch together. 

The foursome doesn’t talk much throughout the show– Trevor and Cole make a few comments about the attendees, explaining who they are and why they’re important to the girls. Bea makes a comment about the announcer, about how she doesn’t like his jokes. Honey just shrugs, but she silently agrees. The attendees just look uncomfortable when he talks, especially a younger looking boy with brown hair. 

It takes a while for the awards to actually get going, but Luke’s is one of the first. Honey is surprised to know that he’s in his first year in the league. When she was watching their scrimmage the other day, pretending to tan while Trevor pranced around in his little compression shorts, Luke seemed well-practiced and mature when handling the puck. 

She supposes it makes sense– he’s had twenty years of puck-handling under his belt. The boy could skate before he could walk and had a stick in hand like a silver spoon when he was born. All of the boys did– not that it’s a bad thing. They’re lucky that they love hockey so much– it’s their destiny.

Bea stands and shrieks at the television when Luke doesn’t win the Calder Trophy, waving a finger wildly and stomping her feet with a frown. She had the same reaction when she would attend Honey’s softball games and the umpires would make a bad call. It makes Honey laugh.

The boys try to explain the voting system to Bea, as well as Luke’s stats. Bea doesn’t care.

“It’s unfair is what it is,” Bea says petulantly. “Who is this Connor Bedard kid anyway?”

That makes Trevor laugh, tossing his head back. “He’s a first overall pick and he got to enter the minors in Canada a year early because he’s just that good, Bea. Luke wasn’t going to get the Trophy, but it’s an honor to have been nominated. There are a lot of rookies in the league. Luke is top three– that’s sick.”

“Luke is top one,” Bea insists. 

Trevor rolls his eyes and holds his hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say.”

Bea nods, satisfied with Trevor’s cession. She makes little comments here and there about each person on the screen, each winner of each award, and even continues to gripe about the announcer. She’s surprised to see celebrity announcers on stage who reveal the winners of the trophies. 

Finally, it’s Quinn’s turn, and Bea shushes everyone, even though she was the only one talking. She sits forward and folds her hands together, her fingertips pressing against her bottom lip. Her eyes are trained on the screen, drinking in the introductions and smiling a little when they show Quinn’s image in the corner of the screen.

“C’mon, Q,” Cole breathes out, anxiously biting a hangnail on his thumb. He waits with baited breath, as does Honey. Trevor pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and middle finger and stares at the TV.

The pause between the announcers’ words seems to stretch eternally. The celebrity announcers do not speak in unison, the girl hesitating when the boy lags behind, making the announcement frustrating for Honey. 

When they announce Quinn’s name, Bea jumps to her feet and screams, bouncing up and down. Cole joins her and they bounce around the room hugging and cheering while Quinn accepts his award. Bea reaches for Honey and pulls her into the circle, while Trevor laughs from his loveseat and tries to focus on Quinn’s speech. In celebration, Bea kisses Cole’s cheek, Honey’s cheek, and Trevor’s forehead, collapsing across his legs and grabbing his wrists to clap his hands together in applause. She pinches Trevor’s cheeks too, then holds her hand out flat in front of his face.

“What?” Trevor asks, clapping his hand down on hers and dapping her up. 

Bea drops his dap and flattens her hand in front of him again. 

Trevor goes to spit his gum out in her hand, but Bea wrenches it back. “Ew!”

“What?” Trevor repeats, laughing.

“I need your phone,” Bea tells him. 

“Why?” Trevor asks.

“I want to call Quinn and congratulate him,” Bea says.

Trevor rolls his eyes. “He won’t be able to talk to you until later tonight. The show’s going to last for a little while, then they have to do photos after. You’d be better off calling him tomorrow. Can I interest you in putting his number in your phone?”

Bea pushes Trevor’s head back so it knocks against the cushions, then climbs off of him. She pulls on his belt loops until he’s teetering on the edge of the couch and kicking his legs out to get Bea to let go. “Give me your phone or I’ll beat you up.”

Trevor laughs, so Bea pops him on the hip with a sharp hand. He winces at that and shakes her off. “Dude, you can call him later. Get off me.”

“Yeah, Bea, leave him alone,” Honey says. 

“But I want to call Quinn to tell him how pretty he looks,” Bea whines, pouting.

“Call him later. Trevor can text him and make sure that Quinn calls when he’s back at his hotel room. Right, Trevor?” Honey says. She turns to the boy, who is situating himself on the loveseat again. He looks surprised that Honey addressed him, but pleased nonetheless.

“Yeah, I’ll shoot him a text now,” Trevor says, nodding along at Honey’s suggestion.

She wants to roll her eyes at how willing he is to text Quinn when she says it, although he would have continued to fight Bea as long as she kept pestering him. He dutifully pulls his phone out of his back pocket and taps away at the screen, eventually locking it and putting it away. He smiles at Honey when he’s done, but she only catches it out of the corner of her eye. She’s turned back to the TV by now.

The night passes with little more interest, except for the boys. They nod along with most of the remaining winners, unsurprised by the award recipients. Bea and Honey play Uno again between themselves and Bea wins for the millionth time. Honey asks her to play pool, which she won’t because she doesn’t want to lose, but Cole does. Bea eventually takes Trevor’s phone with a “hi, Q-baby!” and heads upstairs with it, squealing excitedly into the phone. Trevor joins the remaining pair at the pool table, perching himself upon one of the saddle-stools and watching Honey playfully tease Cole throughout the loss. Cole demands a rematch, which Honey grants him, and after he loses that round, Trevor grabs his own cue and proposes a game of 9-ball.

They play a few rounds, the game much easier given that there are so many fewer balls on the felt. Honey wins a few and so do Trevor and Cole, but no one is keeping track. No one is updating the board. They’re just having a good time– and it’s a night that Honey knows she’ll remember for the rest of her life. 

33:90 – TREVOR

It feels like as soon as the girls leave, they’re back. Bea might’ve slept over, to be honest, but Trevor doesn’t know. He knows Honey left because she never made it to his bedroom (and yes, he did go looking for her). 

But now she’s back to soak in the hot tub with them, since Cole mentioned uncovering it last night and Honey said Bea would like that. She brought Bea with her, obviously, although Trevor would have liked to see just Honey. 

On the bright side, he has a plan to get Bea out of the picture– Quinn did an interview today for the Four Nations Face-Off, since he was named to Team USA, and Trevor expects Bea to be very interested in how his hair looks after he hasn’t showered in a day. She’ll be even more interested to hear about how the brothers went gambling and they had to sneak Luke in since he’s under the legal limit. He’s actually ready to hand over his phone and allow the girl to disappear if it means that he can have Honey alone– Cole is the only other person he needs to take care of.

That shouldn’t be hard. All he has to do is keep feeding Cole beers and the boy will grow tired sooner rather than later. Trevor actually already started the process– Cole’s been drinking all day and so has Trevor, but Trevor’s been able to keep a grip on himself by eating plenty and drinking water.

When the girls walk through the front door, they’re already wearing their swimsuits. Trevor can tell because Honey’s got a sweatshirt on, the same one that she wore on the boat a few weeks ago, and Trevor can see her long, long legs beneath it. The sweatshirt is just long enough that Trevor knows she’s not hiding shorts under there– just the swimsuit. 

Bea’s the opposite. She’s got a knitted wrap around her body, like a long cardigan, but it doesn’t open in the front like a cardigan. It’s also threadbare on purpose– Trevor can see right through it. She’s got a blue flowery bikini on underneath it, which Cole compliments right away.

“Bea, you look good in blue,” Cole says, tongue loose from all the beer. 

Trevor smirks against the lip of his own bottle and takes a sip to hide it, although he catches Honey’s eye and knows that she’s figured him out immediately. 

But she doesn’t say anything, to Trevor’s excitement.

“Thanks, Coley,” Bea says. “I’ve been told it’s my signature color.”

“For good reason.”

Trevor takes another swig of his beer bottle before leaning to set it on the table. “Hot tub?”

Cole’s face lights up when Trevor mentions it. He scrambles to his feet and nearly forgets to grab his drink but circles back around. “Yes! I uncovered it this afternoon.” He walks toward the back porch, then Honey grabs his arm.

“Cole, we’re upstairs. The hot tub is on the patio. Let’s go out from the basement door, yeah?” She says, leading him towards the basement steps. Cole goes happily, shifting Honey’s hand down so that he can intertwine fingers with her, and he looks very pleased about it.

Trevor rolls his eyes. If Cole could hold hands with someone all day long, he would. It doesn’t matter who.

Bea and Trevor follow along, with the girl shedding her cover up as soon as they make it down the stairs. She tosses the white article of clothing onto the couch, toeing off her shoes when they reach the door. 

Honey is laughing as Cole starts to pull his shirt off, struggling with the fabric when it gets stuck on his neck. She helps him take it off, then tosses it aside. It hits Trevor in the chest and he catches it when it falls. 

“Cole, you’re not wearing a swimsuit,” Bea says. “Wouldn’t you prefer it if you went to change?”

Cole’s eyebrows furrow and he frowns. “No?” He replies. “I can just wear my underwear. It’s the same thing, pretty much.”

Bea’s mouth quirks up at the edges and she raises her hands, backing up a step. “Whatever you say.”

Cole nods with a “hmph”, dropping his shorts and stepping out of them. He climbs into the hot tub, grinning to himself as he settles in.

Bea joins him, sitting across from the boy. He starts talking about something– Trevor can’t be bothered to listen to what– and Bea engages with him. 

Honey walks over towards the house and places a hand on the doorframe to balance herself as she toes her own shoes off next to Bea’s. 

Trevor joins her, draping Cole’s shirt over one of her shoulders. He leans into her space and says quietly, “Want to undress me, too?”

Honey startles back at his words, her head snapping up and her expression growing dark. She slaps Trevor’s arm repeatedly, gritting her teeth and hissing at him. “Get– away– from me!” Honey exclaims between hits, finally using Cole’s shirt as an added weapon. She twists the shirt and snaps it at him like a dishtowel. “You are so fucking annoying!”

She pulls her sweatshirt over her head and stomps away from Trevor before he can really take in the view, but he’s perfectly content watching her walk away. She’s wearing a purple swimsuit, almost like the plum of his alternate jersey, and her bottoms are quite cheeky– Trevor chooses to believe she wore that just for him.

He pulls his shirt over his head and sheds his shorts, leaving him just in his underwear like Cole. He climbs into the tub, stretching his legs out and laying his feet flat on the edge of the step where Honey sits, on either side of her legs. Cole stacks his legs on top of Trevor’s, then Bea on top of Cole’s and Trevor’s. Honey stays still, arms crossed over her chest and glaring at Trevor.

“Let’s play a game,” Honey says, voice hard and eyes never leaving Trevor’s own. “It’s called ‘everyone say one thing you hate about Trevor.’ I’ll start: he sucks.”

“I love this game!” Cole exclaims. “I’ve got a list for all the boys. I hate Trevor because he’s too loud. Bea, your turn!”

“I’m too loud?” Trevor interrupts, letting out a little laugh. “You barely ever shut up, Cole.”

“And yet, somehow you talk more than me. I have another: Trevor snores. I hate sharing a room with you at the lake house.” Cole sticks his tongue out at the other boy.

“Well, good thing we’re not there this summer,” Trevor bites back. 

“My turn!” Bea says, splashing Cole. “You said I could go. You can’t get two turns. Now you have to lose a turn next round. I hate that Trevor thinks he can tell me what to do.”

“I never tell you what to do,” Trevor says.

“‘Bea, put your number in Quinn’s phone!’ ‘Bea, stop texting me!’ ‘Bea,’ blah, blah, blah,” Bea mimics, pulling her hands out of the water to make a talking motion with her fingers. “You’re always whining about me.”

“I don’t like this game,” Trevor says. He takes his legs out from under Cole’s and they drop, bringing Bea’s along with them. The water splashes and spills over the edges of the tub a little bit.

“Oh,” Cole says, a lightbulb practically appearing over his head. “Should we turn on the jets?”

Trevor shrugs, as does Honey. Bea nods. “If you want,” she says. 

“I want,” Cole replies, twisting in his seat and leaning over the edge of the tub to find the button for the jets. He presses a few buttons that do nothing, seemingly, before he finds the jets. 

Trevor moves so there’s one pushing water out and hitting the small of his back. It’s soothing and it inches him closer to Bea, who crinkles her nose at the proximity. She crosses the tub and cuddles up next to Cole. The boy throws his arm over Bea’s shoulders and leans his head against hers.

And now, Trevor is sitting next to Honey. She doesn’t say anything to him, instead opting to talk to Bea about some memory from the long-ago, distant past, talking about the first time they got to go in a hot tub. Bea ruins the story for Trevor by mentioning the boy who stole Honey’s first kiss from Trevor– no, he’s not delusional– on the same vacation.

Honey starts to climb out of the tub after the story ends and Trevor watches the water drip off of her. 

“Where are you going?” He asks. This isn’t how the night was supposed to go– Bea was supposed to go inside to talk to Quinn, then Cole was supposed to go to sleep. Honey wasn’t supposed to leave first.

Honey fixes him with a reproachful look. “I wouldn’t expect you to know, but you’re not supposed to stay in a hot tub for more than fifteen minutes. It messes with the regulation of heat in your body. Fifteen minutes in, fifteen minutes out.”

“That’s a hoax, Hon,” Bea says. 

“It is not,” Honey replies with her chin held high. She opens the closet near the outdoor shower and digs out a towel. She wraps it around herself and lets herself into the house, pausing at the door. “Would anyone like anything?”

“Beer?” Cole asks. “And can you check the draft to see what they’re on? Montréal picks fifth.”

Trevor forgot that the draft was today– they’re using the Sphere, which is kind of fun, and Trevor is a little jealous. His draft was in Rogers Arena, in Vancouver, a place where he had been plenty of times before because Quinn had been drafted there the year prior. It doesn’t seem very special. 

“Yeah, can you check the draft? It’s on ESPN. Can you put it on the outside speakers, too?” Trevor asks.

Honey frowns. “I will check the draft for Cole. I will not put it on the outside speakers because I do not wish to listen to hockey all night.” She turns with a dramatic flourish and her towel swishes like a cape. 

Trevor watches her retreat, eyes trained on those long, long legs as she goes. He’s smiling, way too big for someone who was told ‘no’ by the girl he likes.

He’s mostly quiet while she’s gone, listening to Bea and Cole chitchat about nothingness. He does manage to tell Bea about Quinn’s hair, which she demands to see, and Trevor hands over his phone, which is open to Quinn’s Instagram. He posted his own thirst trap, probably just for Bea despite knowing that she doesn’t have an Instagram. Trevor overheard them talking the other night about the possibility of Bea redownloading the app and making a new account so that she can follow Quinn– just Quinn– and this thirst trap might be the nail in the coffin.

Annoyingly, it doesn’t have the effect that he wants. Bea does not climb out of the tub with Trevor’s phone to go call Quinn and tell him how gorgeous he looks– she must’ve gotten her fill yesterday. 

Or she’s just focused on getting Cole in bed again, giving him a second go-around. Trevor doesn’t understand why– she’s so taken with Quinn that they might as well make it official. He thinks it might be an experiment for her, like the Jack thing and his timer. She’s very scientific, isn’t she?

Honey comes back with two beers in hand, a Budweiser and a Modelo. Trevor smiles– she remembered that Modelo is his favorite.

Honey twists the top off both beers and hands the Bud to Cole. She slides into the tub as far away from Trevor as she can get, with Cole putting his other arm around her and pulling her to his side just like Bea. 

Trevor reaches out for the Modelo, waiting for Honey to hand it over. She gives him a look with one raised eyebrow and brings the bottle to her mouth, taking a drink. Trevor takes his hand back. 

“What, you thought that I was bringing you a drink?” Honey asks. “Did you ask for one?”

“No, but–”

“Then it’s not for you.” She purses her lips and waits to see if Trevor has a response, which he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at the water, where his hands have folded over his stomach. He’s grateful that the jets are creating waves that distort the image of everything under the water– he’d hate for Honey and the rest of the tub-dwellers to see that he chubs up a bit each time Honey gets sassy with him. She’s such a brat. One of these days, he’s really going to fuck all of that attitude out of her. If she lets him. She might not, but he’s determined to get to that point.

“How’s the draft?” Cole asks.

Honey recites the first few picks off the top of her head. Trevor watches her do so, a tiny smile on his face. The only thing that he likes more than when Honey yells at him is when she talks about hockey; even though she pretends she doesn’t care, she sure pays a lot of attention to the sport in recent weeks. She’s even up to date on the lingo. Her use of ‘puck bunny’ the other day had Trevor smiling for hours after.

“The sweetest looking kid went third and he very clearly had no idea that he would be the bronze pick of the draft based on the way he said ‘what the fuck’ twice to his parents after his name was called,” Honey says. “It was so precious. I want to put him in my pocket.”

Trevor looks down to hide his smile. The Ducks picked third. This kid is his new teammate. He’ll have to convince Honey to visit him in Anaheim later this year and introduce her to the rookie– so she can really adopt him as her own. 

“What about the fifth pick?” Cole asks.

“Ivan Demidov,” Honey says. “Celine Dion announced the pick.”

“Celine Dion?” Bea repeats.

“Ivan Demidov,” Cole murmurs thoughtfully. “That’s a good pick. We needed a right winger. Slaf’s our best one. I thought the analysts said Demidov would go to Chicago.” 

The last part of his statement is directed at Trevor, who just shrugs. He hadn’t paid attention to the analysis this year. It doesn’t really matter, since each team is working for what’s best for them and ignoring the speculation from the analysts.

Trevor is doing the same thing about trade rumors. He’s ignoring until something official comes through. It would be annoying to be traded and lose his upper hand over Honey– introducing her to that rookie, of whom she is now a fan.

The next time Honey leaves the tub, Trevor follows her.

“Would you quit following me around?” Honey asks, climbing the stairs into the kitchen.

“No,” Trevor replies. “I like being around you.”

“Too much, I think,” Honey says. “You’re breathing down my neck.”

“I’m too far away to be doing that,” Trevor says. 

Honey’s back is to him as she opens the fridge and the freezer at the same time, frowning as she scans the shelves for something. She hasn’t told Trevor what she’s looking for, although he could probably help her find whatever it is much quicker than she could. She bends a little at the waist, craning her neck to evaluate a shelf.

Trevor comes closer, pressing his hips against her behind. She stands, stiff against him, but there’s nowhere for her to move unless she wants to climb into the fridge and shut herself in.

“Now I’m breathing down your neck,” Trevor murmurs, moving her hair to one side and kissing her neck. For extra emphasis, he exhales on the skin. “I hope you can tell the difference.”

“You’re being obvious,” Honey chastises. “You shouldn’t be following me around. Someone’s going to find out. You need to work on your subtlety.”

“Bea already knows,” Trevor says. “And the only other person here is Cole. He doesn’t notice anything unless it’s right in front of him. As long as you don’t climb onto my lap– which I know is very hard for you– you’ll be fine.”

Honey frowns and opens her mouth to rebut, but Trevor manages to silence her by sucking a little on her neck, right below her hairline on the side of her neck. He can feel her head tilting back at the sensation and he smirks. 

“You like that spot, huh?” Trevor mumbles against her skin. “Or do you just like the boy who’s kissing you there?”

That makes Honey laugh and push him off. “I do not like the boy who’s kissing me, especially when he doesn’t listen. I don’t want Cole to find out.”

“He’ll be off to bed soon and Bea will be busy talking to Quinn, he did an interview that I think she’ll find particularly enticing,” Trevor says, fixing Honey’s hair so it covers the mark blooming on her neck. “I’ve never made a girl come in a hot tub before, but I think tonight is my lucky night.”

Honey hums. “Probably not, unless you want a load of blood to taint your hot tub water.” She fixes Trevor with an evil smile. “I’m on my period.”

“I thought you were ovulating last week,” Trevor says. “Doesn’t it usually take two weeks for your period to start after that? You’re not lying to me, are you, Honey?”

Her distraction tactic didn’t work– she seems to think that Trevor would be put off by her period talk, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth being that he doesn’t care– he’s attracted to her all the time.

“My hormones are out of whack and someone fingered me for the first time in years, and he wasn’t exactly gentle about it,” Honey replies, making a face at Trevor. “So I, for one, am not surprised that my period came early.”

“Well I’ll make a note that we should be fine for the next month,” Trevor teases with a grin. “And that you’ll be trying to jump me two weeks from now because you’ll be ovulating again.”

Honey rolls her eyes. “I can’t wait until the boys get back so that Quinn can bruise your ego and keep you in check,” she says. “But, really, Trevor. You can’t follow me around and be all close to me. It’s too obvious.”

“But I like you and I can’t hide my feelings,” Trevor says innocently, blinking at her with wide eyes and a little pout.

“Learn to,” Honey snaps. Her voice is hard, but she pats Trevor’s hip as she walks away, snapping the waistband of his underwear before she gets out of arm’s reach.

Trevor rejoins the group in the hot tub shortly after, but he takes his time getting there. Contrary to Honey’s belief, he does care about his own subtlety because it makes her happy when he’s not being obvious. Just like how it should make her happy when she gives into his advances– because it makes him happy. 

Cole makes it until 10pm. By then, he’s far too drunk to stay in the hot tub. Bea goes to bed with him, although she takes Trevor’s phone with her so that she can talk to Quinn into the night. They’re coming back in the morning, but Bea and Quinn are impatient. They enjoy talking to each other too much to spend a night away from the other.

It leaves Honey and Trevor in the hot tub, but Honey just pushes him away when he gets close and climbs out. 

“Really, Trev, I’m not in the mood,” Honey says. 

“Okay, that’s fine,” Trevor says. “Do you want to hang out?”

“Not particularly,” Honey replies with a little laugh. “We only really hang out when we’re hooking up, don’t we?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not how it has to be,” Trevor says. “We can hang out without hooking up.”

Honey hums. “You know, I don’t think we can,” she tells him. “Especially in a world where you don’t care about our privacy.”

Trevor’s taken aback at that. “What do you mean?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I haven’t told anyone.”

Honey mocks his voice– “‘Who’s to say I would’ve stopped even if we had been caught?’” She says, voice deep and stupid-sounding. “Your hoes might’ve found that hot, Trevor, but I don’t really think our interests align if you’re looking to keep fucking me when someone else walks in.” 

Trevor stares at her, not sure what to say.

Honey clears her throat and continues. “Considering… everything.”

Trevor’s not sure what she’s referring to. “Considering… what? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just said it because, like, I wanted to make you feel good…”

Honey sighs, then nods. She forces her first couple words out, then pauses again. “You did. It’s just– I mean, I don’t want people seeing me like that. I already had one whole ‘leaked nudes’ thing, Trevor.”

Trevor’s stomach drops. He didn’t realize that his line in the car the other day had implied that he would be okay with other people seeing Honey so intimately. That’s not what he meant.

“I’m not really looking to be so exposed when people walk in on us.”

“I didn’t mean that, Honey, no,” Trevor scrambles to tell her. “I didn’t mean, like, I’d keep fucking you with them watching, it was just… heat of the moment. I wanted you to come.”

Honey presses her lips together into a line and flares her nostrils. “I get that, Trevor, I do, but it’s the way that you didn’t even think about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Trevor apologizes. “I really didn’t mean anything by it.”

Honey ducks her head and raises a finger to silence him. She’s already climbed out of the tub and donned her sweatshirt, hiding herself from Trevor’s wandering eyes. “I know you didn’t. That’s why I didn’t blow up at you in the car. You just need to think before you speak, Trevor.”

She crosses her arm over her stomach and Trevor climbs out of the tub, sopping wet. He nears her, but makes sure that he’s not dripping on her. “I will,” he promises. “I’m just not used to– well, having to try so hard.” He ducks his head.

Honey scoffs, a breath of laughter leaving her lips. She tucks her index finger into Trevor’s waistband and pulls him closer. He’s standing right in her space and she slots her lips over his, pressing against him for a sweet, blissful, too-short taste. “Just– don’t be such a fuckboy,” she says. “I hate you less when you’re an idiot.”

“So, all the time?” Trevor jokes, finding her hand and holding it. He’s holding back, but only because he’s uncertain. Honey has that effect over him– she knows exactly what she wants always, even though she doesn’t always explain it, and Trevor is just trying the best he can. He won’t say it out loud, but he knows that she likes him and she won’t admit it. He’s just not sure how to make her like him all the time.

Honey fixes him with an unimpressed look and smiles when she shakes her head. “You’re not an idiot all the time,” she says. “You’re very perceptive. I’m the difficult one.”

Trevor mirrors her actions, shaking his own head. “You’re not difficult at all.”

Honey hums, but says nothing. She pops up onto her tiptoes to give his lips another peck, then she drops his hand. “I’m going home, and no, you can’t come,” she says with a knowing tilt of her head. “But I’ll see you tomorrow for the bonfire, yes?”

Trevor nods, hoping for another goodbye kiss, but Honey just pats his cheek. She wishes him a goodnight before walking into the house and disappearing up the stairs. Trevor hears her car start while he’s trying to figure out how to turn the hot tub off. It takes him a few minutes, then even more to fit the cover over the tub, and by the time he makes it upstairs, Cole’s light has long since been turned off and his phone is locked and plugged in on his nightstand.

34:90 – HONEY

Thwack. 

Honey’s eyes widen a little and she stops chewing on her bottom lip, realizing that she’s pulling at a patch of skin that could start bleeding if she bites it any longer.

Thwack.

She instead pulls her sunglasses off the top of her head and bites down on one of the temple tips, holding it between her front teeth. The tip of her tongue pokes at the very edge, sucking a bit at the silicone tip.

Thwack.

She shifts in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. Bea sits next to her, one leg outstretched like she’s laying down. Her other is pulled up, heel on her chair and pulled tight against her body. One of her hands is closed around her ankle, while her other elbow rests on the arm of the chair. Her wrist bends daintily and her index finger is poised on the wet inside of her bottom lip, hooking it like she wants to tug on it but can’t.

Luke shifts another log up on its end so it’s standing in front of him. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with one hand, his curls dripping. With the other, he holds the ax that he’s using to split the wood. The muscles in his arms ripple as he grabs the ax with both hands and raises it above his head, bringing it down quickly to split the wood.

Thwack.

He’s shirtless. He’s much more tan than he was the first time they went on the boat and he’s put on some weight since the start of the summer. He’s muscular and defined, particularly in his chest and abs, and he just seems to continue to grow. He’s strong.

If Honey didn’t get it before, she does now.

Thwack.

Bea clears her throat, coughing a little bit. “He’s, um…”

“Yeah,” Honey breathes out with a slight nod, eyes still on Luke. He’s got only one log left and she’ll be damned if she misses it.

He hasn’t been quite the same since returning from Las Vegas, where they held the awards this year. He’s been pretty quiet, keeping to himself. Honey had thought they were past this, but Luke has practically reverted to how he was when he first came to Litchton. She hopes it’s just the loss on his mind, nothing more.

Luke posts the log in front of him, kicking aside some of the smaller pieces he’s already cut. Trevor has been gathering the pieces and setting them near the fire pit for the bonfire, while Quinn and Jack are cooking on the grill. Cole is inside, slicing the fruit that Honey brought over from her most recent trip to the fruit stand, but the other boys are barely a thought in the girls’ heads.

He raises the ax and Honey’s mouth grows slightly more ajar, the tip of her sunglasses pressing against the flat of her tongue now, as she watches Luke’s happy trail elongate then fold when he brings the ax down. The waistband of his underwear peeks out of his shorts. 

Thwack.

The wood falls into two even parts, which Luke pushes over with the blade of the ax. He turns and lays the tool against the wall of the rink, then surveys his hands for splinters. He brushes them against his shorts, then wipes his face again.

Bea wipes the corners of her mouth with her thumb, then stands and grabs one of Luke’s hands before he even knows that she’s moving. Honey laughs when Luke trips over his own feet, pulled along by Bea towards the house. 

Honey’s laughter draws Trevor’s attention, whereas Bea and Luke’s stomping feet draws Quinn and Jack’s. Eventually, Trevor realizes what Honey was laughing about and comes to gather the rest of the wood.

“Enjoy the show?” Trevor mutters, stacking the logs in his arms until he can’t carry any more. He stands to his full height, arms bursting with wood. “Should I take my shirt off and chop some wood, too, since that’s the kind of thing that leaves you and Bea drooling?”

“I think Bea would enjoy your shirtlessness much more than I would,” Honey replies, uncrossing her legs and leaning back in the chair. She uses the temple of her glasses to push her hair out of her face, then tucks the accessory back into the hair atop her head. Her least favorite thing about the summer is that it’s too hot to wear her hair down, so it’s almost always up in a half-assed bun. “Jealous much, Trevor?”

Trevor tilts his head at her, unimpressed with her response. “Luke’s not a threat to me.”

“Just like how Jamie wasn’t a threat to you?” 

Honey’s proud of the comeback, smug whenever she makes Trevor quiver in his boots. She likes when she makes Trevor shut up, especially because it’s so rare according to Cole. 

Trevor indeed doesn’t have a reply, just frowning at Honey and turning to deposit the wood into the pile he had made next to the fire pit. 

Jack wanders over with two plates and steals Bea’s chair next to Honey. “What are we talking about?”

“Bea and Luke,” Honey says.

Jack hums, nodding slightly. “Finally his turn, eh?” He hands one of the plates to Honey, a burger and its fixings on the plate. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I brought it all.”

“Do you want my tomato?” Honey asks.

“I’ll take it,” Quinn jumps in, joining them. He pauses in front of Honey, holding his plate out so that she can drop the tomato slice onto his burger, then chooses another seat closer to the fire pit. 

Trevor is kneeling at the pit, a long lighter nudging at a pile of newspaper hidden beneath the logs of wood that he had stacked into a little tower. 

Once he gets the fire going, Quinn reaches out with his shoe-covered foot and kicks the boy in the arm. “Go get your dinner,” he says, then focuses on his own burger. 

The Hughes boys are not the best conversationalists during meal times, Honey has learned. They often are more focused on shoveling food into their mouths than talking to those around them, which she doesn’t really mind. 

There was a time in her life when she had to sit with her parents for dinner every day, no matter what her plans were or if something was bothering her. She would have to make small talk, describe what took place that day, and act polite and happy regardless of how she was actually feeling. Sometimes, she was permitted to eat in silence after she described her day. She preferred those days, even though the majority of them took place after she had decided to leave Charlotte and start anew in Litchton. Her parents knew, then, that she wouldn’t change her mind about moving to the quiet mountain town and they didn’t have much fight left in them.

Her memories of those days usually end like this when she indulges in them– she loses her appetite and her food tastes like stale nothingness, but she has to eat it anyway.

Honey’s phone buzzes in her pocket with a text from Bea.

will you fix two plates for me and luke and bring them upstairs pleeeeease?

Upon reading the text, Honey cringes. So soon? she thinks. They’ve got to be, like, mid-session. She texts such to Bea, punctuating her text with the green about-to-vomit emoji before taking another bite of her burger. 

Cole joins them before Bea texts her back, dishing a bunch of fruit onto each person’s plate before fixing his own burger and choosing a seat near the bonfire. “Thanks for the food, Norris,” Cole says to Quinn before he digs in. 

Quinn snorts out a little laugh, shaking his head before he thanks Cole through a mostly-chewed bite. Honey crinkles her nose, annoyed at the lack of manners each of the boys manage to have when they’re with their friends. 

Trevor is fixing his plate as she reads Bea’s recent text (“not mid-session. helpppp SOS soooo hungry pls pls pls pls”). Honey looks over to where he stands, next to the plates, and sighs a little. She stands.

“Where are you going?” Cole asks.

Honey sighs audibly this time. “Apparently Bea and Luke need dinner.”

Jack snickers, popping a piece of pineapple in his mouth. It bulges in his cheek as he smiles at Honey. “And you’ve been invited to bring it to them? How lucky.”

“Fuck off,” Honey replies, narrowing her eyes at Jack. “Don’t let the flies get my food and I’ll give you an M&M, eh?” She uses his own mannerism against him, not for the first time, but it is the first time she’s alluded to knowing about Bea’s experiment. 

Now that she’s thinking about it, Cole and Luke are probably the only two that don’t know about the timer. Well, maybe just Cole– Quinn probably told Luke so that they could team up against Jack in Vegas when need-be. She’s vindicated when she sees Quinn hide a smile behind his burger.

She leaves her plate on her seat, trusting that Jack will follow her directions while she’s gone. Honey joins Trevor near the grill, watching him scoop fruit onto his plate and reach for a fork. 

“Come to my room later,” Trevor says at a normal volume, nonchalant. 

Honey throws a look over her shoulder, but none of the other boys seem to have heard him. “What?” She asks.

“Come to my room later,” Trevor repeats. He’s not looking at her, nor is he inching closer and trying to make a move like he did the night before.

“Why?” Honey demands.

Trevor shrugs and walks away.

Honey’s nostrils flare and she grinds her teeth. Who does he think he is? Why does he think he can ask her to do something and she’ll just do it? If she makes it up to his room later, it’ll just be so that she can tell him off and render him silent yet again.

She makes two plates of food with a little anger in her actions, scooping the fruit and plopping it onto the plate. She smashes the bun on top of Bea’s burger with a little too much force, flattening the food. 

She stomps up the stairs, making her presence very known as she approaches the room that Quinn and Luke, and often Bea, share. She knocks, loudly, and waits an extra second after Bea tells her that she can come in. 

When she finally does open the door, she finds Bea and Luke sitting on opposite beds and Luke has gained a shirt rather than losing the rest of his clothes. Bea looks untouched and fine with it, flicking through a magazine and laying on Quinn’s bed. When Honey enters, she sits up.

“Good,” she says simply, tossing the magazine onto Quinn’s bedside table and reaching for her plate. 

Honey withholds it and hands Luke his plate first.

“Why aren’t you fucking?” Honey asks, voice snarky. She’s cutting straight to the point. She’s asking Bea, but she should’ve realized that by handing Luke his plate while she asks the question, he would think that she’s addressing him. He blushes with wide eyes and his gaze falls to the floor. Honey apologizes by reaching up with her now-free hand and ruffling his curls. “Sorry, Lu.”

“What do you mean?” Bea asks, sounding overly innocent. “We’re very busy, Honey. We just needed some sustenance between rounds, didn’t we?”

Her last question is directed at Luke and he replies with a mumble that Honey can’t distinguish. 

Bea finally manages to grab her plate from Honey and Honey sits on the bed with her. Right before she takes a bite of her burger, she explains, “Luke and I aren’t hooking up.”

Honey looks between them. “Why not?”

Luke groans and buries his face in his hands. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It is not,” Bea corrects. “It is perfectly reasonable.”

“What?” Honey demands. She throws her head back and rolls her eyes. “Why does everything have to be so dramatic all the time?”

“Like you’re any better,” Bea chastizes. 

“Zip it,” Honey hisses. 

Bea rolls her eyes. “Luke doesn’t want to compete with his brothers, and when I explained that he wouldn’t be competing with them when he’s with me, he told me I was a liar. To be fair, I was lying, but then as a sign of good will, I told him about the whiteboard. So we’re pretending to fuck for a while and I’ll toss him on the board, pretty high up, and we’ll convince the boys that we are fucking.”

“Seems complicated,” Honey says.

Luke is doing his best to ignore the girls, focusing on his food the same way that his brothers did down by the fire pit. Honey wonders if he and Bea had a conversation about telling her all of this, or if Bea is just talking out of her ass.

“It’s not. He doesn’t want to compete with them, but he doesn’t want them knowing that he’s not fucking me. They’d really chirp him for that.” Bea eats as she speaks, probably picking up the bad habit from the boys.

“They’ll start calling me Viagra or something,” Luke mumbles, the tips of his ears still red. It’s the first full sentence he’s said since Honey came upstairs.

Honey hums, thinking about the situation. She guesses it makes sense– she wouldn’t want to compete against three other guys if she were in Luke’s situation, especially if two of them were his brothers. Plus, sweet Luke has always seemed a little more awkward than his brothers and Bea might just be too much for him.

“Gillian’s granddaughter is coming into town later this month,” Honey says, talking to Luke although he shows no sign that he’s listening. “She just finished her first year at State. Do you want to meet her?”

Silence follows her question for a minute, until Bea laughs a little and Luke looks up. “Oh. Me?” He asks.

“Yeah, you,” Honey says, giggling. She ruffles his curls again. “She’s a sweet girl. A little awkward like you–”

“Hey,” Luke moans, frowning.

“You are,” Bea insists. “But it’s charming, Lukey.”

“– and she’s cute. You’ll like her,” Honey finishes.

Luke pouts. “What if I don’t want to meet her?”

Honey frowns at him. “That would be your decision, but I think it would be a shame if you were celibate all summer, Luke.”

“Like you?” He asks. “Hypocrite.”

Honey smiles tightly. Does he know? She looks at Bea for a split second before turning back to Luke and making eye contact. Carefully, believably, she says, “I’ve had more practice. I don’t think a famous hockey player like you is used to being single and celibate like I am.” She holds Luke’s gaze for a moment longer and he’s the first to look away. 

“Fine,” he agrees, but he sounds put-out. “I’ll meet her. But only because you guys won’t tell the boys about– this.”

Honey nods, happy with the blackmail that they’ve all set up for each other. After all, she and Bea are used to blackmailing each other over worthless, trivial matters so often that it’s become one of their mantras: that blackmail is how you know that you’re really friends.

“I’m going back downstairs,” Honey says. “Have fun… talking, or whatever.”

She leaves the room and joins the group downstairs, answering all their questions with easy lies that paint a scandalous picture upstairs. Jack applauds his younger brother, while Quinn just nods along and rolls his eyes at some of Honey’s more embellished lies. Cole is excited for the younger boy and Trevor says nothing– he just sits there and eats his burger.

It’s infuriating.

Honey is even more infuriated when she realizes that Jack took a few bites out of her burger while she was gone, which leaves her silently stewing until Bea and Luke eventually return. 

The sky grows dark and the stars start to twinkle while the bonfire continues. The smell is lovely and Honey hopes it lingers on her clothes. 

The boys are laughing and joking around, quoting movies and retelling stories from their years together. It was funny at first, and Bea is still laughing perched on Luke’s lap, but a weird feeling washes over Honey. It’s a little nostalgic, but in the sense that she wishes she had been there to experience the stories with the boys. Their childhood was much different from her own, where her most normal friendship was with Bea and her sport was just a way to stay involved in school, something that her parents thought was incredibly important. As the stories continue, she just feels the difference between her childhood and the boys’ life, a chasm that’s growing wider with each story and cackle of laughter.

Unable to bear it any longer, Honey gathers everyone’s plates into a neat stack and heads upstairs to the kitchen. She dumps the plates in the sink and starts to run the water, letting it grow hot. She watches the faucet run for a minute, pooling along the plates and leaving a thin layer of water on the bottom of the stainless steel. When she deems the water hot enough, Honey grabs the sponge and starts washing the dishes.

“Get it together,” she mutters to herself, under her breath. The water runs down her wrists and she grabs a dishtowel from the counter behind her. When she turns back around, there Trevor is. “God, Trevor, I thought I told you to stop following me around.”

“You got quiet,” he says with a shrug. “I wasn’t sure if you had snuck away.”

Honey bites the inside of her cheek. She blinks hard, returning to the dishes. “No, I didn’t leave.”

Trevor shoves his hands in his pockets. “Well, good.” He falls silent and Honey keeps scrubbing the dishes, refusing to break the silence first. Finally, in a very timid voice, Trevor asks, “Are you going to come up to my room later?”

Honey lets the plate slip from her fingers and land with a clatter in the sink. She glares at Trevor, chewing on the skin between her teeth until it aches. He’s silent, having stepped back at the drop of the plate, staring at her. Honey turns off the sink with a huff and rounds the counter. She stalks over to Trevor and grabs him by the collar, pulling him along behind her as she climbs the stairs and drags him to his bedroom. She yanks him into the room and slams the door behind them, kicking it closed with her foot. She releases his collar after planting him in front of her and she crosses her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed and hard.

Trevor just watches her. 

Honey starts to tap her foot. She shrugs, gesturing around the room. “Well, I’m here.”

Trevor’s eyes are wide and his lips are parted. 

“C’mon, Trevor. You told me to come to your room. I’m here. What do you want?” Honey continues, her jaw clenched. 

His eyebrows quirk and his expression shifts from surprise to befuddlement. He takes a step forward, licking his lip before he speaks. “Did I do something wrong?” He asks. “I don’t– is this still about what I said in the car? I really, really didn’t mean that, Honey. I’d never– never do something like that.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls his phone out, shutting it down and holding it out to her. “Here.”

Honey pushes his hand away and squeezes her eyes shut, rubbing harshly over her forehead. “No, it’s not, I’m just–” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “I’m having a day. That’s all. I don’t know.” She rolls her eyes, feeling smaller, so she hugs herself again and looks away from him.

She misses the concerned tilt of his head and the way he mouths something to himself, maybe a repetition of her own words, because she’s too busy tracing the line of where Trevor’s bedroom walls meet the ceiling.

“Honey,” Trevor says. 

“I know,” she says, closing her eyes briefly before tilting her head back and looking up.

“No, baby,” Trevor continues. He has stepped forward enough that he can reach out to Honey. His fingers are nudging at her elbow and when she doesn’t pull away, he strokes his hand along her arm.

“Don’t call me that,” Honey reminds him. “I’m not your baby.”

“Right.” His hand drops, but he still stands close to Honey. He hesitates, then goes for it anyway. “As I was saying. No, Your Royal Highness, you don’t have to explain yourself.”

Honey finally fixes him with a look, reproachful and annoyed. Doesn’t he understand that she needs to explain herself, compulsively, just so that he doesn’t misunderstand?

Maybe he doesn’t, and that’s the whole reason why he’s still talking.

“Do you want me to take your mind off it?” Trevor asks.

Honey furrows her eyebrows. “Huh?”

Trevor makes a motion like he knows he’s going to regret what he says next. “Another one of my lines. I, uh, wanted you to come up here because I… was… jealous.” He squints at her during those last three words, but she laughs instead of cringing with him.

“Of course you were,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Trevor frowns at her, cutting her off. “So I told you to come up to my room so I could stake a claim on you.” He leans in with a little smile. “Remind you who you belong to.”

Honey’s jaw drops open at that with a loud laugh. “You’re kidding. Really?”

“Another line that doesn’t work on you?” Trevor teases. “I’m going to keep trying until I find one that works.”

Honey scoffs. “Good luck.”

“Can I kiss you?” Trevor asks. 

He waits with a silly little smile on his face as she considers it. She hums a little, just delaying her answer as long as she can. Trevor knows that she’ll say yes– she likes kissing and Trevor is the only person that she’s willing to kiss at the moment. 

“Fine, I guess,” Honey says like it’s a chore. 

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Trevor admonishes, but he’s already leaning in. The first touch of their lips is soft, like always, and Trevor smiles into it, like always. He’s so fucking easy and it makes Honey’s stomach flutter. 

She parts her lips against his, letting him lick into her mouth. Honey winds her arms over his shoulders. His hands fit over her hips comfortably and Trevor pulls her closer. 

He kisses eagerly. It’s overwhelming, the way that he wants her. When he has her, he holds her tightly like he’s making sure she won’t pull away until he’s ready to let go. 

That line works, Honey thinks to herself as she kisses him. She considers saying it out loud, but she’s really not interested in admitting that he’s kind-of right, knowing that it’ll make his day, his week, or possibly his whole month. He’ll never stop reminding her if she says it. Plus, it’s too late to respond to his “Can I kiss you?” from minutes ago.

Trevor’s hand distracts her, traveling up her body and underneath her shirt. His thumb sweeps over the skin just under her breast. Honey’s able to keep his lines at bay and stun him silent, but when he gets his hands on her, she feels like putty. His hands are rough against her skin and the sensation tickles Honey, drawing a noise from her throat.

“Pretty,” Trevor murmurs. “Do it again.”

Honey chuckles. “Make me,” she challenges.

Trevor groans at that, walking backwards until he makes contact with his bed. He pulls Honey with him, sitting on the edge of the bed and hauling her onto his lap. He’s petting over her skin, his fingers dancing across the expanse of her ribs before returning to her chest. Trevor palms over one of her breasts while his other hand dips into the back of her shorts. He freezes against her, pulling back slightly to look at her, and Honey bites down on her bottom lip so she doesn’t start to laugh in his face.

“Do you…?” Trevor asks, trailing off. His lips stay pursed in a tiny little ‘o’ and Honey can’t help but smile.

Trevor’s an idiot– Honey’s very fond of that. He’s a jock who likes to talk and flirt, but he’s ultimately at her mercy. She’d secretly been looking forward to this moment, although she’ll never actually admit it. She knew that Trevor would go absolutely boneless when he discovered her piercings.

Instead of replying, Honey just tilts her head to the side and blinks at him. 

Trevor’s calloused thumb slowly starts to scrape against her again, nearing her sensitive areola and the bars that go through her nipples. He groans when he contacts the stainless steel, pushing against her responsive peaks. Thirsty for more, Trevor pinches the hem of her shirt and tugs at it. Honey allows him to draw her shirt over her head. 

Trevor growls at the sight of her bare chest, the sound settling in Honey’s stomach and demolishing the butterflies that had been flying around in there. He abandons her lips to latch onto her breast, running the tip of his tongue over her jewelry and nibbling his way across her chest. 

Honey’s eyelids are fluttering with his movements, her fingers tangling in his hair and using her grip to ground herself. Her head rolls back and her chest presses forward, her hips rocking against his lap.

“Honey,” Trevor moans, cupping her breasts and squeezing them.

“Hm?” She responds.

“You’re so pretty,” he compliments.

Honey’s eyes are locked on his lips, all pink and puffy from kissing all over her. She seals her mouth over his, letting her tongue lick over his, swallowing the moan that rises from his chest. He rocks up against her and Honey sighs at the contact. She rolls her hips down to meet his, feeling more relaxed and lazy with each touch. 

Trevor’s eyelids flutter with each blink, closing briefly at times and recovering rapidly other times. He kisses against her neck, small prints on her skin developing as he sucks, then releases her and moves to the next spot. 

“I want–” Trevor says against her neck, letting his teeth scrape over the curve of her jaw. Honey cuts him off by dipping her head and kissing over his own neck, which leaves him keening beneath her. His hips jerk, jostling Honey on top of him. His hand finds its way completely into her shorts, clutching at her skin and increasing the pressure between the two of them. “Fuck, gonna make me come in my shorts,” he whines. It sounds like a complaint, but he keeps her clothed cunt flush against his bulge and continues to rock forward. 

“You’re worse than Jack,” she bites back, keeping her voice steady although she’s pressing into Trevor. She wants to see him come again, wants to make it happen without using her hands or her mouth. She wants to be able to pull at his hair and kiss his lips and feel him unravel beneath her. 

“Nuh-uh,” Trevor denies. It’s silly and petulant and it makes Honey giggle.

She speeds up, determined to make him fall apart. She bites his neck and he shudders under her teeth. 

“Thought you brought me up here to stake a claim on me,” Honey teases. “But here you are, shivering because there’s a pretty girl sitting on your cock. Seems to me like you’re my bitch, Trev.”

“I’m only letting that slide because I’m about to come,” Trevor grits out, bringing a hand to the back of her neck and rejoining their lips with a clash. 

“Then come,” Honey says. “Nobody’s stopping you.”

“Brat,” Trevor bites out with a venom, stunning Honey for a moment, then making her giggle and double her efforts. 

“That’s right,” she praises, petting his hair out of his face. “So smart, Trevor.”

He ignores her teases and buries his face in her neck, sucking harshly and making her moan. He ruts up, the friction between them delicious and pushing Honey towards her own orgasm, which is just about to crest and bubble over when Trevor breaks first. 

His shorts start to develop a wet patch where the head of his cock rests. Trevor continues to rock against Honey, groaning and nuzzling against her. His cock softens beneath her and Honey wants to whine because she was so close and he bit the bullet. He’s still nipping at her neck, making his way up to her lips, but she doesn’t let him find his mark. 

Honey climbs off of him, but Trevor keeps his arm around her waist and pulls her back down onto the bed. He rolls into her space, covering her with his body and kissing over her face. “Where are you going?” He asks. ��Stay with me tonight.”

Honey pushes his face away and glares at him. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Trevor whines, letting one of his hands find her boobs again. He toys with her nipples until she’s squirming. “I want to make you come. Then we can cuddle all night long and go again in the morning.”

Honey rolls her eyes. He says it like the most enticing thing in the world is hanging out together and hooking up, but it’s not. She’s annoyed that she didn’t get to come and he did, so she just wants to go home. She wiggles out of his grasp and slinks off the bed, finding her shirt on the ground and pulling it over her head. “I’m okay. I can make myself come, thanks.”

“Honey,” Trevor complains, drawing her name out and standing to follow after her. 

Her hand is on the doorknob when she turns to face him, looking him up and down. “Trevor, I promise you don’t want to follow me with that wet spot on your shorts.”

He stops. He looks down. Then, he cringes and adjusts himself over his shorts, folding his hands over the patch of cum and blushing.

Honey’s hair, now a little looser in its bun, whips around as she leaves. She sneaks out of the house easily, hearing laughter ringing in the backyard as she goes. The sky is dark and the drive home is quick, with Honey speeding around the curves of the mountain the way that only a practiced Litchton resident can. 

She slams each door that she encounters when she passes through it, stomping up to her lofted bedroom and crashing onto her bed. She doesn’t even want to come anymore, too annoyed with Trevor to give into the gnawing tension in her stomach. Plus, she’s still on her period. She doesn’t feel like going to get a towel to lay on, even though it’ll keep her sheets clean. Also, she’s still feeling weird after the boys’ childhood stories around the bonfire. If there’s anything Honey hates, anything that can ruin her mood, it’s feeling like she’s out of place.

She’ll just go to bed instead of dwelling on it, she decides, and closes her eyes. She falls asleep right there in her clothes and she won’t wake until Bea breaks in the following morning to gather up her whiteboard and expo markers.

35:90 – TREVOR

Trevor wakes to a loud bang, like someone is smashing into his bedroom door. He scrambles up and gathers the covers against his chest, cowering in the corner of his bed as the same noise sounds again. 

“Maybe try the knob,” Bea suggests sarcastically. “I mean, come on, Cole. It’s not like he locked it.”

The knob jiggles and Trevor quickly drops the covers to his lap to make a lump that hides his morning wood– he’s lucky Honey didn’t stay like he asked her to, especially since she doesn’t want anyone to find out. 

Cole crashes into his room, looking disappointed that there’s nothing scandalous taking place in Trevor’s room. Bea stands behind him, arms crossed over her chest. 

“I expect you to be downstairs in no more than five minutes,” Bea announces. “I have a special presentation and it requires your presence.”

Trevor rubs his eyes with a fist and yawns. “Noted.”

“Get a move on,” she tells him, then beckons Cole and they leave. They don’t close his door, to Trevor’s annoyance. He can hear them moving down the hall to Jack’s room, where Cole begins the same routine of barging against Jack’s door until Bea tells him to check the knob. 

Trevor thinks that he wants to knock the door down in front of Bea as a feat of strength, but he just doesn’t have the momentum or body mass to do so.

Trevor grumbles as he crawls out of bed, digging for a shirt after applying his deodorant. He scrubs over his face again, evaluating himself in the mirror. He needs to shave whenever Bea is done with her special presentation. 

He comes down the stairs a few minutes later, teeth freshly brushed and hair combed. He delayed as long as he could, but he knows Bea will come looking for him if he doesn’t make his way downstairs.

He’s the last to make it to the living room, where Bea is standing on the raised edge of the fireplace, next to an easel that holds a board, hidden beneath a fitted sheet that she probably pulled out of the laundry. There are no seats left for him– Cole is reclining back in the La-Z-Boy and the Hughes brothers are squished together on the couch. Glowering between Quinn and Jack is the object of Trevor’s affection, a Honey that’s still clinging to sleep and wearing the skimpiest pajamas known to man, a tiny white tank top with the thinnest spaghetti straps Trevor has ever seen and old boxers that are rolled at the waistband to fit her hips.

And ratty old slippers that look like cows.

If this is how she looks when she rolls out of bed in the morning, Trevor’s got a pretty good life ahead of him.

Then, he realizes what he just thought and shakes himself out of it. Life? he asks himself. You’re still not sure if she’ll let you kiss her again, moron.

“Now that you’re finally here, Trevor,” Bea says pointedly, frowning at him. “My presentation can begin.”

She whips the blanket off of the easel just as Honey yawns and lets her head fall on Jack’s shoulder, so Trevor misses the reveal of Bea’s whiteboard. He’s too busy watching how Honey smacks her lips lazily after she yawns. When Trevor does turn to look at the board, he’s assaulted by large, bright block letters that read: “Bea’s Definitive Favorite Boy!”

Bea is grinning wide, running her hands over the edges of the board like a game show host presenting a new car.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Trevor complains, rolling his eyes. “This is what you woke me up for?”

He could’ve been asleep in bed for another hour. Hell, he doesn’t understand why Bea had to do this first thing in the morning when she could’ve just come over after her normal church trip. He also doesn’t understand why he has to be here– he and Bea are barely friends. The only thing they have in common is Honey and the only thing Trevor has that the other boys don’t– when it comes to Bea– is her phone number.

Bea’s smile drops. So do her hands, landing limp by her sides. She frowns. 

“Shut up, Zegras,” Quinn snaps. It’s nothing new for him to make Quinn mad, so his reaction doesn’t faze Trevor. What does faze Trevor is the reaction of the girl next to him.

“That’s not very nice, Trevor,” Honey murmurs quietly, still sleepy. She’s cuddled up against Jack’s arm now, head still on his shoulder, and her eyelids are drooping. 

“Yeah,” Cole agrees. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Go on, Bea, I want to know why I’m an 8.0.”

Trevor finally looks at the list and the ratings, having only gotten as far as the title before he had to say something.

Each name is written in black marker, but their numbers are in an array of colors. Bea has even used her markers to draw little symbols next to each person’s name: a heart next to Quinn’s, a star next to Cole’s, a flower with Luke’s, and a little candy next to Jack.

Quinn - 9.4

Cole - 8.0

Luke - 6.9

Jack - 6.6

“I’m not even on the list,” Trevor grumbles, then falls quiet. He does it for Honey’s sake, really, reading through the lines of her statement a moment ago and understanding the unspoken command to shut up. He just had to get one final comment in to express his distaste for being awoken for something so trivial. 

Bea makes a face at him, angry and frustrated with his reaction to her board, then she gestures to the board. “I can’t tell you why you’re an eight,” she says to Cole. “Because I can’t tell you what my points system is. I want to see how long it takes for you guys to figure it out.”

“So it’s not just general points?” Jack asks.

“Wondering how you can get a higher spot on the ranking?” Honey teases, her tone setting off a bomb in Trevor’s stomach. She can’t just talk to Jack like that– she’s only ever supposed to softly tease him, take the piss out of him. Not Jack.

“You’ll just have to be extra good this week,” Bea reveals to Jack like it was some great secret. 

Obviously, that’s how you grow in the ranks, Trevor thinks. You’re not going to get anywhere by being on bad behavior, Jack.

“So what, you’re going to update the board weekly?” Quinn asks, a little smile on his face as Bea turns her attention to him. 

“Whenever I need to,” Bea replies, widening her eyes like she’s flashing them at the boy. Trevor notices that the lines on her face fade a bit when she talks to Quinn and that her shoulders relax. 

“Yeah, Quinn, so your first place isn’t safe,” Cole baits, sticking his tongue out at the boy.

“I think I’ll be okay,” Quinn replies, leaning back into the couch cushions. He places his arm over the back of the couch, practically encircling Honey’s shoulders. Trevor wishes that they were on the ice so that he could trip the boy– and, ideally, get away with it. 

“So you really won’t tell us how we can improve,” Luke says, really just clarifying and making sure. 

Bea thinks on it for a second and looks to Honey, who shakes her head and draws herself up to a position where she’s sitting on her own. She stretches her arms out in front of her with another yawn, then covers her mouth and speaks through the intake of air. “It’s more fun this way. Half the brilliance of the board is that you have no idea and Bea and I do.”

“I’ll give y’all one pass, though,” Bea says. “First boy to be ready for church gets a point-one added to his score.”

Jack is the first person up, shaking the couch. Luke races after him, not wanting his score to drop below Jack’s. Cole and Quinn are much more relaxed about the incentive, meandering up the stairs. Trevor doesn’t move an inch.

“No church for you today, Trev?” Bea asks.

“I don’t see how it benefits me. I’m not on the list,” Trevor replies.

Bea stops what she’s doing– gathering her markers– and faces him. She looks to Honey, then back to Trevor. “Trevor, dear,” she starts sweetly, although Trevor understands that her sweetness is dripping with poison. “You’re not on the list because I’m not having sex with you. I have no interest in speculating about how good you are in bed and I don’t believe anything that Honey’s told me about your abilities. You’re a nuisance and I hope you get a charley horse cramp next time you’re on the ice.”

She picks up her whiteboard and walks away, going down into the basement. 

Honey stretches out on the couch again, cracking her knuckles. 

“You talk about me?” Trevor asks, hoping that Honey will play along and ignore everything else Bea said.

“Well, I’m going to talk about how rude you are with Bea after she gets back from church,” Honey replies snarkily. “Honestly, Trevor, do you have to be a douche?”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Trevor defends himself. 

“You were a jerk and for what?” Honey demands, seeming very awake now. “Because we woke you up? I got woken up too, Trevor, and I had to come all the way over here from my house. You got to walk down some stairs and you have the nerve to complain more than I do?”

Trevor is surprised by her sharp words, taking a step back. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“‘Sorry,’” Honey repeats, mocking him. “God, Trevor. You really do piss me off sometimes.” She stands from the couch, which draws Trevor’s eyes. Her tank top has ridden up, revealing a little sliver of skin that he wants to bite. He takes in her nipples, which he can see through her top, and he’s surprised that he never noticed the piercings before. They’re obvious. His eyes come up to her collarbones, and her neck–

Covered in little bite marks.

Trevor grins, staring at her.

Honey’s eyebrows tilt down and her expression grows perturbed, suspicious of him. “What are you smiling at?”

“Look in a mirror lately?” Trevor asks, bringing his hand up and gesturing at his neck, pointing out spots that mirror the location of the hickeys he left on Honey’s body. “Surprised you came over here in so little. I would’ve expected you to wear a scarf, since you don’t want anyone knowing about us.”

“What?” Honey asks, reaching up to feel over her neck like the bruised skin is raised. She goes to the hallway, craning her head to the side and examining her skin in the mirror. 

Trevor goes to stand behind her, still at a distance, and Honey’s eyes meet his in the reflection. She looks downright murderous.

“This is all your fault,” she hisses, whirling around and stomping up to him just so that she can push his chest and make him stumble backwards into the wall. 

“At least you look good in purple,” Trevor says with a cheshire-like smile on his face. He means the compliment earnestly, even though Honey is angry with him and already making her way to the front door.

“You– fuck off, Trevor,” is the last thing she says before wrenching the door open and slamming it behind her.

Trevor can’t help himself– he’s pulling out his phone and using her number for the first time since she yelled at him for texting her at work. He types out a quick little message, one that he knows Honey will hate and probably pretend like she never received, but now he’s got two thoughts running through his mind: one, that Honey does look very good in purple, and two, that she talks to Bea about him. And his abilities.

He sends a picture of his own neck, a big purple bruise that he noticed before he walked downstairs, right at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. “It’s a group effort & I’m glad you’re my partner ;)” is the final draft of the text, sent without a second thought. 

Of course she’ll never reply to him, but Trevor is satisfied with the fact that she’ll have to walk around for the next couple of days knowing that he marked her up and only time will help those marks fade.

[dangerpronebuddie]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday!!

Haven't been tagged today, but I'm doing it anyway because I really like what I've written 😊. Taking a break from Make Me Write (I have maybe... 12 left to answer and I'll probably be doing it again tomorrow, we'll see) to share a little bit of the time loop fic!:

Buck strides into the gym, glancing into the locker room. Eddie laughs at whatever Tommy says over the phone, his nose scrunching. Buck picks up some extra weight as he scowls in Eddie's direction. He hasn't seen Eddie laugh like that in ages. He shoves the weight onto the bar as Eddie's grin somehow widens. Look over here. Stop talking to Tommy and look over here. If he can just get Eddie away from Tommy, Buck might actually have a chance. The reminder that Tommy seemed more excited to hang out with Eddie still stings. But it's only because Tommy knows Eddie better. Buck sits down with a grunt, still watching Eddie. Something's gotta give! He's got at least thirty pounds more than usual on the bar, and Eddie never lets him work out without a spot. Even if Eddie can't do it himself, he keeps an eye on Buck while Chim or Ravi or Hen help him out. But he still keeps talking to Tommy! What could they possibly have to say at this point? They've been joined at the hip for weeks, surely the novelty is wearing off. Buck lies back and starts his set with a loud grunt. He takes another peek into the locker room. Eddie's blushing. Fuck. “Hey, Buck, you need a spot?” Ravi asks, stepping in front of Buck’s view. “Nope,” Buck grits out. “I'm good.” Truth be told, if he adds another five pounds, he's liable to pull something. Eddie knows his usual weight. Eddie reminds him not to push too far. Buck sets the bar back on the rest and sits up, frowning at Eddie. Not like he notices. “Got a package here for Evan Buckley?” Buck hops to his feet at the sight of the Amazon prime guy and takes his package. Finally! Eddie leaves the locker room just as Buck tears the box open. This'll do the trick.

(tags under the cut! As always please let me know if you want to be added/ removed):

@lover-of-mine @tizniz @loveyouanyway @daffi-990 @kitteneddiediaz

@ronordmann @steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus

@thekristen999 @monsterrae1 @diazheartsbuckley @wildlife4life @misshiss727

@rainbow-nerdss @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @lunarspark-cos @idealuk @shipperqueen6 @slowlyfoggydestiny @eddiesfagstache

@lin27 @jshadow01 @orangeboxfox92 @thegeekcompanion @emilybahu @lemotmo @awolfnamed-nyx

@kaseysgirl86-blog @darkrose6578 @totallynotagoraphobic @dandelioncasey @bibuckbuckgoose @whatsgoodinthehood22

@lady-elaine @buckley-diaz-rules @buddiedaydreamer911 @monroemary @pirate-hunter @snowviolettwhite @hermoineindisguise @tidesreach

@nonspeakingkiku @eddiedisasterdiaz @drunkandsupportiveeddie @epicbuddieficrecs @disasterbuck

@gnoeltop @keynb @cassi-brooks @-syrup-sue @punkrock00 @shannonhutchins @aroqueerfandoms @unlifeira @marissaleec @kissyboytroye

@lyricfulloflight @charlzie-ghost @hypersensitivitywitch @kindlingtotheflames @wallywise @zerokrox-blog and anyone else who wants to share!! 🥰🩷

[bambamnesiac]

a redraw of my fav anime sc of the strauss siblings !! i love them your honor, theyre all dumb as rocks <333

original screenshot and extra details under the cut :3

absolutely nothin in those heads folks

also this is my hc heights for them !! they should all be huge gaddammit (lis is the odd one out hehe)

extra tidbit since you reached the bottom of this post: the necklace lisanna is wearing is a friendship necklace natsu gave her for the birthday after happy hatched, it's incredibly precious to her and she wore it around her ankle the whole time in edolas and it helped keep her from thinking she was insane and just dreamt up earthland :3

oh also like 4 months before lis left earthland the strausses all went and got matching ear piercings as a sibling thing bc lis and elf werent old enough for tattoos but they wanted to be connected somehow

[literallyzooble]

The Amazing Digital Marching Band: Beta Designs

WHAT THE HEEEEELLLLLLL OH MY GAWD NO WAYAYAYAYAYAY

Hi hello hi!! I finally got around to designing some beta layouts for my Digital Circus AU! Please tell me what you think and reblog if you can! If I continue to expand upon this AU, I might just make its own blog for it! Just depends when and if I have time :)

Okay under the cut is me infodumping about each design so feel free to like skip allat if you don’t want to read it

Gangle: Color Guard -I wanted to still follow Gangle’s ribbon motif in her design, this is probably the most personalized outfit out of all of them. -The ribbon the makes up her body now continues down and spirals around her legs, sort of to make a “skeleton” of a dress. -I added a bit more flare to her arms, adding extra ribbons that don’t act as limbs, and more as sleeves or decoration. -The bow on her head kind of just ties it all together, again fitting with the ribbon motif that I was going for. -In terms of the first point, the reason why I say “personalized” is that I’m still not sure what I’m going for in terms of outfits. I don’t know if I want them all to be uniform and the same, like a true marching band (in this case, I would have to change Gangle’s outfit), or if I’d like each uniform to have more of a personal style to it (in this case I would keep Gangle’s outfit, and change uniforms to echo the original character’s designs (i.e. changing Ragatha’s uniform to be a bit more dress like).

Pomni: Drum Major -I’m still deciding on the hat, I wanted to try to make a shako with a jester hat motif, but I’ll have to work it out over time. -Her uniform borrows from modern marching uniforms (Stanbury for inspiration) and circus jester clothes (hence the fringe around the waist). -Gloves are the same size as her original gloves, except they’re white. -Pants are classic bibber pants, shoes are classic marching shoes (both black).

Zooble: Snare (Battery) -One of their antennae is a snare stick. I came up with this gimmick that Zooble basically pulls out sticks from everywhere: their head, their arm, their leg, they always have a spare. -I decided to give Zooble two wings for stability, since you don’t want to be tilted to one side while marching, especially for battery. -Their right (looking at the drawing it’s their left) arm has this mechanism where you can easily insert sticks, it’s sort of like one of those things that can extend your pencil when it’s short? It uses the same logic. -I kinda went the craziest on Zooble’s design because I am so normal about them (I am not) -I CHOSE ZOOBLE AS A SNARE BEFORE GOOSE SAID THAT THEY PLAY DRUMS MY BRAIN IS MASSIVE

Ragatha: Flute -Adding on from what I yapped about in Gangle’s tidbit, I had this idea to make the uniforms a bit more personalized to each character, for example giving Ragatha’s uniform a bit more of a “dress” look to math her original design. Of course, this conflicted with my knowledge of marching bands and why everyone has such similar uniforms, so to go with the dress-like design or not, as well as personalizing each of the character’s designs more, is still up in the air. -Woodwinds have gloves that have the fingertips cut off, so their fingers can be more technical. Ragatha’s gloves are black. -The woodwind and brass uniforms are mostly the same, the shakos (color wise) are the only things that differentiate the two. -Classic marching bibber and shoes. -Yes I am self projecting by making Ragatha a flute and BEFORE YOU GO SAYING “erm achchually Ragatha plays Cello-“ FIRSTLY there are no cellos in marching band and SECONDLY within this AU she plays flute for marching season and play cello in the orchestra for concert season :)

Jax: Trumpet -His ears go inside his shako, I’m just too lazy to edit/erase them. -Brass have gloves that have no alterations made to them. Jax’s gloves are also black. -Classic marching bibber and shoes. -Jax gives me “typical crackhead trumpet” energy and I don’t know why. Anyways there’s my reason for putting him on trumpet.

Kinger: Bass Drum And Gong (Pit/Auxiliary) -I want Kinger in this AU to give “How TF Did I Get Dragged Into This” Vibes -Pit percussion members don’t wear shakos, which is sort of cool so we can still recognize the chess piece form. -Since Kinger doesn’t have any legs, his “marching bibber” is more of just a black skirt that surrounds his body. -Pit percussion members don’t wear gloves. Which is a problem. Because Kinger is always wearing gloves. And I do not want to draw whatever is underneath those gloves. Scawy.

Stay tuned for more!! Maybe!! In the near future??? ALSO ALL SHIPS ARE ALLOWED!!! YOU MAY SHIP WHOEVER WITH WHOMEVER!!! AS LONG AS YOU’RE NOT A CREEP!!! YAHOO!!!

[merp-blerp]

Gaylor/Kaylor and Oz: Parallels and Theories 🌼🌈❇️

CW: Light Spoilers for L. Frank Baum's Oz book series (books 1-15) and major spoilers for Return to Oz (1985). And this post is very late-stage-Kaylor-specific, so if that's not up your alley, that's chill.

Overblown Analysis Under the Cut ↓

As a huge Oz nerd, I and many others have noticed many Oz media parallels in Taylor's music. I wanted to piece together some I've seen mentioned and some I've noticed myself. More things could pop up as time goes on, so I could imagine me editing or making a second part to this post if necessary.

Part 1: Rainbows 🌈

In the 1939 film, Dorothy's home, Kansas, is portrayed as a dreary sepia or greige color, that way the contrast to the gorgeous technicolor of the land of Oz could be even more effective on the audience. Somewhat surprisingly I guess, this sepia color is reflected in the book, with Kansas being described as "the great grey prairie" and even W. W. Denslow's original illustrations of Kansas being colored in greige; the pages don't include more color until Dorothy is swept into the cyclone on her way to Oz.

So many of Taylor's lyrics describe events turning her world from colorless to colorful or vice versa. "The rest of the world was black and white // But we were in screaming color" from "OOTW", "You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else" from "Illicit Affairs", "If all you want is gray for me // Then it's just white noise, and it's my choice" from "BDILH", "Like a rainbow with all of the colors" from "ME!" turning into "I'm just... in shades of greige" from "The Prophecy", etc.

For TTPD, from a gaylor perspective, the sepia and greige theme of the album is supposed to reflect that for Taylor the closet is colorless and sad. It also invokes old Hollywood and how closeting is an old-fashioned practice figuratively and literally. Closeting is a practice based on outdated mindsets and fears and it's been a practice since Hollywood as we know it today was beginning to be established. MGM Dorothy actress Judy Garland was in at least one lavender marriage and might've been queer herself, but the latter isn't as confirmed as other victims of closeting of the time like, say, her husband Vincente Minnelli. Taylor often utilizes vintage imagery in her music, romanticizing it, but the song "TTPD" (and other points in the album) calls her out for it with her lover having to remind Taylor that they are living in modern times despite being held down by old-fashioned ideals. The Wizard of Oz (1939) film is arguably the epitome of old Hollywood nostalgia, so it makes sense for Taylor to use it as a way to tell the story she wants to tell, especially if it's a queer one since Oz is very special to a lot of queer people.

For what it's worth, Ashley Park performed the film's song, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" on The Drew Barrymore Show in what looks to be the Christian Siriano rainbow dress. Fun! Curiously, I can't find a video of this performance, I just happened to stumble upon this GIF on giphy.com and an article talking about the performance.

As an extra tidbit, in the Oz books, the rainbow is personified in the character Polychrome, the youngest daughter of the rainbow. She happens to be featured in one half of a certain famous quote from The Road to Oz. Polychrome comments, "You have some queer friends, Dorothy," to which Dorothy responds, "The queerness doesn’t matter, so long as they’re friends." This quote is theorized to be the inspiration for the phrase "friend(s) of Dorothy" in queer slang. And it's nice to have a friend like Dorothea, of course. Speaking of which...

Part 2: Dorothy and Ozma 🌪️🌺

Dorothy Gale needs no introduction, but I will give Princess/Queen Ozma one since she's a more niche character. Ozma is the rightful ruler of Oz. The "Wizard", Oscar Diggs, was not meant to rule over Oz. He went to great lengths to usurp the throne from Ozma's father, Pastoria, and hide Ozma away as a baby, dumping her on a witch named Mombi, who enslaves her and disguises her as a boy named Tip so she and others won't know her identity. She learns the truth about who she is and takes back her throne in book 2, The Marvelous Land of Oz (This backstory is why Ozma is a trans icon, along with a sapphic one). Ozma and Dorothy meet each other in book 3, Ozma of Oz, and are inseparable from there on. A common queer interpretation of Oz sees Kansas as like the closet and Oz as being out and free. A part of why the queer interpretations of Oz work particularly well in the books is because in The Emerald City of Oz, Dorothy and her Kansas family move to Oz permanently when Kansas stops being liveable for them. So Dorothy becomes the second ruler of Oz and Ozma's "constant companion" at Ozma's "proposal", as L. Frank Baum describes it. Dorothy is the only person allowed in Ozma's bedroom unannounced, which is cutely domestic. Baum's story and John R. Neil's illustrations of the two often depict them as being very close, holding hands, and kissing. It's not really knowable if Baum intended for it to be seen this way, but many modern Oz book fans see them as a couple.

Naturally, there's the theory that Taylor's song "Dorothea" is about Karlie, as well as the fact that Karlie dressed up as Dorothy for Halloween 2023 and did a partly-Oz-inspired photoshoot in 2010, among other Oz-themed things. Also, after the first book, Baum had a falling out with Denslow and appointed a new illustrator, John R. Neil; Neil's design of Dorothy sports a blonde bob, which reminds me of the "Karlie Kut" a bit, even if that's coincidental. Since the Karlie as Dorothy theory is pretty well established, I want to forward a theory about Taylor taking on the role of Ozma.

For starters, Taylor wears a gingham green dress in her music video for "Karma (ft. Ice Spice)" as she skips and sweeps down a yellow brick road in red shoes, looped braids, and lemon beret. This outfit is a bit perplexing, as while it seems very Dorothy-inspired, it actively makes itself just different enough from how Dorothy is illustrated in the first Oz book and seen in pop culture. It could be suggested that this is for copyright reasons since 1939 Dorothy is not in the public domain yet and using that likeness would require making a payment. However, thanks to the book specifically describing/illustrating Dorothy as wearing blue and white gingham and pigtail braids, these features can still be used, as all of Baum's Oz novels are in the public domain. Oddly, the only potentially copyright-able aspect of Dorothy's costume is the one that Taylor kept, the ruby slippers exclusive to MGM's '39 film, since in the book Dorothy's shoes are silver. So why were all these unnecessary changes here?

My main theory is that Taylor is subtly invoking Ozma in a way that would still be recognizably Oz-ian, as I don't think most people would catch on to the Oz reference if Taylor dressed as a more accurate-looking Ozma. Hence why the gingham and red shoes are present even though Ozma is never described as wearing anything like that. Ozma is often depicted in long flowing white or green dresses. And while Ozma's hair is usually free in Neil's illustrations, her hair is sometimes tied into a bun, and Taylor's looped braids seem to be in the same family as a bun (I don't know how else to say that, I hope you get what I mean...). The lemon beret is hard to explain. As far as I know/can recall, lemons have never played a major role in any Oz media, so my guess is that the hat is meant to match the yellow brick road or maybe slightly invoke the fighting trees from the film and book. Since Taylor's outfit is similar but not the same as Dorothy's, it could be interpreted as Taylor dressing as someone adjacent to Dorothy, or a friend of Dorothy's, and Ozma would definitely fit that title. Ozma is also a fairy, so this also lines up with my Taylor is the beast to Karlie's beauty theory, since a fairy is a creature. And as the small, coincidental cherry on top, Ozma was originally described as blonde like Taylor in the story's text, despite the fact that Neil always drew her as a brunette. Dorothy's appearance outside of her clothes is rarely if ever given, that way anyone could see themselves in Dorothy, her design not mattering too greatly. The only clue to her physical looks is in the illustrations, but the consistency changes over the Oz series when it comes to Dorothy's design, so again it doesn't matter. Kind of like how, whether a song has male pronouns or not, it’s always describing Karlie, the "design" of the muse not mattering. And it actually does make some sense for Ozma to have the ruby slippers, even though she never had them in the books, but more on that in the next part. If Karlie is Dorothy, Taylor is Ozma.

An alternate, more flimsy idea is that Taylor is dressed as Dorothy in her green dress returning to the Wizard with the wicked witch's broom as proof that she melted her. However, this doesn't quite work for me personally, as in the film, Dorothy never got a green dress from the Emerald City. And while book Dorothy did get a "green" dress, she never had to bring the witch's broom to the Wizard and her dress wasn't actually green but white; it only appeared green in the Emerald City due to the green spectacles everyone was tricked into wearing by the shamming Wizard. And of course, book Dorothy's slippers weren't red like Taylor's, but silver. Maybe I'm being too particular, but to me, the details of the two titular versions of Oz make this idea weak.

Another idea is that Taylor is dressed as an amalgamation of Dorothy and the witch, which is definitely an interesting thought. In the 1st book, both Dorothy and the witch have no magic of their own and need to obtain magical items, like the silver shoes or the golden cap. But the difference is that the witch uses her power to do evil while Dorothy doesn't know the power she has, even by the time the shoes get her to Kansas again, as they presumably could do way more than that. The idea of Taylor combining the two is interesting, but again the red shoes put me off.

I think the Ozma theory works the best (and I think it's the cutest).

The story of Ozma being unrightfully taken from her throne and hidden away from everyone and herself reminds me of many stories told through Taylor's music. Lyrics like "I (I) don't (don't) like your kingdom keys (keys) // They (they) once belonged to me (me) // You (you) asked me for a place to sleep // Locked me out and threw a feast (what?)" from "LWYMMD" and trapped imagery in MVs like "Willow" feel somewhat reminiscent of that story.

Taylor isn't any kind of genderqueer as far as anyone publicly knows for sure, but Taylor definitely seems to have no problem with aligning herself with masculinity and taking on male roles. Take things like the wonderland photoshoot (Lordy! 🤭), Taylor semi-confirming she's Folklore's JaMEs, "The Man", "Peter", and maybe etc. Ozma being a girl but forced to present as a guy for years could be seen as similar to Taylor having to paint some of her songs about women as being from a male perspective, or some songs never being officially said to be from a male perspective being assumed to be so anyway, like "Question...?"

One more small parallel between Taylor and Ozma: Ozma is often pictured as wearing two poppies, one on each side of her head, seemingly in her hair or connected to her crown. Reminds me of "Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair" from "The Great War".

Part 3: Return to Oz 👠

Return to Oz (1985) is an unofficial sequel to The Wizard of Oz (1939) made by Disney. It takes the stories of The Marvelous Land of Oz and Ozma of Oz and combines them into an original story. At least in America, this is the only feature-length film to feature Ozma and attempt to vaguely adapt the novels more closely. (Context for RTO photos in the image descriptions, which is the case for every image and GIF on this post because why the hell not)

Return to Oz adds a setting that wasn't featured in any of the Oz books: a mental hospital. Aunt Em and Uncle Henry, concerned that Dorothy isn't sleeping and won't stop insisting Oz is real, send Dorothy to a mental hospital in an attempt to get her help (not out of malice). As we know, TTPD features the theme of asylums prevalently. The treatment chosen to help Dorothy is electroshock therapy, similar to Taylor receiving electroshock therapy in the MV for "Fortnight". In "Down Bad", Taylor says, "They'll say I'm nuts if I talk about the existence of you", just like how Em and Henry thought Dorothy needed psychiatric help when she talked about Oz being real.

When Dorothy stays over at the hospital for treatment, a character named Nurse Wilson (Kansas doppelganger of Mombi) escorts her to her room; Nurse Wilson wears a black dress very similar in style to Taylor's black dress from "Fortnight".

When the power goes out and the electroshock therapy isn't given a chance to begin, a fellow patient revealed later to be Ozma helps Dorothy escape the asylum by freeing her from the bed she's strapped to and bolting with her. Ozma and Dorothy slip into a river while running away, in which Ozma finds an abandoned chicken coop for Dorothy to ride through said river to Oz, Dorothy fearing Ozma drowned during the process until the end of the film. This is similar to Taylor and Post Malone's character escaping the asylum after Post cuts the power in "Fortnight". Ozma unstrapping Dorothy from her bed is similar to the nurse who unchains Taylor from the bed in "Fortnight", theorized to be played by Karlie herself. And Ozma finding the coop for Dorothy to ride away on is reminiscent of Taylor clinging to her piano in "Cardigan". Clinging to something when in rough water is common imagery, so it could definitely be coincidental, but I thought I'd mention it.

In this film, Ozma is trapped in a mirror by the witch Mombi, reminiscent of Taylor depicting herself as trapped behind glass closets in numerous MVs. After Dorothy saves Oz, she is the one to free Ozma from her glass prison by touching her hand and guiding her out of the glass, similar to Post and Taylor in the last scene in the "Fortnight" MV. Ozma in the mirror behaves like Dorothy's reflection, which reminds me of Taylor having Post's tattoos when she wipes her face in the mirror as if to say she's a reflection of his character.

Dorothy gives Ozma the ruby slippers before leaving Oz (Disney paid for the right to use them). That could help to explain why Taylor wears the ruby slippers that Ozma never had in the books if she's truly dressed as Ozma. And notably, when dressing up as Dorothy for Halloween, Karlie wore a full Dorothy costume, except for the ruby/silver slippers, arguably the most important part. As if Karlie was in "Kansas" and gave Taylor her shoes.

Dorothy chooses to return home in the end, but Ozma gifts her a way for them to communicate: through her mirror. This way Ozma can watch over her and when Dorothy wants to return to Oz, Ozma will make it happen. I've mentioned the parallels with the glass closets, but this also reminds me of "A tiny screen's the only place I see you now" from "Dorothea". In the book and '39 film, Dorothy uses her shoes to get back to Kansas, but in RTO, they are presumably going to be used to get Dorothy back to Oz when the time is right. So maybe after Taylor potentially comes out she will use Karlie's ruby slippers to sweep into the rescue and save Karlie from Kansas/the closet and back to Oz/freedom with her. Outside of RTO, it could also work the other way, with Taylor using the shoes to go home, especially with all the lyrics Taylor's had about returning home to/with her lover. Kansas doesn't represent anything bad in the original story, so it's possible that Kansas isn't a debilitating cage/closet, just home where you feel safe with the ones you love. Ozma also encourages Dorothy to keep their communication secret. Dorothy wants Aunt Em and Uncle Henry to know of Ozma, as she calls for Em to come and look as soon as she summons Ozma. But Ozma seems to see it as best kept quiet, no exact reason given to the audience from what I can tell, but it's understood by Dorothy and Ozma themselves. Pretty similar to Kar and Tay maintaining their closet for reasons we gaylors don't fully get to know, at least not yet.

(I didn't know where to put this little factoid, but in this film, the only times Ozma really smiles is at Dorothy. It's not important, just a bit cute and sad.)

And as a bonus for you Spade riddle fans out there, when Dorothy meets Ozma in the hospital, Ozma gifts Dorothy a pumpkin because "it's Halloween soon". The pumpkin is a Kansas doppelganger to an Oz character called Jack Pumpkinhead, who calls both Ozma and Dorothy "Mom" because Dorothy saved him from Mombi and Ozma built him and brought him to life. A bit reminiscent of Karlie and Taylor having Levi and Elijah if you ask me. I'm admittedly not a huge riddles person because it goes a bit over my talents, but I think they're intriguing and I'm curious if the riddles and Oz/RTO together would mean anything.

There's debate on whether Post's character is supposed to represent Taylor working with herself to get free or Karlie. I think it could be either or even both in a convoluted way. I like both theories. If "Fortnight" is based on RTO, the roles of Ozma and Dorthy seem switched, with Dorothy rescuing Ozma from the asylum. However, the tattoo mirror scene suggests that Taylor is mirroring Post's character, or playing him, and if that's Karlie, maybe the MV could be seen as Taylor playing Karlie in a sense since they're "twins" whose pasts are "parallel lines", while Post is either playing Taylor or Karlie; they are one and the same. The MV is really interesting to ponder in general.

Part 4: Miscellaneous Oz Connections ❇️

Lightning round (filled with tons of reaches)! ⚡️

In the "ME!" MV, Taylor and Brandon running up to the green building with a rainbow beam on it whilst in green marching band outfits looks similar to Dorothy and her friends running toward the Emerald City in the '39 film.

The all-pink soldiers in the marching band scene of "ME!" remind me of Glinda's all-female red army in the books.

In "loml", Taylor sings "The coward claimed he was a lion", a reference to the cowardly lion.

The men in the "ME!" MV falling from the sky with umbrellas reminds me of Dorothy and her cousin Zeb falling through the sky with an umbrella down to Oz in Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz.

Taylor might've been in a Wizard of Oz play at her school in 2006. The linked post doesn't give too much evidence admittedly, but I think it's worth saying that the play at least happened at her school.

I wasn't sure where to put this mini-analysis, but I think it's interesting that Taylor associates Dianna Agron with Wonderland and Karlie with Oz and the differences that could suggest. Alice and Dorothy go through similar adventures, but the two go about them very differently. Dorothy adapts to Oz very quickly and loves it there, enough for it to be her second home. Meanwhile, Alice certainly doesn't enjoy Wonderland as much as Dorothy loves Oz, itching to get out and stay out. Dorothy is very active in her role, making friends and changing Oz forever, while Alice passively goes through the motions and lets things happen before escaping to the next thing. It seems like Baum wrote the Oz books to give children lessons on friendship, feminism, and more, while Lewis Carroll wrote the Alice books with the exact purpose of saying nothing and giving birth to the genre of "nonsense writing". And Wonderland is definitely a dream in the original two novels while Oz is a very real place in the books. I know the associations seemingly have to do with the muses’ actual taste in fairytales, but I wonder how the differences speak to the story Taylor’s spun in her music about them. Assuming both Oz and Wonderland are freedom to some degree, does Wonderland being temporary speak to Taylor and Dianna as a couple, while Taylor and Karlie are still ongoing IMO, just like the Oz book series to this day (Canonical Oz books are still being written by different authors. There’s 40+ of them)? Is there something in the fact that Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is an English fairytale and The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is considered the first American fairytale, and Karlie convinced Taylor to stay in America and live in New York rather than London where Dianna was? Do Alice and Dorothy’s different reactions to their discovered worlds speak to how both Karlie and Dianna feel about closeting vs being out or maybe how they feel toward Taylor in some way? I genuinely have no clue, but it's some interesting food for thought. (This isn't Dianna, Swiftgron, or Alice's Adventures in Wonderland slander btw, I don't know enough about Swiftgron besides the basics to do that.)

In Conclusion 🌼

I have no way of knowing if Taylor has even read the Oz books, seen Return to Oz, and knows all this information, but I think it's fun that these connections are there. If there are more connections you thought of or ones that you think I missed, let me know!

Thanks for reading!

[tired-teacher-blog]

He's home

Characters : Bakugo/ Fem reader

Genre : Fluff, tooth rotting sweetness/ drabble

Summary : When he comes back home after a long day's work, you're the only one he wants to hold in his arms.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist

A dream? It almost felt like it, although the feeling of his lips on your skin has always been unmistakable, so maybe it wasn't a dream after all.

_ ".. Katsuki?" his name left your mouth in a broken whisper, one that was affected by remnants of sleep.

_ "Hey beautiful, I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you," he was kneeling right by your side, hand gripping the couch's arm rest, "why are you sleeping here? I told you not to wait up didn't I?" he meant to scold you for not getting a proper slumber in your bed, but his soft smile and gentle voice betrayed him.

_ "I know, but I couldn't do that before seeing you first, it's.." you stopped mid sentence, eyes widening as your vision finally cleared up, "you're hurt!"

Night shifts are the worst, only the most wicked and monstrous villains enjoy roaming the streets at those late hours, and even a hero as powerful and vigorous as your boyfriend can still get harmed if he's not careful enough.

_ "I'm fine babe it's nothing." he tried to reassure you, standing back up and extending his arm out for you to hold on to and follow his lead.

You did, wordlessly squeezing his hand and walking towards the bathroom where the first aid kit was stored.

He truly wasn't badly injured, only a scratch on his forehead and a few bruises here and there, but that didn't stop you from worrying or imagining how those injuries came to be. You were lost in your own world, tracing the dark marks on his chest and arms, until a soft chuckle snapped you back to your senses.

_ "I'm truly fine y/n, though I really don't mind the extra attention." he teased, cradling your cheeks and leaning in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

He knows the pressure you face on a daily basis, being linked to pro hero Dynamight. The constant distress you're left with each time he's on a mission, the curious paparazzi and jealous fans you find yourself surrounded by ech time you're outside, and who crave nothing but some juicy tidbits about their favorite controversial hero.

He knows it's hard for you and it makes him feel guilty even with your constant reminders that he shouldn't.

He shouldn't, because it was a choice that you have never regretted, you simply cannot imagine being without him, the love and trust and closeness you two share will not be broken no matter what faces you.

_ "I should have been more careful I know." he sounded apologetic but that was not what you wanted, all you ever wanted was for him to be safe, and all you needed to do at that moment was to comfort him.

_ "That's alright honey, you're here now, and you're okay." you smiled tenderly as you continued disinfecting the cut on his forehead before moving to apply ice packs on his bruises.

His fingers kept caressing your sides the whole time you were tending to his injuries, it was a small gesture, but somehow soothed you both.

_ "You can hop in the shower now, I'll be waiting in bed." you kissed him again, once on the cheek and another on the neck, smiling when he obediently did as asked.

Usually, he would give you a suggestive comment like asking if you wanted to join him, but not tonight.

Tonight he wanted to curl up in bed with you, to hold you in his arms as he falls asleep..

A few minutes was all it took for him to reappear, water droplets traveling down his naked torso and disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Your eyes lingered on his godly muscles just a bit before you wordlessly held out your arms for him, and he wasted no time getting under the covers and trapping you beneath his weight.

He's heavy, almost knocking the air out of your lungs, but you wouldn't give that up for the world. He finally allowed himself a relieved sigh as he squeezed you between his arms and nuzzled your chest.

_ "How was it tonight?" you asked cautiously, unsure if he would like to share that with you, he has always preferred to leave his work matters outside the door after all, since he didn't want anything else to steal his attention away from you. Your time together is the highlight of his day, and the thought of you between his arms is what gives him strength and drives him to do his hardest so he could finally come back to you.

_ "It was fine babe, there is nothing to worry about, trust me." he whispered against your skin, tightening his hold on you.

You didn't need to hear more than that, and the giggles escaping your throat when his lips trailed feathery pecks along your neck and chest were genuine, happy, relieved.

_ "It tickles!" you ran your fingers through his damp hair before grabbing a fistful of those soft unruly locks.

_ "I love you y/n." his voice was slightly above a whisper, as he pressed his ear to your chest and listened to your steady heartbeat.

_ "I love you more Katsuki."

He was back in your arms again, so at least for tonight, you can sleep tightly knowing that he was safe, that he was with you.

[cebwrites]

babygirl trifecta

i love them all so god damn much <333 extra notes and rambles under the cut for kakashi and law highlighting some differences as well as my journey with them!

well i tried to keep it brief but this ended up getting cluttered pretty quickly lmao, i can only hope it's legible for anyone who takes the time out of their day to read this

i already mentioned it but it really is funny how my little martini glass meow looks so much broader than kakashi (it's not even that much of an actual difference, i overlayed them to check!) it just looks like that because kakashi looks evenly proportioned but law has their cunty little whore waist TT0TT

in the five years that i've been completely absent naruto fandom circles i've gotten over my wild aversion to facial hair lol, what a weird hill to die on?? i'm still not the biggest fan of huge beards, but you put a mild stubble on a tired little guy?? i'll go bonkers bro, straight COCONUTS-- i draw law with a little extra scruff to their goatee and it's just sdfjskghdkfh!!! 💓💖💗💞 my baby's so masculine oh my gawwww <3333

i suspect it's aizawa who started it all and one piece just doubled down my slightly piqued interest (everyone was just so smooth in naruto and when they did have facial hair it was full beards and no inbetween, that's potentially what turned me off it initially lmao)

wrt law's pronouns i feel unhinged every time i have to talk about it but like skhdskgb i almost exclusively refer to them with they/them pronouns verbally (this counts maybe?? whenever i'm not writing anyway) but sometimes in headcanons or fics the "he" and "him"s just sort of slip out and they feel natural but not when i'm talking about them casually

by and large i'd much rather people use they/them for law when interacting with me but idk i feel compelled to "pick one" and it's one of those silly things that really shouldn't bother me but does sdkhfskgh

i doodled the old oc i used to have paired with kakashi (they still do live together somewhere in the back of my mind!) alongside law's little kirin chibi but they technically do have an OP version and that's vastly different from who they used to be in the narutoverse nobody's particularly interested in that but me but i still think it's a neat little tidbit :3

i could've easily done this interaction with iruka or shisui - since they were very much comfort characters too, hell, shisui even ended up as an OC (reiji!) cause i loved him that much - but ultimately i ended up picking my og naruto king 💕

okay that's enough rambling for one day, i didn't touch that much on aizawa because this is long enough as is sdjfskghkdg back to my little corner i skitter--

[vgtrackbracket]

Video Game Track Bracket Round 2

Sky Tower from Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Blue Rescue Team

vs.

Challenging a Queen from Stray Gods: The Roleplaying Musical

Propaganda under the cut. If you want your propaganda reblogged and added to future polls, please tag it as propaganda or otherwise indicate this!

Challenging a Queen:

The main selling point of Stray Gods is the music. Musical numbers happen in-universe and the choices you make have a tangible effect on both the song and characters. There are multiple decision points in each song letting you choose between one of three paths to take, giving a ton of variation per song.

There are four different OSTs that highlight the different choices you can make. The red, blue, and green editions show what songs sound like when sticking to a consistent tone throughout. The Pantheon edition mixes choices in way that is both similar to how a real person might play and avoids too much overlap with the other main versions. The main composer for the game, Austin Wintory, made a video explaining how the different versions compare and contrast along with some extra behind the scenes tidbits.

I just love how instead of just having plug and play verses, songs in Stray Gods went the extra mile to make sure things flowed in to each other in such a way that you can believe each version is a definitive one. With 17 different endings and multiple ways to get there, there’s boundless potential in this song. (I’m not adding the video that shows off all the endings. It’s over an hour and I feel like I’m pushing my luck.)

[velvetwyrme]

More character designs for Distilling Destiny! This time, they are side characters (the Masked Merchants!) You can find the lineup of main characters here!

[Design notes under the cut! Plus extra worldbuilding notes!]

First off! Design notes!

I feel like it's pretty obvious which skeletons these 3 are meant to parallel LMAO.

The overall designs are inspired by some of the NPC Merchants my cowriter and I discussed while planning out the fic (Beedle from LoZ, and Zacharie from OFF)

Zacharie was the inspiration for giving them masks, and Beedle is why the Knight-Shopkeep has his big backpack as well as why the masks have horns! (... Like a horned stag beetle? It's a stretch but shhh)

The Cart Merchant's cart is intended to look kind of like Sans' sentry station!

I was debating whether the cart would have parts that could fold out/be stuck in the ground to extend it, but then I thought... if he had them, he'd be too lazy to set them up anyway.

This way he can just ride around in it and not have to worry about lugging his stuff around like the others.

The Knight-Shopkeep's got two feathers in his hat like the Bard does ;]

I was going to give the Knight-Shopkeep a big hammer, but a sword looked cooler with the pose LMAO

The Knight-Shopkeep also has another horn hidden under his hat!

He sells potions and cooking ingredients! (In the fic, Blue is studying health + culinary science...)

The Shady Merchant has a golden horn instead of a gold tooth

The fur around the Shady Merchant's shoulder is a reference to what he trades, but it's also supposed to represent Red's fluffy jacket.

I gave him a sack because I thought it was funny. I almost made him the type to open up his jacket and try to sell you watches or something, but it didn't really work out, and this design fits a lot better.

That sigil is meant to be his own personal "signature", made up of aspects of his mask, as well as his kingdom, but The Cart Merchant is lazy and uses shorthand. The proper symbol would be something like an actual ❤️ shape. In universe, the larger heart shape made up by both parts is purely a coincidence. The G on the other banner is just a currency sign (like $, €, ¥, £).

AND NOW...

Here's some MORE lore tidbits that (probably) won't get mentioned in the fic, because they are just weird worldbuilding things that I've thought of but aren't really relevant in any of the discussions!!:

The Cart Merchant will try to scam you probably. (5G? i meant 50G.)

The furs and pelts the Shady Merchant procures are incredibly high quality- but he almost exclusively trades for other material supplies or information instead of gold.

I actually started trying to figure out a numeric system for this world, and it was at that point I realised I was getting lost in the sauce and thinking too much about worldbuilding.

HOWEVER, SAYING THAT... I was thinking that an upturned heart (spade) would be the symbol for 1, the v/shorthand heart shape would also double (haha) as the sign for 2. The clover (club) would be 3 and the diamond would be 4.

THAT came about because I was thinking about there being a myth/fable about the 4 (main) kingdoms having been created in that order (spade, heart, club, diamond).

The merchant masks are kind of like clown faces, in the way that there is a record of every single mask to make sure that there are no two that are the same. (Two masks may have the same horns, but different markings, and vice versa.)

The number of horns on a mask depends on which kingdom they come from. Sometimes prongs are also used instead of separate horns. (e.g. a merchant from the "Diamond"/Fourth kingdom may have 4 seperate horns, or 2 horns with 2 points each.)

Markings vary, but generally they too will be themed around the kingdom they hail from.

This is part of why the Shady Merchant is so shady- he has no marking/s, and his horns are... well, he claims to be from the second kingdom.

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Tidbit Tuesdays: Sometimes Sylus Deserves to Get Punched

....in sparring. Usually.

Tidbit Tuesdays is where I share little bits from my WIPs or pieces that I'm particularly proud of. In this case, it's mostly just funny segments where Sylus spars with Kit (or AUs where she hates him) with a surprise extra!

Obviously warnings for blood and violence.

If you liked this, it would be wonderful if you could leave a like or reblog. It lets me know that people like what I'm doing, and encourages me to keep writing!

Side note, I think because Sylus is so tall, he's occasionally thrown off by fighting people who are also tall. It doesn't happen often, but Kit's 5'11, sooooo.

Notes:

First up is AU where Kit is the MC. There's another tidbit further down that you'll see that mirrors this one, and it's because this one is the best parts of that...thing condensed and changed into something else. Sometimes when you write, you just have to Frankenstein it into a different piece entirely.

⭐

This kitten is vicious.

Her foot crashes into his cheek, swift and unrelenting.

It's been long enough since he's fought someone who's almost his height that he's nearly thrown off by it.

Sylus whips around, using his evol in an attempt to pin her down.

“Cheap,” she snarls. “Having to resort to your stupid red shit.”

He scoffs, spitting blood. The injury is already beginning to heal. “I'm merely using the tools at my disposal.”

She writhes violently, her eyes gleaming with a feral light.

The twins are off in the distance, the shouts of their prey quickly being cut off.

“Hold still or this will hurt.” His warning only causes her to fight harder, and Sylus sighs.

His evol tightens, making her face him.

The bright flare of his eye is reflected in hers, and she looks confused. Pain lances through her face.

The blade whips out almost faster than he can predict it, slicing into his cheek.

“Is that how you treat your host?” He asks, and she tenses as the cut heals. “It looks like you really don't remember anything."

⭐

Notes: This is an fake/pretend marriage WIP that I really should get back to. I pulled it up for this post and remembered how much I loved it. Not much to say here except researching sparring/self defense is fun.

Edit: I looked further, this is one of my first Kit/Sylus fics before I'd nailed down personalities! How cute! I always thought Kieran was the chatty one...

-

A week later, Luke and Kieran appeared during their daily sparring match.

“We have presents!”

Sylus looked up from putting Kit in a headlock, his hold tight as she writhed and scrabbled at his wrist.

“Oh?” He glanced back down. “Kit, we talked about this. Wedge your hands and chin, step under and away.”

“It would be easier if I just bit you,” she grunted, yanking forcefully out of his grip. Sylus went to grab her hair, dragging her back towards him, and she used the momentum to slam her head into his gut, making him cough.

One stomp on the instep later, and she'd whirled a short distance away, panting heavily.

Sylus nodded. “Good. You're getting better.” He glanced towards the twins, gesturing them over. “What is it?”

Kieran handed him two tiny boxes, and he smirked. “Good. Kit, come here.”

She trotted over, wiping her face with a towel.

“Hold out your hand, sweetie.” Sylus opened one of the boxes, slipping something onto her ring finger.

She glanced down and her eyes widened. “Boss-”

“Sylus. You were doing so well. You're going to have to get into practice for this mission.” He arched a brow. “Unless you want them to think we have a different sort of relationship.”

Blushing violently, Kit corrected herself. “Sylus. Right. I didn't…I didn't actually expect you to get it.” She looked up at him, confused, completely unaware that the twins were fixated on this exchange. “It's just for a single mission. It doesn't- “ she swallowed hard. “It doesn't mean anything.”

Sylus hummed, considering his response. “You liked it,” he said simply. “Kieran and Luke are easy to please, but you're allergic to any sort of gifts. Unless they're weapons, of course. Consider it a sign of my appreciation for your service. It's yours to keep.”

Kit felt her heart stutter, her skin heating. The weight of something so small felt so odd, the ruby shimmering in the gym lights like a particular glint she knew so well.

She cleared her throat shakily. “Thank you, Bo- Sylus. It's beautiful.”

He gave her a strangely tender look, accompanied by an odd smile. “Of course. You never ask for anything. It's my pleasure. Now, it's your turn.” He held out the other box.

She shot him a confused look, opening it.

Inside was a heavy rose gold band, subtle geometric shapes patterning its surface. She gasped as she noticed the most dazzling element- a strip of amethyst inlaid in the middle.

Sylus chuckled. “Well? Are you going to do the honors?” He held out his hand.

Kit pulled the ring out gingerly, ignoring Kieran’s snickering.

“I'm pretty sure if she blushes anymore she'll turn into a tomato,” he whispered to Luke.

Luke elbowed his twin sharply and shushed him.

It was strangely simple, the act of sliding a ring on Sylus's finger. His hand was warm and sturdy, the rough calluses of his skin scratching against hers in a way that made her involuntarily shiver.

Kit glanced up to see Sylus smiling. “There we go,” he murmured. “Easy as could be.”

Her lips parted in surprise. Why were his ears turning pink?

⭐

Notes: This one is pretty damn suggestive. Which is the reason I never posted it, because it's borderline NSFW. It's mostly inspired by the very first scene where MC is hunting for the brooch and Sylus is just. In a towel. I imagine when you're that close to the boss, you're bound to get an eyeful at some point.

Notes:

-

“Come in.”

Kit walked into the bedroom, looking around. “Boss…?”

A glass door clicked open, steam billowing into the room. Sylus poked his head out, his skin flushed from the heat. “Here, Kit. Report. How did it go?”

She froze in place, eyes wide. A few droplets of water slid down the column of his neck, dipping into his collarbone and caressing the line of muscles as it trickled down, towards his-

Kit turned scarlet and immediately whipped around, making a strangled sound as she pressed her palms to her face.

A warm, loud chuckle sounded from behind her. “Oh, come on. Our little assassin is afraid of a little nudity? I'm sure you've killed people in worse conditions, sweetie.”

“Usually I wait until I can't see their dick,” she hissed sharply.

He snickered. “Perhaps not as expert an assassin as I thought, if that's all that stops you.”

Kit whipped around, lunging at him with blade in hand, pressing it to the slick skin of his neck. He simply tilted his chin up, glancing down at her.

“Just because I'm inexperienced in some matters doesn't mean I won't push through for the job,” she growled at him.

Sylus quirked a brow at her. The heat and humidity coming off of him pressed against her thin houseclothes, and she quickly became aware of how close certain parts of him were to her.

“Wow,” he commented. “I've never seen someone turn into a tomato in real time before.” In a flash, the blade clattered to the ground, and he pinned her up against the glass barrier that separated the bathroom from the bedroom.

Kit felt her heart rate spike as his damp skin came into full contact with her, his hands sliding up to entwine his fingers with hers.

She could feel her thin shirt growing wet, the water droplets on his skin turning the white fabric translucent in places.

His face was too close to hers, his breath warming her face as he spoke. “It's my bedroom, kitten. You should be prepared for what you're likely to see when you walk in, next time.”

⭐

Notes: Ah, the misunderstandings fic. Also our bonus OC for this post. Depending on when I decide to post it (or the ADHD kicks in and I forgot I put this here, because I schedule these) you may see the WIP as an actual fic posted before this one comes out. Anyway, Kiri, being the actual MC, genuinely doesn't like Sylus because she's best friends with Kit. Go figure. Kiri will always be a Zayne girlie, and more power to her.

-

Sylus catches the fist before it hits him.

Cold, steely blue eyes glare sharply at him, and he's impressed by the sheer extent of the rage on Kiri’s face.

“If you've hurt her,” Kiri snarls.

He doesn't give her the chance to continue. “Our spat will have to wait, honey,” he bites out, sickly sweet. “I have to go resolve a misunderstanding.”

A hard boot slams into his shin, and he grunts in pain. Sylus flicks his fingers and launches her gently out the bedroom doors. They swing open on his command. “Get out. I'm not in the mood to play.”

“She's my fucking friend, asshole!” Kiri snaps back. “What the hell are you doing to her? Why did she look so…so…”

“Heartbroken?” He supplies. His voice is quiet as he walks past, not bothering to help her up. “I'm sure you're smart enough to figure that out.”

Kiri surges to her feet, following after him. “You were the one who insisted we resonate!”

“And it didn't work,” he calls over his shoulder. Two people walk out into the hallway, see Sylus, and immediately duck back into whatever room they came from. He ignores them, continuing. “We'll have to find another way.”

She stiffens. “If hand-holding was your first method, the next one better not be-”

“Don't flatter yourself. There's only one woman I want, and right now she's filled her head with all sorts of ideas. Stay here.” As she opens her mouth to protest, red mist gathers around her, depositing her neatly into the twins outstretched arms.

“Sylus!” Kiri yells. He's already gone.

⭐

Not every fic gets abandoned because I was procrastinating or didn't feel like finishing it. Sometimes, like this one, it's because I recognized that it would be relatively incomprehensive to most people. In any case, assassin AU (Kit's already an assassin, that's not the AU part) where she accidentally gets MC's memories for some reason.

That's why they're in bold vs hers in italics. As I said, incomprehensive.

-

She is standing with her hands wrapped around a blade, covered in blood. Not her memories, but somehow they are.

Red mist slams her against a wall, and she coughs, the air forced from her lungs. She fights wildly against the bindings as the man stalks forward. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows that he's bare of any clothing, but survival is forefront.

She has to kill him. Stab him.

Right through the heart.

Right through the heart.

She is present, and memories that aren't hers drag at her consciousness, forcing her back under, like sirens at sea pulling a sailor down to his doom.

“This is a surprise,” he purrs. That voice is achingly familiar, but she can't afford to dwell on it. It's her or him. “You did well to get this far, kitten.”

“Seven?” The red eyed demon says, unimpressed. “That's not a name. That's a number. I'll call you Kitty. You hiss and spit like one.”

“You can't just ask for someone's name and decide you don't like it!” She snaps back. “I'm not going by that!”

He smirks. “You'll learn to respond to it if you want my help. A thing doesn't need assistance. A person, on the other hand, can beg for it.”

Kit snarls, swinging a leg out. She manages to clip him across the jaw.

He touches the cut left behind, smearing blood, and it fades away like dust.

Horror sinks in her gut like a rock. Bridget was right. She should have never taken this mission.

The red mist tightens around her throat, and she feels tears prick at the corner of her eyes, her head going floaty as she struggles to breathe.

“A waste of your talents,” he says evenly. “If you want to hurt me, you'll have to try harder than that.”

The man steps closer, and Kit seizes her opportunity. She grabs a blade from her boot and slams it through his bare chest.

It wounds her more than it does him, a feedback loop that rips through her mind with a piercing whining scream.

She is holding a blade, and hands wrap around hers. Are they claws? Fingers? She can't be sure. Despair and terror slam through her, leaving her breathless.

“You must press on.” The voice is pained, struggling.

“No,” Kit gasps. She's crying now, she knows it. Something throbs in her chest, like her heart is slamming against the prison bars of her ribcage, trying to get out.

The man - Sylus - scoffs. “What's wrong, cold feet? The little assassin can't stomach killing a man?” He grabs her hand, wrapped around the blade, and forces it in more. “Try harder.”

She recoils, even as spots begin to dance at the edge of her vision. “Sylus, stop!” Kit cries out. “Please, not like this!”

He flinches. “What did you just-”

It's too late, though. She used the last of her air to yell, and everything goes black.

= later in the same fic =

Sylus, on the other hand, is quiet. He meets her gaze dead-on, searching for something in her expression. For what, she doesn't know.

Kit already prepares herself for what's to come, letting herself go numb. Assassins like her do not survive.

“You're not going to tell me anything.” He states. He seems almost…impressed, despite himself. There's an understanding there, like recognizing like in this awful world they occupy.

Kit drains the cup, setting it on the side table next to the bed. She turns to face him. “The only thing I'll give you is that I'm a professional. And if you're any good, you know what that means.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “This will hurt.” Oddly, it feels like a warning.

She braces herself.

A large hand grasps her chin, forcing her to maintain eye contact with him.

“What are you-” his eye glows, cutting her off.

It is the most unpleasant sensation. Like ants crawling through her mind, skittering across her thoughts and scratching at the insides of her ears.

She shrieks and fights him, but his grip is too strong. Every time her nails rake across his wrist, trying to force him away, the scratches heal instantaneously.

It feels like he's forced his fingers inside her skull and cracked it open to examine the blackened insides.

The smell of blood and fire fills her senses, leaving her nose burning from the inside, and she screams, feeling copper spatter on her tongue.

In the awful, bloody end, it's Hector who brings her back.

The sharp memory of him gripping her hair and hissing, “Endure or die.”

Kit brings her knee up and slams Sylus in the jaw, forcing his mouth shut with an awful click, and slots herself back against the very corner of the bed, pressed up against the wall.

He spits blood onto the floor and gazes at her sidelong.

“Come work for me,” Sylus says bluntly. “Ever is a dead man’s game.”

Kit stares at him.

“What?” She whispers hoarsely. “Are you on drugs? I tried to-” her voice gives out, finally petering out to nothingness. She coughs into her hand. There's a smear of red.

Sylus snaps his fingers, and a handkerchief is placed in it. He hands it to her. “I know. That's why I want you. No one else would be crazy enough to try, let alone skilled enough to almost succeed.”

She looks at him suspiciously, and it's almost as if he can read her mind. He snorts.

“I'm not desperate, sweetie. If I wanted you as my bed warmer, we wouldn't be having this conversation. And it would be because you wanted it, not because I forced you.” Sylus stands, stretching, his back popping with the motion. He sighs pleasantly. “You're good at your job, clearly. So do it for me. I'll pay well. We can discuss your contract when you're healed up. For now, rest.”

If she had a voice, she'd snap at him for being so overconfident.

For now, however, she doesn't have a choice. Kit’s out of options. She can't afford to bite this particular hand.

Not yet.

⭐

As usual, thanks for reading! I know this post was a meaty one, but I had a blast writing these and so I thought they were worth the share.

Enjoy your Tuesday!

[my-favourite-zhent]

New Tricks - Chapter 19

Status: Work In Progress

Version: 1.01

Pairing: Rugan x AFAB!OC

Rating: NC-17 (This chapter PG-13)

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Summary: Misadventures of Rugan and the original Zhentarim Gate's crew before and during the year of three sailing ships.

Notes: When one chapter becomes three. The main scenes for the next two upcoming chapters were written way back when I was struggling with chapter six. It was meant to be chapter eight but the plot got away from me a bit. This chapter started out as a little extra tidbit at the start but ended up growing into its own thing and for once I didn't delete an Izzy POV chapter.

Thank you to @fistfuloftarenths, @captainsigge, @dustdeepsea for always being my wonderful betas and providing me with encouragement. If it weren't for you all I think I would've deleted this chapter.

Dust also had the great suggestion of including the clip from Izzy's notebook and showed me how to do all the lovely formatting you will see in this chapter <3. (Check the AO3 link for that and additional footnotes as it's not in the tumblr post)

Also a shout out to @coreene for having such a treasure trove of lore on her tumblr! Always super helpful for fleshing out the background world lore.

Table of Contents

Read Here on AO3 or below the cut.

By now rotten luck had coloured most of Isolde’s life. 

It seemed to her that it had all begun after her parents' untimely deaths when she was sixteen.

What had begun as one bad year became two, with her exile to some gods forsaken farmlands and her first heartbreak at seventeen. 

The following year had appeared to break the trend—she had been offered the position of sizar at the university where her parents once taught. Only in reality it had simply been a year spent building the framework for a truly devastating nineteenth year and an end to her academic aspirations. Her first lover came and went. First friends came and went. Corra was the only good thing to come out of her short-lived scholastic career.

The jobs had been like that too. Someone would turn traitor or stupid. Load bearing beams would give way. Priceless urns would be full of fucking venomous spiders. Only now she had been prepared for rotten luck. Moulded by it.

Now she always slipped a spare trinket under her blouse or in her boot just in case the job didn't pay. Now she kept her valuables in a safe deposit box on the off chance her room got ransacked again. Now she slept in her road breeches with a knife under her pillow, and while she'd never been trained to kill, jabbing someone who wasn't expecting it gave you a good head start on an escape. 

Seventeen years of bad luck had taught her to be prepared and to be persistent. She had survived and even sometimes thrived because of it.

So now, as she watched the sailors drag her chest up onto the deck of the ship, she felt especially stupid.

“My tools are in there! I've paid you good coin to transport those!” She screamed, but her voice could barely be heard by the man next to her over the crashing of the waves. 

The ship rocked under another violent tumult of wind. The tempest had come upon them without any warning, clear blue skies had become turbulent greys streaked in black and white in mere moments. There wasn't even supposed to be storms like this on the Sword Coast for another month. It was just her luck. 

Distantly she heard cries to cut the main sail.

The sailor looked as contrite as one could in the midst of a squall. “Sorry lass, bitch queen needs her offering!” 

And despite the pelting hail and whipping winds it was the word lass that made her flinch. 

‘Should have never gotten aboard a ship out of Neverwinter,’ she thought bitterly as she watched them tip her chest into the sea.

The contract she had taken in Baldur's Gate was an easy forgery job. She could've sat nice and safe in a room at the Elfsong scribbling away before meeting Rugan. She would've made a mint for doing hardly anything at all. But now her seals were gone and with it the contract.

Standing on the docks, Isolde weighed her options. It was alright. This was manageable. She still had the clay impressions of her fake seals in her pack. The sheep’s bladder she kept them in had protected them from any water damage from the storm. A half-way competent smith could recreate the seals from the pressings easily. But just how much would halfway decent cost her? More than she had left, it turned out. Most of her coin was now at the blacksmith's, and that was only the first half of the payment.

Her hand strayed time and again to where her insurance necklace would be, but she had pawned it. Pawned it for the same reason she had come to the city. The same reason she was flat broke. At least she could make that bastard buy her a drink. Blame him heartily for her misfortune. And if he smiled at her even once her fool heart would find the whole venture worthwhile.

“Sorry, miss, believe his caravan is on the road right now. Haven't seen him in a tenday.” The man behind the bar at the Elfsong shrugged.

It was just her rotten luck.

In weaker moments of her life she had considered leaving offerings to Beshaba at those little roadside shrines made of antlers and twigs. But no, fuck that deer-headed bitch. And fuck Umberlee too, while she was at it.

The barkeep looked apologetic, just as the sailor had, but that wasn't going to help her out in any way, shape or form.

She would need to find another job to take on. Isolde considered the other local contract she had ignored on account of the risk. There was nothing for it now. She leaned back in her stool and sighed. So long and low and frustrated that the man gave her another sympathetic look.

“Drink might help with that, miss.”

She opened her coin purse and eyed the few bits she had left.

“Give me the strongest thing you've got for two silvers.” She said sliding the coins across the table.

The man nodded and exchanged them for a pitcher of wine and a tall glass.

“If it's not a pressing issue,” he added as he poured the first glass full for her. “Could leave a letter with me if you like. He's in here every night when the caravan’s not on the road.”

Isolde perked up at that. “If you wouldn't mind.”

“Half the point of an inn is to have a place to send letters. I even mail some out if you've got a coin for the ship’s captain.”

Isolde almost took out her pen and ink right there, but then thought better of it. No sense trying to hastily scribble a note at the bar where some other patron would knock their elbows against hers and make the barman regret his offer.

Scooping up her glass and pitcher, pack slung over her shoulder, Isolde tipped her head in thanks and made for one of the alcoves at the far end of the taproom.

The Elfsong was much nicer than she had expected. The floors were worn but well-maintained, the drapes were not frayed and had minimal patching. She had been told more than once this place was a tourist trap, but when Rugan had called it his local she had presumed it to be something more akin to a dive bar. Had that been unkind of her? The Blackstaron and the Prow in Waterdeep had both been nicely kept inns, even if they had managed to get themselves kicked out of the first one.

She was broken from her train of thought when another patron collided into her, the wine from her glass sloshing over her hand.

“Sorry, love.” The man offered though he didn't even bother to meet her eyes as he and his date brushed past and grabbed the seat she had been eyeing. The date gave her a look that was half amusement, half pity, and Isolde muttered a curse under her breath as she stalked down to the next alcove.

Carefully she placed her wine down on the table, mindful of how it still undulated in its confines. With her clean hand she withdrew a rag from her pack and wet it with her waterskin, wiping clean the other before finally seating herself. 

As she unpacked her writing tools she wondered idly if this was the same seat Rugan liked to frequent. Would he have a regular seat? She should've asked the barman. No, on second thought that was a terrible idea. Isolde had seen and chosen to ignore the pitying look the man had given her when Rugan's name had slipped her lips. Didn't need to let him know how badly besotted she was, admitting it to herself was embarrassing enough.

She drained her first glass before setting pen to paper. This one was easy enough to write, and feeling a bit bold she applied a thin layer of vermillion to her lips as the ink dried. She marked the page with her lips and hoped it would make Rugan suitably unhappy about standing her up.

There was another letter she should write, though she wasn't too pleased about it. 

‘It might not be necessary.’ She tried to tell herself. 

She pulled out her leather bound notebook. It was a tiny thing, worn at the edges, about as wide and long as her hand but maybe two finger-span thick.

The contact information for the job had been hastily scribbled on one of the thick pages, just in case.

It had been Isolde's father who had taught her how to bind books, but it had been her mother who had taught her how to spot traps.

There were many things to take into account, but it came down to a few large considerations:

Was this culture known for booby-trapping tombs? Was this a place or person of importance?

An Imaskari noble would have a much more dangerous mausoleum than a Tharrian peasant.

Was there irregular wear on the ground that might suggest its builders walked a specific, safe path?

Pressure plates were a simple trap and thus effective trap. They stood the test of time better than more complex machinery.

Were there intricate patterns on the structure that could conceal glyphs?

Metal lasted long but magic lasted damn near indefinitely and could do far more damage.

One should be wary on any job, but if the answer to any of these questions was yes then doubly so.

Isolde had a similar list of tell-tale signs when it came to selecting jobs.

Was this client known to her network?

One tended to see the same familiar faces handling these operations. Sure muscle and labour would be locals, but the showrunner was usually one of two dozen folks who had the training to identify a site or the connections to fence the goods. Some characters were more trustworthy than others.

And no, the folks named here were not known to her or anyone she had asked.

Was the site near a city centre?

They oft times were—cities tended to grow on the bones of their forebears, like Luskan and Illusk. This meant more secrecy was necessary, but also less violence. Harder to hide a body and its eventual rot. Out in the wilds you didn’t even need to bury a corpse for it to never be found.

This job was definitely not near a city.

Was the pay reasonable?

Too high meant this was a con, you were lucky if you only came out empty-handed. Too low meant whoever was in charge didn’t even know what their goods were worth, if anything, and they didn’t know the running cost of a black market archaeologist.

Too low, far too low.

She had already known all this, but somehow had hoped the details might have changed since she last looked at the notebook. Isolde groaned and threw her head back against the wall of the booth. She was going to have to write the second letter.

Isolde poured and downed two more glasses of wine before she was sufficiently over her shame of having to ask Corra for money. If the forgery job was still around when she returned she’d pay Corra back two-fold.

Maybe she could just wait till Corra’s letter of credit came through, there were cheaper inns in the city, certainly. Gods, maybe a flophouse? But no, after hunting around the lower city and Norchapel it turned out Baldur’s Gate was almost as overpriced as Waterdeep.

‘Should’ve sent the letter and waited before paying for the tools.’ She thought dejectedly.

There ended up being roughly enough coin for a night or two in a flop house, some food for the road and a ride on a caravan heading west. So that was what she resolved to do.

Hopefully, stupidly, she looked for his face amongst the various caravans on the morning she made her way out of Baldur's Gate.

The wagons outside Basilisk Gate were packed end to end—or end to horse as it were. Some people pushed handcarts, perhaps to visit the nearby farms. She also saw oxen hitched to sturdy wagons loaded down with heavier goods. Merchants with lighter goods like the one she accompanied had horses to carry them along faster.

It was a decently nice carriage. Nothing fancy like the wooden conveyances that nobles used, but it had a sturdy canvas roof which was more than most.

The air by now was rank with the dung of a hundred beasts of burden, idling while their masters impatiently waited behind the traffic of a several dozen handcarts.

‘Just like Crimmor.’ She thought with an amused sort of wistfulness.

Isolde noticed then a group dressed in that familiar black and yellow, and her heart struggled to break free from the confines of her ribs. She leaned out the back of the wagon to get a better look. Though she squinted hard there was no one she was acquainted with. Just some red-head with clownish hair, though he had a familiar sort of chin.

“Don't want to be looking too long, dearie. Not a friendly bunch.” Warned the old woman across from her, not unkindly. The merchant’s mother as she understood it.

“Of course, my thanks.” Isolde bowed her head and sat back down on the wagon floor. 

They began moving at last, just as the dawn's early light was obscured by heavy soot coloured clouds. A wry smile twisted Isolde's lips.

“Something funny, dear?”

Isolde turned to meet the woman's gaze. “Just my luck, that’s all.”