Hi lovelies! It's been like, a distressingly long time since I've posted anything knew. probably like 4-5 years? my last fandom work was Hetalia soooo...

Anyway, Twilight isn't my usual domain, but frankly, I'm bored, and this universe is always fun to play with. I came up with some new OCs recently and this seemed like the best sandbox for them, so here we are!

A few bits of housekeeping before we get too far into this- While this is a Twilight fic, I'm having fun with it, so I'm taking a few liberties. Mainly, Jasper doesn't exist (or at least isn't a Cullen) for the sake of conveniece but mostly because I hate him for being a creepy Confederate weirdo. the ships are gonna be Emmett/OMC, Alice/OFC, Rosalie/Edward, and Carlisle/Esme. This fic is set in modern day, where the Cullens either never met Bella Swan or she never got involved with them. Not because I don't like Bella, she just doesn't fit here.

Lastly, OMC is is a black trans man. It'll probably be mentioned at some point in the story, I just wanted to put it out there right away so I don't have to deal with any racist/transphobic bullshit. If you don't like that, tough tits babe. The back button is right there, feel free to make use of it.

Anyway, thats enough rambling from me. Enjoy, and please drop me a review when you're done!

The thing was, Honey was pretty sure that, for once, it wasn't even his fault. It's not like he'd started the fight with the guy- he'd simply ended it. And if anything, everyone should be admiring his patience, really. He'd put up with nearly two months of transphobic comments and thin veiled threats before the asshole had the audacity to grope his ass and snap what was left of Honey's (admittedly minimal to begin with) self control. As far as he was concerned, breaking that fucking neanderthal's arm was practically a public service. But had his foster parents seen it like that? Noooo, of course not. They'd simply given him a bunch of inane lectures, throwing around terms like 'patterns of violence' and 'lack of self control' and, worst of all, 'a danger to the other children.' It probably didn't help that the poor fucker who's arm he'd broken just happened to be their biological son. Oops.

So, just like that, they'd washed their hands of him. It's not as if Honey had been particularly broken up about that, really. It wasn't the worst foster home he'd been in (not by a long shot) but it hadn't been particularly good either. The parents were clearly the type of people who had good intentions, and they'd at least had the decency to respect Honey's name and pronouns, albeit with a frankly insulting air of indulgence. The other children left a lot to be desired, but that was par for the course, really. One of the girl's had a bad case of sticky fingers (which was annoying but manageable- its not like Honey had anything of value, really), one of the younger boys had anger issues (which honestly, was pretty understandable, given his general situation), and the biological son, well... see above.

Needless to say, Honey would have been perfectly content to pack up and head for his next prison- oh, excuse me, home- if it hadn't been for the bombshell his newest social worker, Wendy, dropped on him as his latest/former house disappeared in the rear view.

"What do you mean, this is my last chance?" He demanded from his place in the backseat (which was fucking bullshit, he was plenty old enough to sit in the front. Wendy was probably just to scared of his 'uncontrollable temper" to sit next to him, the coward).

"I mean exactly what I said, Honey," she answered him. To her credit, she looked and sounded fairly unshaken. Huh, maybe it was just pettiness keeping him banished to the backseat like a damn toddler. "In the past 13 years, you've been in 23 foster homes. Twenty-three! That's unacceptable, and speaks to an unsettling pattern on your end."

Honey couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "God, that's fucking bullshit and you know it. Not all of them were my fault! Sometimes parents decided not to foster anymore, or were declared unfit. Besides, half of those were caused by R-..." Honey trailed off. No, no thinking of that traitorous bitch, not now, not ever.

"Listen, kiddo," Wendy started, softening a little in pity, which, eww. Honey's absolute least favorite emotion ever, hands down. "Even if we wanted to keep re-homing you indefinitely, it's just not possible. It's not as if the system has an infinite line of foster parents eager to take in sullen, trouble-making teenagers. We've basically run out of potential placements for you. This is the last family willing to give you a try; after this, its juvenile hall."

"Don't see why I can't just be emancipated and be done with it," He grumbles, sinking down in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. Sure, he knew he wasn't exactly the ideal child, but it stung to hear that no one wanted him.

Wendy let out a loud sigh, clearly tired of hearing that old argument. "Really, Honey? You and I both know that no judge in their right mind would look at your history and declare you responsible or mature enough to talk care of yourself."

Honey didn't bother acknowledging what she said (mostly because it was true), changing the topic instead. "Where are we headed, then? Tell me I don't have to stay in this crappy town. If I still have to be confronted by that smarmy cock and his friends every day I can't promise I won't break the other arm."

Wendy cut him an unimpressed look in the rear view mirror but otherwise didn't reprimand him, which, bless her. Honey knew there was a reason he liked her better than the previous three social workers he'd been saddled with. "No, you're not staying here. Although I doubt you'll like your new placement location any better. You're going to Charlotte- it's this tiny little fishing village a few hours north of here. Cute, but quiet. The better to keep you out of trouble."

Honey groaned, sinking further down in seat. Fuck, could this get any worse? Small towns were the worst, especially if he was supposed to be behaving himself. Not only would he probably have to deal with twice as many ignorant assholes, but he'd basically be boned in the entertainment department. He couldn't even turn to less savory avenues of amusement, since this was apparently his last chance. God, a year and a half of boredom, country bumpkins, and being on his best behavior? There was no way he was going to make it out alive.

Honey had to admit, for a boring podunk shithole, Charlotte was actually rather pretty. Or at least, it probably would be on a nice day. it looked like the quintessential cute seaside town- one main road along the coast with a few quaint shops and local business, a nice beach (abandoned currently do to the overcast, dreary day), and a singular gas station with a little Tim Horton's attached. It looked like a damn postcard.

Honey hated in on principle.

The drive had remained blissfully silent after Wendy's earlier revelation, mostly due to Honey putting on headphones and stubbornly refusing to remove his gaze from the window. Wendy gave up on trying to engage him pretty quickly after that. He reluctantly removed his headphones as they cruised leisurely down the main drag.

"This is it?" He clarified, as if the charmingly weathered sign proclaiming 'Welcome to Charlotte!' hadn't been enough of a tip-off. "This looks like the kind of place old people come to die quietly."

"Don't be so negative," Wendy admonished with a roll of her eyes as she turned down one of the residential side streets. "Think of this as a fresh start, rather than a last resort. I think you could really enjoy this place if you give it a chance."

Now it was Honey's turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, sure, Wendy. This is clearly where I belong, in the most stereotypical tourist trap town known to man. I'll try not to cream my pants out of sheer excitement for this amazing opportunity."

"Well, I don't know about tourist trap," Wendy countered, shrugging a shoulder. "From what I've heard today's weather is pretty standard fare around here. Not quite a common vacation destination.

Honey scoffed. "Great, that makes it so much better. I'm really trapped in the shittiest fishing village known to man."

They drove into a cul-de-sac on a hill, pulling into the driveway that was right at the top. Wendy parked, sighing from the front seat. "I know this isn't an ideal situation. Hell, if I was in your shoes, I'd probably be feeling the same way. But this is where your choices have gotten you, Honey. Plain and simple. You can continue on as you always have- make rash, thoughtless decisions, and ruin your last chance at something good. Or, you can grow up and finally make an effort at belonging somewhere. In the end it's up to you, but I know what option I'd go with."

Several moments passed without Honey acknowledging that he'd even heard her. It wasn't until Wendy reached for the door, giving it up as a lost cause, that he finally spoke. "I'll try my best, okay? No promises."

Wendy smiled tiredly. That was the best she was gonna get from this one. The pair climbed out of the car together, Honey reaching into the SUV's trunk to grab his single duffel bag. He couldn't help the familiar tingle of trepidation as the climbed the drive way toward his new, hopefully not too temporary, home. What if he didn't like his foster parents? What if they didn't like him? What if they were abusive, or racist or transphobic, what if he-

His train of thought was cut off by the front door swinging open, revealing a woman. She didn't seem too old, maybe in her mid to late forties, with long grey-streaked chestnut hair gathered at the nape of her neck with a large hair clip. Her face was pretty, yet careworn, light wrinkles around her kind brown eyes and smile lines around her mouth. She was average height, maybe an inch or two taller than Honey, and seemed to be of medium build in her striped blouse and faded jeans. Honey didn't let her warm, inviting appearance fool him, however. Plenty of people could put on a good show around social workers. It's when Wendy left that he'd be able to get a good judge of her character.

"Hi, you must be Honey, right?" the woman asked, coming down the steps to shake his hand. Honey privately put one point in her favor- he hated when foster parents tried to greet him with a hug. It always came off as fake and uncomfortable. "My name is Helena Green."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," He greeted politely, if a bit blandly. No need to start of rude, after all. He'd have plenty of time to be a dick to her if she turned out to be less than ideal. The woman waved him off with a soft smile.

"Please, call me Helena. You'll hopefully be staying here for a while, no need to be formal. Now why don't we head inside, get you situated?"

That's Wendy's cue to head out. She reaches out and gives Honey's shoulder a soft squeeze, which he tolerates. "I better head out, kiddo, it's a long ride home. I"ll be in touch soon. Remember what I said, and try to stay out of trouble, huh?"

Honey gave a noncommittal shrug, refusing to make eye contact. No way was he engaging in some stupid sappy Hallmark moment, okay? fuck that noise. Accepting that that was all she was going to get from him, Wendy released his shoulder and went back to her car. Honey did his best to ignore the little tug of apprehension he always felt when left at a new foster home. No time to be a pussy, he better get this show on the road.

He followed Helena into the house, making sure to slip off his red low-top sneakers at the door. He did a quick glance at the shoe rack, noting that there didn't seem to be any children's shoes. Most likely, he was the only foster child at the moment. Fuckin' score! Helena led him up the staircase right beside the front door, glancing back at him.

"Sorry in advance for the state of your room. We've been using it as a guest room for the last few years, so it's pretty bare bones right now. If you don't like it, we can go into town next weekend and buy some new things." Honey nodded absently. He'd been through this whole rigmarole enough times to know not to bother taking his new foster mother up on the offer. No need to get emotionally attached to new shit that he most likely wouldn't even get to keep when he left. He'd just stick with whatever was already there.

Surprisingly, what was there was pretty fucking awesome. It was spacious, probably the master bedroom- which, wow, that was a first- with walls painted a nondescript shade of yellow. There was a huge picture window on the far wall, a desk set up underneath it. A king size bed with an ornate white metal headboard was tucked into the corner, and there was a large dresser on the other side of the room. Honey wandered further into the room, setting his duffel bag down on the ground with a soft thump. Helena hadn't lied about it being bland, but that was hardly a problem. Honey had put up with far worse, after all.

"I'll let you settle in," Helena said from her place by the door. Thank the gods, she wasn't going to be one of those annoying hover parents who tried to hold his hand through everything. "I'll call you down for dinner, but until then, feel free to unpack or nap or whatever you want. I'm sure today has been pretty tiring for you."

Honey nodded, already making his way over to the big, comfortable looking bed. Not wanting to be rude to the seemingly chill woman, Honey smiled at her. "Thanks, I appreciate it. I'm pretty beat."

The woman hummed softly, breezing out the door and closing it behind her. Honey noted that the door has a lock which -thank fucking god- locks from the inside. After a quick detour to flick off the lights and engage the lock, Honey stripped off his pants and sweater and crawled into the bed. Packing could wait, he'd earned a fucking nap. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soooooo, there's chapter one! I'm actually really excited about this story, I have a lot of ideas and I think this is going to be really fun to write. Let me know what you guys think though! Reviews are an author's favorite snack.