#it may take more time to churn up more pieces

[robiinurheart33]

Soap knows Ghost is beautiful. He doesn’t need to see his real face to know. It’s in the way he carries himself, his thick British accent, the arrogant quirk of his eyebrow that shifted under his mask. He never had any urge to take a peek at his face under that mask, always respected his boundaries, always stayed fairly within line.

But during the mission in Las Almas, where Ghost had so unwaveringly pulled off his mask, Johnny felt like his whole world had been shaken. Maybe it was because Ghost was his whole world Soap had been obsessed ever since. The crooked curve of his nose, his clipped and messy dirty blonde hair, the slight curve of his Cupid’s bow on his upper lip, the jagged scar that had been carved into pale, almost sickly skin. It was all so utterly Simon. Soap felt unhealthily obsessed. Genuinely, he thought that he could not be any more head over heels, and he goes and does this.

It was stupid how eager Soap was to draw his face. It was like he was a puppet on a string, pulled by his untethered compulsiveness. He had to be cautious. He yearned rip off the mask Ghost has just put on again to kiss him stupid in front of everyone. 141, maybe. But not the Los Vaqueros. He does have that sliver of sanity to hold himself back. But god, if that doesn’t just open up a door of opportunities for him behind closed doors. The extra areas of skin that were now not so unreachable was like dangling a candy in front of a child and expecting them to not take it.

Simon is beautiful. Simon is so pretty. Simon is stunning. Pure Bonnie.

Soap wills himself to shut the fuck up and focus on the mission. He wants to see Simon again. Preferably, in a setting with more light. Soap feels like he’s rediscovering ghost all over again, he wants to see his smile, his annoyed expression, his huffs and grunts, everything on his face. Good lord, does he have dimples? Soap thinks he might just die.

The act of seeing ghost’s skin lights something in soap. He doesn’t know what it is, but he feels the impatience and desperation to find out what it is. He grapples and tries to identify it, but like his callsign, it slips away and he’s left with a frustratingly empty feeling he knows only ghost can fill. I’ll find out. I swear, I’ll find it out.

Soap has never been a patient man.

(CLICKS FOR PALESTINE)

[johnpriceslamb]

𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐏?

❛ you ask the Van Der Linde boys if you could sit on their lap. ❜

BEFORE YOU PROCEED! ┊female ! reader . afab ! reader . reader is physically shorter than chars mentioned below . suggestive themes implied . wrds . not edited . not proof-read . Javier ver touchy . google translated Spanish . John is very drunk . 1.4k wrd-count

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍

You want to what?

You tinker your lashes multiple times innocently at his flabbergasted expression, unconsciously tilting your head at his dramatic approach. From your tone alone meant nothing but the most purest intentions, he knew well you mean no harm. But hearing those words made his cheeks burn a tad bit brighter.

“May I please— “No, no, I heard ya the first time- I just..” He abruptly cuts you. He narrows his eyes at you, sizing you up head-to-toe just to see if you were in a playful manner. You weren’t.

He grumbles softly, contemplating. He scratches behind his neck for a bit before a deep sigh escapes his mouth and he leans back on the wooden chair he sat upon.

“C’mere.”

He beckons you to come closer with two fingers lazily waving in the air. Immediately do you obey his simple commands like a lost pup, hands clasped prettily in-front of your chest as you easily plop yourself on his lap. Your back almost hits his chest, akin to a literal brick wall from all of the labour work he’s done. Unconsciously does his large hands come to your hips, positioning them slightly just so you’d be a tad bit more comfortable.

It’s easy to tilt your head upwards to see his face, the prickles of hair sticking out on his chin is the most prominent thing from your view. He feels your stare almost immediately and looks down at your beady eyes. He has to stop himself from grinning at your unawareness.

The cowpoke could only narrow his eyes at the soft giggle you produced from your mouth, a hand resting on your hip, “What?”

You look away with a tiny smile, “Nuthin’.”

He lets out another deep sigh, before pinching your cheek.

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍

The bottle of beer in his hand almost slips to the ground after hearing your simple question.

He raises a hand to scratch at the stubble on his jaw, mindful to be aware of the deep claw-marks embedded on his skin. The bottle was placed on the table with a clumsy clatter, back supported by the edge of the table.

“..Watchu say?” He squints his dark eyes at you. He must’ve drunk too much, perhaps he heard you wrong. His tone was always raspy yet so demeaning playful even. You took it as if he didn’t want you to, and you shrink meekly.

You stutter shyly, “I’ll just go ask someone else—

He felt his guts squeeze and churn at the sight of you sitting on someone else’s lap. All sense of proper etiquette is thrown away from jealousy and alcoholic behaviour, his hand is very quick to grabbing yours as he roughly pulls you back. A tiny squeal escapes your lap as you clumsily fall on his chest and onto his hard thighs.

Your hands are clinging onto his opened top to balance yourself, the smirk on his face visible as he sees how shy you suddenly became.

The strong scent of alcohol makes your nose scrunch up. He rests his chin on the crook of your neck, stubble lightly tickling your sensitive skin. After a few minutes of making yourself comfy on his lap and finally staying still, his hand comes to grab his bottle to take another chug.

“John,” You almost whine at the way he unconsciously starts to bounce his knee up and down. A habit he’s not prone to ever since he started drinking. It was almost like he forgot you were sitting on his lap after a few minutes. Immediately does he stop his movement, a low slurr of babbles and a soft hiccup escapes his lips, “Whoops— sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, he cheekily stares down at you.

“Y’know,” He hics.

“Yer behind feels kinda good on my-

“John.”

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

He’s a bit clueless at first, bless his heart.

He’s busy carving a small piece of wood with his knife, hunched over as his long hair falls, covering the sides of his face almost elegantly. He wasn’t bothered to tie his hair back, nor raise a finger to place it behind his ear. He stops re-shaping the small piece of wood as he hears a soft patter of footsteps from in-front.

“Hm?” He hums, his guard lowers significantly once realising it was you. The knife is lowered too, and the items were placed afar so it does not distract you nor come in your way.

“May I please sit on your lap?” You ask with those big beady eyes of yours, hands behind your back as your tone is light and sweet.

Of course, silence is ensured for a few seconds. His brooding figure straightens up from his spot. He quirks a dark, angular brow at your much smaller figure.

“Why?” He asks with a straight face.

Your cheeks burn, and your expression was alike of a kicked pup. He catches on quickly, and he immediately feels bad for seeming so nonchalant and blunt.

“U-Um.. I just, I wanted to.. N-nevermind. Sorry.” You shyly stammer, akin to a doe whom tries to stand up for the first time.

He easily suppresses the smile which almost etched onto his face at your stuttering. Cute.

“I didn’t say no, y’know.” He gestures you to come over with a simple pat on his thigh. You beam, eagerly toddling to him like a tiny tot wanting to get her stuffies. You sit yourself on his thighs, shoes quite literally lifting off of the ground because of how big he was. Even if he sat down, he still always towered over you.

He allows you to wiggle a bit on his lap, but a hand comes down to rest on your knee to squeeze it a bit as a gentle warning to not go any higher. You do obey, of course. Your back is to his chest, your hands positioned on your lap as you almost melt at how warm he was.

“Comfortable?” At each word he uttered to you, it was more toned down in pitch, a low hum always started. You nod lazily, a smile of satisfaction of how comfy he felt underneath. You don’t mind the way he snakes his arms around your waist. “Good.”

𝐉𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀

You regret asking.

Simply put, he’s handsy.

The smirk on his face is very visible. The log he rests upon feels even more smaller as he slowly starts to manspread right in front of you. The guitar in his hand is placed gently just to the side before he beckons you to come forth. You reluctantly sit on his lap, almost squirming at how close he was.

A hand on your hip, another squish to your thigh, a soft roll from his hip teasingly upwards, a touch here, a touch there..

“Javier!” You whine, swatting his hand off your curves. He could only teasingly grin, before shrugging. “..Tu pediste esto.” His voice serenades.

You try to swat his hands off again, but merely give up, knowing he won’t stop any time soon. You lay your cheek on his chest, lithe arms wrapped around his waist as your back arches a tad bit from not supporting your structure. His hands are on the small of your back, rubbing small circles on the softness of your clothed skin.

The embers from the mini camp-fire is light and descends off in the dark night, crackles of the wood calms your nerves down just a bit. He does tone his touch down just a tad bit for your sake, despite wanting to desperately grab at.. literally anything. He’s had ladies before, but by far was he the neediest when it came to you.

You can’t help but take a small peak from above, wispy lashes coming to tinker a bit when he tilts his gaze to fixate on you. A small smile on his face, as he greedily eats up all of the touch you gave to him.

“..hi.” You quietly mumble, a bit muffled because of the fact that half of your face is mushed against the fabrics of his clothes. A fox-like grin etches on his tan face as he presses a tiny kiss on your forehead, entertaining you by replying with a simple “hola.”

“You’re really clingy- and touchy. I hope you know that.” You grumble when his hand comes to cup your curves again.

He smiles lazily. “I know.”

[acesofspadess]

Track Walk {3}

landoscar x content creator!reader

part 1 // part2 // pt 3//

series summary: You were invited to the Miami GP for your Track Walk series on social media, what follows after you run into a certain Papaya boy, no one could prepare you for...

series warnings: cursing, angst, smut, making out, mentions of people you may not like, mmf, threesome/throuple, if there is more let me know... ;)

a/n: this a long 4/5 part series, but the chapters will be released daily!! also... there is no hate to anyone mention in this story, it is a work of fiction and any hate towards the characters/people will be deleted.

f1gossipofficial

f1gossipofficial The plot thickens, just weeks after Lando was seen with Magui sparking romance rumours, Y/n was seen at the Nice airport in a jet we know to be Max’s wearing Lando’s 4 lines necklace, but also a custom hoodie we know to be Oscar’s… what is going on

user45 user62 you seeing this

user62 oh im seeing this

user81 what on earth is going on in the house of commons

By the next morning, Charles and Alexandra had dropped you off in front of the condominiums Max had sent you to. “We will gladly take you in if you need to.” Alexandra said, hugging you. “I hope I won't need to, but thank you.” you hugged her back, then hugged Charles, “Keep us updated, especially Oscar, we know he won’t show it.” You nodded silently. They waved you off as you walked in with two bags. You took the elevator up to the floor and walked down the hallway, there wasn’t many doors, but theirs was the last one.

You knocked on the door, anxiety clawing at your chest. This wasn’t how you envisioned your first time here. You wanted to see their home under better circumstances, with smiles and excitement, not the cloud of pain that hung over all of you. The sound of footsteps on the other side made your heart race, followed by the door swinging open.

“Baby?” Oscar’s voice broke as he stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. He reached for you immediately, pulling you into a crushing embrace and burying his face in your neck.

“I’m so sorry for ignoring you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His grip on you tightened as a quiet sniffle escaped him, then warm tears soaked into your skin. “You have no reason to apologize,” he said, his voice cracking. “We hurt you. We betrayed your trust. You had every right to walk away.”

You shook your head, cupping his face as he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were glassy, red-rimmed, and full of regret. “I know. And we’ll talk about it later,” you said softly. “But you said you needed me, so I’m here.”

Oscar let out a shuddering breath, nodding as his thumb brushed against your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know.” You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, feeling his tension ease ever so slightly. “Where’s Lando?”

Oscar exhaled shakily, stepping back to grab your bag. “In the game room. He hasn’t come out in days except to grab food. He won’t talk to me, won’t let me in. He’s blaming himself for everything. Saying he should’ve never gone, that you’ll never forgive us. He’s been reading all the comments calling him a piece of shit and liking them. It’s killing me to see him like this.”

Oscar’s voice broke again, and he turned his head away, inhaling sharply as his shoulders shook. “Baby,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. He looked back at you, his breath catching. “It’s so hard seeing him like this,” he admitted, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m not leaving you guys. I promise.”

Oscar’s eyes widened, the relief so palpable it nearly brought you to tears. “You’re not?”

“Would I be here if I was?” you teased softly, earning a faint smile from him.

Together, you walked to the game room. Standing in front of the door, you felt your stomach churn. This wasn’t just about you being hurt—it was about mending what felt irreparably broken. You glanced at Oscar, who gave you a small, encouraging nod before knocking gently.

“Lan… can you open the door?” Oscar’s voice was soft but pleading.

A moment passed before Lando’s hoarse voice came through, thick with emotion. “Oscar, please. Just leave me alone.”

“Lando, baby, open the door. Please,” Oscar begged, his voice breaking.

Silence.

Your chest tightened as you exchanged a helpless look with Oscar. Summoning your courage, you pressed your palm against the door. “Lando, it’s me,” you called gently. “Please open the door.”

You heard fast footsteps, a click of the lock, and then the door creaked open, and Lando stood there, a shadow of himself. His normally bright eyes were red and swollen, his hair disheveled, and his face pale and gaunt. You barely had a chance to take him in before he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you tightly, his weight nearly sending you stumbling back.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice raw and trembling as he clung to you. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I messed everything up.”

“Lando,” you whispered, holding him close as his sobs wracked his body. His legs gave out beneath him, and you followed him to the floor, cradling him as though he might shatter.

“I thought you’d never come back,” he gasped, his voice muffled against your chest. “I thought I lost you forever.”

“I’m here,” you reassured him, your voice soft but steady. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Oscar knelt down beside you, his hand resting gently on Lando’s back. “Lan, you’re not in this alone,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “We’re going to fix this. Together.”

Lando lifted his head slightly, his tear-streaked face filled with anguish. “It’s my fault,” he croaked, looking between you and Oscar. “I should’ve never gone, should’ve never let it get this far. I—I don’t deserve you. Either of you.”

“Don’t say that,” you said firmly, cupping his face in your hands. “Lando, we’ve all made mistakes, but we’re here now. And we’re going to figure it out. Together.”

“But I hurt you,” he whispered, his voice breaking again. “I hurt both of you. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it was too late.”

Oscar’s hand slid from Lando’s back to his shoulder, squeezing gently. “We all messed up,” Oscar admitted quietly. “But you don’t have to carry this alone. We’re here, Lan. We’re not giving up on each other.”

Lando looked between the two of you, his lip trembling. “You mean that?”

“Of course we do,” you said softly. “We’re in a relationship. And we’re going to make this right.”

Oscar nodded, his own tears spilling over as he reached out to pull both of you into a hug. “You’re stuck with us, baby,” he said with a watery smile.

Lando let out a shaky laugh, his arms wrapping around both you and Oscar as his tears started to subside. “I don’t deserve you guys,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and self-doubt.

“You do. You deserve us, and you deserve every win, every point, every good thing that comes to you,” you said firmly, tilting his chin up to meet your gaze. “And you’ll see that in time. But for now, just let us be here for you.”

Lando leaned forward, pressing a tentative kiss to your lips. It was soft and full of unspoken emotions—apologies, gratitude, and love. When he pulled back, Oscar tilted your face toward him, his lips brushing against yours in a similar kiss, gentle yet grounding. 

Lando looked up at Oscar, “I’m sorry for ignoring you.” He said softly, “It’s okay, you don’t have to shut me out, ever.” Oscar leaned down pulling Lando into a kiss of their own.

Lando rested his head against your shoulder, and Oscar pressed himself close, the three of you tangling together on the floor. You shifted slightly, allowing them to settle between your legs, their weight comforting against you.

Lando’s voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

“You won’t ever have to find out,” you promised, running your fingers through his curls as Oscar pressed a kiss to your temple.

The weeks that followed were slow and deliberate, each day a step toward rebuilding what had been shaken. You stayed in Monaco with your boys, carving out a space that felt like home amidst the turbulence. Lando was still fragile, his confidence bruised, but with time, love, and plenty of reassurance, you saw glimpses of the man he had been before.

You focused on the little things—quiet mornings spent curled up together, late-night drives to nowhere, and endless games in the living room. You encouraged Lando to get back on his sim and race again, even if it was just for fun. When he finally agreed, you and Oscar sat beside him, cheering him on as though it were a championship final.

Conversations were heavy at times, raw and vulnerable, but necessary. You talked about the incident, about boundaries and trust. You forgave them, truly, but healing was a process that required more than just words. It needed time, connection, and intentional effort.

Oscar was your steady anchor throughout, always ready with a gentle hand on your back or a soft smile when things felt too overwhelming. He, too, was working through his guilt, but his focus remained on supporting both you and Lando. Together, the three of you found your rhythm again, each day a little easier than the last.

During this time, you also grew closer to Alexandra and Rebecca. Your connection with them blossomed, built on shared experiences and mutual understanding. Alexandra had a knack for making you laugh when you needed it most, and Rebecca was a steady source of wisdom and calm.

One evening, Alexandra and Rebecca invited you and the boys to dinner at Carlos and Rebecca’s place, a small gathering with a few familiar faces: Charles and Alex, Max and Kelly, and little P.

The evening was warm and relaxed, the villa overlooking the glittering Monaco skyline. Rebecca greeted you at the door with a warm hug, while Carlos handed you a glass of sangria with a charming smile.

“Everyone’s out back,” Carlos said, motioning toward the patio.

You stepped outside to find Charles and Alex laughing at something Max was saying, while Kelly helped P set up a small tea party on the corner of the table. The little girl was dressed in a princess dress, her face lighting up when she spotted you.

“Hi!” P called out, waving enthusiastically. “Do you want to join my tea party?”

You knelt down beside her. “I’d love to,” you said, taking one of the tiny chairs she offered. Lando and Oscar followed, Lando immediately slipping into his goofy, playful persona to entertain P, who giggled at his antics.

Dinner was served family-style, with everyone gathered around the long wooden table. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the occasional teasing.

“So, Y/N,” Max started, a playful smirk on his face, “how are you handling these two?” He gestured toward Lando and Oscar.

“Barely,” you joked, earning laughs from the table. “But they’re worth it. Most of the time.”

Lando leaned over to whisper in your ear, his voice low and teasing. “Only most of the time?”

You grinned. “You have your moments.”

Alexandra and Rebecca chimed in, sharing stories about their own chaotic moments with Charles and Carlos, which earned exaggerated groans from the men.

“I’m not that bad,” Charles protested, though his grin gave him away.

“Sure you’re not,” Alex replied, rolling her eyes fondly.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself surrounded by a sense of warmth and belonging. Kelly and Max took turns coaxing P to eat her vegetables, while Lando and Charles got into a playful debate about racing strategies. Oscar sat quietly beside you, his hand resting on your knee, a small smile on his face as he watched the chaos unfold.

After dinner, you, Lando, and Oscar stayed behind to help clean up. Rebecca handed you a dish towel with a grateful smile. “You’ve been good for them,” she said softly, nodding toward your boys. “I can see it.”

You glanced at Lando and Oscar, who were bickering over who had to wash the pans. “They’ve been good for me, too,” you admitted.

By the time you returned home that night, the three of you were exhausted but content. Lando curled up against you on the couch, his head on your lap, while Oscar stretched out on the other side, his hand entwined with yours.

For the first time in weeks, everything felt steady, like you were finally finding your way back to each other. And in that moment, surrounded by the people you loved most, you knew you’d make it through—together.

By the time you returned home that night, the three of you were exhausted but content. Lando curled up against you on the couch, his head resting on your lap, while Oscar stretched out on the other side, his hand entwined with yours. The low hum of the television played in the background, but none of you were paying attention.

Lando shifted slightly, looking up at you with a soft, contemplative expression. “We’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice hesitant.

You raised an eyebrow. “That sounds dangerous.”

Oscar chuckled, but his smile was nervous as he sat up. “No, seriously. We’ve been talking, and… maybe it’s time we stop hiding this. Hiding us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You mean going public?”

Lando nodded, sitting up fully now, his eyes searching yours. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not like we’re doing a great job keeping it a secret anyway. People are starting to notice how much time we spend together, and… I don’t want to keep pretending you’re just a friend. You’re so much more than that.”

Oscar reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We know it might be a lot, with the media and fans and everything, but we’ll handle it together. We just want to be honest about who we are and who we love.”

You looked between them, your chest tightening with emotion. “Are you sure? It’s going to change everything.”

Lando smiled softly. “We’re sure. We want this—you. And we don’t care who knows it.”

Before you could respond, Oscar changed the subject. “Actually, there’s one more thing we wanted to talk about.”

“Oh?”

Lando straightened up, his expression unusually serious. “After you graduate, we were thinking… maybe you could move in with us. Here, in Monaco.”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. “Move in with you?”

Oscar nodded, his tone gentle but persuasive. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? You’ll be done with school, and being in a sports-centered place like Monaco could open up so many opportunities for you. Plus, we’d get to be together all the time.”

Lando jumped in, clearly excited now. “It’d be perfect! No more long-distance, no more packing bags every other week. You’d have your own space here, and we’d finally get to be a proper team—at home and everywhere else.”

They continued talking, each building on the other’s points, their excitement spilling over as they tried to convince you. But you couldn’t stop giggling, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably.

“Why are you laughing?” Lando asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

You shook your head, still giggling. “Because if you two would’ve stopped talking five minutes ago, I would’ve said yes already!”

They both froze, blinking at you in surprise, before breaking into matching grins.

“Wait—so you’re saying yes?” Oscar asked, his voice hopeful.

“Yes, of course, I’m saying yes!” You laughed, pulling them both into a tight hug.

Lando whooped, lifting you slightly off the couch, while Oscar pressed a kiss to your temple.

“We’re going to make this amazing,” Lando promised, his eyes shining with excitement.

Oscar nodded, his smile soft and filled with love. “You won’t regret it.”

As they pulled you back down onto the couch, the three of you tangled together, your hearts full and your future bright, you couldn’t help but think that this—right here, with them—was exactly where you were meant to be.

[ur-local-wizard]

I love the way you write baby, can you honour me with this prompt idea: Mattheo Riddle loses a Quidditch match against his biggest rival, and his anger boils over. Dragging his girlfriend into the locker room, he takes out his frustration on her in a heated, rough moment of intimacy. Afterward, he leaves her shaken to vent elsewhere, but when he returns, he finds her being comforted by his rival. Jealousy and fury take over as he drags her away, scolding her and accusing her of betrayal—though beneath his anger is a fear he’s not ready to admit: that he might’ve pushed her too far this time.

Losing Game

tysm for the request babes!! this was sooo creative! hope you enjoy, it was my first time writing angst 🤭

mattheo riddle x fem!reader, extremely toxic behavior, mentions of sex, characters are of age, i think that's it

w/c: 1106

masterlist

a/n: if there are any tags I missed, pls pls pls let me know!! also, I wasn't sure if i should label it nsfw in my masterlist or not, so if you think it should be tell me and I'll change it!

Angry sex with Mattheo was something you were used to, especially after he lost a quidditch game. Everyone knew he had a temper, and even as his girlfriend, you were not immune to it. But he’s never been so hurtful. Not like this. 

The physical part of it was good, as per usual, but his words struck a deeper chord than normal. The names he called you, the blatant disregard for your feelings, the way his touch felt oppressive instead of loving – it was strange, and honestly overwhelming. 

So that’s how you got here, curled up in the fetal position just outside the quidditch locker room. You barely noticed the muffled sound of footsteps approaching you on the grass. Blinking back more tears, you look up, not expecting to see the Gryffindor Cormac McLaggen of all people. He was one of many on the long list of people Mattheo hated most, and you knew that if your boyfriend saw him of all people in his current tempered state, someone would end up in the hospital wing. 

“You okay?” Cormac asked, crouching in front of you. His tone was softer than you would expect, laced with nothing short of concern and pity. He reached out, and you flinched as his hand brushed your arm. “You’re freezing. Come, let’s get you inside. I don’t want you to contract hypothermia.” 

The warmth of his hand sent a wave of guilt through you, and the combination of your confusion and his touch made you flinch away. He’s right – it’s so cold your fingers are going numb. You weren’t sure if it was the weight of your emotions, your exhaustion, or the sheer cold, but you felt your defenses crumble, allowing him to pull you up and off the ground.

Then the locker room door opened. 

Out walked Mattheo, his presence looming over you like a shadow. His hair was disheveled, his jaw set like stone. His gaze flicked between you and Cormac, his eyes burning with fury. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” He snapped, his voice low and full of nothing but rage and resentment. You opened your mouth to speak, but he roughly grabbed your wrist and pulled you to his side, effectively cutting you off. Your stomach churned, and the emotions swirling inside your gut made you want to puke. 

“You think this is okay?” He scolded you, his gaze narrowing into a glare. “The hell are you doing with this piece of shit?” He motioned to Cormac, scoffing. “And you, what are you doing with my girlfriend?” 

“Mattheo, stop-” Your voice trembled as you began to talk, but the bitter laugh that escaped his lips cut you off. 

  “Don’t even try to explain,” he sneered, his grip so tightening so much it may leave a bruise. His expression was still angry, but something seemed off. Beneath the anger in his eyes, you saw a flicker of something else – something raw. Afraid, maybe. “I leave for five fucking minutes and come back to find you cozying up with Cormac fucking McLaggen.” 

His words hit harder than expected, making the nausea in your stomach only grow stronger. “You’re being ridiculous,” you said, voice quiet but filled with hurt. You pressed your lips together and fought the urge to cry again. 

“Ridiculous? You don’t get to decide that after this little stunt you just pulled.” 

Cormac crossed his arms over his chest, his expression solemn. “Maybe if you treated her better and paid attention to her obvious distress, she wouldn’t be crying out here in the cold,” he retorted. 

The room seemed to freeze at his words. Mattheo’s head snapped toward Cormac, his eyes dark and burning. The tension in the air was suffocating, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Mattheo hissed.

“I know enough,” Cormac shot back, unwavering. “I know she shouldn’t be out here like this. She could get sick!”  

Mattheo’s jaw clenched so hard it looked like his teeth could grind together into dust. For a moment, it looked like he was going to punch Cormac – he certainly wanted to – and the suspense made you even dizzier than before. But instead, he turned his glare back to you. “Get up. Let’s go.” It wasn’t a question, and you could tell by the tone of his voice it was more of an ultimatum. Stay here, and you would lose him. 

You hesitated, jaw opening and closing, unsure what to say. You didn’t want to fight. Not again. Not when your body already ached from more than just the physicality of what had just conspired in the locker room. So, even after all the hurt he’s caused, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. He just looked so betrayed, so afraid. 

“Okay,” you conceded, voice barely a whisper. Cormac scoffed, but you didn’t dare look his way as your boyfriend grabbed your wrist again and led you away, his footsteps crushing the grass beneath his feet. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm – as if he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear. 

The journey was silent as he dragged you to an empty corridor. The moment the two of you were alone, he spun to face you, his chest rising and falling rapidly with labored breaths. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said. 

“Do what?” You asked, brows furrowing.

His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he was fighting the urge to reach for you. “Sitting with him. Letting him touch you. Letting him look at you like – like that.”

You stared at him, disbelief bubbling up past the lingering hurt. “Mattheo, do you even hear yourself? I was sitting there because of you. Because of what you did.”

He looked shocked, but that quickly faded as he realized what you were talking about. He lowered his eyes to the ground, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed his shame. He looked like he wanted to argue, to push back like he always did in situations like this, but something in his expression told you he knew he would finally lose you if he did. For the first time, he looked unsure. 

“Do you even care that you hurt me?” You asked, voice softer now, but still full of lingering hurt. In response, his whole body tensed. A long silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Then, barely above a whisper, so low you almost missed it, he muttered, “I do.”

It wasn’t an apology – not yet. But you knew it was as close as you were going to get for now. 

Ty again for this request!! I had sm fun writing it! Sorry it took me so long to write, life and school is insane rn

taglist: @ilovejamespottersomuch @mattyriddlesbitch @valenftcrush @sturniolover13 @paankhaleyaaar @thereeallink @voidangxls

©ur-local-wizard translating, republishing, copying, or claiming my work as yours is not permitted. all my work belongs to me and me only. thank you!

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟?

part one

Warning: Angst, cursing, Tired reader, really clingy Felix.

Summary: Y/n's exhausted and slowly breaking down.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Today was one of those mentally off days. Y/n’s body felt like it was on autopilot, moving without her full control. Every step she took seemed harder than the last, her mind foggy and clouded by exhaustion. Her stomach churned from the overdose of caffeine that had only made her feel worse, mixing with the emptiness of not eating anything all day. Her skin had lost its usual warmth, now pale and clammy, drenched in sweat as the lack of sleep began to hit its peak. It was a feeling she knew all too well, but one that still managed to knock her out every time.

She barely heard her manager’s voice through the haze, his words distant as he waved his hand in front of her face. “Y/n, are you listening?”

She flinched, her heart racing as the sound of his voice jerked her from the haze. Her eyes focused on him, trying to piece everything together. “Uh… what?” she mumbled, blinking in confusion, her brain struggling to catch up.

Her manager sighed but gave her a soft, understanding smile, though there was a hint of impatience there. “Oh right… I finished filing the documents you asked me to—”

“Great!” he interrupted, raising an eyebrow, his tone lighter now as he leaned forward. “Can you just go over them again and make sure there aren’t any mistakes?”

Y/n mentally groaned, the thought of reviewing pages of fine print when her head felt like it was splitting open. But she knew the importance. She couldn't afford to mess anything up.

He really was a sweet man—kind, professional, and understanding. It wasn’t his fault that they were all running on fumes. But the reality was, some idiot had royally messed up one of the key projects they were set to present. It had thrown everything off course, and now everyone was scrambling, working endless hours to catch up with the other departments that had their shit together.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll get started right now,” she said softly, the words almost coming out as a whisper. She blinked a few times, gathering the willpower to lift herself from her chair. “May I be excused?”

Her manager gave her a soft smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, dear. Thank you so much for your hard work.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “I really do appreciate it, more than you know.”

Y/n nodded, trying to hide the fatigue creeping into her bones. Before she could leave, he stopped her, holding out his wallet and pulling out his company card. “Here, take this,” he said gently. “Get yourself some dinner... well, technically breakfast.” He glanced at his watch, a guilty laugh escaping him when he realized it was already 3 AM. “You really don’t have to, but I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

She took the card hesitantly, his concern evident in his eyes. “You really don’t have to, sir. But… thank you.” Her lips curved into a tired but genuine smile, her mood shifting slightly, softened by his kindness.

He gave her a reassuring smile, watching as she stood, her shoulders heavy with the weight of the night’s work. "You deserve it, Y/n. Get some rest when you can, okay?" She nodded, grateful, and walked out of the office, the card tucked into her pocket.

It was around 4:30 AM when Y/n's phone vibrated softly on the desk. She glanced at the screen, seeing Chan’s name light up. His call was a relief in the quiet, late hours of her work shift.

“Baby?” His voice sounded husky, still laced with the grogginess of just waking up. His tone carried a trace of concern.

“Hey, Channie,” Y/n said sweetly, though her voice wavered from exhaustion. Her eyelids fluttered in an attempt to stay open as she balanced the phone between her shoulder and ear, all while continuing to work.

“Hey, where are you? It’s 4 AM…” Chan's words came out in a small panic. Y/n could tell he was still trying to shake off sleep, his voice deepening with worry.

“I’m sorry, babe, I’m still at work,” Y/n sighed, turning a page in her file while typing something up. She clicked a few buttons on her laptop before glancing out the window. The city streets were silent, the world wrapped in a peaceful stillness that seemed a world apart from her busy desk. “Mr. Ji asked me to finish something quickly... I'll be home in a bit, I promise.”

Chan let out a frustrated groan, but his voice softened. “Still at work? Baby, it’s 4 AM. Come home already.” There was a slight panic in his tone now. He shifted under the covers, careful not to wake up Han, who had been nestled against him the entire night. The warmth of his touch was still fresh on his skin, but his concern for her outweighed any desire to stay in bed.

“Yeah... I know, I’m sorry. But Mr. Ji is being really worried about this project,” she explained, the guilt in her chest growing heavier with every word. She didn’t want to add more to his plate. “I’ll be done soon. I’ll be home before you know it.”

There was a pause, followed by Chan’s soft, frustrated sigh. “I can come pick you up right now…” His voice was filled with worry. “You don’t have to be out so late by yourself.”

“No, babe—” Y/n interrupted gently, “it’s way too late, and you have practice in an hour and a half. Get some rest, okay? I’ll be home soon.” She spoke with a calmness she didn’t entirely feel, trying her best to soothe him.

Chan’s frown deepened, even though she couldn’t see it. “Who’s going to drop you off? You shouldn’t be out at this hour alone. It’s not safe…”

“I’ll ask Yi-so Unnie to drop me off,” Y/n reassured him, trying to sound convincing. “She’ll take me home. Don’t worry, please? Just go back to sleep.”

There was a long silence, and Y/n could almost hear his internal battle. Finally, with a resigned sigh, Chan let out a quiet, “Okay... just call me if you need anything, alright?”

“I promise,” Y/n said softly, a smile tugging at her lips despite the weight of the moment. She felt the stress melting a little with each reassuring word. “How are my boys?”

“They’re good, all asleep,” Chan replied, his voice lighter now. He’d finally crawled back into bed, pulling Han back into his arms, the warmth and comfort of his body providing a sense of peace. He closed his eyes, feeling the tension in his shoulders slowly ease.

"Felix is mad at you," Chan said, chuckling lightly, his tone teasing yet knowing. Y/n furrowed her brow. Chan knew all too well how dramatic Felix had been these past few days, sulking about how little time Y/n had been able to spend with him due to her hectic schedule.

Y/n sighed, leaning back in her chair, and pinching the bridge of her nose. "I know, I know," she muttered, clearly exhausted herself. "Is he sleeping with you?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of concern, though there was a small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. Felix always slept with her every night, curling up beside her for comfort and companionship. Her long nights at the office had clearly been taking a toll on him, and that made her feel a pang of guilt.

Chan chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, he's with Changbin," he replied, his voice still laced with a tired yawn. He stretched his arms overhead, the exhaustion evident in the way his shoulders slumped.

Y/n’s frown deepened slightly, the guilt gnawing at her as she glanced over at the clock on the wall. "I really need to wrap this up," she murmured more to herself than to Chan. It was late, and she knew Felix would be waiting for her, feeling abandoned.

"He'll survive," he said, teasing again, though there was a comforting warmth in his voice. "But maybe just send him a text before you come home, so he knows you haven’t forgotten him completely."

Y/n gave him a small, grateful smile. "I will," she promised softly, though her mind was already on the long to-do list she still had to get through. The work would never stop, but neither could her relationship with Felix—she just hoped he understood.

“I’m glad to hear that. See you soon, my love,” Y/n replied, her heart aching as she imagined him lying next to Han.

“Did you eat something?” His voice was soft, his eyes growing heavy with sleep again.

“Yeah, baby,” Y/n responded, a tiny lie slipping past her lips. “Get some rest. You sound exhausted. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Chan murmured, his voice growing quieter. He drifted back into sleep, the call fading into silence.

Y/n smiled as she quickly hung up, her gaze drifting back to the screen. But the guilt still gnawed at her—she was only halfway through her work, and the night was far from over.

It was now 5:20 AM, and Y/n was almost done with her work. The office was quiet, save for the soft hum of her computer. She was confident she’d be wrapped up by 5:45. Letting out a loud yawn, she stretched her arms overhead before grabbing her coffee cup. The bitter taste jolted her awake, though only slightly.

"Hey, neighbor," came a familiar voice. Hae, one of her co-workers, knocked lightly on the office door before pushing it open. "Hey, love," Y/n greeted with a tired smile, her eyes flickering up from the pile of papers she was working through. "Are you done with work?"

"Almost," Hae replied, swinging herself into the office chair with a casual stretch. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Y/n groaned, rubbing her face and flipping a page in her book. "I’m so tired. I can’t wait to get out of here."

"Same here," Hae agreed with a dramatic sigh, flopping back in her chair. "So, once we’re done, wanna grab breakfast? We don’t have to be back until 8 anyway." She rolled her eyes at the thought of getting only a few hours of sleep.

Y/n laughed softly. "Yeah, sure. Mr. Ji gave me the company card, so we can go get something to eat."

"Great!" Hae beamed, standing up from the chair with a bounce in her step. "See you in a bit." She waved and stepped out of the room, leaving Y/n chuckling at how adorable she was.

The moment Hae was out of sight, Y/n’s focus returned to the computer screen in front of her, but not for long. Her phone vibrated on the desk, and without looking, she picked it up. It was one of her boyfriends, likely Changbin.

"Hey, bunny," Changbin's voice came through the phone. She could hear the sound of him rattling around in the kitchen, probably making his usual protein shake. "Where are you? Did you head out for work already?"

"Hey, baby," Y/n sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I didn’t come home last night. I’m still at work."

“What? You didn’t come home?” Changbin’s voice was filled with concern. “Why? That’s so unhealthy.”

She winced, knowing what was coming. "Yeah, but remember how I told you we’re behind because of one of my coworkers?”

"Yeah, I remember..." His voice softened, but she could tell he was holding back his irritation.

“Binnie, be nice,” Y/n scolded, cutting him off before he could say something sharp. "We’re almost done, though. Just a bit longer."

He exhaled loudly. "But you’ve been coming home really late these past few days, going to work really early. You barely eat and you're practically running on coffee. We’ve barely seen you.” He pouted, even though Y/n couldn’t see it. She could hear the concern in his voice, though.

“I know. I know,” Y/n whispered, feeling her chest tighten. She was trying so hard to stay composed, but the weight of everything was getting to her. The constant pressure, the long hours—she was on the verge of breaking down. "I’m just...really tired."

There was a pause on the other end before Changbin let out a sigh. "I’m heading to the gym right now, but I’ll swing by and drop off your jacket. You need anything?"

Y/n shook her head, even though he couldn’t see it. "Don’t bother. I’m leaving the office now. You’ll probably find me home." She tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice was tight, like a rubber band stretched too thin.

“Are you sure?” Changbin asked, his voice laced with worry. "I can grab you something to eat, too, if you need it."

"No, it’s okay," Y/n quickly dismissed him, trying to push back the feelings welling up in her chest. "I’m leaving soon. Go work out. I’ll be home before you know it."

"Okay..." Changbin’s voice was defeated, but he didn’t push her any further. "I love you. Call me if you need anything, alright?"

"I will. I love you too." Y/n's words came out a little too quickly, but she needed him to hang up. Her head was starting to ache, and she couldn’t bear to talk much longer. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Bye, my love."

She hung up, her fingers trembling slightly as she set the phone down. For a moment, she just sat there in silence, the office lights buzzing overhead. She closed her eyes for a beat, trying to steady her breathing, but the tension was too much. It was too much.

"Finally," Y/n huffed, letting the tension leave her shoulders as she stood in the empty office, basking in the quiet after a long day of work. She had managed to finish everything in time and turned in all the reports. She finally felt like she could breathe. "Hey, neighbor, you finished?" Hae's voice cut through the stillness as she leaned casually against the doorframe. She was already wearing her coat, a small bag slung over her shoulder, ready to head out.

"Yeah, just handed everything in," Y/n said with a relieved smile. "Lemme grab my stuff and we can go."

As she tossed a few stray papers into her bag and pulled on her coat, Hae lingered in the doorway, trying to make small talk. "It’s quite chill outside," she noted, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"Yeah," Y/n chuckled, the image of her boyfriend popping into her mind. "My boyfriend wanted to bring me another jacket just because it’s so cold."

Hae raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Aww, that’s sweet. How are they, by the way?"

"They're good," Y/n said with a soft laugh. "Probably really mad I didn’t come home. I kind of...forgot to charge my phone." She cursed under her breath as she fumbled with her dead phone. "Great timing, huh?"

"I've got a charger," Hae offered with a grin, pulling out a cord from her bag. "We can charge it at the cafe."

"Thanks," Y/n said, gratefully accepting the charger and slipping her phone back into her bag. She locked her office door and followed Hae out into the chilly evening air.

After they grabbed a quick breakfast at the cafe, they parted ways. Y/n didn’t realize until she was on her way home that she had completely forgotten to charge her phone after all. The day had already begun for most people, but for her, it was time to sleep.

When she arrived at the house, she could hear footsteps echoing through the halls, indicating that everyone was getting ready for their schedules. Y/n sighed softly, pushing her tired body to unlock the door. She stepped inside, shedding her shoes and coat, and called out, "I’m home!"

Her feet dragged on the floor as she made her way through the house, exhaustion pulling at every step. "Babe?" Leeknow's voice came from the kitchen, and he appeared in the doorway. Dressed in sweatpants, a hoodie, and a cap, he looked comfortable but clearly concerned as he rushed over to her.

"Why weren’t you answering our calls?" He asked, pulling her into a warm hug, his worry evident in his voice.

"My phone died, my love. I totally forgot to charge it," she explained softly, resting her head on his chest. "Are you good? Did you sleep well?" she asked, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

"Yeah, I did," he replied, brushing a hand gently through her hair. "But you, you're burning up," he frowned, his palm coming to rest on her forehead. "Are you sick?"

"No, just really tired," she yawned, fighting to stay awake as her body screamed for rest.

"Okay, go wash up and get into bed. I’ll make you some warm hot chocolate," he cooed, guiding her toward the stairs with gentle hands.

"I just had breakfast, baby. Just get ready for work. I promise I’m okay, I just need to recharge before going back in," she reassured him, giving him one more soft kiss on the lips. "Go on, I’ll be fine."

Leeknow looked at her with concern, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. "O-okay... but I’ll come check on you before I leave, yeah?"

Y/n nodded, offering him a tired smile, before slowly making her way up the stairs, feeling his eyes follow her every step. His worry gnawed at him as he watched her sluggish movements, but he didn’t say anything.

Upstairs, the house was busy with everyone getting ready for the day. Y/n managed to sneak past everyone and into her room, where she quickly washed up and changed into something more comfortable. She turned off the lights, allowing herself to collapse into her cozy bed. A sigh of relief left her lips as she curled up, closing her eyes and letting the weight of the day melt away. The sound of the house buzzing with activity was drowned out as she finally allowed herself to fall into a deep, well-deserved sleep.

20 minutes hadn’t even passed by when suddenly her door opened and closed. She was too tired to open her eyes to see how it was but she could tell by the persons cologne.

Her blanket shifted, the soft fabric sliding off as Felix’s body pressed against hers, seeking warmth. His small sniffles reached her ears as he nestled closer, his head resting against her chest. "Y/nnie?" he mumbled, his voice thick with something between sleepiness and sadness.

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered open slowly, the hazy room coming into focus. She blinked once, twice, before realizing Felix was right there, pouting, his soft features contorted with a mixture of discomfort and longing. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands cold against her skin as he nuzzled his head under her chin, snuggling into the crook of her neck.

"Hey, babyboy, what’s wrong?" she murmured softly, her voice thick with the grogginess of sleep. Without even thinking, her hand instinctively moved to stroke his arm, soothing him with gentle touches. She threaded her fingers through his tousled blonde hair, the faint scent of his shampoo mixing with the warmth of his body.

Felix let out a soft whimper, his voice muffled against her skin. "You didn’t cuddle with me last night..." His words were laced with an almost childlike sadness, his lower lip protruding in a small, endearing pout.

Y/N’s heart tugged, and she felt a wave of guilt rush over her. Felix always craved her attention, often joking about it, but tonight was different. He needed her, and she hadn't been there. "I’m sorry, Lix," she whispered, her fingers brushing through his hair again. "I had so much work to do. It was a long night…"

"I know, but still…" His voice faltered, and he tightened his hold around her waist, his body curling further into hers, as if trying to get as close as physically possible. "You’ve been working so much. You don’t even have time for me anymore."

The guilt in her chest tightened. Felix was right. He was always by her side, but recently, the overwhelming weight of her responsibilities had kept them apart. "Baby," she started, her voice low, "I'm really sorry. It wasn’t intentional."

Felix looked up at her with big, wide eyes, his brow furrowed in that familiar, pouty expression she knew too well. His voice wavered, vulnerable. "But… I don’t get it, Y/N. You’re always with Han and everyone else. When it’s my turn… I’m always the last one."

She felt her chest tighten at his words. This wasn’t how she had intended for him to feel, but exhaustion clouded her thoughts, making it hard to communicate. "Sunshine," she interrupted gently, her tone more fatigued than she intended. "Can we talk later? I’m just so tired right now."

Felix’s face shifted, a flash of hurt crossing his features. "Fine. If you don’t love me anymore, just say that. You’re always laying up with Han and the rest, and when it comes to me, you just ignore me…" His voice cracked as he pulled away from her, slipping out of her grip. His body shifted away as he sat up, the room feeling much colder without him against her.

"Felix, it’s not like that," Y/N protested, frustration rising as she tried to reach for him, her tiredness now turning into worry. "I promise, I do love you. I just—"

"Whatever," he muttered, his tone sharp now, tinged with bitterness. He stood up, pacing away from her bed. "You don’t get it, Y/N. You’ve been too busy for me. I’m not going to sit here and beg for your attention anymore."

"Please, Lix," Y/N pleaded softly, trying to push herself up from the bed, but her body felt like lead, heavy with exhaustion. "I’ve been up all night, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry."

Felix turned to her, his back facing her as he stood by the door, frustration radiating off him. "I get it, okay? You’ve got a million things on your plate. But it’s fine. It’s whatever." His words dripped with resentment, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the conversation had drained him.

Y/N’s heart sank as she watched him storm out of the room, the door shutting behind him with a soft thud. She sank back into her bed, her mind reeling with guilt and exhaustion.

She hadn't wanted things to get like this, but as she lay there, her eyelids fluttering shut again, she couldn’t help but wonder if the rift between them had gotten too wide to fix with just a few apologies.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Don't forget to reblog and follow! <3

A/N: Thank you anon!

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[akuma-coffee]

may i request for !tattooartist geto :333 love your writingggg !!!

suguru geto x reader tattoo au!!

sfw, reader gets tattooed, totally a cute comfort scenario! geto and reader totally end up dating at some point after this >.<

geto suguru, an artist you've followed for a little while; a respected figure within tokyo's tattoo scene. after contacting him regarding a flash piece, he'd responded quickly to say his books were full, but as you're a friend of satoru's, he would fit you in after hours.

the date preoccupied you all week, a churning within the pits of your stomach when you envisioned the needle puncturing your skin. this isn't your first tattoo but it's your first with geto - someone you had only admired, never spoken to. satoru was usually the one to push ink under your skin, a friendship blossoming somewhere along the way when he'd invited you out for drinks.  "not, like a date - other people will be there..." the machine stops and he withdraws, and you laugh.  "yeah, alright." 

some years later and you're still reaping the perks of befriending the gojo satoru; discounted tattoos, and now, you're able to get inked by someone you've admired for a long while.  you've been in the shop after hours once or twice (day sessions running a little over schedule), though never with anyone other than satoru. 

it's odd seeing the shop from the outside while it's lingering into evening, streetlights brighter than the ebbing sun, the shop's florescent white peering through slats in the blinds. your fist rasps over the glass door, eyes lingering momentarily over the closed sign before geto's pushing keys under the handle and your lips are forced upward into a friendly smile. 

"hi, it's me..." you're a little awkward, but geto's already been briefed on your personality through satoru; he knew what to expect. he returns the smile and steps to one side, allowing you to pass through the doorway before it's closed behind you, locked again. 

there's the usual dividers in the shop, though at this time they're no longer housing artists and clients, instead darkened by the lack of headlamps or ring lights, the framed ink of each person's flash or prided art less vibrant by the missing luminosity. one station is still well lit, though. 

"mind just filling this one out?" geto picks up a clipboard from a seat in the waiting area, a pen latched between the metal teeth. you take it from his hands, pulling the biro out and glossing over the sheet of paper - nothing you haven't done before. "i'll just set up over here, take a seat." 

you do as he says, the small wooden bench by the door groaning as you allow yourself to perch upon it, legs bouncing a little from nerves. your handwriting scrawls over the white page, name, date of birth, allergies... a form you've filled out tens of times. there's the tearing of kitchen roll and you're pulled from your entrancement from the health declaration form and instead gazing at geto. the bed is out of your sight but you can see his height, occasionally dipping down as he leans, setting up clingfilm, pouring ink into the small pots. lastly, he removes his gloves and tugs at the loosened bun that'd been hanging at his neck, placing that little black elastic between his teeth and re-tying the bun much tighter than before.

"all done?" he asks as he glances over his shoulder, and you nod, taking your lips silently between your teeth. hopefully he hadn't noticed you staring. "i'll do the stencil now." he comes to the front desk's computer, and you hear the printer stutter. he takes the clipboard from you, glancing over your answers. "perfect. come on over."

the placement is over your left shoulder, a large spider lily beginning on the shoulder and ending over the collarbone. geto's gloves are on once more, black latex clinging to the skin, and he grabs a small bottle of gel, pouring it over his own fingertips to run over your shoulder. you sit in silence as he draws a small line in sharpie to figure out the central point, occasionally moving your arm. eventually, the stencil is on, and you're glancing in the mirror to check. it's beautiful, perfect.

laying down, you're forced to look at the ceiling tiles. you feel your throat tighten with anxiety, even with experience, getting a tattoo is nerve-wracking. there's that familiar hum of the machine, and your eyes glance to your side as geto's dipping the needle in the pot of ink, allowing black to collect in the tip. "ready?" he asks, flickering from his focus on the machine to you. you're a little lost in his eyes before you're responding, the deep brown hues mesmerising. they're mellow and friendly, relaxing to your anxious state. you nod.

the needle finally penetrates the skin, but despite your discomfort you remain still and loose, focusing on your breathing. in, out. the pain is only a stinging, a prickling that you've grown used to over the years. nothing that you can't handle.

"all okay?" geto asks, and you appreciate the check-in.  "yeah, good thanks." he stretches your skin with his left hand, steadying his right to control the needle. his touch is delicate, gentle as if to ease your nerves, hard focused on the artwork over your skin with a stoic but pointed expression; a furrowed brow. there was something about being tattooed by geto that was so different to satoru, he was so much calmer, almost timid. by now satoru would have to stop from laughing too hard, or offering you candies for the hundredth time. geto was mellow, and it was nice. not to mention the face of concentration he held was cute, his pretty features a match to the art he drew.

"how did you meet satoru?" geto's voice hangs in the air a few minutes after you'd been sat in silence, though his gaze is still transfixed on his work. you smile at the memory, a puff of air from your lips. "he was a regular at the cafe i used to work at, i started in winter and by spring he had buddied up with me. the first time i didn't wear a jumper to work he this god-awful tattoo i got on my 18th birthday, it was my star sign, but looked more like a blob. offered to cover it up at a discounted cost - or if i gave him free chocolates for the week." geto smiles and you don't miss it, peering through your peripheral. "what did you do?" he questions, and you raise your free arm. "i got tattooed."

the hum stops, silence enveloping your ears as geto's attention is diverted to your inner arm, covered in ink he'd recognised to be his close friend's. he squinted as he tried to spot the cover up, and when looking closely he could see the older, blown out ink hiding under more controlled lines. "wow, it looks great. looks like you came back, too."

you nod, relaxing your arm. the buzzing doesn't start straight away, and you peer back to him. "what about you?" you questioned - it felt like he'd been waiting for you to ask. he smiles now, shaking his head. "there's no fun story, we just went to school together. one day i didn't know satoru, the next he was my brother." he raises the machine a little, left hand meeting your skin once again. the thrumming returned, and he glances over your expression before the needle meets your flesh.

"he was a pain in the ass, but he was the reason i went to school every day." a small piece of hair has escaped from the bun, hanging over his forehead. "i almost dropped out, but he kept me in check." you picture satoru in your head, trying to place them together as highschool buddies. they're so different, you wouldn't believe they were so close if satoru hadn't already chewed your ear off over his best friend, and their history together. they've gone through a lot, though you're sure there's so much more you don't know.

"was he as high maintenance in school?" you ask, in attempts to continue the conversation. geto laughs, his teeth peeking through his lips. "worse, somehow. he mellowed out in his twenties." the machine is pulled away and placed on the table beside him, his gloved hand wrapping over a sheet of kitchen roll, a small squeezy bottle in the other. the paper is placed over your shoulder, the liquid poured over alleviating the hot stinging of your skin.

"gonna start on the shading now." geto's eyes bore into your own, and there's a fluttering in your chest.

"are you still working there?" the needle is different now, as is his technique, the machine dragging in faster sweeping motions as he uses a stippling effect. "at the cafe? no, after giving satoru his free chocolates i got fired." geto's expression widens. "it's fine, i work from home most of the time now, no more annoying customers." you inhale sharply as he works on a sensitive area, swallowing back any discontent and putting on a brave face. 

"you're doing really well." he comments on your easily discernible unease, and those words of affirmation go straight to your head. geto flickers up at you, then back down to his work. there's silence for a little while more, the hum of the machine growing to hypnotize you as your vision hangs over the white ceiling.

"want anything? water, or some music?" his voice almost makes you jump as you realise how heavy your eyes had been. they're torn from the tiles above you to meet his face, and the white noise stops. "music would be nice." you reply, and he peels back a glove, using the free skin to unlock his phone. a soft guitar tone meets the air, you vaguely recognise the melody and listen as the chugging continues. it's accompanied by buzzing only moments later.

"it's deftones." he explains, weight shifting on the pedal to gain the momentum the machine had previously held. "how long have you been tattooing?" you try and further converse. "coming onto ten years, got an apprenticeship at twenty. tried art school and dropped out - showed up to some shithole with my portfolio and worked for free until i got good enough. opened this place about six years ago with satoru."

"do you enjoy it?"  "of course, i get to do what i love as a job... that's everyone's dream, isn't it?" he pauses for a moment, wiping over the skin with a scrunched piece of kitchen roll before the needle is brought back.  "yeah." you're quieter as you picture your own dream job. admin certainly wasn't it, but it pays the bills and isn't too taxing. 

"okay, i think we're done." suguru speaks, and repeats the same steps as before, washing the ink with solution before wiping it over. the coolness causes goosebumps to prickle over your skin, a balm applied with gloved hand as you know this will be the last time his fingers linger over this part of your shoulder. you're glad the session has finished, though as you make your way over to the mirror to peer over geto's art, you feel a little heartbroken this is coming to an end.

"oh, it's perfect." the words leave your mouth as you stand in awe, admiring the new ink embedded in your skin. it's breath taking, and exactly what you'd needed to fill in that area. you flicker up to meet his gaze through the reflection, eyes jolting downward when they meet his to instead linger over his arms - you hadn't paid all too much attention to the black lines covering his skin until now. his sweater sleeves are rolled back to his elbows, allowing you to peek at his forearms. it looks like satoru tattoos geto too, his style clear in his work. 

"will i see you around?" geto asks, his demeanour shifting back into shyness. you allow yourself to meet his eye, butterflies coming to swarm within your belly as he awaits your answer.  "definitely." you smile - you're definitely going to be asking satoru more about geto once you're home, you can picture him sussing out your crush instantaneously, though.

pleeease let me know if you want more from this au cause i loved writing this omg!!

[djarinova]

written on your upper thigh — rafayel

˗ˏ✎ synopsis: - what is he painting on your leg... and are you going to have the patience to wait him to finish when he's planting kisses on your skin and touching you oh so delicately?

˗ˏcontent - gn (reader wears a skirt), painting, kissing, making out, reader is blindfolded, reader has freckles + small scars on their leg - divider by @/saradika

˗ˏwc - 1860

“C’mon, Raf, it's been like 20 minutes, can I please take this blindfold off now?”

You hear him scoff, “I can't believe that after all this time you still think it's possible to rush me towards completion with a deadline.”

Underneath the blindfold—which is a dark, and suspiciously well looked after, piece of silk material—you roll your eyes. There's a soft clink in the background and you hear water splash against the side of the cup that sits on the table next to you.

“Are you seriously cleaning your brush again?” You huff. “How many colours are you using? Promise me you haven't painted an entire landscape on the side of my leg…”

Rafayel laughs, a soft sound that flows between the two of you and settles somewhere deep in your chest. The fingers of his free hand dance delicately across the bare flesh of your thigh—he had insisted that you needed to be clothes free below the waist for this particular activity, but you'd persuaded him against that choice with a flutter of your eyelashes and the reminder that there are other people (namely Thomas) that may appear in his home without any notice. The short lilac skirt you were wearing also helped your case a little…

“I promise.”

“...Yes?” You urge him to continue.

He suspends his hand palm down in the air, as if making an oath. “I promise I have not painted an entire landscape on the side of your leg.” He repeats, in a solemn voice.

You nod your head, satisfied.

“Will you just tell me what you're doing already! I'm getting anxious.” You whine.

The brush tickles your skin and a small giggle escapes your lips. You try not to shift too much in your seat, lest Rafayel scold you again.

“It's like you don't trust me at all.” He pouts, he exaggerates his point by sticking his bottom lip out, somehow forgetting that you can't see him. “If you missed seeing my face that much then you could just say so out right, there's no need to beat around the bush this much.”

The urge to roll your eyes resurfaces and you're about to speak out in your defense when the brush comes into contact with your skin again. You yelp in surprise, the water droplets from the bristles are cold, and Rafayel chastises you absentmindedly.

“And if you missed kissing me that much then maybe you should hurry up and finish painting me already.” You tease in return, the double meaning of your words not even crossing your mind.

Rafayel says nothing, but you hear him scoff quietly as if he disagrees with your words. His brush strokes tell a different story though, they seem to gain momentum rather suddenly and he begins to work much quicker than he was only a few moments ago.

You feel his breath fan against your leg and your cheeks heat up when he presses a gentle kiss upon your skin. Even knowing that he isn't looking at your face doesn't help to quell the thoughts that churn through your mind. Knowing that he's been working on you for the best part of an hour now, the thrill of being unable to see when or where he's going to be touching you next with the paintbrush… It makes you giddy. He's so meticulous with how he works on his art, you never get bored of the sight, but this secretiveness is far more exciting than you had expected when he suggested it.

He kisses your thigh again, slightly higher than before, and you have to swallow a whine that threatens to escape you. His lips are feather-light on your skin, almost tickling you with how delicate they are. Your brain is foggy with want and you feel your leg bounce minutely, like it's itching to move closer to him.

The noise of your thumping heart is all you can hear, you're so distracted that you fail to notice the shifting of Rafayel’s movements until he's pressed against your side on the sofa.

“Are you ready?” He whispers, his breath is warm on the shell of your ear. It makes your stomach flip.

You gulp, nodding slowly as shivers run down your spine. You think he might not have seen your reply and you're about to speak when you feel his hands fiddling with the knot at the back of your head. One end of the material flutters down over your chest, the other is held securely in Rafayel's hand.

You waste no time trying to adjust to the light that now floods your vision, instead your eyes flit wildly around the scene in front of you, trying to find the lips that you long to feel against your own. You get impatient with yourself before even 2 seconds have passed. The sunlight almost blinds you as you turn your head to the left. Rafayel's hands perched on his lap pass by you in a blur as you spin towards him. You screw your eyes shut and blindly make a move towards where you think his head is, too desperate, too eager, too hungry to bother looking properly. No thoughts cross your mind apart from the need to have his lips on yours. You're so caught up in your actions that you somehow completely forget about–

“Hey! Careful of my work! You almost smudged it off without even looking at it first!” Rafayel cries.

You freeze in your tracks and slowly open your eyes. You're halfway between sitting and straddling Rafayel's lap, your hands are balled into fists and they hold tightly onto his shirt material. The fabric is soft between your fingers.

“I–uh… Well–” You hesitate, before slowly moving away from Rafayel's sturdy thighs and planting yourself back on the sofa. Heat floods your cheeks, pressing a hand towards your face to hide your embarrassment you quickly turn your head away from his prying eyes and look down at the painting that has been keeping you still for so long.

“It's–”

“Beautiful, I know.”

You roll your eyes, but don't disagree. It is beautiful.

On your thigh, no bigger than a finger's length, sits an elegantly painted letter ‘R’. Its ends are curved and, as if following lazy brush strokes, they flick upwards ever so slightly. The circular part of the letter is so precise in how it curves along your skin, the movements of the letter outline seem to line perfectly with the freckles and small scars from hunting that adorn your skin. It's golden in colour, but the longer you look at it the more your eyes are able to pick up all of the hints of the other hues. There's small traces of orange hidden beneath the gold, with blue highlights along the curve and specks of lavender dotted around the edges like stars in the night sky.

You swallow your emotions, tears threaten to fall from your eyes and as you spin in your seat you feel the droplets pooling along your lashes. Before you have a chance to think about what to say Rafayel is pressing his lips against yours. He hums against you and you feel his hands slide around your waist before they sneak under your shirt and settle on the hem of your skirt. There's something different about the way he's kissing you, it's hungry and fast and he's deepening the kiss hurriedly in an effort to keep you close to him. Your hands knot in his hair, the soft strands tickle your skin. Something digs into your upper thigh, and you're about to open your eyes to check what it is when you feel Rafayel’s hands gripping the flesh of your ass. Your eyes fly open as he flips you onto your back and your hands search the air looking for purchase on his shirt. As you hum against his lips once more there is a faint ‘click’ noise in the background and before you have the chance to register the sound the front door is flung open.

“Hello?” Thomas whisper-shouts in the entryway.

Rafayel groans as your hands push against his chest haphazardly.

“C’mon—Rafayel—we have to—seriously—we have to move, quickly! C'mon, baby!” You mumble against his lips.

He sighs, but relents to your pushing. You manage to sit up and straighten your clothes just as Thomas enters the living room. You hope you don't look as thrown about as you feel.

“I was just coming over because I was certain that you'd forget–Oh!” His cheeks flood with warmth, and he stops dead in his tracks once he notices your embarrassed state and the air of Rafayel's oh-so-nonchalant attitude (and if he sees the mismatched buttons of Rafayel's shirt, and the dishevelled mess of your hair, he's polite enough not to draw any attention to it).

“Oh, right. You wanted to–”

“You promised me the week off and I was just coming over to remind you that today is Friday.” Thomas interrupts, “That means for the next seven days I will be unreachable to you, okay?” He directs his next question to you. “Please, please, please can you watch over him this week? You know how his schedule is and the only way for me to get any peace of mind is if I know you won't let him ignore his responsibilities this week.”

You nod confidently, if there's one thing Thomas can rely on you for, it's keeping Rafayel in check.

You smile widely. “Have a lovely and restful time, Thomas. See you next week.”

He waves to the two of you, Rafayel just huffs and crosses his arms in his seat as you promise to make him behave this week.

The door clicks once again and you hear the sound of Thomas's car pulling out of the drive. You sigh, somehow getting interrupted by Thomas has you feeling like a school kid who got caught cheating on a test. Your cheeks are hot and your pulse is quickened—and it's not for the same reason as it was before…

“You're really going to make me go to all those events and meetings that Thomas promised I would attend this week?” Rafayel pouts.

You turn to look at him. “Of course I am! I gave him my word. And don't even think about trying to run away, I know where all your hiding spots are.”

Rafayel huffs, his eyebrows furrowed together as if deep in thought.

“You think you know where all my hiding spots are…” He whispers.

You fake a shocked gasp, and shove his side lightly while laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.” You tease.

Now it's his turn to gasp. He turns his head away from you dramatically and crosses his legs so his entire body is angled away from you, leaving just enough room for you to slide yourself behind him and wrap your legs around his waist.

“Your painting really is beautiful, you know.” You whisper against his ear and you feel him shudder against you.

“Thank you.” He whispers in return. His hands now preoccupied with tracing the outline of the ‘R’ that sits entrancingly on your thigh.

[rewiringtoheal]

To Exist Here With You

Alpha!PeggyNat x Omega!Reader

Summary: Your Alpha's risk their lives everyday to protect you from the horrors that plague humanity. They are not prepared in the slightest for the moment you decide to do the same for them.

words: 2, 444

Warning: canon typical violence, gunshot wound, Talks of blood, emotional conversations, angst.

Chaos. You were surrounded by pure chaos. Detecting the hydra infiltration earlier this week was a piece of cake compared to this. You are a high clearance tech analyst within Shield and have bare minimum field experience. Right now, you wish you had listened to your Alphas when they tried to get you to train with them. You were naive thinking Black Widow and Captain Carter would always be around to protect you. Never stopping to realize that maybe one day they would be the ones that need protecting. You’re hiding in plain sight behind a clothing line watching your love's battle for their lives. 

Peggy is getting pummeled around by the hydra stomper. It makes your stomach churn with fear. You know she’s giving it her all. If there is any way she can save you and Natasha she’s going to take it. Even if it’s at the expense of her own life. The absolute idiot. Meanwhile, Natasha is valiantly taking on the Iron Maiden, knowing full well that if the Red Room gets their hands on the three of you, it’s game over.  She’s tired and slowing down after fighting through waves of other black widows beforehand. They both are reaching their limits. God, why did you have to mate with such self-sacrificing Alphas? There has to be something you can do. 

Your inner Omega keeps screaming for you to save them from their fates. Protect them. You can’t lose your mates. It’s too painful. You must save them. The odds of not getting captured are high with the red room scanning for living beings within their nuclear village but you can’t stay here anymore. Looking between both battles you see that Peggy and the hydra stomper seem to have come to a stalemate during your inner contemplation. She may be trying to convince Steve who he really is and with any luck hopefully she will be able to break through to him. Your decision made on where to go you finesse your way closer to where Natasha is battling the Iron Maiden. You’ve never seen her get thrown around like this. It’s terrifying to watch.

The way to protect Natasha becomes abundantly clear within a few seconds. You know they are going to be furious with you if you somehow survive this but if they are willing to lay their lives down for you. Why can’t you do the same for them? The Iron Maiden has Natasha on the ground with a heel stepping purposefully on her throat. A gun aimed point blank. You react without thinking, lunging towards her with speed you didn’t know you possessed, tackling her to the ground. You hear the sound of the gunshot going off from beneath you but nothing compares to the feeling of the bullet piercing your abdomen. Time feels like it’s moving in slow motion as your body grows taut from the pain. You’re not quite sure what happens after that. All you can focus on is the warmth of the blood seeping out of your body as it pours onto the ground around you. You hear your Alpha’s howling in grief and the swish of Peggy’s shield. It is truly a mystery to you how you end up cradled in Natasha’s arms. She keeps telling you to stay with them. The look of despair in her eyes makes you want to, but you're so tired. Peggy’s trying her hardest to keep pressure on the wound. It seems to be in vain. You don’t want her to blame herself but the heart broken look she’s shooting you tells you all you need to know.

“Darling, please hang on. The quinjet is almost here.” Peggy pleads. 

You want to stay more than anything. To live a lifetime with them is your dream but you're growing so cold. Your eyelids are so heavy. You no longer have the strength to hold them open. As you start to fade away you can’t help but think how thankful you are that the last thing you will see on this earth are the beautiful faces of your mates. 

“No, Detka. Keep your eyes open for me, please.” Natasha cries.

You really wish you could.

xXx

You know something awful happened to you. You just aren’t sure what it is. You can’t seem to open your eyes no matter what you do. Every minute of the day is spent in darkness. You can hear the sounds of steady beeping and muffled voices. You can feel a weight resting in your right hand. You can even smell the most exquisite aroma and feel soft lips press against your forehead. 

On some days, the muffled voices turn into only one voice. This voice pleads with you to wake up. You wish you could more than anything. If not to figure out what’s going on then to bring comfort to this person. Everytime it happens the person seems to grow more and more desperate for you to come too. 

You’re not sure how long this cycle has been repeating. It could be days, a month, or even a year. Truthfully you’re not even sure if you are alive anymore. It feels like you are just continuously drifting through a never ending limbo. Is this person you so desperately want to comfort even real? Are you even real anymore?

All these questions float around your sluggish brain until one day something feels different. Someone is coaxing you back to this world. You can feel your mind getting sharper and becoming more aware. You can feel yourself reconnecting with your body and you feel a dull ache in your abdomen. A bright light looms over your eyes. And for the first time in a long time your eyes flutter open. And everything rushes back to you. The memories of the Iron Maiden pulling out a gun and aiming it directly at Natasha. The piercing pain after intercepting it and the howls of grief stricken Alphas echoing around you.

You are brought back to the present moment by a woman's voice. You look around seeing the familiar face of Dr. Cho in pink scrubs.

“Miss Y/L, I hope you remember me. It’s Dr. Cho, sweetie. You were in a very serious accident and have been in a medically induced coma for the last three weeks. Your body needed time to heal from the bullet wound and the amount of blood loss you suffered. Don’t try to speak, we haven't taken your breathing tube out yet.” Dr. Cho said soothingly. 

Before you can fully take in what she has said. You feel the weight in your hand give a tight squeeze. You move your eyes to the right and see a very disheveled Natasha Romanoff. She looks like she hasn’t slept for days; dark black bags are underneath her eyes. Her hair is in a messy bun and she's wearing one of your old MIT sweatshirts. What really rocks you to your core though is the lingering look of devastation mixed with hope in those beautiful green orbs. It breaks your heart. The person pleading with you to wake up was Natasha. And you’re not sure how to process that. Your mate has always been soft for you but the stoic Alpha displaying her emotions so openly is jarring. 

Your eyes flick around the room in search of your other mate. Until they land on the familiar regal silhouette of your Alpha staring at you through the room window, tears cascading down Peggy’s cheekbones. The longing in her gaze is undeniable. You wonder why she's so far away from you before returning your gaze to Natasha. As you lay there staring at her you can see the devastation and hope quickly turn into panic.

“Is this normal? She doesn’t seem to know what’s going on? What if she didn’t get enough oxygen to her brain when she was down?” Natasha’s voice was coated with worry.

“She is stable right now and coming out of a coma, Nat.  It’s normal for her to be a little out of it. There is nothing to worry about yet. I will tell you if that changes.” Dr. Cho reassured her.

Natasha didn’t look convinced in the slightest. And knowing her as well as you do, you knew she was ramping up for a fight, so you mustered up all the energy you had in you. And you squeezed her hand. Natasha’s eyes snap to yours; fresh tears spring to those emerald eyes you love so much.

“Y/n?” she whimpered. 

xXx

The past few weeks have been quite the journey. Recovering from a fatal bullet wound is no joke. The pain and anxiety that has come with it has been overwhelming. You wouldn’t have been able to get through it without your Alpha’s. They have been the most supportive partners while you heal. That being said, as Dr. Cho examines you for the last time before you’re released from the med bay; you can’t help but stare at the pacing Alpha’s through the window. Their behavior as of late is concerning you. Natasha can barely have you out of her sight while Peggy is always here to support you but she’s grown distant. It’s understandable. It really is but it’s terrifying you. 

“Well Miss. Y/L, your healing has exceeded expectations. You’re going to need to take it easy for a while but you will be out of here in no time.” Dr. Cho moves to gently rest her hand on your shoulder. Giving it a comforting squeeze. “I know you're scared right now but they are dealing with what happened to you in their own way. Believe it or not they are in far better shape then they were when you were brought in.”

“I can’t imagine they were any better than I am when one of them ends up here. I never wanted them to feel that pain but I did what I had to do to protect them.” You shrug helpless and full of sorrow. 

Dr. Cho gives you a soft smile. “I get it. Trust me. They just aren't used to being on this side of things. They are always the heroes that end up waking up from injuries, not the loved ones that worry over said injuries.” She chuckles a little. “And those Alpha’s of yours are always so quick to blame themselves.”

“I know…I don’t know what to do.” You whisper.

“You talk to them, sweetie. Now, it’s about time we let those two back in here so you three can get on home.”

xXx

Your Alpha’s fluff the pillows and cushions your nest is made out of. Before tucking you in with blankets they’ve scented to bring you comfort. The relief you feel surrounded by their scent is instant. Your scattered mind clears and your sore abdomen finds solace in the warmth. 

Peggy kneels beside you, caressing your cheek. “Do you need anything else, love?”

“We can get you more blankets or a couple of our hoodies if you’re not comfy enough, Detka.” Natasha snuggles into your unoccupied side, gently rubbing her nose over your scent gland. 

You allow yourself to bask in their presence for a few seconds, pulling Peggy down to lay with you as well. The familiar essence of cinnamon clove and lavender grow stronger as you cuddle them.

“I’m as comfortable and as happy as I could ever be here with you guys. The only thing I need is for the two of you to start talking to me about what happened. Natasha can barely stand to have me out of her sight and Peggy is here physically…but emotionally not so much.” 

The arms wrapped around you squeeze you just a tad bit tighter. You watch Peggy’s brows furrow and her deep, chocolate brown eyes fill with guilt. You feel wet tears sliding down your neck where Natasha clings to you. 

“Darling, I didn’t mean to neglect you in this way. I couldn’t bare to see you in that hospital bed,  looking so pale and fragile. It broke me. I’m so sorry, I haven't been handling this well.” Peggy pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. “You have to understand how difficult this is for us. When I heard that shot ring out and saw you laying there. I couldn’t..” 

The sob she releases breaks your hearts. “Peggy, I do understand, I promise. We all deal with pain in a different way. The terror I feel everytime I get a call about you or Natasha being injured is unbearable but I always talk to you guys about it. You can’t lock your feelings away, sweetheart.”

“I know…I think I’ve been trying to avoid facing this. We watched our Omega almost bleed out. It was harrowing. There was nothing Nat or I could do but apply pressure to your wound while watching you drift away.” she croaks, her teary eyes searching yours. “I’ve lost so many people in my lifetime but losing you or Nat…I wouldn’t survive it.”

You hesitate, struggling to find the right words. “And I wouldn’t survive losing either of you. The Iron Maiden would have shot Natty.  I couldn’t let that happen.” Your eyes well up with tears, pleading with them. “I’m sorry for the pain it caused you both but I will not apologize for saving her.”

Peggy inhales shakily. “You didn’t tell me that, Nat.” she reaches for her with heart broken eyes. “I almost lost you both.”

A choked sob escapes Natasha’s lips, as she burrows further into you. “Our Omega shouldn’t have had to save me. I should have been stronger…Everytime I close my eyes I see it. The endless pool of red that spilled out of her, the paleness of her skin and the way the light left her eyes. It was supposed to be me.” she said, voice thick with despair.   

“Oh baby, no. Don’t you dare say that. I survived what happened. I’m here with you both. If it had been you. We would have lost you. The Iron Maiden was aimed right at your-” you can’t even finish the sentence, so overcome with anguish. 

Trembles overtake the three of you as you lay clutching onto one another. Your Alpha’s openly weeping onto your collarbone, as you drag their hands together, intertwining them over your heart.

“See, my brave, strong, fearless Alpha’s. I’m here, feel the pounding of my heart underneath your hands. And the pulse of each other in your palms.”

“I love you so much, my darlings.” Peggy mewls.

“I love you two more than anything.” Natasha whispers.

“I love you too, my precious Alphas.”

[the-teufort-nine]

My TF2 Fic Rec List [ Fanfics I've Read That You Should Too]

*cracks knuckles* right, let's get started! X Reader fics are not included bc I already did a list of them for an ask. Mind the tags and ratings, as always. I'll add to this as I collect more, but its decently long as is

Symbol Key:

** = Incomplete

~~ = Personal favourite

++ = Under 10k

SpeedingBullet:

~~Running Blind by TheTriggeredHappy

(( Scout's eyes are badly damaged in battle and for some reason, Medic's gun can't fix him. Until they figure out how to heal Scout, he needs someone to look after him and keep him safe.

Sniper is given the job.

[3rd person limited, Scout's POV, some character development done on a whim] ))

The SpeedingBullet fanfic. If you like Scout X Sniper, and you haven't read this one yet, I don't know what to tell you. You are severely missing out on not only a great romance story, but also fantastic team dynamics. Also has an available Podfic!

++From a Hospital Bed by SlightlyLessThanAnon

(( Jeremy wakes up in the hospital, his brain struggling the find coherent thoughts as the world churns around him, in and out of consciousness.

He finds the team may care about him a little more than he thought they did. ))

Short but sweet. More whole team fluff than strictly SpeedingBullet. Very cute.

~~Golden Brown, as well as its sister fic, Take Me Out by Ali_Ker (Alina_Kerrin)

(( After seeing his co-worker in a new light, Scout is faced with unknown feelings and a new, distracting perspective on things. ))

This lovely author can be found here under the handle @alikerao3

Grouped these two together because they are they same story, but told from the perspectives of Scout and Sniper respectively. Definitely a bit of a heavier read, especially for anyone who has dealt with Catholic guilt or internalized homophobia, but my God is it worth it. Don't just read one thinking it isn't worth it to read the other fic. Read both. Also, check out the song that inspired the title.

~~Going Through The Motions by AussieBookworm

(( Working under RED can be repetitive at times - but nothing like this. After a curse is fired his way, Scout is forced to live through the same day over and over and over again. It should be easy for someone as perfect as Scout to break the curse, right? As long as he doesn't have to confront the things he's been feeling towards Sniper it should be a piece of cake! ))

Possibly my absolute favourite TF2 fic right now. Scout gets character development out the ass, Demo has a prominent, important role, and there's a plot twist so good it had me tweaking out. TW for Suicide as a method used to get out of a time loop. Absolutely incredible, and it needs more love.

Gills and Gunpowder by popkeeki

(( Monsters are becoming increasingly rare. Between getting pushed to the periphery of society or being targeted by traffickers, life is hard when you are not (entirely) human. Like many others, Scout tries to keep his true form a secret. It has never really been a problem. That is, until a nosy teammate catches him mid-swim. ))

SpeedingBullet Mermaid AU!! Good luck finding a fic with this premise that also reaches this level of quality.

**~~Pet by Anonymous

(( Sniper's terrified of losing the one person he has in his life. It turns out there's a convenient solution to that: just make sure he has no way out, and the rest will follow.

Scout wakes up in a van he knows all too well, loopy and hungover, and Sniper's waiting for him.

*

Or: Learning to live with claustrophobia in small spaces Or: Making the best of assisted living Or: You can’t outrun a fucking bullet ))

Are you like me? Do you enjoy Scout whump and Yandere!/Possessive Sniper? SpyDad? Do you want more of it in your life? If the answer is yes, than Pet is for you! No NSFW, just pure, delicious kidnapping and one-sided love.

General Fanfic Recommendations:

++Something's Up With Respawn by Camelot_taurus, Old Works (HarveyDangerfield)

(( Respawn starts to glitch, and the Administrator sets Engineer to work fixing it.

It doesn't take long for him to find out exactly what's going ))

Super funny, weird little oneshot. Basically, Respawn starts glitching and producing fucked up, Paperjam Dipper-esque clones of the Mercs.

++Mask Off by MatryoshkaDoll413

(( Scout is sick. Really sick. 'If we can't get this fever under control it's the hospital or the morgue' sick, and Respawn can't help him this time. They'd already tried that. He's gotten so delirious he's fighting Medic every second he's awake, not really lucid enough to remember so much as his own name, much less that of any of the team. Medic is ready to put him under full sedation and try and work things out from there, but Spy has an idea. ))

Wholesome SpyDad fic. Spy actually acts like a dad for once, for his sick little bunny.

~~++Scout, Respond by MatryoshkaDoll413

(( Scout wakes up in a dark, unknown place, with rocks bearing down on him and a spotty recollection as to how he ended up there in the first place. The only thing that keeps him sane is the voice of his team in his ear, telling him to talk, to breath, and, more than anything, to stay awake. ))

Scout gets trapped beneath a collapsed building, and receives comfort from his team over his headset while they race to dig him out. Super cute, definitely a must read, and I've done so more than once.

pick it all up (and start again) by bugbee

(( The clues had always been there, he had just never wanted to see them. Maybe neither of them had, instead content to deny the truth before their eyes for the rest of their days because it was better than confronting the alternative. Except Scout had died, and Spy wasn’t able to keep on pretending for his last moments. A part of Jeremy was glad for it, despite the simmering rage and betrayal and hurt. So when he tried to look God in the eye and tell Him that Tom Jones was his father… He couldn’t. Not really.

(Scout discusses his parentage with God, and stays dead for a little while longer. Well. A lot longer. On the plus side, he gets to attend his own funeral reception.) ))

An alternate take on Scout's death from the comics. Very Scout centric, obviously, and ends happily.

~~A Little Bird Told Me… by the_soup_specter

(( Medic learns a secret— something personal, powerful, big enough to cause a rift in the team of mercenaries that could tear two of them apart. And for once in his life… he’s not sure how to proceed.

With no better ideas, Medic decides to ask his fellow mercenaries for advice. But as dueling viewpoints begin to pile up, will he be able to make a decision before the team is changed forever? ))

Medic learns Spy is Scout's dad, and spills the beans. Everything turns out ok, but man the aftermath initially ain't pretty.

~~seven times he has to explain (and one time he doesn’t have to) by conner_is_alive

(( the trans scout obsession has me in a vice

also if i don’t vent my trans sadness i will literally rip a government building down brick by brick lmao ))

The fic that made me a trans Scout believer. If you're on the fence about that headcanon, maybe give this fic a read.

**~~Kith And Kin by BOREDGrace23

(( Mick never thought much of the BLU team. They were just clones, after all. Designed to be their opponents in a meaningless war.

That's why when he woke up, his vision blurry, his brain blistering from a headache like he'd just woken up from a hangover, and several burning questions about what had happened, he thought it was strange that they hadn't killed him already.

//

Or, BLU are clones and RED are decidedly not. They’re then forced to work together when their teams disappear. ))

If you like Emesis Blue, or horror in general, go read Kith And Kin. And when you finish, go give @boredgrace23 some love for such an incredible fic.

**++Der Junge by UpInFlamesWriting

(( Everyone on the team knows that Scout & Medic do not get along. They're like Sniper & Spy, except less bloodthirsty about it. Medic scares Scout, & Scout doesn't give Medic a reason to like him. When the two of them start being more than friendly all of a sudden, the team starts to worry, especially when it becomes obvious that Medic & Scout are keeping secrets from them. Scout & Medic are not about to tell the rest of the team that they are a pair of transsexual men, especially when Medic agrees to help Scout in his transition. For all the weirdness that goes on in the base, the world is not kind to queer people, & they aim to keep the reason behind their friendship a secret, even if it kills them. ))

Trans Scout and Trans Medic solidarity fic. I need more of this.

Eight Mercenaries and A Toddler by ChaosandMayhem

(( When Respawn malfunctions and their annoying Scout is turned into something far more precocious, it'll take all of the RED team's wits and patience to look after him. At the same time, Engineer must find a way to turn Scout back into an adult before the BLUs-or anyone else-realizes what's happened. No pairings, just a bunch of exhausted trained killers and one hyperactive child. ))

An Ancient Text from 2012 and the only FF.Net fic on this list, EMaAT is a classic for me. Lot's of Spy backstory, if memory serves. Quotes from this live rent free in my mind.

PracticalEspionage:

++Under the Lake by Her_AngelEyes

(( Engineer goes fishing. Hilarity ensues. ))

Don't let the description fool you. This is a non-con/mind break fic. If you like darkfic stuff, than this is for you~

[lavenderrmidnightss]

Safe and Sound - Billy the Kid

Billy the Kid (tom blyth) x fem!reader 

Summary: While walking home one evening from the inn, a man comes across you and attempts to attack you. You are saved by Billy and he begins to grow very protective over you, right from the start.

Warnings: Attempted SA (not successful), cursing

Word Count: 1.9k

PART 2 IS HERE

The walk home felt like a near impossible task despite the reality of it being less than a mile walk. Working at the local inn was not lightwork as some may think. Taking care of others can be exhausting when you have so little to pour out of your cup. The sky’s hues were transitioning from its cerulean blue into shades of purples and pinks. Your eyes were trained on the varying colors that dared to come out as the day shifted into evening. The sunset resembled a masterpiece brushed on a canvas by a renowned artist. With each step, your eyes never failed to tear away from the beauty above you. Each step you took filled the air with echoes of crunching due to the diminutive pieces of gravel hidden in the dirt. Hard to see, but easy to feel through the sole of your shoe. Your commute home seemed to be working as a medium of decompressing until sudden movement out of your peripheral vision stole your attention. You caught a glimpse of a man stumbling towards you. Your instinct to move quickly kicked in, but you knew better. Acting afraid would only entice the man more. ‘Just keep your eyes forward. Just make it home,’ you thought to yourself. 

“Where’s a pretty lady like yourself headed?” a coarse voice entered the atmosphere, demanding your focus. You looked over my shoulder, looking at him. Just a couple inches above your own height, he held a gaze on you to imply his superiority. 

“And that’s your business, how?” you inquire, daring to stop in your tracks and face him. His complexion smeared with ash and hair slicked with sweat, your wonderings of who he was and why he was approaching you intensified. 

The man’s eyebrow’s furrowed, accentuating dense lines and creases in his forehead. He made his way up to you, closing you in. “Well ya sure do got a lot of nerve, don’t ya?” He diabolically chuckled. You began to internally squirm as he noticeably began to eye you.

 “Look at you. Exhausted. Looks like you’ve been on your feet for quite some time, haven’t ya?” He interrogated, allowing himself to continue looking you over. You could only imagine what he was envisioning as his eyes fixated on your chest.

 “Look like a hardworkin’ woman. I admire that. Ya know, everybody has to earn their keep in these parts..” his voice trailed off just as his body began waltzing closer to yours, entrapping you. Your back soon crashed against a raggedy, abandoned building you weren’t even aware you were passing. It’s astonishing how much your mind evaporates when your main focus is survival. You knew where this was leading. You’ve seen so many women be taken, raped. Even some of your own friends. Men don’t view women as a treasure, but rather an accessory designed to bring them pleasure. It had become an intrusive thought; when would it happen to you? Looks like reality finally caught up with your nightmares.

His calloused hand toyed with the hem of your dress before slipping under. The rough texture of his skin clashed with the silkiness of your own. You were frozen in fear. His face now hovered in front of yours. “Bet you could be a real good worker for me, couldn’t ya?” A condescending smirk decorated his face. 

Your stomach churned. “Get off of me. Right now.” The short demands came out urgently. Your hands moved to defend yourself, preparing to shove his stocky body off yours. However, you underestimated his strength and build. He grabbed your wrists and shoved your arms above your head, pinning them there. 

“Fiesty too? They say that manifests well in the bed,” his growl echoed in your ear, his face grazing yours. “Mm, you’ll fit right in. Just be good for me, would ya? Listen to what I say and do as you're told, and you’ll be treated well.”

“Fuck off,” you spat in his face, jabbing your knee up to jolt his gut. He stumbled back, releasing you. You took the opportunity to sprint away. The world moved in slow motion. Your feet couldn’t carry you fast enough. Time resumed when you felt two hands snatching your waist, slamming you to the ground. The husky body which entrapped you before immediately went for it again, but this time, pinning you into the dirt and gravel mixture where your feet once stood. The pain you once felt radiating from the sole of your shoe, walking on the road, now pierced deeply into your back. You squirmed, trying to loosen yourself from him. It was no use. 

“Gonna be a bitch? Then I’ll take you right here for free, show you what you’re missing,” he grumbled, beginning to unbuckle his pants. Continuously trying to make your way out, no amount of thrashing would free you. Looking around you, you tried to decide if screaming for help was even worth it. Who would hear you? You were alone with this man. Your eyes darted up to the sky only to find the pastel colors which once delicately danced above you had descended into darkness. 

“P-Please, no, I’ll go with you. I’ll listen. Just, please don’t. Not here, I-” you were a stuttering mess, hoping your pleads would be enough to convince him to get off you. You squeezed your eyes shut. If you didn’t see it, maybe it would be quick and over with? Maybe it would sting less? As soon as your eyes shut, the weight of his body completely lifted off of you. You thought you were dreaming it, that it wasn’t reality. However, the sound of a heavy thud crashing to the ground, along with groaning and pounding, you were assured you were safe. 

You open your eyes to find a significantly taller man had swept in. His messy, brunette ringlets dangled in front of his sculpted face as his feet consistently and harshly came in contact with the enemy’s stomach. You weren’t one for violence, but you admitted that seeing this mystery lifesaver relentlessly pounding into this bastard was a joy. You sat up, finding a pair of sapphire eyes lighting the darkness, striking you. 

“What’re you waiting for? Go, run,” he called out to you, before putting all his attention back on the attacker. You stumbled to your feet, backing up to guard your body behind a railing. However, your eyes stayed on the match. Really, just the one who swept in to save the day. You studied him closely. 

The stocky man who had attempted to pull at the one hovering over him. You were taken aback when in quick response, zero wait time, blue eyes drew out a gun, aiming it at him. “Try that again, and it’ll be the last damn thing you do,” he growled, cocking the gun. The man on the ground shrunk by tenfold. You watched as fear washed over him, the metal rim dangling in his face. Holy shit. 

“Get up,” blue eyes demanded him, watching as he slowly stood. The demand in his voice was filled with such hatred. The man who was once so confident now trembled in fear for his life, his hands going in the air. Blue eyes kept his aim on the man before him. “Get out of this town. Far away. Let me so far as see a glimpse of you around these parts, and you’re a dead man. Got it?” The trembling man nodded shakily and quickly, sprinting off without another word.

 Suddenly, the world got quiet. Finally. You emerged from your temporary hiding place just as the man who saved your life turned to face you. “Thank you,” you managed to get out. “I-I don’t know what I would’ve done, what would’ve happened if-” A drawn out, thick accent cut you off. 

“I’m sure of what would’ve happened, and it would’ve been awful. What’re you doin’ anyway, walking around here this time of evenin’ all by yourself?” He secured his gun into its holster as he made his way over to me. His demeanor was entirely different. He radiated protection, genuinity. Minutes prior, you were trying to escape a nightmare. Now, you were being drawn in by a stranger’s kind act and handsome features. You felt safe. How refreshing. 

“I was just heading home from the inn. What’s your name?” you asked, desperate to know the name of the one who guarded you. 

“Name’s Billy. And you?” Billy. His name etched into your mind, knowing it would now hold a priority in the forefront of your thoughts. You told him your name, to which he nodded. “How about I get you home?”

With that, Billy guided you on the path back home. The gravel didn’t seem so daunting against your soles now. Under the pitch black sky adorned with stars, you had Billy to protect you. The walk to your place wasn’t filled with much conversation, but when it was, you were fascinated by his thoughts and the sound of his voice. 

Once he had successfully guided you to your destination, you noted that his eyes scanned over the place almost as if he were attempting to memorize its design and build. Billy didn’t want to leave you. He couldn’t invite himself in, couldn’t insist you to leave with him. Not after what he had just saved you from. He knew if there was a shot in hell he was going to gain your trust, he had to demonstrate he was worthy of it. 

“He didn’t hurt you, right, darlin’?” Billy’s tone was now hushed, almost as if it solidified his authenticity. Billy’s eyes were a shade you had never seen before, but a shade you would quickly find filling your dreams. Your heart admittedly flipped at the sound of the pet name rolling off his tongue so effortlessly. 

“No, he didn’t. You got there just in time. Thank you, Billy. Again. Don’t know how I could ever return the favor for what you’ve done for me.” Billy’s smile lit up the night sky, melting you from head to toe. He shook his head, shrugging. 

“No greater pleasure than protecting ya. Now, get in and get some rest.” Billy watched you disappear into your house, the screen door creaking behind you. It felt wrong to leave you so abruptly. Never before had he felt a desire to stay up long hours of the night getting to know another before, but for you, he ached to. Billy couldn’t leave you. As you went in and laid down, wondering where Billy was headed off to and if you would ever even see him again, Billy sat down on the steps of your porch. Adjusting himself, his back aligned with the post. Leaning his head back, he pushed the strands of hair out of his face. He basked in the breeze of the night, listening to the harmony of varying late night insects. He also intently listened for any potential danger, looking to protect you at all costs. Maybe it was the innocence in your voice that enticed him. Maybe it was the way your hair flowed down, the way you were unafraid to fight that enthralled him. Regardless of how it happened, Billy had an instantaneous desire to keep you out of harm’s way, no matter what it cost. As you laid in bed, you thought of Billy. As he leaned against your porch that night, he knew he was doing his job. He was keeping you safe and sound.

______________________________________________________________

[haechanhues]

Is This Goodbye? (III)

pairing : brother's best friend! hyunjin x fem!reader (mentions other members x reader)

genre : smut. fluff. angst.

warnings : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. smut scene that's a bit....idk. Period brain wrote that. So sorry. Bit of a weird dynamic between characters (Minho and Y/N specifically but also another character we have yet to meet in the present timeline but you'll see what I mean). Jealousy. Someone being emotionally unfaithful. last scene and a few scenes in there is unedited but there may be mistakes throughout anyway.

word count : 19.1k

taglist : @jisungsdaydreamer @minnieprincess85 @notevenheretbh1 @iovecb97

AU masterlist

playlist : burn - USHER, come back to me again - byun jin sub, lust - felip ft cyra gwynth, hate that - key ft taeyeon, consume - chase atlantic ft goon des garcons)

"So," You start, feeling so jittery that the bones in your body could misplace themselves within the confines of your skin, "Run it by me again-"

The boy in front of you is always so patient (especially with you).

Though, you suppose at this age you should call him a man now. His features appear more fierce and sharp as the time passes, but his eyes are still the same. Always sweetened with affection when regarding you.

"They'll go through the legal processes and if all goes well-" The possibility that it couldn't go through makes your skin crawl, "Then...he's ours. He'll be my brother. Legally."

You smile, but it's a smile that's hard to pinpoint. Glossy and grateful, yet sad and helpless. But Lee Minho mirrors it to the exact detail. Like he always does. He just knows, because, he knows you.

"And you..." With a wobbly inhale, his eyes bore into yours with a strong intensity, "You'll be theirs."

You can feel his guilt fill every crevice of his heart and you hate that you can see it so clearly. Hate the way he finds fault in himself because of the situation and how you ended up. Forgetting that, it was always a possibility, just not one that was very likeable.

You place your hand on his thigh, using him as leverage to lift yourself against the strong muscle to bring him into a kiss he can't refuse. He freezes, breath rattling slightly before he begins to kiss you back.

Kissing Minho feels like love. It is love.

His fingers thread into your hair, and he presses deeper into you, mouth opening slowly. The twist of your scents embroiders the two of you in a sweet daze that neither of you can snap out of. Your shampoo and the flutter of your dress, a sweet tropical scent and then his the natural scents of his home long nurtured into all of Minho's being; his clothes, his skin, his soul.

You pull away when your lips are swollen and Minho takes the time to brush away the evidence, combing your hair out of your face and smoothing out any stray tear that escapes your eyes. When it comes to your lips and the smudged tint his mouth left behind, his thumb falters.

He swallows harshly, the action bringing your gazes together like a puzzle piece, "We have to go before I make a mess of you."

Your bite your lip at his urgency, feeling it churn in your stomach. You look back a last time, committing to memory that overgrowth of fruit treees and clean lines of care long abandoned.

Your second safe haven, left alone for the two next souls that find each other and bond so much they can't bear to let go of each other.

Your first...leading the way to the next chapter in your life.

Felix is the first person you see in the room. At that point in time, you don't know him. He doesn't know you. But with what your parents have said, this boy in front you can only be Felix and with what his parents, your parents now, have said... you're Y/N.

"Hey," Contrary to first impressions, his voice is rich and deep in tone. His hair, the colour of thunderstorm clouds and long enough to brush behind his ear.

"Hey."

Felix points to himself lamely, "Felix. Or Youngbok. Feel free to use either."

You laugh (because it's awkward and he joins you for the same reason). You lick your lips, nerves dissipating with every second despite the weird tension in the room.

Neither of you know how to act around the other.

"Y/N," You smile, "No other 'or' I can think of, sorry."

He smiles warmly, hints of familiarity in the curves of his lips and the brightness of his gaze. It's a familiarity that saddens you, but you can't fault Felix for it, not when he's being so open and so welcoming to the invader. At the sound of his name from down the hall, you're pulled from the depth of your thoughts, the remnants left leaving a permanent mark. You feel empty, just a little.

Without realising, he turns to look at you, freckles pronounced more clearly as he steps forward, reaching out with a welcoming hand to pat you awkwardly on the head.

He'll learn to despair over the moment, complaining countlessly to anyone that will listen, that he was so fucking awkward that it's a miracle in itself that you even want to breathe the same air as him, much less like him. Then he'll attempt to reclaim his likeness by recounting how he helped you for weeks on end, spending time with you and inviting you into shared spaces. Showing you around the house and indulging in well kept secrets that only home owners would know. He'll discuss that the kitchen is ruled by him, that the study room has your mother in a tight grip and the living room is a space that your father and the stray cat, Tom frequents.

But for you, the love you had for him began with that single head pat.

A single head pat and it felt like you'd do everything for him. It felt stupid, but in that moment, Felix had changed the constructions of 'home' and what it meant to you. And you, never wanted to let it go.

It took awhile to get used to everything. But you learnt. You learnt that your father tends to leave the bathroom window wide open and needs to be reminded often. to close it before he goes to bed. You learn that the walls used to be a blue colour until your family moved in early 2007 and replaced them with a creamra wallpaper in 2011. You also learn that Felix would play 'Follow The Dot' with his freckles when he was bored.

It was a house you needed to learn and at the early hour of two AM you discovered that the house was harder to navigate in the dark and the thought of meeting Minho when the moon wore the night sky like a cloak made your blood rush through your body unlike anytime before.

Felix even introduced you to his friends. Changbin was a loud soul, always ransacking the whole room with his volume level alone. It was easy to forgive that due to being handsome and his helping hand whenever your Mum needed help. It came naturally to him, no thoughts running through his head as he placed a gentle yet protective hand onto the small of your back in the middle of a busy street or as he shielded you from the sky with a cute little umbrella, ignoring the way the rain painted his back.

Hyunjin in comparison wasn't as outwardly helpful as Changbin but he really wasn't horrible either. He enjoyed the attention given to him and could sweet talk a young mother into giving up her child to him if he was that sort of person. Anything he did caused tingles to run up your spine. Sometimes he'd smooth your hair down if a strand came loose or how he'd tower over you to get something from the top shelf. He also seemed to really enjoy and appreciate everyone around him.

But Felix's girlfriend....man

This was the first time you were meeting Felix's girlfriend and you were excited. He never really shut up about her and you never really had any luck bonding with girls the same age as you, naturally gravitating towards mother figures or the boys you grew up with.

"Hey," Her smile was insane and when she brought you into a hug, you closed your eyes from the warmth of it. Her perfume and the shampoo she uses, it was so pleasant you were a little in love.

She was pretty, somewhat tall and even taller when she wore heels. She began to take you out on regular lunch dates and would ask you questions.

Only one of her questions was about Minho and it wasn't even really about Minho;

How were you liking the family?

How were you feeling?

Do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner?

Questions that made you feel oddly joyful that you had trouble keeping your excitement tolerable when you reunited with Felix again.

"Fun, huh?" He giggled a little, taken aback.

You nodded.

You loved her like a sister, much like you had already accepted Felix, you accepted her. Though it wasn't because of her relationship with Felix, it was because she was kind, generous and always willing to share gossip with you.

You even bragged about her with Minho and he laughed and made a comment about the love hearts in your eyes.

You weren't shy when it came to sharing about your new home life, Minho becoming victim to the inner layouts of the family dynamic and how you fit in. Even indulging him in the story of the stray cat, Tom who snuck into the living room whilst your dad was absent.

He, sadly was a little less willing to share about his own home life, but you were excited and that was enough for the both of you.

Moments went by and life was good, made better on the nights Minho came to visit. The handsome boy like sprinkles or the cherry kiss at the end of a good day.

"So....the guy that visits you, is he a nice guy?" Changbin asks, his voice borderline protective. The three of them stand there, with their arms crossed and their frowns a hybrid of different emotions.

"Huh?"

"Your boyfriend?" Changbin raises his eyebrow, "He visits at night, doesn't he?"

"He's not my boyfriend," You deny, shaking your head before peering curiously at the three of them, "How did you know about him?"

"We saw you both, in that roof balcony thing," Hyunjin shrugs, "Not your boyfriend?"

"Just friends," You smile, "He's a good guy though."

It has the boys questioning how much of it is true, if at all.

"Wanna bring him around when it's not dark? Mum would love to meet him," Felix offers. You stare back, horrified.

"She knows about him?"

"No," Felix snorts, "But it'll be nice to have a friend you can bring through the front door and not bushwhack every night just to see him."

True.

And Mum absolutely did love Minho. It touched you. Your mother opened her arms and practically scooped him up into a cuddle and Minho, ever the sweetheart and shy boy, blushed and attempted his best to return her hug.

Attempted because nothing could ever match one of her hugs.

He ended up scoring points with your father too, something as simple as a habit that he picked up as a child - family chores - scoring brownie points.

Felix also loved the way you lit up around Minho in a way he wasn't quite familiar with. For the most part, both Hyunjin and Changbin both liked him too. But, Felix was going to take his first ever opportunity in playing protective brother and not even a green flag like Lee Minho would stop him.

Felix's girlfriend smiled at Minho, offering a quick side hug before parting shortly afterwards, excusing herself to get more cups and party decorations left in her car. Though, not without an approving look shot your way.

You led Minho by the arm to the patio, fairy lights decorating the area and college kids pouring into the party, eyes widening as he acknowledges his surroundings and the passing murmurs of hello.

Changbin holds out two plastic cups for the both of you, eyeing the way Minho levels him with a polite smile, not reaching out for the cup of free alcohol.

"Do you want something alcohol-free?"

"Please."

Changbin only grins, "Don't stress," before venturing to the section with unopened cans and a supply of fizzy drink and grape juice. Not without stopping by Hyunjin, handing him the cup that Minho didn't take. Hyunjin accepted it with a small show of thanks, returning to both Felix and his girlfriend who greedily listen to his words with rapt attention.

It was a nice sight.

Hyunjin's words seemed to create imagery behind their eyes and their lips and eyebrows could barely contain their own excitement. Fe;ix's girlfriend even sat there listening attentively as Felix's fingers were tracing patterns into the skin of her thigh.

Changbin returns with the non-alcoholic options, thrusting a glass of fizzy guava drink into your hand, encouraging you to drink up. Minho's arms slid around you naturally as you dawdled forward to join your brother and his people. The story was nice, but you found more comfort in the way Minho rhythmically tapped away at your waist.

The circle was full of laughter and affection, everyone's bodies close and the rules of personal space void. Changbin sat on the opposite side of you, leaning into the two of you and creating a blanket of serenity for the both of you.

Everything was so new to you, but at the same it felt familiar almost.

The rumbling of Minho's laughter against your back and the warmth of the fire licking the length of your legs. Felix's girlfriend's loud amusement to match Felix's show of agreement and Hyunjin's show of endless passion.

You never wanted it to change.

When the night gets colder and the huddle became the only thing standing between life and death, Felix went to fetch some more firewood and Changbin had already abandoned you both in hopes to find a girl to talk to, stating the two of you made him lonely.

Watching the night sky, your murmur lowly with words that didn't really make sense, fatigue stretching over you, "Is that cass-ca...that star constellation? There? Name?"

Minho huffed a small chuckle, amused before leaning his head affectionately on yours, "Yes. That's a star constellation."

"Do you think Jeongin will be okay?" You mutter, feeling a heavy weight creep into your throat, hurting you and stripping you bare. Minho's easygoingness pauses, tightening his hold around you.

"Yes. I promise."

"Has he called you hyung yet?" You whisper, feeling your eyes become glassier by the second.

"Not yet," Minho admits, though he doesn't make an effort to promise you anything this time.

And you can't even say anything more because then someone will just be wrong and right now, you just can't have anything like that. You can't risk it. Not when this is the literal best scenario that you hoped endlessly for.

And it appears neither can he because....

"Does Felix's girlfriend actually like him?"

It comes so out of nowhere, you almost fall off of him at the sheer intensity and your head immediately whips to look at said girlfriend, defence already on the top of your tongue, "Yeah? She-oh. She's just really affectionate I think. The first time she met me she hugged me as if we had been friends for ages. She even hugged you tonight after meeting you once!"

"True," Minho accepted.

But, if Minho had noticed something....the truth of it was a little bit more plausible. You studied the way Hyunjin and Felix's girlfriend was cocooned, closely but not so close that you could immediately determine anything. She was smiling and laughing, the sound endless and Hyunjin....enjoying her attention. At least, just a little.

You dismissed it, giving the benefit of the doubt and a looming feeling in your stomach.

Now slightly uncomfortable, you rest back into your comfort, linking your fingers with his and closing your eyes. Too busy wishing and hoping to even dream.

Unfortunately the feeling doesn't cease, it seems that whatever idea Minho had planted in your head had already started growing its roots because every single interaction between them seemed a little too loaded. In fact, it was actually starting to anger you a little.

Sometimes, Felix would have the two of them over. Felix would have the controller in his hand and headset over his ears and the two of them would talk. She would giggle and joke around with Hyunjin and Hyunjin would smile and always willing to joke back.

Sometimes, Felix would lose a round and she'd be there to snort and Hyunjin would wrap him up in a hug after letting out a little giggle.

Sometimes, Felix would be talking and she'd just...make fun of his nerdy little tendencies. Berate him even.

"Oh Felix, you're really too old to be into things like this."

Then she'd turn to Hyunjin and be oh so interested in whatever he was spouting. The types of wine he used to steal from his grandmother's cellar or parties he attended, or even the songs on his drawing playlist. She'd laugh and laugh and laugh it all up.

Frowning a little, you take a seat beside Felix, a cold smile plastered on your face at the way she brushes a hand against Hyunjin's stomach and you lean into Felix, "Can you teach me how to play?"

Your reward is Felix's smile, the only smile in the room you decide you really want.

"Absolutely," So he teaches you, a tad impatient and passionate but kind and so genuinely happy you're taking an interest. It takes a few hours before you actually have to force yourself away from the game, too involved that you're starting to scare yourself and everyone else.

"See, huh huh? What did I tell ya?" Felix's drawl is teasing as his avatar beats the ogre that has been relentlessly chasing you through that shitty pixelated jungle on the screen.

"Hey- Lix, Imma go," Hyunjin cheeses as he shakes Felix's hand. You freeze as he bends down to plant a chaste kiss on the top of your head, "See you Y/N."

He casts a quick look at Felix's girlfriend, who watches him like he's some heaven sent creature, "Bye."

A few minutes pass and when it's clear Hyunjin has really left, Felix's girlfriend lets out a breath, "I'm actually gonna go too, Lixie."

"What?"

"Well you're on your game and-"

"I'm on my game because you've been talking to Hyunjin-"

"Hold on, are you going to accuse me of cheating on you with Hyunjin?"

"No. But-"

"Look, I didn't think I would need to explain my actions to you, but I thought I should leave because you're bonding with your sister. Not because of Hyunjin. Can you just stop with the Hyunjin thing?" She bites at Felix before leaving the house with a slam of the front door.

Felix sighs before combing his hair back with his hands, game paused.

"That was-"

"Rough?" Felix offers with his eyebrows raised before his features even back out, "I know."

You were thinking more 'overreaction' but 'rough' works just as well.

"Hyunjin thing?" You ask instead, borderline dangerous territory you're venturing across. Wondering whether or not you really had the right to be here.

"I mentioned that maybe her favourite person was Hyunjin as a joke but she got defensive and now has been acting like this, "Felix explains, "It doesn't look great, I know."

"I'm sure it doesn't feel great either," You frown.

Felix leans in to knock his shoulder with mine, 'Don't worry about me. She's a sweet girl, really. We're just fighting a little."

"I'm allowed to worry about you," You mention, earlier insecurities catching up to you, "Right?"

His smile is slow and purposeful, perhaps even a touch sad, "Of course you're allowed to be worried and me with you, I'm allowed to be worried about you as well. It's only fair."

You sigh, "Fiiine."

"So, in saying that," He smiles and your groan is like music to him, "I like Minho but I like you more, stop meeting him so frequently in the early hours of the morning. Front door, always. Okay?"

It's nice. To be worried over like this. But you'll never be able to squash the fact your trump card is unwavering concern about those you love and how they fit into their own world.

Never in a million years.

So he may be forgiving when she makes little attempts to grab at Hyunjin's knee or paw at his arm whenever he talks. But not you. You watch like a hawk and you stalk towards the two of them, eyes jumping judgementally.

"Hey, can you help me?" You blurt out to Hyunjin, words tumbling out of you in an attempt to make sense, tone sweet, "Please?"

Hyunjin's eyebrows furrow in concern and her eyes, wide with curiosity and a tiny flicker of annoyance.

"I think Felix is at the mailbox."

You smile at her before you watch Hyunjin lift from his seat, following after you as you lead him away from the crowd and prying eyes. Lips pressing together in thought.

"You're good at braiding hair, right?"

Truthfully, nobody has ever said he was good at braiding hair and on second thought, maybe it wasn't the best distraction, considering....

"Uhh- I'm alright at it?" Hyunjin frowned, "Though why didn't you ask-?"

"In all honesty I don't know either," You shake your head, earning you a little laugh as he places both his hands onto your shoulder blades leading you to the bathroom.

"Tell me what you need then," Hyunjin smiled, watching as you pulled out two strands of hair clumsily in the front.

"I just don't like what's going on with this," You motion, a little frazzled. Though you were putting on an exaggerated act, it oddly didn't feel like it.

He smirked, rounding around your frame to make proper eye contact with you, "First things first, we'll have to fix your parting."

You startle a little, surprised by him. He's gentle, freeing bits of tied hair out of its elastic shackle and you're left to stare at him as he expertly threads your hair together in little elaborate braids, cleaning them up with a bit of water.

He really is handsome.

Though, there are a lot of handsome people in your life.

"There."

His smile slowly fades as he looks at you, swallowing harshly at the air caught in his throat. Your own smile mirroring the moment his drops. His finger strays to follow the skin of your lip, causing your whole body to tingle.

"He's lucky to have you," Hyunjin whispers, "You know."

"I'm lucky to have Felix," You whisper back and his back straightens. Eyes imploring into yours with something you can't quite decipher. His body frozen underneath the bathroom light and an evening tinted breeze.

He hums, dropping his hand like an anchor and stepping away from you, "Yeah. Felix."

This time, it really gets to you and it becomes clearer than day. Fact. Felix's girlfriend has a crush on Hyunjin and not one that could just be battered away with time. One that is disrespectfully stuck and manipulative, with only Felix suffering as a result.

It's Friday night, student hour. Hyunjin and Felix's girlfriend are planning to meet a few of their other casual friends at the club. Felix is too sick and opted to stay home, his girlfriend only offering to stay home with him when Hyunjin did.

"I really wish you'd come, Bok," Hyunjin comments. Felix's girlfriend pouts and nods, as if she fully supports the idea and it makes you sick to your stomach.

"Cause getting refused at the door sounds like a good idea and not a total waste of time," Felix snorts sarcastically sending him into a spluttering fit. You grimace at the sound, finding it on par with the visual of his sickness but ultimately rejoicing in his snark.

He's right though, he'd definitely get turned away.

"You don't have to stay Y/N, I'm perfectly capable of being home by myself," Felix tells you, and your initial reaction is to refuse. You want to stay with Felix, you really do. But you don't want to see Hyunjin and Felix's girlfriend all over each other and flirting like nobody's at home waiting for them.

And if you go...

Perhaps, a plan would be able to be set in motion.

"I don't have anything to wear," You groan.

Hyunjin grins, nodding his head towards Felix's girlfriend, "She brought over plenty. Use one of hers."

Her face is pained.

Yours, is the complete opposite.

"I've got a suitcase upstairs, come down with whatever you find and I can do your makeup if you like," She offers and it's kind, but it's slathered in a lard like substance you feel she wants to smother you with.

You choose the clothes at random, not drawn to one over the other. You find a sparkly midnight blue shirt with long sleeves and a black skirt, a pairing you've never been lucky enough to wear without regret. You stare at them before quickly pulling them both on. It's a little tight in areas you feel they shouldn't be and loose in areas you want them to be tight.

But, admittedly, you do look like a dream.

Your hands run down the material, inspecting the roundness of your ass.

Hyunjin spots you first, and his reaction has you pausing. It feels like the moment in the bathroom all over again. Eyebrows raised and tension electrified. Though the moment is broken when Felix and his girlfriend turn to see you, her mouth dropping and Felix's grin turning brotherly.

"You're beautiful," She admits, to which the smile you show her is sincere, growing only when she turns to look at Felix with a fond look, regret building, "Isn't she?"

Destroyed only when Felix coughs, the appearance of her disgust in sync with your sincerity. Lost and brushed away by the wind. She smiles at you again, gentle with your skin as she rubs in some cream and gives your hair a little life.

"Shall we go?" She has the gall to grin at you then, her eyes landing nowhere near her actual boyfriend. Once again. Hyunjin nods and immediately smacks Felix's hand. She follows after him, giving Felix a non committed little side hug to which he accepts dutifully.

Ignoring his sickness, you embrace your brother wholeheartedly, the both of you falling into a heap, your eyes closing as he wheezes a hearty laugh into your ear, "What are you doing? What if you get sick?"

"I wish you were coming," You muse, eyes still closed and your body enjoying his brotherly warmth he eagerly shows you.

"We have plenty of time," He whispers back, before he is sent into another coughing fit.

"You really don't have to come with us if you don't want to," She comments, your expression tightening at her voice scraping the roof your ear. You rise from your position in denial and Hyunjin smiles, eyes meeting yours.

"I want to come," You say instead. This time, you miss her expression. But you see his. His eyes, they twinkle.

You pile into the Uber with a last goodbye, all three of you painfully sober that they missed the opportunity to pre-drink. Plans on how to get drunk fast pouring out of their mouths, "We down a couple of shots and have a beer or something."

You look out the window, letting yourself be ignored. But out of the corner of your eye, she's turned her back to him and she's brushing her hair out of her face, "Can you zip up my dress?"

Hyunjin nods, zipping up the dress without a fuss and you stare at him through the reflection. You can't seem to understand him.

"Did you draw that character I told you about?"

"Nope. But I did draw those flowers, so thanks."

A giggle, "You're welcome. Do you often listen to One Direction while you paint?"

"Only sometimes."

You get out of the Uber with Hyunjin's confident goodbye and your quiet farewell, both you girls following after Hyunjin. Her hand is on his shoulder and you've opted to brave the slight drizzle of rain that welcomes you to the night sky.

"Hey Hyunjin," A few greetings bid their hellos as you walk past them all. He's a bit of a nightclub celebrity with how many of them walk by. Even Felix's girlfriend gets a couple of girls to come up to her.

With her other hand, she twists towards you to link holding your hand, leading you through the throng of drunken party-goers.

The drinks pour in one after the other, every third drink a shot of hard liquor and the in between being a cheap RTD option or wine to get you just as drunk as everyone else in the club. It's also an opportunity to watch her as she starts to flirt more openly with him.

"Hey, would you fuck that blonde in front of me and Felix if I asked?" She mutters, which falls on his deaf ears.

Not yours though.

You notice she's also started to press her boobs together with her arms, puckering her lips as she leans in to tease him, "I haven't seen your type around here yet."

Hyunjin pauses, his eyelashes lifting as drinks at his drink, "I have."

"You have?" She questions with a flirty giggle "Where?"

"Around," He drops his now empty bottle onto the counter, leaning over to request another to the bartender, "You want one, Y/N?"

"Hey! What about me?"

"You don't need another," Hyunjin rolls his eyes before acknowledging you kindly, "Y/N?"

You hold up your bottle with half the drink still left over to which he accepts without so much of a fuss, "Just me then, thanks bro."

"Aww, are you worried about me?" She hiccups. She does look somewhat cute, though all that cute is buried under the huge pile of undeserving. Underserving of Felix and his time. His love.

"If you drink more than I have to take you home and I'm enjoying myself so I'd rather not," He explains to which she pouts but thankfully accepts without another attempt to pull at his heart strings.

"OH MY GOD," She shouts to which you wince, "There's Park Seonghwa, he's a partner at the firm, I'll be right back!"

The two of you watch as she stumbles through the crowd confidently, both your expressions grim. You turn to him, opening your mouth, "Hyunjin?"

He bends himself lower so he can you a little better without straining, "Yeah baby?"

Bleugh.

"I want to go home," You tell him, managing to keep a straight faced expression and you're a little grateful he agrees too easily, already opening the Uber app. It doesn't feel good leaving the two of them alone together though...

And with how drunk she is...

"I'll walk you, c'mon," Hyunjin says, his hand clasping yours as he walks you to the entrance, towards the neon lit stairs you ventured up in search of the bar. And when the ringing in your ears becomes only a memory of the crowd you just escaped from, he returns his hands to his pockets like a gentleman.

"I hope you had fun," He muses.

"I did," You grunt, which has his eyes furrowing briefly before he sees you're having trouble coming down the staircase on your own. His shoes clack against the floor as he travels upstairs to meet you, hands outstretched and a gorgeous smile on his face.

"That's good then."

"Come with me?" You offer. His mouth opens and closes, and the smile slowly falls off his face and is replaced with confusion. Head tilting a little.

He must've heard you wrong.

But you've made a decision, right then and there.

Morally a good one? Arguably.

But it's a decision.

With held breath, your hand wraps around the nape of his neck to pull him into a kiss that has his breath hitching. His hair, thick enough to curl your digits through, tickling at his skin over and over again until you get sick of it. But it's so addictive, the thought is impossible. Because his hair is as soft as his lips are plush. Time has stopped and everything is quiet.

You open your mouth experimentally, letting him fill the gaps if he so pleases. One of his hands grips at your hips to pull you closer so you're flushed against his front and the other at your neck and his thumb at the curve of your jaw, teasing you with the possibility that he might just squeeze.

He tastes of a mixed alcohol, but you don't mind it, oddly enjoying the feeling of his lips more because of it. His kiss breathing new life into you.

Your hands are everywhere on his taut and lithe frame, obsessively attached to his hair just as his is addicted to the curl of your hips.

He presses harder into you, tongue brushing along yours in a way that has you swooning. He makes a low groan into your mouth at your compliance. The sound of it zipping straight to your core, heating the energy between you.

You don't want to pull away.

But you do.

"Come with me," You say again, your hands resting on his shoulders, eyes half lidded staring into the eyes that have already melted into your own. He's heaving, thick swollen lips and a gaze like fire, and your core calls him prey for it.

"Okay."

As soon as you cross the threshold of the hotel room, your back is against the wall of the living room, your hands following blindy as yhe leads you throughout the predictable layout, leaning away from you only to rest his forehead against yours.

When he opens his eyes, his gaze is on you and your hands have minds of their own as they squeeze at his waist.

You think he's going to utter a word when you lean upwards to kiss him this time. A sweeter kiss that he does his best to follow after. His hands no longer wandering along your body but cupping both cheeks in his large hands.

"Tell me you don't want it," He murmurs dazedly.

You can see how the kiss has gotten to him, and you can feel it. A weight resting on your stomach, but you can feel his restraint as it sticks to his fingertips, rendering them completely white.

"Why would I?" You whisper back, and Hyunjin swallows.

"Sometimes I'm not gentle," Hyunjin warns, cocking his head and his voice so low it makes your own stomach drop in anticipation.

"Sometimes neither am I," You challenge him back, to which he lifts one of your legs to wrap around his torso and he pushes against your core. Your eyes fluttering shut at the brush of friction against your underwear clad pussy.

"Last chance," He enunciates, his hand splaying out at your spine, and the other twirling his hands in naughty little circles at your ankles, trailing upwards with every second he counts down in his head.

At your silence, he squeezes at the meat of your thigh, "I'll take this as permission then..."

He seizes your lips rough making you feel oh so delicious inside. His hands, although feather like along the swell of your breasts and the thin sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh, strong against your hips when he grips them, punishing your pussy with a thrust of his hips against the fabric.

His kisses begin to paint you possessively from your mouth, in between your tits and up your throat, sucking at the skin as he sees fit. Devouring you until you're squirming against him in search of exposed skin to grind on until you're completely spent.

It's like he's made to devour you.

Your hands are strangely cold against the heat of his stomach, and he tenses at the way your nails scratch along every ridge of his muscles, groaning into your ear like some wild animal.

He can't help it.

He can feel how wet you are between your thighs and it's started to coat the front of his pants.

Daring him to rut against you.

He ruts a little, indulging into his desires to feel you twitch against him, but the whine you let out ruins the thin layer of his self control, crumbling and trashing it like nothing.

"Hyunjin," You're even pleading and he loves it. Every attempt to extend your sentence purposefully drawn in an attempt to attain your regret is halted by every experimental thrust and every brain fog inducing kiss.

He's drunk of this new feeling.

"Yeah baby, tell me," He teases, the movement of his lips quiet and ticklish at the surface of your chest.

"Ah-" Your eyes squeeze shut at a particular roll of hips, his mouth sucking at your breast, "I-"

"You-?" Hyunjin cocks his head, watching the way the pleasure he gives you extracts your soul and every shed of your identity leaving something completely primitive.

"Want it," You stutter pathetically, your underwear completely soaked through. There's no doubt in your mind that you want him right now and even if you had a chance, you wouldn't, not when it feels this good, "Want you."

He doesn't speak, only watches as you make your hushed pleas, sadistically challenging you with his heated gaze. With his eyes on you, his fingers pick at your soiled underwear, hooking it to the side and you feel your body tensing with need.

Fuck.

He feels like he won't last just by looking at you, and with just a slight breeze on your clit you feel like you won't last either.

With eyes still on you, he presses an open hand against your core, enjoying the way you jerk underneath his touch and the feeling of your arousal dripping down his hand. Your hips move on their accord, impatient with his waiting game of tease.

He loves the way you clench at nothing, your core wanting nothing more but to swallow his load.

"Asshole," You growl.

You even have a bit of a mouth on you.

Who knew?

"Hot as fuck," He praises, pulling his hand away to kiss at your pussy, the sounds lewd enough and the pleasure unreal. You pull at his hair, and he groans at the pain, delving deeper into your core, tongue swirling at the bud of nerves.

You begin to coat his lips.

His chin.

He enjoys it to the point of delusion.

He wants it.

He wants nothing more.

He pulls away with a pucker, letting you feast your eyes on his need for you. He makes no effort to wipe at his mouth, his hands falling to his pants to free himself. He's long and pretty. Much like the rest of him.

He sucks his bottom lip, sliding between your spread legs and slathering his cock with your arousal like never ending lube. He taps at your clit, like he's born to tease you.

You go to curse him out.

"Be patient," He orders, and the octave of his voice has your instant obedience. And like an obedient little thing, you watch him. Expect of him. Hope for him.

He palms himself, and you follow the movement like you can't wait for him.

"There's a traffic light system, heard of it?" Tapping at your clit with the tip of his cock. One. Two. Three.

A hitch of breath.

A jerk of your hips.

An impatient whine.

"Red, orange, green....Pick one."

"Hyunjin-"

"I'm not going to do anything until you pick one," He smirks, "C'mon, it's not hard to understand. Red means this all stops and green means the complete op-"

"Green!" You yell.

You don't think you could shout it any louder.

"-Posite," He feels wolfish, sliding into you and losing all control as you clench around him, walls warm and wet. You exhale and Hyunjin thinks if it were a drink, it would sustain him for the rest of his life.

He presses his lips to yours, cushioning the sounds that escape past your lips and distracting himself from coming too early.

He eases in and out of you, teeth gritting as your face morphs into all forms of enjoyment.

"Fuck," You curse at a particular dangerous roll of his hips that send butterflies out of your aching core, dragging him into your body. You squeeze at his arms so harshly and he winces at the crescent moons you create on his biceps.

He huffs out a pleasurable laugh, eyes dropping to the marks with a greedy reverie.

He thrusts harder, aiming at the spot that has your moans wanton and uncontrollable. He bites his lips until they're tightly shut, wanting to listen to only your moans until you cry. Fuck. He wants nothing more to join your songs of pleasure but he wants to hear you more.

He wants to hear it.

Couldn't bear to move on from this moment with that kind of regret.

He wants you in his ear. Your dirty and your filthy, he wants to hear it all.

But you, you wanted nothing more to hear his. Unsatisfied, your hands paw at his back, desperately dragging them down in an attempt to break through his restraint, rewarded by an unrestrained and whiny moan of his own.

"That's better," You muse, letting his sounds wash against you.

"You're so fucking dirty," He swears, grunting into the blush of your skin, his waist snapping into yours relentlessly. But it seems like you won, because, when you made that mark down his back he couldn't stop all his moaning and heaving.

At the tell tale sign of your incoming orgasm, your arms thread behind his shoulders and your legs tense around his frame, all the while he takes you all the way to heaven. His thrusts becoming sloppy as his body tenses.

He pulls out of you, jerking himself off until hot spurts of his come paint your whole chest and stomach.

He collapses onto the bed next to you, his forehead and hair doused in sweat and sex. Tried, you feel the foreshadowing of pain in your tender thighs and the dents in which his fingers grabbed at you so desperately.

The buzz of his phone brings up the volume of the room, save for his breathing, "Your phone buzzed."

He makes a noise of acknowledgement, "What's it say?"

"Code?"

"5188."

Felix's girlfriend. Asking about the two of you and where you got off to. If he was coming back.

With a slight curve of your lips, you reply for him, 'Found a girl. Sorry.'

You giggle, "I said you had 'found a girl.'

Hyunjin snorts, casting you a teasing look, and you take a pause for how truly handsome he is, "Way to make me sound shifty.'

"It's not wrong though," You chortle, your hands pointing back at yourself in display, "You did."

Hyunjin raises his eyebrows, his lips boyishly tilting upwards, "I did."

You smirk back at him as he stares at you. His gaze is fire, but it's not. It's all melty, something in his gaze that has you a little confused.

A little scared.

You're not sure you like it.

But you're sure you don't quite dislike it either.

When you awake in the morning, alone, you're not saddened. The brief confusion of last night's events tumble away like a passing thought. He left no note. No nothing. You suppose you should leave and head back home, because if there is one thing you're desperate for right now, it's a shower.

You pull on your clothes that are clearly worn and torn from the night before, a brief look in the mirror to make sure you're presentable and your feet struggling to fit into each shoe. Your thighs are tender and your feet weirdly swollen. You’re fucking limping. Seriously?

"I hope you aren't in a rush?"

At the teasing and levelled question, you follow the sound, startled when you see Hyunjin, classically handsome as ever resting his forearms on the kitchen counter with a plastic bag of goodies next to him.

"You brought...breakfast?" You frown, slightly surprised.

"Well I did just fuck you until you couldn't walk properly," He smirks, his stare pointed, "Think of it as basic aftercare, baby."

"You like a good pet name," You notice, cocking your head in a beckoning challenge.

He mirrors the sentiment with his own, "If the situation calls for it, yeah."

You chortle, folding your arms, ready to hear what kind of line he's curating in his head about this situation, "And what is this situation, exactly?

"I want this to be a regular thing. I'm here hoping you'd let me take you out and you have all the power to decide what you do with me," Hyunjin smacks his lips together and his confidence is there, charismatically and respectfully waiting for your input.

"Do you have to take out girls for this to be a regular thing?" You ask and Hyunjin's lips shrivel at the question.

"Girls? No," Hyunjin admits, "You though? Yeah."

You frown at him, staring in silence. The lingering feeling of last night making an unwelcome return.

"Uh."

The eyes that stare back at you are warm, rippling along the delicate nerves of your skin with comfort instead of the burning uncertain fire that accompanied you last night.

He bites at his lip and tugging at the ring secured around his finger, the one you gave to him just short of two years ago.

You tuck a stray hair behind his ear, and zero in on the way his eyes flutter at your touch.

"Minho," You call, too concerned by the way he leans into you.

His eyes open wide, remembering himself. He straightens in his seat, clothes pristine and elegant a stark contrast to your simple t-shirt and shorts.

You wonder if Jeongin wears these types of clothes now.

"We text now," Minho admits, staring at you in a way that makes you believe he's expecting something from you. Worried about your reaction, almost. Either way.... "Jeongin and I."

"That's great," You reply, "Does he call you hyung yet?"

"Not yet," Minho cocks his head and you can't help the gentle smile on your face, the action making his expression soften, "What's with that grin? Huh?"

"My brother's hard to win over, isn't he?"

The smile on his face is still there, but you can see the dwindle of the light that graced his face before.

You swallow, "-You know what I mean."

"No," Minho shakes his head, "He's still your brother."

You're silent. Too silent.

"He is," Minho asserts, hand gripping at your hands more firmly. Stomach churning at the crossroads you've lived to confront. To admit he's your brother is to-

"I've got to tell you something," You blurt.

"Yeah?" He sips at his wine, relaxing a little in his seat. Welcoming the change with open arms.

"I have a date with Hwang Hyunjin."

The rigidness of his frame, sends you into a spiral. Nonsense was spouted and now there is the discomfort that you and Minho tried to ignore.

"Hyunjin asked me out I think," You ramble, hands rolling in defence, "I don't know. This might help Felix."

"And you want to use Hyunjin to..." His tone tilts, "Do what exactly?"

You swallow, "Well....Maybe this way, I can remove Hyunjin from the equation."

He doesn't let on whether he's impressed or not. Truth is, neither are you. It was a plan concocted when you left Hyunjin's place, promising him you'll think about it.

"Are you mad?" You question, needing to know. Begging him to look at you.

He pauses, digits playing with the wine glass charm at the bottom of his glass, "I have no control over who you date or don't, Y/N."

You harshly swallow, conversation weighing on you like an ultimatum, "I don't want to lose you."

Minho sighs, his knuckles creasing in the skin of his forehead briefly, as if he's pained to then face you, any expression wiped away, "You won't lose me, Y/N. You won't lose him. No matter what your decisions are."

He breathes deeply, excusing himself from the table to go to the bathroom.

He pays for the light meal and the wine you shared.

Then kisses you lightly on the lips goodbye.

And you cry for hours on the cold floor of your bathroom.

Love is just wonderful.

But sometimes, sometimes it feels like it's not for you, terrorising you at every corner with complications and obstacles. Offering a man you love and can technically have but won't. Offering another man that you only plan to use for the morally challenged greater good.

Your first date with Hyunjin isn't what you imagine it'd be. Nor does it end in sex or anything of the sort.

The farm is spring. The epitome of spring. Rows and rows of pretty pastel colours that belong on some influencer's social media account. The sun is hot and beams straight onto you both.

"Wow," You mutter, "It's so hot."

"Yup," He agrees, then, he's touching you and for a minute all you can remember is what happened. Your breathing hitches at how easily he touches you. Only to realise he's rubbing in sunscreen to your exposed skin. With a single finger, he paints a line down the expanse of your cheek, letting you rub the cream in yourself.

"What was that?"

"Can't have my date exposed to skin cancer on our first can I?" Hyunjin teases.

"And what about you?" You scoff, pointing out his pale skin, "You're more likely to burn, no?"

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, before slathering his own skin with a good dollop of sunscreen, letting it smooth all over. Smiling to yourself, you eagerly take the opportunity to paint a smiley face onto his rounded cheeks and exposed nape of his neck. He shudders at the feeling, stumbling clumsily away from the sensation.

"You're a cheek," Hyunjin calls, taking note of your teasing and rubbing in your art making you pout, "Hey can we get four punnets, please?"

"Absolutely. Our strawberry farms are in the greenhouse tents at the end, but apart from that every section will have the name of the berry on the sign. So just keep an eye out. The price is also determined by the weight."

"Thanks," He charms the worker before you follow him all while he shows you the empty containers with nothing other than joy.

The strawberry tent is slightly wet and the grass squelches as you walk on it, the sound bringing a grimace to your face. Strawberries are plentiful and the red bleeds onto the crevices of the green.

"You know the proper way to pick them?" You ask, the words causing him to lean a little further into you and your space.

"Teach me?" He says with a smile you can't quite trust.

You grip at the strawberry softly, forefinger and middle finger embracing the flesh with support from your thumb, "We want the chicken claw pose then lift it....you listening?"

He smiles, head falling onto the crown of your head, lips quirking, "I'm listening..."

"And then.." At the crisp sound of the stalk separating from the fruit, you smile in satisfaction. All the while Hyunjin smiles at how sweet you are.

He bites his lip when you watch him expectantly, eyes never leaving him as he reaches for a single juicy looking strawberry, his eye contact zig zagging continuously between you and the fruit, "Like this?"

You smile, pleased, "Yeah."

With that you fill the container, both of you sharing one of the biggest strawberries you've ever seen in your life. With the juice running down your fingers, Hyunjin smirks before leaning forward to take a bite of the strawberry, his bottom lip brushing against your thumb.

You intake a sharp breath, his whole body up against yours, leaning into you and you're worried about how much he'll see. How he'll immediately notice the way your heart pounds against your rib cage and how much your eyes struggle to make eye contact when he's so close and his gaze so heated.

That fire.

"It's really so good," Hyunjin murmurs, the words licking at you with lust and seduction. You swallow, afraid to look at him.

"Let's go to the blueberries," You demand, walking out of the tents at a faster pace than you would've originally.

You don't hear Hyunjin laugh, but you can almost see the smile that's brought to his face at the sheer fact that whatever game he was playing...you've lost.

You're a lot less gentle with the blueberries, your playful demeanour dormant underneath all the bashfulness you're parading. It's cute, the way you haven't stopped looking at him. So even if you haven't been speaking to him for almost twenty minutes now, he'll take it as a win.

"I'm sorry," He nudges you with his shoulder a little, secretly wanting to see you pout that whole time he's with you.

You furrow your eyebrows harder, harsh lines across your forehead like a failed attempt putting a screensaver on a phone. He's pretty sure your neck has veins with the severity of your 'anger'.

"Huh?" Hyunjin smacks his lips to attempt from smiling, "What do I have to do for you to forgive me?"

"Give me that jumper," You say at once, so fast he struggles to distinguish what it was you said exactly.

HIs gaze drops to his white Versace jumper, hesitantly turning toward you. A little confused but too curious.

Damnit.

His lips quirk, "Why the jumper?"

“I want it. I’ve never had Versace,” You hold your hand out like a spoiled little brat, beckoning him to move with the flick of a finger. 

Hyunjin exhales, looking around at the rows of shrubs and a cooling sky, before he looks at you. Again, “Except you’re looking at me, Y/N.” 

You open your mouth, only for his next words to completely blindside you, “And with the way you’re looking at me….I can’t be sure it’s the jumper you want…” 

He’s teasing you, with that little smirk he has. It’s almost like he’s taunting you. So try again. Better luck next time! 

Shit fucking- 

You turn back to the shrubs filling the blueberries with speed and precision and Hyunjin follows you, amusement painted on him like a second skin at your demise. He reaches for the containers out of your hands, leading you to the thick crowd of bush at a back section, adorned with blackberries. 

You join him, his eyes dancing with light as he swivels around slightly to face you, “Decided to join me?” 

“I’m just making sure you pick the good ones, Hyunjin,” You deny, face turning away to hide your smile. 

“How do you know I won’t?” Meanwhile Hyunjin wears his grin with glimmering pride. He picks at the blackberries, enjoying the taste of one. 

You don’t say anything, opting that silence is the best comeback you could have right now, only to fluster at his next words. 

“Glad to see you use my name,” He raises an eyebrow, “I didn’t think you knew it.” 

You snort, “Don’t be so dramatic. I’ve called you by name so many times. I’m not going to call you Philip, am I?” 

“More often than not you don’t say my name, you avoid it even,” He comments, his thoughts glossing his eyes over, “At least that’s what it feels like.” 

“...I don’t mean to? I don’t think I do that… You noticed?” 

“How couldn’t I?” Hyunjin shrugs again, feigning a neutral expression as he fills the container up, one by one. 

“I’m sorry,” You apologise, the silence is loud. So loud and awkward and gangly, sitting there at your table with twitchy joints. 

“So I like it,” Hyunjin glances at you meaningfully, “I’d like to hear it more from you.” 

“Okay,” 

You walk together with your three full containers to where the raspberries are planted. They’re all plump and a reddish purple colour and they look so good you’re tempted to just eat more than collect. 

“..Hyunjin?” 

Hyunjin’s head flickers to yours in surprise before a warm smile creeps onto his face. It’s so warm that your own look turns bashful and you almost forget the reason you wanted his attention entirely, “Yeah, Y/N?” 

“Uh- Do you like raspberries?” 

“Raspberries? I don’t mind them. I’m more of a strawberry guy.” 

You screw your face up in a little bit of judgement and quickly turn away from him, returning to the raspberries. 

“What? What’s wrong with strawberries?” Hyunjin snorts, unable to let go of your judgement but also not offended. Not at all. Anything to get you talking. 

“It’s just a bit basic, that’s all,” You shrug, and Hyunjin’s face is a  bit more offended now but it’s cooled just as quickly as it arrives because you’ve got a teasing look on your face. 

“Right well,” Hyunjin pouts, picking up his stuff to create distance. 

“Hey!” You plead, “It’s not a bad thing!” 

“Could’ve fooled me!” 

“Hyunjin,” You whine, “Come back, I need help getting up, my legs are dead.” 

“That’s just a bit basic, Y/N, love,” He drawls, appearing like the Cheshire Cat from Alice In Wonderland. 

“Hyunjin,” You whine back. 

He laughs, dawdling back in front of you, watching you pathetically reach both your arms out towards him. His hands grip at your forearms pulling you upwards and you stumble back into him. 

“You’ve gotta stop trying this method to get me to be into you, Y/N,” He baits, not even waiting for your reply. You scoff as he turns away from you, filling his container so fast it makes your own container look pathetic. 

Feeling competitive, you speed past him, filling your own with raspberries to the tune of his laughter and later his own competitiveness to the point of overflow. 

The two of you are heaving, comparing each other’s containers with a cautious eye, decidedly agreeing that the two of them are rather equal. Though personally you suspect that your own is a little more full. 

“Woah,” Hyunjin exhales a breath of surprise, eyeing at his fingers that are a deep red and purple. You giggle, eyeing your own. The marks don’t reach further than your fingers like he does but they are a lot darker with a lot more coverage. 

You line up your fingers near his hand so he can see. 

His eyebrows furrow a little, before he rummages into his pocket to pull out his phone. You drop your hand but he pulls it back, angling the phone to a better angle. He smiles as he takes the photo and you feel a little bit like you’re the victim of a spell. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

“Shall we go?” Hyunjin asks and you can’t help but agree quickly, squashing the feeling inside of you so deep you disassociate for the rest of the trip home. 

When you return home, a little tired that your eyes are fluttering close even before the door closes shut, you’re surprised by how quiet the house is, save for the quiet humming of the TV. 

“Felix!” Changbin yells from the room, “Felix!” 

You pause, deciding whether you should leave him and take the nap you want to indulge in or to tell- 

With a sigh, you follow the incessant calls of Felix’s name, until you’re in front of him, “Ah-not Felix. Where is….everyone?” 

“Oh shit sorry,” Changbin apologises, “Felix was gonna drop by to his missus to drop something off-” 

You roll your eyes. 

“-And your parents go out every so often to have a little time to themselves. Keep the romance alive. Gross, I know.” 

“It’s cute actually,” You muse, too used to older people ruining each other over and over again. 

“I thought you were with Minho?” Changbin inquired, turning down the volume for the TV. 

You lean against the wall, “Why’s that?” 

“I know you said he isn’t your boyfriend but you clearly have feelings for each other,” Changbin commented further. 

You laugh, “Are all these questions because you’re watching Love Island?” 

“And if I said yes?” 

“Then I’ll just assume that you’re projecting,” You huff out a little giggle, walking off to your own room and the confines of your space. 

“Y/N!” He yells after you, but doesn’t make an effort to follow. 

“Good night!” 

You fall asleep with a soft smile on your face, no tingles but a blanket of warmth to protect you. 

The second date you were actually genuinely excited for. Hyunjin picked you up, adoringly gazing upon your smile that lit the whole sky up. 

“That’s a pretty smile,” Hyunjin comments, pushing the handbrake down. 

“I’m excited,” You reply, practically bouncing in your seat. 

“Oh really? I couldn’t tell after you practically forced me to tell you what we were doing today,” Hyunjin recalls, mind rewinding back to the night before when he had sent a cute mysterious text. 

Dark coloured pants. Dark coloured jumper. Sneakers tomorrow. Trust me x

Unfortunately for him, it didn’t stay all that cute and mysterious, because you called him. 

“I want to know,” You demanded. 

“I’m not gonna tell you,” Hyunjin snorted. 

“Tell me or I’ll come tomorrow wearing a tutu and a bright ass top,” The sound of your threat put a smile on his face. 

“You can try if you want, Y/N,” Hyunjin laughed, “Either way you’re gonna look really pretty.” 

“Hyunjin, please.” 

He swallowed, momentarily caught in surprise. Shit. 

He’s reached a new level of low. 

He’s folding THIS early? 

“Hyunjiiiiiin,” You double down, catching quick onto his dilemma. His tongue prodded into his cheek, eyebrows furrowing at his resolve completely fading at two little words. 

“Paintballing,” He blurted, “....We’re going paintballing.” 

Suddenly, there was no sound. It was quiet and he felt his blood pressure drop. Did you hate the idea of paintballing? He hoped not because he had booked it spontaneously and- 

“Really?” The question came out like a summer fruit, so good and so energetic that it made his heart flutter. 

“Yeah,” He sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose self consciously. 

“I’m gonna go pack!” 

“Okay.” 

“Bye Hyunjin. Thank you.” 

He stared at his phone for five minutes after the call ended, the smile on his face never once dropping and his excitement for the next day at an all time high.

You were bouncing with excitement all the way to the hut, and Hyunjin places both hands on your shoulders when it seemed to reach heights that distracted him from hearing the rules. 

“You’re cute,” Hyunjin muses, whispering into your ear, “But I can’t hear the rules and I’d hate to accidentally shoot you.” 

You frown, muttering, “Not if I shoot you first.” 

Hyunjin smirks, letting his hands slightly drop from your shoulders but didn’t make an effort to back away from you. Neither did you move away from him, shivering pleasantly because of the warmth he provided in the wild breeze that ventured from every corner of the paintball course. 

“You’re green team,” The instructor says, handing you over two green bands to tie around your wrist. You peer around the area scanning both friend and foe, letting Hyunjin tie them. 

“Luckily we got green and not…” You enunciate, eyeing the yellow team with an almost cruel observation. 

“You’re competitive,” Hyunjin comments, fastening the band around your wrist. You fasten him with a look, which in turn has his own smile getting wider. 

“Hey,” Another couple sidles up to you, the girl leaning in to make a comment, “I noticed one of the couples has a limp so-” 

As you both add to the observations, the guy bundles up next to Hyunjin, watching the two of you discuss tips and thoughts. 

“First time here?” 

“Hmm?” Hyunjin whips his head towards him, smiling slightly, “Yeah. I didn’t know she’d be this into it.” 

“Neither,” The guy laughs, “Now we come here every month.” 

“Woah,” Hyunjin chuckles, “I’m Hyunjin.” 

“Soobin,” The guy introduces himself, stretching his back, “How long have you been a couple?” 

“Not dating,” Hyunjin sighs, “I’m grafting for it though.” 

“Good on you,” Soobin nods, smiling at his girlfriend as she drags you into the toilet, no doubt commenting that there will be no time for bathroom breaks in the middle of a war, “Good luck out there. I suggest going to the toilet while you can.” 

Hyunjin finds himself glad at the conversation. He likes talking about you, though brief and slightly irrelevant, he can’t help but think it’s the start of something. He loves the thought that you may be into him. He loves slow progress. The everything. The way your smile has begun to get bigger and how you’ve begun to lean on him and direct him. 

He’s into it. 

He’s into you. 

The first game he gets hounded by you. Scolded for having his head in the clouds. But he’s too busy being too whipped to care. He doesn’t think you notice how protective you get of him, escorting him across the course with the mentality of a bodyguard. 

The second game, he’s still being protected. All until you’re all out of pallets and you get a taste of how much paintball actually hurts. 

“Ow, fuck,” You curse, squeezing at the flesh of your stomach, only to then be shot in the hand and face, whipping you completely away of your focus and your protective gear loosening. 

“Woah, you alright?” Hyunjin angles his body in front of the line of fire, his hand raising upwards in concern. The shots cease temporarily, their shouts undetectable but the warning clear. 

“Yeah, I’m going to get this fixed,” You wince, your fingers acknowledging the disarray of your hair, before stepping away to raise both hands in the air. 

He watches you leave carefully, before he’s alone again and the game continues. He exhales, leaning against the thick crust of the bush before taking aim. 

“I severely underestimated you,” You observe, a bit of dirt lining the edges of your face and hands. 

His lips quirk upwards, “I only had to get revenge for my girl.” 

“Hwang,” You growl, though the laugh sticks to your throat. 

“Lee.” 

“I’ll be watching you,” You girls eye the line of men that are lined up on the other side before exchanging tactics. 

“My man, he’s big and can’t hide for shit.” 

“He’s got a limp, he’ll be out first. We even had a bet on it so please aim for him.” 

“My ma- guy, he looks pathetic but don’t be fooled. He’s pretty but he’s a good shot,” You comment to the expectant eyes. The teasing eyes of Arin cannot be missed. 

“Your ma-guy,” Arin giggles to which your eyes narrow. 

“Not falling for it,” You dismiss her, feeling bashful as her giggles shake at your fortitude of protection. 

It’s all fun and by the end of it, you feel you have new friends in Soobin and Arin and a couple of the other couples. You even opt to have lunch together that day, spontaneity in your blood as you order three servings of deliciously marbled meat. 

It’s even more worth it, that although Hyunjin drops you off down the street from your house, you smile like you never have before at him, “I had fun.” 

“Me too,” He looks at you with some sort of smile that has you smacking your lips, suddenly shy. 

“Bye,” You wave at him, trailing away from the car little by little, aware that he keeps an eye on you until he knows you made it home safely. 

You open the door with a massive sigh, pausing at the smirk on Changbin’s face as you step foot through the wide passageway. 

“You look happy,” Changbin comments, biting his lip teasingly. 

With a grin still on your face, you point a finger at him, “Keep your mouth shut, Seo Changbin.” 

“I didn’t say anything,” Changbin chortles, poking a finger into your side, the same side that had been victim of continuous paint abuse. 

You wince and giggle, as if your body is confused by how it should continue. Changbin raises his eyebrow, “What was that?” 

“Nothing,” You say, jerking away from his attempt at possibly pressing on another bruise. 

Changbin nods his head in faux agreement, before he doubles down, fingers slightly pressing on each shoulder. You shy away from him, stepping backwards, Changbin cornering you. 

“What the hell?” 

The two of you whip your heads to Felix, eyes widening at the sight of Changbin backing you up against the wall. A huge misunderstanding. Truly. 

“So…you two?” 

“No it’s not like that,” You shake your head. 

“It’s really not, dude, we were just playing around,” Changbin shrugged, “She’s ticklish.”

Felix pauses, hesitates and then accepts. Then goes to tell you something with his head cocked, and you worry he’ll be stuck like that, “Pizza’s ready.” 

You hurry past the two boys, heat flushing your skin. 

“So you really aren’t?” Felix leaned into Changbin when you were gone from view. 

“No, dude,” Changbin snorted. 

Felix accepted it and found he didn’t entirely hate it. Definitely didn’t like it, but hate it? Surprisingly he didn’t. 

Food for thought.

The third date was the most typical and the type of first date you'd expect from a teenager but you liked it all the same.

You'd love it if he hadn't won the first game...

And wasn't winning now.

"Wow, okay you're really not going easy on me," You comment as he receives another spare, walking away from the lane with a wicked smile on his face that tickles at the organ in your chest.

He chuckles, "After paintball? I won't make that mistake."

Your nose crinkles in displeasure, but for a moment it makes you grin. You like what he said. You like how he said it. Everything about it.

You throw the ball, hoping luck would be on your side, but the oil and grease that coats the lanes proved stronger, the ball led straight into the gutter. Gutter of the lane and the gutter in your stomach.

Shit.

Hair tickles against your chin as the smug handsome devil leans over you, "Honestly I thought you had that."

You hurl your shoulder back in defiance, only to hear his laughter, melodious in your ear. It should be annoying, and it is, but it also feels like the most fun you've ever had.

Every morning of a bowling alley in your memories felt loaded. The earliest involves that of your loosely attached adults, many after that where you and Jeongin grappled with grief and despair and a sense to right wrongs. The memories before containing Minho....

Now...

He's the first one that doesn't matter to you. Shouldn't matter to you. You had hoped to bring Felix here first, but Hyunjin brought you here instead, a small crinkling of fate sprinkled over the two of you.

And he's here and he's completely thrashing you at a game you had self-confessed expert level skills. In your bowling home.

However, a thought runs through your head so dark and rampant, the lights could have flickered at the sheer intensity.

Creeping behind him, you place a hand on his shoulder, only removing it when he turned around with a curious yet satisfied fat grin on his face.

You enjoy it more than you should.

He freezes underneath the feel of your lips on his, reminding him of the moment a couple of weeks ago when you first kissed him like this. His eyebrows furrowing in thought, he pushes gently at your shoulders.

"Do you always kiss guys to get what you want?" His mouth opens and his tongue licks at the corner of his mouth, displeasure dancing in his irises. You love it. You can't help it. You want to poke at his emotions with a stick, like he's your own personal Frankenstein's monster.

"And if i say an answer you don't want to hear?" You smirk, lips curling deviously at the snarl transforming his face.

He scoffs out a fake laugh, "Try it."

"Okay, I ki-" You're interrupted by the way his arms snake possessively around your waist, pulling you into a bruising kiss that leaves your lips swollen and your head all over the place. Your arms hanging loosely by your sides as you come to terms with it all.

He finishes the round with a double strike and a score that almost doubles yours.

"Yet," He whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear, "I still won."

He straightens up, and you're left to watch him as he walks back to the car in which he dropped you off. You want nothing more than to wipe that look on his face, but you're also severely attracted to him at the minute and it feels dangerous.

"Are we exclusive?" He asks, tone back to the octave you could combat against. His fingers tap on the wheel of the car in a relaxed sort of way.

"Not yet," You deny him, watching to see if his face will change like it did inside or if he'd surprise you again.

But it doesn't happen.

He nods, fingers ghosting along his lips almost like he's rubbing the kiss you two shared right in your face. You narrow your eyes at him, staring at the smug look on his face.

He knows exactly what you're thinking of.

Where you're looking.

"I'll see you next time then, Y/N."

His hands are strong, but the way he holds your face is gentle, a contrast to the intensity of his kiss. You follow the best you can, his mouth drawing out the most pathetic whimpers from your throat.

His touch follows down the length of you arm, goosebumps spreading throughout your entire body that you feel like you're floating. He grounds you, placing his hand onto the flesh of your thigh and letting his lips and tongue paint you in tingles.

His frame slots in between your legs, the warmth of his body sending a shock straight to your core.

You're hungry for him.

Always.

But there's an incessant knock on the back of your head, your subconscious persistent.

"What's wrong?" You whisper, lips plump.

He doesn't say anything, breath heaving and body tensing in a way that implies that he heard you. That he doesn't feel comfortable. He licks at his lips and the change in him has you concerned. You cup his face with your hand, watching as he leans into your touch, basking in you.

"Minho," You call, now slightly worried. His eyes open and your heart softens. He's so beautiful.

He presses forward to capture you in a kiss again, eyes closing unconsciously as he pours every bit of passion from his heart into you. You kiss back as you feel your heart open to swallow him whole, thoughts forgotten at the familiarity.

Arousal pools in your underwear as he hands travel lower, gripping at your shirt to pull you closer. His body strong against you. Your hands collect in his hair, soft strands that you swear felt different-

You frown, rising to meet his pace with your own, willing to squash the thought and indulge fully in Minho. With a lewd smack, his mouth dips towards your exposed throat, sucking at the skin. A particularly bruising suck, and then he rips at your shirt with a quick promise to buy you a replacement, but you don’t care. 

Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his lips gravitating towards your chest, dipping down the valleys and small freckles you didn’t even know existed. With a shaky inhale, “Minho.” 

He pauses, left hand dug deep into the fabric of your clothes and the right hand twisting at the waistband of your underwear, desperate. 

It worries you as much as it does lick at your sex drive. 

His desperation. 

You want it. 

Minho’s eyes flicker upwards to meet yours in an intense stare. Biting at his lips, he straightens his posture, form looming over yours with barely restrained tension, “Jeongin…he’s never gonna be what he should….” 

His words and his eyes, they all feel so heavy all of a sudden, drooping from your heart like a fat teardrop. 

“But you-” He swallows, “You’re the only thing I’m sure of.” 

Your stare implores into his eyes, glazed with feeling and you’re the one to kiss him first. Soft and  sweet, until it isn’t and it’s just as hungry as it was before. This time, only more loaded. 

Everything is a team effort. 

You rip at his shirt as you try to remove it from his upper body, revealing a strong chest and a stomach that calls to be marked up by your nails and your lips and your arousal. His arms envelop you and your moan is guttural as your hands slip around his shoulder blade and feel his muscle thrum underneath your touch, his skin raising in anticipation. 

You lift your waist as he peels your underwear from your body, legs locking impatiently to which he has to hold down at your hungry waist. 

His eyes are the danger to your hunger, promising to feed you with his cock and growling at the way he slips past your swollen lips and down your aching throat. You suck him until his eyes start to droop and you wouldn’t have stopped. You didn’t want to. But he wanted a different story. 

He kisses at your pussy, admiring how it glistens with every lick and suck. Every kiss. How your thighs start to shake as he groans into your core, tongue fucking you just to see how unsettled you get. 

You’re wild, nameless and unashamed. Begging for him like a bitch in heat.

“Put it in,” You hear pleading, it’s you but it doesn’t feel like you. 

“I could,” Minho nods, “Or I do what I want.” 

His fingers sink into your pussy, almost moaning at how warm and wet you are. You moan, “Min-fuck.” 

He grins now, his lips latching onto your clit in order to bring you to orgasm. You tremble underneath his order, hips jerking uncontrollably at your orgasm. You’re moaning and whining and every word is now replaced with curse words. 

“Oh,” You cry as he brings you to climax, fireworks exploding and colours you can’t name attacking you like thunder, “Min….” 

With a final kiss he separates from you, watching your chest heave and attempt to return to normal. Skin blotchy with varying degrees of delicious heat across your legs and chest, looping around your heart and your ears. 

You smile and are rewarded by the type of sparkly grin only he can wear, mischief playing games in his dark brown pupils. 

He is beautiful and he is love. 

“Min-fuck, huh?” He chuckles to which you can’t help but attempt to bring him closer, wanting to feel his warmth. 

“You should legally change it,” You playfully suggest and you love that his laugh trinkles all parts of you, as if your body is wired to him. 

“Should I now?” He smiles, finger pointing playfully into your naked exposed chest, grin widening as you giggle in reply. You love it. 

You hate it when you can see the eventual grin fade into the hooded look that terrified you earlier. It terrifies you even more when he closes his eyes so you can’t see it. 

“Min-” 

“You ready to go again?” Minho looks at you, soft in the eyes but tense everywhere else. 

You nod, letting his hands squeeze at your thighs, head tilting as he runs the tip of his cock along the thick paste of the highs he can take you to, body welcoming the familiar fullness as he sinks into you, thrusting experimentally. 

You whine, opening your legs wider to encourage him to take his own pleasure from you. But he doesn’t need it, not when he fucks you like he owns you and controls the rate of your pleasure. 

He thrusts forward, meeting your hips and mouth dropping in focus, breathing heavy as skin slaps against skin. 

You make eye contact with him, the connection between you a neon blue. Without a word, he buries his face into your neck and his cock into your core. Dragging you closer to the high once again, your pussy sopping. 

As you both are brought closer to orgasm, your bodies start to move in a frenzy, the decorum dropping as the both of you become more and more starved. His fingers curl into your hair harshly, simultaneously thrusting and rubbing against your clit. 

You come with a moan, followed three seconds later by the stutter of his hips and his sharp exhale. He’s hungry as he kisses you, unrecognisable as he devours you into a kiss that leaves you dumb, kissing as you both come down from your high. 

He sleeps beside you that night and you huddle to seek his warmth. Seek Minho. Escape the outside world like you have done so many times before. Feeling his love and your love. Your proper love. Feeling it in this room and despairingly begging not to feel it anywhere else.  

The face you see isn’t the one you’ve seen all week, but the one who has yearned to see you. That had passed on a girl trying to get in his pants last week and had aired a constant fuck without your knowledge. 

The car you see is also a new one. You pause, open mouthed as you study the sleek sports car in front of you, not being able to name it but appreciating it all the same. 

“Is this your car?” 

Hyunjin shakes his head, admitting with buried shame, “No.” 

“Then why are you in it?” You laugh, your eyes on him now, studying him like he’s some sort of enigma. 

“It’s not like I’m trying to date you or anything….” He bites his lip, staring at you with a look that flusters you to your core. 

His eyes don’t sparkle like you’re expecting, but they’re lined with something alluring and pull you in with promises that ring in your ears. Sharp in places that are soft, and soft in places that are sharp. A freckle in a place that’s new. 

He smiles, letting it grow as he puts the car into drive, following the road with his heart fluttering at an uncontrollable level. 

“So what are we doing today?” You ask when you just can’t handle his smile any longer. 

He peeks at the console in between you, pressing the button to reveal a single cardboard cut card. You raise an eyebrow, reaching greedily for it. You catch yourself, eyeing at the cute little drawing at the start. 

“Did you draw this?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re talented,” You smile at him before flicking the card over to read the contents, “Mini scavenger hunt must do ... .date is not over until all is completed. Sounds a bit…trappy.”

“Baby, my forte is sketching not writing,” He sasses, turning the steering wheel left, “Read on.” 

“Must pose in these four positions for a photo ... Try a food the colour of our outfits,” You peek at the abundance of green you’re wearing and his red jacket, “Oh thank god. Buy a present for each other….” 

Hyunjin watches as you read each sentence carefully, devising a game plan already, “Do you wanna do the photobooth first and finish with the present?” 

At the first instance that your face changes, he rushes to add, “There’s no timer or anything. It’s just a date between us two.. No secret other teams you need to worry about.” 

You kiss your teeth in displeasure, shoving at him with your hand lightly, “I wasn’t thinking that!” 

Hyunjin raises his eyebrows in defiance, “Mmm sure.” 

You pout, letting him lead you to the main collection of stores and cute little date stops, he holds your hand quick in comparison to the way your eyes dance between the little cute headbands and soft plushies at the wake of the photobooths. 

The photobooth is a lot more comfier than expected, tight enough you can feel the details of Hyunjin’s arms through the fabric of his blouse and the way his heart bleats in his chest. You school your face enough that Hyunjin won’t be able to tell it flusters you, to have him this close. 

But he’s not playing fair, because when his large hands wrap you within his hold and his chin rests on the crown of your head, it’s an embrace you associate with someone else. An embrace you associate with love and the fear overruns you. 

Hyunjin is beautiful. His lips are plush and always have you begging for them almost. An unseen power you’ve never felt before. Even with Minho. But Minho is also someone you can’t really have, morally, socially… 

Hyunjin is a game. You know that, and yet you don’t want to separate from him. It’s easy to be with him. Too easy. So easy you forget about Felix for more than one moment. You forget about Minho. 

You’re a girl with a boy that can. Can do all the things he’s doing with you. Who could probably kiss the shit out of you in this photo booth and take off running with the evidence. Could show Felix, and it wouldn’t be the same. 

So you let Hwang Hyunjin hold you. 

Hold you like he’s in love. 

Hold you like you’re in love. 

And perhaps a part of you is… in love with him, that is. Or in love with the feeling, all the more, you took those photos with new heat in your cheeks and enjoyment in the way your skin skimmed against his with every movement. The way his throat bobbed and his voice made the hair on the back of your neck shift. How the bones stiffened and rewired themselves to fit his frame against your back. 

He leads you through the mall, the abundance of the throng becoming more prominent as you get closer to the food court. A shoulder almost barging into you within a second, Hyunjin too occupied with his own obstacle to catch it early enough. 

“Woah,” He mutters, glaring at the harsh pull of someone barging into you a second time, “The fuck.” 

He’s half a second away from digging the jewel of his expensive ring into the dude’s gut with a thick slab of burning lava to embalm the pain when you pull him away from his anger. A coolness washing over him as you pull him closer to you. You wrap yourself around him like he’s your protector and it’s so cute. 

Too much, you’re too much. 

“Can we eat in the car?” You plead so quietly that Hyunjin almost misses what you say. But he agrees wordlessly as his eyes flick across every option for what looks the best or what has the smallest line. 

“What do you want? I can get it and you can go to the car if you want?” Hyunjin offers. 

You shake your head, digging further into his body and he almost forgets he’s in the middle of foot traffic, “Let’s get whatever.” 

He nods, pulling you towards a small snack shack in the corner run by a kind elderly woman and her middle-aged son. The pair greet you warmly and it instantly has you a lot calmer than the rest of the food court. Hyunjin is grateful as he orders, the son has you in a polite but distracting conversation and he gets to hold your hand whilst he does it. 

“I hope you get married!” The elderly woman cheers at the pair of you as soon as Hyunjin orders, her grin wide and toothy. 

“Mum! I’m so sorry!” Her son warns, before he apologetically smiles, “Sorry she’s a little traditional and nosy.” 

Hyunjin is a little flustered, eyes wide open but quick to play along, leaning forward, “Only time will tell, Halmeoni.” 

The lady’s mouth rounds into a teasing ‘O’ and he loves the way your expression drops in complete surprise, tripping over yourself as he leads the two of you away once again, “You’re insane.” 

“I’m aiming for exclusivity, baby, get used to it.” 

Even you can’t control the smirk that crosses your face at the teasing snark. 

You instantly let out a sigh as you sit in the quiet and calm car, the only noise being Hyunjin’s door as he closes it, enveloping the two of you in a world of brown paper bags filled with greasy salty and sweet snacks and a spicy bowl of tteokbokki. 

Hyunjin snorts, holding up the sad excuse of two baby toothpicks and one set of chopsticks, “I think that lady was really trying to raise the marriage rates.” 

“She wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been egging her on,” You assert, tone lowering in a faux sense of righteousness. 

“You had every opportunity to let go of my hand and you didn’t,” Hyunjin sassed, frowning as his mouth opened to let some of the good food in. 

“How did you even come up with the photobooth idea and the- wait, we didn't get anything green!” You grumble, looking at the lack of green with the severity of homicide. 

“We got something red, it’s fine,” Hyunjin laughs. 

“No but the note said-” 

“Forget the note, okay? It was a little fun and it was just an idea that I got from someone,” Hyunjin shrugs. 

“Oh who?” You cock your head. 

“Felix’s girlfriend,” Hyunjin adds, dipping the toothpick into another tteok greedily, missing the way your expression slightly changes for a fraction of a second. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. Asked her for some ideas and she was so nosy about it too, asked if she knew you,” Hyunjin chewed, and pettily you made a note that he didn’t eat so pretty, “I said it was none of her business and she had a go at me.” 

“Had a go at you?” 

“Yeah,” Hyunjin nods, “I apologised, obviously.” 

You nod, silence filling the gap between you to a timescape that exceeds comfort. But Hyunjin, a dumb boy, of course suspects anything but the reason to be the problem. 

“If it bothers you so much I can go get something green,” Hyunjin offers, reading your face all wrong. 

You shake your head, unruly thoughts running amok between the two of you. The three of you. 

“Let’s just do the next one, what is it?” 

“Presents for each other.” 

You let it distract you and it does have a reasonable impact. You slowly but surely forget about what had transpired in the car. You had played with the idea of buying him something you’re pretty sure everybody likes generally but you couldn’t let the tin of water colour pencils out of your head. 

You picked it up, thumbing at the dips of the letters and the raised darkened lines that surround them, mouth puckered in thought. 

Sighing, you let the tin fall into the basket, buying the pencils with only a polite smile but overall a terrible mood. 

You sit at the meeting area first, mood sporadically increasing and decreasing in positivity all throughout, waiting for him to come meet you with a straight face, peering at the pencils indifferently. 

Indifferently. 

Easier said, harder to do when the guy you’re mad at with no right to, confidently strolls to meet you with a smile that lights up the world. So bright and kind and everything, you forget the reason you’re mad at him. He holds up the bag with a grin, and you hold back your bag. 

Surprisingly, when he sees you he can’t control his excitement, cupping your face in an attempt to withhold it, “Now…” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Now?” 

He furrows his eyebrows but his grin is too wide to hold any guilt, “I didn’t just buy it, okay. I thought about it. Carefully.” 

“What?” 

He pulls his bag around his frame, pulling the contents out in front of you, your eyes widening at the fucking camera he holds in front of you, “Woah, Hyunjin, huh? huh?” 

He smiles even wider than you thought was possible, his first impression completely dissipating the brighter it gets. 

“Hyunjin, I can’t- I can’t accept this,” You shake your head, making no attempts to grab it. 

“I told you, I picked it out carefully. You’ve got an eye for it but if you don’t want it you can give it to someone el-” 

“No but,” You dig your hands in your own bag to pull out the tin, “I brought you pencils… I even thought they were too expensive.” 

“And I love them,” Hyunjin fondly smiles at you, “Thank you.” 

So fucking sweet about it. 

“Here, you keep them both,” You decide, placing them back into your bag and holding them out to him. He reaches forward, picking at the present you got him, speeding into a fast walk and abandoning the expensive ass camera and its bag on the ground. 

“Hyunjin!” You exclaim, voice reaching a new octave you’ve never reached ever in your life. 

“Sorry, can’t hear you, if you don’t want it, just leave it there, I guess someone will accept my gift!”

“Hyunjin!”

Jeongin looks nothing like them, and you’re glad that the only thing you have left from that time of your life, the only thing you ever wanted from them is not tainted. He's lost a bit of weight in his face, and his features are a lot sharper than a couple of months ago. But he’s healthy. So incredibly healthy.

He’s smiling. 

Like he’s your baby again. 

“Noona,” His tone has a curl in it now, throaty in a way that puberty is caring for it by playing with it, nothing like the high tone he carried before, “I can’t accept this.” 

You smile, the similarities between you are bittersweet, “You can.” 

“I can’t. This looks expensive,” He observes, holding up the camera box to his eye level. 

“Don’t worry about that,” You huff, “It was a present.” 

“From Minho?” He asks, head tilting and you’re a little sad by it. 

“No.” 

He frowns, concern flashing in his eyes in a way it shouldn’t at seventeen, but one you’ve seen too many times from him to count, “You’re not doing anything stupid, are you noona?” 

“No,” You laugh, a cry caught in your cheeks, “No, I’m okay.” 

“Are you?” 

“Yes, Jeongin,” You laugh, “Ahh, look at you being all responsible for your older sister.” 

“You can’t stop me. You’re my sister, Y/N. Mine.” 

With tears in his eyes, you can’t help but join in, dragging him into your embrace, letting your whole body soak up the shit the two of you have gone through together. 

“Absolutely. Think about it as additions, Innie. Your parents. My parents. Felix…..Minho.” 

“But Minho-” 

“But nothing, they were the best fit for you, and I rather you be with people I know that are better than anywhere else.” 

“Well what about you?” He splutters, “How do you think I feel knowing you’re somewhere else? Why can’t we be together and you and Minho hyung can be-” 

Your face crumbles, your hands falling into his hair affectionately, “Because I know how much you love them and how much it would’ve hurt to leave them.” 

“But you were hurt as well-” 

“I know,” You nod, “But this is just the way it is now and my parents? They’re good people. Felix as well. You would like him.” 

“Felix.” 

“Felix.” 

“....Is he better than me?” 

“No. And you aren’t better than him either, Mister. But he’s my brother and yours too, if you like.” 

The sentence hangs between you like a bad smell. 

“No,” He shakes his head, “He’s just your brother and Minho is just mine.” 

“Jeongin…” 

“You love Minho,” His eyes implore into yours, holding your hands with a tight but not hurtful grip. There’s love in his hands and it’s a love you can trust. 

“I do….don’t I?” 

And the confusion on his face, breaks you all the same.

Hyunjin plated the pasta plentifully, generous with the serving. The mouth watering scent of garlic and oil with a hint of chilli and a bit of cheese for the cheese pull you'll be competing with him over later wafting throughout the room.

"I'll go put on a movie," You had said, leaving to choose a good movie from his collection of DVDs, humming thoughtfully and pleasantly.

Hyunjin seasons the pasta with a bit of salt and pepper, t after you with the pasta and smiling at the proud display in front of him.

While he had cooked, you were in charge of the table. You had put a spoon to twirl the pasta in and good fork and knives. You even found candles and an uneven number of red napkins.

The two of you sit across from each other, distracted by the conversation.

It's hard to say what you were talking about.

Neither of you can really remember. But you enjoyed it. You both did. You even talk a lot when you finish the meal, waiting for him to finish.

"There's a lot of chick flicks on the top of your DVD collection?" You trail off purposely.

"Ah, Felix's girlfriend. A couple of other girls. They like them and I enjoy them," He shrugs, "No big deal.'

"Oh," You nod, slightly quiet now before rising from your seat to start the clean up. Hyunjin, belatedly realising why and wanting to punch himself, "The girls or the movies?"

"The movies," Hyunjin pouts.

"Not both?" You sound jealous and petty and definitely not the girl you're supposed to be around him.

Hyunjin watches you with an open mouth, eyebrows furrowing when you wordlessly start to fill the wash basin with soapy detergent water. He stalks towards you with his mouth in a thin line, turning off the tap with a decisive motion.

You turn to him with your mouth all flat and your face all wrong.

"Hey," He says seriously, his hands cupping your face and he's so warm and gentle, "I'm really serious about you."

His thumbs circle the roundness of your cheeks, watching to see you realise how serious he is about you. Not just hearing him say it, but also understanding that whatever had happened with any girl before, happened. But that's over.

He's only interested in you now.

You leans forward to kiss you, his lips cushioning yours with a tinge of sweetness. Not being able to resist it, you squeeze at the fabric of his waist, bringing his body to you a little closer.

It's familiar. But it's not.

It could feel a little better than...

He pulls away, the two of you in some sort of daze. He smiles, his nose brushing and rubbing against yours almost playfully, letting himself giggle at how lame he is.

"You're cute jealous"

"I'm cuter when you're not flirting with my brother's girlfriend," You scowl, instantly pissed.

"I'm not," Hyunjin rolled his eyes, the two of you no longer wrapped up in some puppy loved up spell, now replaced with something darker.

"Hyunjin."

Hyunjin smiles, his tongue in the roof of his mouth, mimicking, "Hyunjin."

Your eyes zero in on his lips, swallowing at the way he traps you. His looming presence making your lower body crave him. You close your mouth, worried that anything you say may be paired with an unhealthy amount of drool.

"Jin-"

"You gonna give me a warning?” He raises his eyebrows, "Give me a warning. I obviously need it."

"Hyunjin," You growl.

He growls back with his gut, sounding a little too close to a moan. But he doesn't feel embarrassed, no. Something in him wants you to act on your jealousy and act in a way that'll have him buckle at the knee.

"Give it to me, baby," He croons.

You scowl, your hand wrapping around his neck. At his wince, you pull back, the cloud between you both dissolving.

He tsks disappointedly, a hand slipping to the nape of your neck and bringing you forward so you're right against his frame, "Maybe you just feel guilty."

"What would I feel guilty about?" You challenge, snorting. Head angled upwards to meet his eye.

"Because you know you have no room to stand on being jealous," Hyunjin tilts his head, "Yeah, I had girls before. But they're not here now, are they?"

"No?"

"No," He enunciates into your ear, just so you can hear him. Hear there's no hesitation. Hear there's no ounce of lie in what he's saying. Feel that he wants you, "No girls here. Ever. Felix's girlfriend included. That's your brother's girl. Not mine. Not now, not then, not ever.”

You don't say anything, hearing him hiss into your ear, his words and his voice heading straight to your core. The smell of his perfume spicy and so red. You can feel his heartbeat on your back, along your shoulders and wrapped in his arms, a heat.

A kind of heat that makes you uncontrollably charged, waiting for the perfect timing to attack.

"Understand?" He meets your eyes, blown the fuck out and he charges forward claiming your lips.

The scent he's wearing isn't just spice but the kind of musk that sets forth every kind of movement you're taking.

You feel at the way he traps your wrists with his tight grip against the bench, a slight hiss of pain against the waist of your back, soothed by the way his lips fall to your neck and fall down to your shoulders.

You push back, unable to withhold the need to lead him into the living room, the sexy sleek couch from your memory impossible to ignore.

He doesn't care.

Too enthralled by the way you taste under his tongue, the way your body moulds underneath his large hands like putty. The way control feels when you have it.

You kiss, a flurry of sounds that sound delicious and dirty and full of flesh.

He falls backwards, righting himself slightly as you slide over him, kissing him all over again. He uses his hands to pull your face closer to his, your tongues moving languidly before his hands fall to your waist, grinding your body against his.

You whine into the kiss, and he does it again, feeling your resolve crumble at the feeling of his hardening clothed cock against your pussy. The friction just right.

He lifts his pelvis upwards into your core, feeling the way you melt onto his body, letting yourself feel good. He's hard against your soft, and you wonder whether he can feel just how wet you are.

You plant your knees into the couch, rubbing yourself on him, feeling twitchy at the pleasure.

You mewl, listening to the way he grunts, holding your ass into him tightly, helping you slide against him.

Even through the layers of clothes the two of you are wearing, he makes you feel so good.

You make him feel so good.

The thought makes you scream, and whine and a rush of sounds that Hyunjin will commit to memory for the rest of his life.

He comes first, a slight grunt and groan escaping his mouth and his nails digging into the fabric of pants desperately, wanting to tear into it further with his teeth.

You follow after him, grinding desperately until you tighten your thighs around his frame.

"You're so cute coming like this," He comments with a tired smile, watching as you desperately chase after your orgasm as if it will run away from you.

Your core meets his pelvis harder and harder. Tightening and thrusting against him. He winces, overstimulated and throws his head back before his hands grip at your ass, helping you see the finale. Colours spill out of the two of you, rendering you blind and you have to rely on your muscle memory to find his mouth again.

You're kissing him the best you can, messily moving your lips against each other until the cloud that left you all hazy falls away completely.

He's beautiful, beads of sweat decorating his forehead and slicked in his hair. Eyes half lidded and ridden with the promise of sex and lust. Mouth swollen, pink and stamped with claim. Face pretty with your finger prints.

Skin deliciously begging to be decorated with your marks.

Kisses. Bites. Sucks.

The possibilities are endless.

Another cloud looms over you, darkly watching him like he's your prey. Dangerously waiting for the moment to pounce.

And he's nothing but a willing participant, teasing you with that sexy smirk of his.

You slide off him, lowering yourself off the couch and leaving a wet patch on his pants that has him momentarily captured, his hand falls into it to inspect it, circling his finger into the mess he made of you before tasting it.

It's when he feels you squeeze around the fabric of his pants by his waist, belt buckle clinking with the movement. You pause, staring at him, holding his attention and keeping it there just for a moment.

He exhales through his nose, feeling himself harden all over again. You're relentless, eyes swimming with lust, cloth bunched underneath your palm, ignoring his growing cock and taking his eyes as your own. He bites down of his lip restlessly.

You take pity on him, brazenly removing his pants and underwear from his waist all the way down to his calf at once. Instantly wrapping your hand around his shaft experimentally. You open your mouth to speak.

He swallows, waiting for you to speak the words you test within your mouth before you say them.

It's a game that he struggles in.

Every time you open your mouth, his focus has to be called upon. Analytically focused. Because as soon as he gets distracted, he's taken. Like a siren. Watching the way your lips form letters, and he's particularly drawn to the way you form the letters 'L', 'O' and 'U' specifically. How they would feel in the back of your throat with his cock in your mouth.

"You're mine now," You whisper, "Right?"

He inhales sharply, letting out a crass laugh, "Have been since you first kissed me-"

His smile is pretty, but the way it crumples is prettier. His eyes roll back at the feeling of your warm wet mouth around the tip of his cock, and the drag of your lips down his shaft all the way until he can feel those letters in the back of your throat.

He groans, loud and uncontrolled. Unable to help himself, his hands wrap around your head pushing you deeper. Feeling your breathing constrict slightly before he loosens his hold, letting oxygen rush back into your lungs as you lean back, cock removed with a pop.

"Naughty," You comment, hand wrapping tightly around him as punishment.

“Not gentle,” He corrects you, wincing at the stimulation shortly after, “Tried to warn yo- fuck."

If your kisses were dirty before, they're absolutely hellish now. The way your mouth fits on him, sucks at him. Feeling your cheeks hollow and his body twitch. Your tongue running across the nerves like some track athlete and feeling all control slip out of him.

He's a frantic mess trapped inside a frozen body that tenses, and exhales pleasure through tightly closed lips wanting to hear the way you gag around him.

He moans again, hands pulling at your hair to make a makeshift ponytail, watching the saliva dribble down your chin and then the way your eyes are cross faded.

Gorgeous.

"I'm going to come," He warns, pulling at the hold he has of you attempting to pull you off his cock to no success. You stay firmly where you are, breathing through your nose with a strong inhale and slow exhale.

He tenses and then you feel it, the thick spurts of cum that no doubt decorate that entirety of your insides by the end of the night will play in his head like no other. His mental wellbeing at risk.

You pull away with a massive grin on your face, wiping at your mouth like you've won the lottery and straddling his lap again, returning to your perch on top of him.

"You're crazy," Hyunjin chortles, thumb rubbing against your cheek fondly, and your lungs fill with pride.

His tongue dances around his cheek in thought, tapping at your skin and rubbing at your thigh, moving only if you give him a look. Voice out your wants and your needs to him like he needs you to.

He'll return the favour.

"If you want something, ask," You whisper, your tone innocent but the way you look at him at war with that image. The implication underneath the surface, preying on him, "Hmm?"

He likes to follow your words and he follows them unconsciously abiding.

"I want to lick the shit out of your pussy," He murmurs, in a trance. Mouth watering at the invitation that is sealed within your lips and hidden underneath cloth.

"Lick the shit out of my pussy?" You giggle.

"Yeah."

"How?" You muse, tilting your head, "Do you know where the clit is, baby?"

"You know I do," He growls back in challenge, teeth gritted at the idea. He knows you're winding him up but he plays into it.

"You want to prove it to me?" You smile, eyes lingering on his mouth.

"Absolutely."

No hesitation.

"You didn't answer my question before," You comment instead, purposely keeping your eyes trained on the wall behind him, "How will you lick the shit out of my pussy?"

"It's an answer that doesn't involve as many words as you're thinking..." Hyunjin smiles, "Just actions."

You like that answer.

You like it a lot.

Your pussy craves it, in fact.

"Let me show how I'll ruin other men for you," Hyunjin provokes in a daring manner and your mind briefly flashes before it returns to the moment.

"I hope not," You mutter under your breath, pausing to wait for any inclination that Hyunjin heard it. But all there is him correcting himself.

He looks at you then. With his eyes glittering like they're yours and mouth all claimed with bites and kisses. Possessiveness like a trap that hooks you in like a fatal flaw.

"Okay."

He doesn't smile, sliding himself out from underneath you, and your legs spread naturally open to accomodate him. Your eyes flutter shut briefly at the feeling of his soft hair tickling the skin of your inner thigh.

He kisses there.

Everywhere.

Below your navel, the ends of his hair reaching underneath your tits. The feeling filling you with sky blue air and mountain clouds, only to be grounded with the assertive kiss on your mound.

The force of pleasure from your core reaching out to him like old lovers.

His head is in between your thighs and he doesn't hold back. He's kissing you, moaning into you. Whining and the sounds he makes covers the sound of your squirming.

He clasps down on your thighs so hard they'll bruise the next morning, but for now all you can focus on is how easy he's making you come purely with his mouth.

He alternates between licking and sucking at your clit, the nerves surely spent but hungry in their need to be stimulated by him. You bunch his hair underneath your fist, feeling the power that people boast about online.

And then his tongue is in you. Thrusting in and out of you and you can see his whole body is involved in your pleasure.

It's the first time you've ever experienced it.

Tongue buried in your core like this. Wriggling around in there. It's not like cock, pleasurable but predictable. You know what that feels like.

You thought you knew what a tongue could do.

How a tongue could do.

But you realise quickly you don't, because Hyunjin's tongue makes you come in a minute and Hyunjin's tongue doesn't waste a single fucking moment to not only taste you, but to swallow you like you did him.

He pulls away, face covered in you and he's an absolute mess, you want to do things to him.

"Fuck you," You snarl, kissing him immediately. He tastes like you and you taste like him, the both of you mix together with your tongues and you can't find anything in you to dislike it.

Or pretend.

He kisses you harshly back, pulling at his pants hurriedly and you rush to remove your top and your bra from your body, his hand quickly replacing it.

You moan, loving the feeling of his hand. Sometimes his grip is soft and other times it's a bit harder, especially when he grounds against you, no longer restricted by clothing.

You lift your leg, as he lines himself up at your entrance, all to then watch as he sinks himself into you.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Holy fuck.

Oh.

"Oh fuck," You breathe, feeling the delicious burn as his cock slowly drags along your walls. He feels so fucking good inside of you. More so than last time.

You don't know what changed.

Where you make all these curses of pleasure, Hyunjin is trying not to come on the spot. Your walls are warm and wet, swallowing him like your mouth but even better. Your words are in his ear and he thinks that maybe if he got you pregnant-

"You're so fucking good," Hyunjin hisses, hand grabbing desperately at your face now, clumsily grappling for a grip that won't hurt you but add to the pleasure the two of you are experiencing at this moment.

"Move, Hyunjin," You command and he's so good at following orders...

He thrusts into you, letting your moans fuel his fire. Letting the rivers of his heart fill with you, his brain changing its way for you with every single drive of his hips. Every time his skin slaps against yours, your hands in a stupor tensing and morphing in what he believes is art.

You're art.

His tongue prods at his cheek, art is something he hasn't thought about in a long time.

But you-

You.

He can't help but stare at you, the tears welling in your eyes and he focuses on that one angle. The one where your mouth drops, your throat exposed to him and a scream choked.

He snaps his hips, over and over again.

Feeling himself get to that moment too.

He really thinks this is love. And it should scare him, but it doesn't because he's never been more sure.

Art. You. The two aren't very separate, art is you. You are art. Hyunjin comes with you and when you look at him with eyes like you do, a softness. A reflection. Soul.

Poetry in a glance.

And yet when you speak, it's not so poetic, "I actually did want to watch the movie."

You cuddle into him, hair all static and messy. Threaded and dented with his fingers. Restarting the movie at once.

But he can't stop thinking about the poetry.

About the love.

His love.

It's you.

author's note : my my i have finally updated this bad boy and sorry it still took awhile. it's so long and editing was difficult so i apologise if there's mistakes, i'm just happy to finish. i hope you enjoyed it and it doesn't suck, i also hope it answered a few questions you might've had. this chapter was also supposed to be a lot longer but i decided that i wanted to upload a lot sooner and quite frankly the word count would've crashed my computer. so this insight chapter will get a part two <3 so hope you stick around for that.

[kathlare]

colliding realities

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Max reveals that Amelie, whom Lando thought might still be a possibility, is now with someone else. The news hits hard, forcing Lando to confront the painful truth that his hopes of reconciling with Amelie may be forever out of reach.

Wordcount: 1.5 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

September 22nd, 2022 - London, United Kingdom

Lando’s London apartment had a familiar hum to it. The type of hum that came with the absence of anything truly exciting—just a bunch of guys lounging on the couch, a game on TV that no one was really watching, and the clinking of beer bottles as Max, Tom, and Martin drifted in and out of conversations.

Lando was leaning against the kitchen counter, grabbing a bottle of water. He’d been zoning out, trying to ignore the way his friends kept glancing at him with these weird, knowing looks. He had caught it a few times already. Tom would nudge Martin, both of them exchanging some silent dialogue that made the air feel tense and full of unspoken words. Max, on the other hand, was doing his usual thing: sitting back, pretending like nothing was wrong but looking like he knew something was about to blow up.

It was hard to ignore, but Lando wasn’t in the mood to dig. Maybe it was just the tiredness from travel or the dull ache in his chest that never seemed to go away these days, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with whatever it was.

He twisted the cap off the water bottle, taking a long drink, his mind wandering. But as he finished, he could still feel the eyes on him.

Sighing, he pushed off the counter and headed back toward the living room, where his friends were huddled together like they were plotting something. He barely made it to the doorway when he overheard a snippet of conversation.

—Max, you have to tell him.—

—Yeah, seriously. It’s been long enough. He needs to know.—

Lando stopped dead in his tracks. His stomach sank a little. What the hell were they talking about?

His feet froze, but he didn’t want to be obvious, so he slowly leaned back against the wall, careful not to make a sound. He couldn’t quite make out everything, but the pieces were enough to make his curiosity flare.

—What? Tell me what?— Lando’s voice cut through the air suddenly as he pushed himself back into the room, fully stepping into view.

The three of them looked up, the air immediately shifting to something more tense, like he’d walked into the middle of a secret. They exchanged uneasy glances, and Lando couldn't quite read their faces.

Tom and Martin exchanged a few more uncertain looks before Tom cleared his throat and stood up from the couch.

—Alright, alright, we’ll leave you two to it,— Tom said, his voice laced with a playful but strained tone, as if they were getting out of the way of something they weren’t quite sure about.

Martin followed suit, standing up and giving Lando a quick look before walking towards the door. —We’ll be outside, just... take your time,— he said, his voice carrying a subtle edge of awkwardness.

They both disappeared out the door, leaving Lando standing in the middle of the living room, his heart pounding a little faster now, unsure of what was going on. Max didn’t say anything for a beat, letting the silence hang in the air between them.

Finally, Max rubbed his hand over his face, leaning back against the arm of the couch, his expression shifting into something more serious.

—Lando, mate...— he started, his voice quieter than usual. He looked like he was about to say something big, something Lando hadn’t expected.

Lando crossed his arms, trying to act casual, but his stomach was already starting to churn.

—What’s going on, Max? What do I need to know?—

Max hesitated for a moment before locking eyes with him, the weight of the conversation settling in. Lando could feel it in his gut, the tension thick in the room. Max didn’t just look worried. He looked like he was trying to decide if he should even say anything at all.

Max leaned forward slightly, the words weighing heavy on his tongue as he met Lando's gaze.

—Do you remember the other day when we were talking about those rumors, the ones about Amelie and Rodrigo? How ridiculous we thought they were?— Max asked, his voice steady but tinged with something Lando couldn’t quite place.

Lando's heart skipped a beat. He could feel his breath catch in his throat, but he tried not to show it. It was just gossip, right? Ridiculous rumors. He didn’t believe them for a second. He never had. He had brushed it off in the past, thinking there was no way Amelie would ever be interested in someone like Rodrigo Riquelme. It didn’t add up.

—Yeah, I remember.— Lando’s voice was flat, but inside, he was already bracing himself for whatever was coming next.

Max took a deep breath, his face hardening slightly as he spoke again, his tone more serious now.

—I saw them the other day. Right outside the building, just before I was heading out.— Max’s eyes dropped for a moment, clearly recalling the scene. —Amelie and Rodrigo... they were together. And not just in passing, mate. They were... cozy. Whispering to each other, holding hands. And, honestly, I’m pretty sure they kissed.—

Lando froze, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. His mind couldn’t process it right away. Amelie. Rodrigo. Kissing.

It didn’t make sense.

Lando had just gotten out of something messy with Luisinha, and now... now he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, Amelie could be a possibility again. A chance to fix things between them, even if it was a long shot. He’d been single for a while now, and maybe... maybe she would be open to something again. They’d had their history, their connection. He’d felt that pull recently when he thought about her, the old flirtation, the chemistry that never quite died.

But this? This changed everything.

He didn’t let it show. He couldn’t. Max was watching him closely, and Lando didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it stung. Instead, he exhaled slowly, trying to keep his tone neutral.

—Are you sure?— He could feel the knot in his stomach tighten. He didn’t want to believe it, but the way Max was looking at him told him this wasn’t just idle gossip.

—Yeah, I’m sure, mate.— Max’s gaze was unwavering now. —I saw it with my own eyes. They were... well, close— he said, emphasizing the word as if to make Lando understand the weight of it. —And I know it’s hard, but you should hear it from me, not from some random rumor mill. I figured you’d want to know.—

Lando’s chest felt tight, like the walls of the room were closing in on him. He didn't want to admit how badly the news hit him, but the pressure was building, and he couldn't fight it anymore. He tried to keep himself composed, to act like it didn’t matter, but it was impossible.

His eyes flickered to the floor, his jaw clenching as the weight of Max’s words sank in. It wasn’t just a rumor anymore. Max had seen it with his own eyes—Amelie, the one person Lando thought he might be able to try again with, the one person he hadn’t completely let go of... was with someone else. And it wasn’t just some fling. It was real. It was serious.

His thoughts raced, flooding him with regret. He had thought, maybe, if he kept his distance and moved on, there would be a chance for them again. Maybe after everything had settled down, after all the messiness and misunderstandings, they could reconnect. But now, it felt like that possibility was slipping further and further away with every second.

Max, of course, noticed the change in Lando. His friend’s face had gone pale, his expression tight, and Max didn’t need to be a genius to see that Lando was struggling to keep himself together. He had been through enough to know the signs.

—Lando...— Max’s voice softened, but there was no sugar-coating what he had just told him. He took a step closer, his voice lowering further. —I know this sucks, man. But... it’s better you hear it from me, right? I didn’t want you going on thinking she might be out there waiting for you. Because, from what I saw... she’s not.—

Lando’s hands curled into fists at his sides. His heart was in his throat, his emotions twisting in every direction. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, all that came out was a frustrated laugh, the sound hollow and bitter.

—She’s with Rodrigo, huh?— Lando’s voice was raw, cracking slightly as he let out a sigh. —Figures. She deserves someone who can actually... fucking be there for her.—

Max winced at the pain in Lando’s tone. He knew what Lando was feeling. Knew how much he’d tried to move on, how hard he had worked at ignoring the constant ache in his chest whenever Amelie’s name came up. But it didn’t work. And now, seeing her with someone else... it was different. It hurt more than he wanted to admit.

Lando turned away, his eyes staring out of the window. The London skyline blurred in his vision, the lights from the streets below casting a faint glow in the dimly lit room. His mind couldn’t focus on anything else. All he could think about was the image Max had painted for him: Amelie, laughing with Rodrigo, whispering sweet words, holding hands, and maybe... kissing.

Lando had once been the one holding her hand, the one whispering in her ear, the one who saw her smile in a way no one else could. Now that was someone else’s role to play, and that realization hit him harder than anything else.

His breath hitched as he finally let the mask slip. Max could see it, the pain on Lando’s face, the defeat. It was the first time in a long while that Lando hadn’t been able to hide his emotions, the first time his walls cracked enough for someone else to see the damage.

Lando ran a hand through his hair, his voice unsteady as he spoke again.

—Fuck. I lost her, didn’t I? I really lost her for good this time. Didn’t I?— His voice broke as the last words left his mouth. He turned back to face Max, the vulnerability in his eyes a stark contrast to his usual tough exterior.

Max didn’t know what to say. He hated seeing Lando like this, but he also knew the truth needed to come out. He just wished it hadn’t been this way. But there was no avoiding it.

—Mate...— Max said gently, stepping closer, his eyes sympathetic. —You know I’ve got your back, but... yeah, I think you have. I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but if it were me... I wouldn’t keep holding onto the idea that it could be you and her again. Because from where I’m standing, she’s made her choice. And that choice isn’t you.—

Lando nodded slowly, the sting of it all washing over him like cold water. He swallowed hard, trying to regain some semblance of control, but it felt impossible.

—So... that’s it? It’s really over, Max? She’s with him now. She’s not gonna give me a chance to fix things?—

Max opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. He had seen this happen before, and it was the hardest thing to witness. Lando wasn’t just a guy who had his heart broken. He was someone who had believed in something that now felt so far away. He didn’t deserve this. But life wasn’t fair.

—I’m sorry, mate. I really am.— Max’s voice was softer than it had been all night. He took a deep breath and then let it go, his own emotions held in check. He could see Lando was in a bad place right now, and he didn’t want to push too much. —But you’ve got to let her go. It’s not just because she’s with Rodrigo... it’s because... she’s moved on. You need to move on too, or you’re gonna keep hurting yourself over something that’s never gonna happen.—

Lando’s head hung low, his mind racing with thoughts he didn’t want to process. He had been so damn sure that maybe, just maybe, there was still something there between him and Amelie. But now, as he stood there, the weight of reality settled on him, crushing all those hopes into nothing.

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | june 17 - june 23

note: this chapter contains NSFW content. it also contains references to (tw) nudes being leaked (spoiler alert), so if that bothers you or triggers you in any way, you may want to skip over that part. unfortunately, it is pivotal to the story. this chapter is 24.2k, so strap in. it will also be the last chapter for a little while (maybe two-three weeks) because i want to work on some requests and churn those out for my followers who aren't as passionate about this project as i am and some of you are. i need to feed everyone in our community, not just the STG Truthers!!

22:90 – HONEY

“So what happened while you were in the closet with Cole?” Honey asks, biting into a peach slice and gesturing with the remaining food. “We never had the time to discuss it.”

Bea blushes, the apples of her cheeks dusted in a sweet pink. She starts to giggle– the same reaction she has every time that Honey brings Cole up since the events of Seven Minutes in Heaven the day before. 

“Okay, it can’t have been that good,” Honey scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Quit your giggling and tell me what happened.”

“Okay, okay,” Bea says, taking a few deep breaths and calming down. She wipes under her eyes like she’s wiping away tears, but it’s an over exaggeration. Honey is unimpressed by the dramatics from her friend. “I’m only laughing because I severely underestimated him.”

“Severely,” Honey repeats, mouth wide open in surprise. “What happened?”

“So we go in the closet and I’m expecting to talk about Jack and his dick, like I told Cole I would if he spun and landed on me,” Bea says. She’s talking with her hands, waving her own peach slice at Honey. “But I get, like, two words out before Cole interrupts me and asks if I’m actually trying to sleep with everyone this summer.”

“Which you are,” Honey confirms. “So Jack told him?”

“I’m sure he did. I told Cole I was, and then he asked if I wanted him to make things easier for me.”

“What?”

“Then he kissed me and fingered me against the closet door and he made me come before our time was even up,” Bea reveals, counting off on her first three fingers and waving them in Honey’s face.

Honey gasps. “You’re kidding.”

“I am not. He just moved my panties to the side and fucked me with two fingers until I came. All the while, he was telling me about how badly he wanted to get his mouth on me,” Bea sighs, a faraway look in her eyes. “Then we went upstairs and he ate me out until I came three more times. Like, what the fuck?”

“Cole did all this?” Honey asks, barely able to believe it. 

“Dude, Cole,” Bea confirms, nodding vehemently. “I told you. I underestimated him.”

“Has Quinn even made you–”

“No.” Bea shakes her head, cutting Honey off. “Quinn has only made me come twice in a night. Cole made me come four times and we didn’t even fuck.”

Honey’s mouth forms an ‘o,’ but she doesn’t say anything.

Bea nods, holding eye contact with Honey.

“That’s wild,” Honey says.

“Dude, I know,” Bea replies. “I adore Quinn and he’s still my favorite of the guys, but, like… holy shit.”

“Well, you didn’t even fuck,” Honey points out. “Maybe he’s bad in bed and he gives head to make up for it.”

“I don’t give a fuck. If I want head, I’m going to Cole,” Bea states.

“That’s lofty,” Honey says. 

“I’m serious.” 

Honey feels a little stunned, blinking to clear her head. She can’t believe that Cole– Cole Caufield, the giddiest and goofiest man that Honey has met in years– is secretly a master munch.

“Rank them,” Honey suggests. “Of the three that you’ve hooked up with, who’s the best? What are their scores?”

Bea pops the rest of her piece of fruit into her mouth, chewing emphatically. “Great question,” she says. “But also, why do you want to know? Are you interested in joining me this summer? You can’t have Quinn, but I’ll share the other ones.”

“Well, I don’t really want to mess around with any of them, but especially not Jack,” Honey replies.

Bea hums, frowning. “You’re right. I think I’ve committed to the timer idea we had, but it might be too mean as is. I might have to sweeten the deal so I don't feel like a bitch. I have an idea about how, but I’m not sure about it yet.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute. Let me think about this ranking thing.” 

The girls fall into silence. Honey snacks on the rest of her peach slices, sucking the juice off of her fingertips. She cleans up her plate, walking into her kitchen and loading up the dishwasher. 

“Can you get me a pencil and paper?” Bea calls. “I’ll love you forever.”

“You already do,” Honey responds with a roll of her eyes. “Are you actually giving it this much thought?”

“There are a lot of factors!” Bea defends herself, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She cocoons herself in the blanket and seems to enter a conversation with herself in her mind.

Honey would laugh if she didn’t do the exact same thing in the car after her kiss with Jamie on the hike. She had actually spoken out loud to herself, weighing her options before eventually deciding that she needed to indulge Trevor at least once, just to see how she felt after.

The thing is, Honey was attracted to Jamie. She thought he was cute, she wanted to kiss him, and she enjoyed hanging out with him.

On the other hand: he wasn’t Trevor. Honey was drawn to Trevor inherently. That fact is still true after their rushed blowjob in the closet. It’s still true after Trevor’s desperate kiss. Honey hasn’t been able to shake the image of Trevor sinking to his knees and reaching for her. Honey knows she, like Cole, is good at giving head, but she hadn’t expected a reaction like that. 

Trevor was boneless and easy, agreeing not to tell the boys. He was eying her mouth almost constantly after she made him come, leaning into her space and putting his hands all over her. He whined when she stepped away, a sound that Honey can pull from her memory and replay over and over. It was a carnal sound, drawn from the depths of Trevor’s chest, and she swears he hadn’t even made the sound on purpose.

Truthfully, Honey wants to see how far she can go with this. Trevor is frustratingly annoying, filled with jealousy that’s boiling over each time Honey starts to bond with the other guys, and he’s hard to get through to. He’s a challenge.

Honey wanted something easy, she really did, but Trevor bore his soul to her in the closet and it won her over. She couldn’t deny that she wanted him any longer and what happened, happened.

She hasn’t told Bea. 

She really needs to tell Bea.

Honey’s just not sure how to broach the subject. 

As she opens her mouth to blurt out a quick “I sucked Trevor off in the closet while you were upstairs and no one knows but me and him and I don’t know what came over me!,” Bea claps her hands and announces that she’s ready to reveal her ranking.

Honey snaps her mouth shut and gives Bea her full attention.

“I need to seduce Luke if I want to make this a comprehensive list,” Bea clarifies. “So it’s incomplete until I get with him.”

“Okay,” Honey acknowledges, gesturing for Bea to get on with it.

“Jack is on the bottom, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Honey agrees. She and Bea had had an intense discussion the previous day before going to the boys’ house about Bea’s experience with Jack. They had meant to talk about the encounter briefly, but Bea and Honey had started laughing and making jokes about how quickly it was over, and they accidentally lost track of time. They were almost two hours late to the boys’ house last night, but at least Quinn cooked dinner for the girls.

“I’m giving him a five and a half because I feel bad going lower,” Bea decides. “He’s got room for improvement and it was fine. I didn’t come, but he was good at kissing and he made the prettiest little noises.”

“Hmm.” Honey nods her head, keeping silent about her own opinions about a boy making ‘the prettiest little noises.’ She hasn’t heard Jack’s moans, nor does she want to, but there’s no way that Jack sounded prettier than Trevor did while Honey blew him last night.

“Next is Cole,” Bea says. “I’m giving him an eight-point-eight.” 

Honey blinks in surprise. “Shit,” she says, impressed. “Without even fucking you, he’s almost at a nine?”

Bea reminds Honey that Cole made her come four times the previous night, dropping the detail that he never even took her dress off once they were upstairs. All he did was slide her panties down her legs and flip up the hem of her skirt, going down on her like it was the last night on Earth and he couldn’t be bothered to remove her clothes.

It’s appealing, to be honest. Honey might have to dig out one of her own sundresses and see if Trevor has a similar response.

Hmm. She hadn’t planned to hook up with Trevor again after that first time, but he was like a drug. Honey wants to see him be that soft and desperate for affection again. He’s sweet, so sweet, and Honey fears that she might like him a lot more than she wants to. She might even dare to hook up with him again.

She resents that fact. She can barely admit it to herself– nor will she admit it to Bea when she eventually tells her about Trevor. She sure as hell will not admit it to Trevor. He doesn’t need a bigger head.

“Quinn is number one, always,” Bea finishes. 

Honey nods. There was no question about it.

“I give him a nine point seven. He loses part of a point because Cole made me come more times in one night than Quinn has.”

“Are you going to tell him that’s why he’s not a perfect ten?” Honey asks.

Bea thinks about it, tapping her chin. “I’d say no, but he’s so competitive that I think he’d really try to beat Cole’s record. I know that would be such a good night for me, so… honestly? I might tell him.” Bea pauses, then she barks out a laugh. “Should I reveal the scores to them? We could do, like, a PowerPoint night.”

“That could be funny.” Honey drinks from her water bottle, then swallows quickly when an idea pops into her head. She snorts. “What about the chalkboard that they use for pool scores?”

“What, you want me to erase it? I think Luke’ll get mad at me,” Bea laughs.

“No, I want you to recreate it,” Honey replies. “Dude, you don’t even have to tell them what it means. We could see how long it takes for them to notice that you’re rating them based on sex.”

“That’s so funny,” Bea agrees. She raises a finger, tilting her head. “But do you think they’ll feel objectified?”

“Great question,” Honey replies in the same tone. “What if you give them a reward at the end? The winner gets… something. Sex tape for when they go home?”

Bea hums, intrigued by the idea. “We’ll workshop that. I could be down, but what if the boys aren’t?”

Honey shrugs. “We’ll think of something. Wanna go to the fruit stand and the grocery store and buy a board?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bea says. “Let me just text Quinn and tell him that I can meet up with him when we’re done. Do you want to drop me off after?” She’s already pulling her phone out and tapping out a message, a text that seems way longer than just an ‘I’ll see you when we’re done.’

She’s been texting a lot lately. Honey cannot believe that Quinn enjoys receiving all these messages.

“What do you guys even talk about?” Honey asks, grabbing a threadbare cardigan that Sacha knitted for her a few years back. 

“What do you mean?”

“You and Quinn,” Honey clarifies. “What do you guys talk about?”

They walk out of Honey’s house and to her car. Bea turns on the stereo, turning on her favorite music like she always does.

“We talk about a lot of things,” Bea says. “We talk a lot about hockey and his family. He told me about his ex-girlfriend the other day. It’s over between them, for good, but he misses her.”

Bea pauses, looking down at her lap. 

“He misses her?” Honey repeats, incredulous. “And he told you that?”

Bea sighs, rolling her neck back to stretch her muscles. She’s stalling. 

“Bea,” Honey insists.

“It’s not a big deal,” Bea says quietly, shaking her head. “We’re not exclusive, I’m not dating him.” She scoffs out a laugh. “I’m fucking his brothers and his friends. I think he’s allowed to miss his girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Honey corrects. 

“Ex-girlfriend,” Bea amends. She sighs again. “It’s fine, really. I want him to be open with me. I want to talk to him about everything. Unfortunately, that includes his exes.”

“You want to talk to him about everything?” Honey teases.

“He’s a great guy,” Bea says simply. She purses her lips and sucks her teeth before adding, “I think if I wasn’t having a Slut Summer, and I didn’t live in Litchton, I would want something more. But we’re having fun, and he’s leaving at the end of the summer, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Baby-Bea, you don’t actually believe that,” Honey says.

“I do. It’s just a summer.” Bea holds her hands up in surrender. “And he’s just a guy.”

Honey doesn’t reply. She just hums out a little tune along with Bea’s music, patting the steering wheel. They pull into the grocery parking lot and make their way across the parking lot. Bea is still singing the last song that played on their drive, and she and Honey are holding hands, swinging their interlocked fingers back and forth in big waves. Bea is skipping.

He’s there.

Honey stops dead in her tracks, right in front of powdery blue minivan. Her sudden stop yanks Bea’s arm back and she whirls to face Honey. 

“What?” She asks, her song dying out with a giggle that fades into a concerned frown.

“I blew Trevor in the closet last night,” Honey rushes out, entirely at a normal volume. 

A mother and her teenage daughter make a face when they pass Honey and Bea, certainly overhearing the sentence.

“What?” Bea repeats.

Honey clears her throat, borderline gagging on her breath. “He’s sitting at the fruit stand with a bouquet of flowers.”

“What?” Bea raises her voice, eyes widening as she twists. She squeezes Honey’s hand, clutching it tightly. When she spots the boy, she claps a hand over her mouth. 

“Oh my God,” Honey breathes out, feeling sick. She covers her own mouth. “I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh my God,” Bea repeats, a smile splitting her face. 

“You cannot talk to him,” Honey hisses. She holds Bea’s hand with a vice grip, keeping her from running towards him. “Bea, you can’t.”

“I have to,” Bea says, pulling Honey along. They struggle forward bit by bit until Trevor notices them and stands, smiling like a dope.

His eyes are on Honey’s. He doesn’t even look at Bea until she speaks.

“Trevor, those flowers are gorgeous!” Bea chirps, sounding extra bubbly. “What are they for?”

Trevor’s smile turns to a sharp glare when Bea snatches at them. He pulls them out of her reach and scowls. He keeps his mouth shut, but Honey knows there’s something crossing his mind.

“Go inside,” Honey growls, pushing Bea away. 

Bea practically goes limp, smug and gigging about having caused Honey’s struggle. Eventually, Honey tips her weight and she goes, stumbling into the store with a cackle. 

Then, Honey turns back to Trevor.

He thrusts the bouquet at her and bites his lip in a tiny smile. 

Honey brushes them away with the back of her hand. “What are you doing?”

“I didn’t know what time you were coming to the stand today, and I didn’t want to miss it like last week, so I showed up when they opened, and bought these flowers around lunchtime because I needed to do something… or else I’d go crazy…” He speeds through the lengthy sentence, trailing off at the end. “I already sound crazy.” He looks down, bouquet drooping.

Honey feels lightheaded. She’s burning up. She presses the back of her hand against her forehead, staring at the boy. “Yeah,” she agrees. She nods. “You sound fucking crazy.”

Joan clicks her tongue at Honey, but returns to her magazine when Honey’s eyes flicker over to her. 

“We are in public,” Honey says to Trevor, speaking through her teeth. “I told you that you couldn’t tell anyone.”

“I didn’t,” Trevor denies, tone combative. 

Honey almost bursts out in laughter. “What part of showing up in public with flowers for me is not telling anyone?”

“Well I didn’t– I didn’t say it,” Trevor stammers out, defending himself desperately. He shuffles back, waving the flowers between them.

Honey stomps over a few petals that fell from the bouquet when Trevor used it like a sword to keep her back. “I could strangle you.”

“Please don’t,” Trevor pleads. 

Honey takes a deep breath. She clenches and unclenches her fists at her sides. “What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t want to make you mad by not showing up,” Trevor explains. He nods, drops his gaze to the flowers in his hand and offers them again to Honey. “And the flowers are ‘cause I like you.”

Honey gasps, covering her face with her hands. “Trevor, we hooked up once,” Honey whimpers out, unable to believe it. “I don’t like you!” She chokes a little from the panic. 

Oh, my God, he assumed that Honey wanted more. 

“Trevor, I’m not looking for a relationship,” she whisper-shouts.

She sneaks a peek at him, and he’s blinking stupidly, back pressed against the wall of the building behind the stand. The flowers are pulled up against his chest, crushed beneath her own. She hadn’t realized they were so close. She steps away.

“You– you’re not?” Trevor asks, staying still. “But you said you were thinking about me–”

“Yes, I was thinking about you. I’m ovulating, Trevor!” Honey feels faint again and turns away from him, back to the edge of the road.

Trevor follows after her, reaching for her hand. “That’s fine,” he says. He catches her fingers and slides the bouquet into her hand, closing Honey’s fingers around the stems. “Honey, we can do whatever you want. I will take anything you give me.”

Honey lurches forward like he just slapped her on the back. She presses a hand to her chest. “Trevor, it was one blowjob. You know that, right?”

He pales a little, letting his fingers fall from her hand. Her fingers are slack around the stems. It’s a grouping of pink azaleas. The stems are a little stick-like against her skin. “You don’t want to go again?” Trevor asks. 

“I don’t know,” Honey drawls. She brings the bouquet to her other hand, holding her hands together like a prayer. “...maybe?”

“Scruffy’s has live music on Wednesdays, I looked it up,” Trevor says. 

The abrupt change of subject makes Honey blink in surprise. “I know,” she says. She loves Scruffy’s, but she usually only goes in the winter, when it gets dark early in the night. 

“I thought you would like it. Go with me.” Trevor ducks his head to capture Honey’s gaze. “All the boys can come, and Bea too.”

“Bea can do what?” The girl asks, returning with a large whiteboard in her hands. A bag with a pack of dry erase markers dangles from her wrist. 

“Come dancing with us at Scruffy’s,” Trevor explains in a rush to the deviant girl, just as Honey says, “Nothing, Bea, this doesn’t involve you.”

Bea’s eyes slide from Trevor to Honey. “I love Scruffy’s,” she says, nodding with a smug smile. “We’ll absolutely be there on Wednesday, Trevor. I will make sure of it.”

“Bea, I’m going to fucking kill you,” Honey hisses, her eyes narrow and full of fire. “I will not be driving you to see Quinn anymore.”

Bea snorts out a laugh, a look of delight on her face. “Trevor,” Bea calls, her eyes still glinting at Honey. “Will you drive me to your place right now so I can fuck Quinn in exchange for bringing Honey to Scruffy’s on Wednesday?”

“Absolutely I will,” Trevor agrees with a beam. 

“This is kidnapping,” Honey hisses at Bea. “I’ll have you arrested.”

Bea giggles, then leans into Honey’s face. Her nose nearly touches Honey’s, scrunching with pride. “Quinn will bail me out,” she brags, teasing Honey. 

She reaches up, taps Honey on the nose, then steps away. She loops her arm with Trevor’s and begins to walk off, taking the boy with her. 

Trevor waves a goodbye at Honey, grinning like a fool. “See you Wednesday, Honey,” he bids, his mouth wide in a laugh and eyes squinted shut.

She’s left standing there, bouquet in hand. She watches them retreat, blinking and unable to identify how she feels. 

There’s a tap on her shoulder. 

When Honey turns, Joan hands her a bag of peaches, filled to the brim. “Your friend bought you some peaches, too. He said you’d like them more than his silly flowers.”

23:90 – TREVOR

Trevor is taking a break. 

He just finished showering after a long training session outside with the boys. Before that, he and the guys had gone to Winston to find a tailor that could fit the Hughes boys for their NHL Awards suits. Ellen had been pestering the boys for a few days about the suits, wanting her sons to look sharp and handsome for the event. The excuse that the event was over a week away meant nothing to the boys’ mother, and Trevor decided a long time ago that he wasn’t going to disagree with Ellen. 

He deserves a break, and today, he wants to sit on his balcony and watch the sunset.

The sun has just sunk below the mountains, leaving the sky a dark orange. The clouds reflect the color, painted across the horizon in swirling strokes. The air is thick with the smell of impending rain and the sounds of cicadas in the trees. There’s a bullfrog in the distance, always croaking when Trevor least expects it, and it sounds a lot like Trevor’s father’s snores.

They’ve been in Litchton for almost a month. Bedford has always been Trevor’s home, and Anaheim is the place where Trevor really learned how to be on his own, but Litchton is special. It’s a fixed place, as silly as that sounds– Trevor feels like nothing from the outside world can affect him here. He feels free.

“Can I join you?” 

Jamie’s voice sounds from the balcony door behind Trevor. He’s soft-spoken, still treading lightly even though Trevor apologized for his behavior and tried to make things go back to normal.

Staying true to his promise, Trevor hasn’t told Jamie about the blowjob in the closet. 

It’s killing him. He needs to talk it out with someone– especially after what happened yesterday. Honey doesn’t want a relationship. Trevor doesn’t know what he wants, just that he wants her. Honey can’t seem to figure out how she really feels about Trevor. Trevor knows exactly what he feels. He doesn’t want to let her go when he leaves at the end of the summer.

“Yeah, come sit,” Trevor agrees. He pulls one of the rocking chairs on the balcony closer to his own.

Jamie takes a seat.

They rock together, staring out at the mountains and woods in front of them. Breaking the silence, Jamie speaks first.

“You know, Honey says if you can count ten rows of mountains back, you’re in Tennessee.”

Trevor finds himself counting the rows in his minds immediately. The clouds are heavy today. The orange is already fading and he can’t see that far. Five rows, maybe the shadow of a sixth if he squints. “That’s cool,” Trevor replies.

Another silence washes over the space between them, but it’s shorter than the previous one. Trevor breaks it this time.

“What happened on the hike?” He asks. Trevor’s been dying to know about the hike since Jamie left with Honey on Saturday, especially considering how close the two seemed after going on the hike together. He knows that something happened, as if driven by his gut, and Trevor knows that he’s not going to be happy about it.

“We hiked, ate lunch. She asked questions about me and I asked questions about her while we walked. She’s a really cool girl, Z.” Jamie stares straight forward, one foot up on the railing in front of them.

“What kind of questions?” Trevor presses.

Jamie snorts and shakes his head, looking down at his lap then up at Trevor. “You wanna know?”

“Obviously, or else I wouldn’t have asked,” Trevor sasses, narrowing his eyes at Jamie.

“I asked her how long you two had been fucking,” Jamie reveals without hesitation. He laughs when Trevor’s jaw drops, then continues. “Then I asked her why she wasn’t fucking you yet.”

“Oh,” Trevor says. It’s all he can think to say. There’s nothing else he could say.

“And then we conspired against you to make you jealous, so that you would make a fucking move. She was going to play Seven Minutes in Heaven until she got to go into that closet with you, even if it took all night.” Jamie nods when Trevor tilts his head at him, flabbergasted. “Z. Honey and I don’t want each other. Sure, we kissed, but she wants you. She wants you.”

“You kissed?” Trevor demands, all of his surprise turning to rage. “You kissed her?”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Relax.”

“Relax? You kissed my fucking girl, dude,” Trevor snaps, shifting forward in his chair and facing Jamie. 

Jamie takes a deep breath and shakes his head, closing his eyes in annoyance. “Jesus-fuck, Trevor. It is a miracle that the other boys haven’t caught onto this thing that’s happening between you and Honey. You’re even luckier that Quinn’s keeping your secret.”

“Quinn knows?” Trevor asks, taken aback. He knows that he gets on the older boy’s nerves and, usually, Quinn uses any ammunition he has to take Trevor down. 

Jamie stares at Trevor for a minute, amused yet baffled by Trevor’s ignorance. “Bea knows,” Jamie tells Trevor. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, then gestures at Trevor. “And if Bea knows…”

Trevor feels stupid for assuming otherwise. “That makes sense,” he concedes, pressing his lips into a thin line out of frustration for not realizing that on his own sooner. He reverts to anger. “You still kissed my girl.”

“Okay,” Jamie says. “Let me put it like this: I show up here, you guys tell me that there’s a girl hooking up with everyone, then a beautiful girl shows up at our door and drops a book off for you. She checks me out, blushes when I talk, even stutters a little bit, so I assume she’s the one who’s having her Slut Summer. When she comes back the following night, I learn that she’s not the one who’s hooking up with everyone, but she’s still gorgeous and not tied down. You hadn’t told me that you wanted her yet. I take a body shot off of her, and it’s hot, and we hang for the rest of the night. Then, she invites me on a date the following morning. You wouldn’t kiss her?”

Trevor scowls, wanting to grow talons and sink them into Jamie’s neck. Part of it is that he’s still pissed Jamie touched Honey at all, but the other reason is that Jamie is being logical and reasonable. Trevor absolutely would have kissed Honey if he was in Jamie’s position. He resents it.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Trevor lies.

Jamie blinks at him, unimpressed. 

“Okay, yeah, I would’ve kissed her,” Trevor amends. He sighs. “I still hate it.”

“I expected no less,” Jamie says. “You never really learned how to share, did you? Puck hog, girl hog… someone needs to put you back in preschool, buddy.” 

“I’m not going to share her,” Trevor declares. “Honey is mine. I’ve never felt like this before, Jim.”

Jamie hums, acknowledging Trevor’s words. “Are you sick?”

“What? No.”

“This is new for you,” Jamie says. “You’ve never been the most… committed guy.”

“Okay, I’m not a fucking cheater, dude,” Trevor snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but you’re not exactly someone who wants to be with a girl long-term,” Jamie replies.

Trevor knows he’s right, but he doesn’t like the way Jamie says it. He refuses to respond, falling into silence with the boy next to him. The sky is turning navy and they can hear the boys yelling at the TV in the game room. They’re probably watching game five of the Cup final– Trevor hopes that it’s closer than the last game was. 

“How was the blowjob?” Jamie asks.

Trevor jolts to face him again. “You know about that?”

“She told me that you’ve gone crazy because of it,” Jamie replies, digging his phone out of his pocket and clicking around for a second before handing his phone to Trevor. “She also said you were freaking out and that you bought her flowers. What were you thinking?”

Trevor takes Jamie’s phone and scrolls through the messages. Jamie and Honey have been chatting consistently since Honey dropped the boy off on Saturday. The final message is from about an hour ago and it’s Honey telling Jamie to go talk to Trevor about ‘the blowjob in the closet that made him lose his fucking marbles.’

“So what happened?” Jamie asks, taking his phone back from Trevor.

Trevor thinks about what to say. There are so many explanations that he could give Jamie, but they all boil down to one thing. 

“She’s so beautiful,” Trevor sighs. He shakes his head, unable to believe the words that are about to come out of his mouth. “I need her like I need to breathe.”

Jamie is silent, speechless from the shock of Trevor’s statement. “What the fuck?” He asks, laughing nervously.

Trevor continues, explaining himself. “I know I just met her, J, but she’s so special. I need her in my life and I will take whatever she gives me.”

“What if she only wants to hook up?” 

“Then we’ll hook up.”

“What if she only wanted to do it this one time?”

“Then I’ll keep trying to convince her to give me another chance.”

“What if she refuses you and hooks up with Jack instead?”

“I’ll kill him.”

A smile breaks over Jamie’s face and he nods slowly. “You’ve got this all thought out.” He slaps his hands over his knees, then stands. The chair rocks behind him from the force of his movement. “I’ll report this exchange back to my boss.”

“Tell Honey that I’m excited to see her again tomorrow and that she needs to save me a dance,” Trevor says.

Jamie sucks in a breath between gritted teeth. “Oof,” he breathes out. “She already declared that I was her dance partner for the whole night.”

“Don’t make me pull your shoulder out of its socket,” Trevor threatens with a chilly smile.

Jamie just raises his eyebrows subtly and smirks, walking back inside the house and leaving Trevor alone.

The stars are starting to twinkle above Trevor’s head, and he tilts back in his rocking chair to search the sky. He’s nearing the end of his book and he’s been challenging himself to find the constellations he’s been reading about. 

He wishes Honey was sitting next to him and staring at the same stars. Although imaginary, he can almost feel her fingers intertwined with his.

24:90 – HONEY

Hiding from Bea was never actually an option. Honey knows that in her heart of hearts, but she’d be damned if she didn’t try. Her best bet was somewhere around The Reading Nook, since Scruffy’s is just down the road and they’re leaving directly from work. 

Bea actually brought clothes for Honey to change into when she showed up to work before lunch– a cute denim maxidress that has tiers of different washes on the skirt. It’s exactly something Honey would wear to Scruffy’s in the winter, with a little cardigan to keep her warm enough while dancing. This is the outfit that Honey’s wearing now, having been forced to change during her break by a watchful Bea. 

Honey is tucked between two of the stacks and a beanbag chair, hoping that her corner of refuge will be enough for Bea to leave the store without her. Then, Honey will sneak to her car and drive home, effectively avoiding Trevor for another day. She can’t avoid him forever, but she might be able to make it a little while longer before she’s forced to face him.

She decided that Trevor’s a lunatic who is looking too much into the relationship he and Honey share. She gave him one blowjob and he bought her flowers– a disproportionate response that left Honey reeling on Monday. She might’ve watered the flowers and thrown them in a vase on her bedside table, but that doesn’t mean she wanted to accept the bouquet. Accepting the bouquet is too real– it would give Trevor too much hope.

He forced it into her hand and offered her anything she wanted, so Honey thought about it. She wants him to not be so fucking obvious. 

Honey has lived in Litchton for a long time. In that time, she’s gone on two dates: one, with Gillian’s grandson while he was visiting for Christmas that went okay. The second was with some guy from a dating app that Bea made Honey download, and that date ended in tears because Honey was overwhelmed by the boy’s cologne– the same one that she used to know all too well when she and Bea were still living in Charlotte.

The townies know Honey as an independent girl. They know her as a person who won’t stand for nonsense, a person who isn’t interested in frivolous things. She likes what she likes and her routine stays the same. 

Trevor has completely overthrown her routine.

In a normal summer, Honey goes through book after book, reading and writing and having fun. She creates terrible art that never sells in the town-side yard sale in August. Bea drags her to Winston or Boone one or two weekends a month and they talk to guys their age until Bea finds someone to flirt with. Then, Honey heads back to Litchton to her own bed and usually has to wake up early to pick Bea up from her conquest’s house.

Now, they’re spending every weekend with the boys. Bea is even spending non-weekend days with the boys. Honey walked herself into a trap by declaring that the fruit stand was her and Trevor’s “thing,” whereas it’s supposed to just be hers. They’re going to the lake not to tan, but to boat with the guys. Bea is satiated and happy, giggling and glowing the way she does when she’s seeing a guy she really likes. 

This is Bea’s ideal summer and it’s quickly turning into Honey’s hell.

She’s not a relationship girl. She hasn’t been for years, opting to be independent and satisfied with herself, refusing to worry about being alone. That life, that stress, was left in Charlotte when she moved away. She’s determined to keep it that way.

Which means that she cannot, under any circumstances, hook up with Trevor again. She cannot give him a reason to believe that this was more than a one-night thing. It was just a moment of weakness and it can’t happen again.

Honey has taken some necessary precautions. She texted Jamie the previous day and begged him to dance with her all night, get drinks with her at the bar, sit at the table when she’s sitting at the table, and never leave her side. He swore he would, even pinky-promised over the thread of messages. 

It’s that fact that helps Honey remain calm when Bea finds her and rips the beanbag out of her clutches, pulling her up from where she’s curled up on the floor. 

“I can’t believe you tried to hide from me and made me close the entire store alone,” Bea complains, dragging Honey to the back room to grab their purses before heading out. She steals Honey’s keys rather than using her own to lock the bookstore, effectively taking away Honey’s only means of escape– her car. Had Honey bolted, like she considered, there would be no way to get into her vehicle and outrun Bea fast enough without her keys. 

Damn Bea. She thinks of everything.

They walk down the street, arm in arm. Bea’s brown cowboy boots click against the sidewalk with each step and the ruffled sleeves of her romper sway with the summer wind. The romper is a pastel yellow with white daisies dotting the fabric. It’s short, short enough that Jack will probably drool over her and Quinn will make sure his hand stays on Bea’s waist all night. 

The walk to Scruffy’s takes less than five minutes. They don’t even have to cross the street. Scruffy’s is the building on the corner of the main road, the last thing you see before you drive past the town of Litchton and head further up the mountain. Past Scruffy’s, there are only ranches, farm life, and Honey’s little abode. Scruffy’s is like the end of civilization.

It’s been in business for generations. Scruffy’s is where Earl and Vera met, funnily enough, more than half a century ago. Last year, their anniversary fell on a Tuesday, and Vera came into The Reading Nook gushing about how they’d been married for fifty-three years officially. Honey had asked and she had gotten the full story– that Vera and her girls (the same knitting group) went dancing in Scruffy’s after their senior prom ended and it was there that she was asked to dance by the most handsome man in the joint. That man was Earl, who won Vera over with just once dance, and they were dating by the end of the night. He was sent to Vietnam less than two months later, but they were married in a short ceremony the night before he was shipped off. Earl was 21. Vera was 17.

It’s a little gross to Honey, but she’s impressed that they stuck it out this long. She’s impressed that Vera and Earl still love each other, even after fifty years. They had multiple kids, lived in the same small town their whole life except for Earl’s stint in ‘Nam, and they’re still happy. Part of the reason why Honey came to Litchton after leaving Charlotte is because of relationships like Vera and Earl’s– they stand the test of time up in the mountains. Everybody finds their person.

Honey loves Scruffy’s because it represents the culture of Litchton. It’s one of the longest-running businesses in the area. It’s a place where people go to meet, dance, and have fun. There aren’t many places like it anymore. Honey would much rather go to Scruffy’s than join Bea on a night out in Winston-Salem– it’s where she first learned to play pool.

Selfishly, Honey wonders to herself about the odds of stealing Quinn away from Bea for a night of pool. It would frustrate Bea to no end– and it might be the perfect revenge.

“Before we get in there, I want you to know that you’re not playing pool tonight,” Bea says as if she can read Honey’s thoughts. “And if I see you by the pool table, I’m telling the boys that you blew Trevor in the closet.”

Honey’s jaw drops. “First kidnapping, now blackmail? Who are you? What have the boys turned you into, a villain?”

Bea laughs, a twinkling sound that has her whole body rolling. “Baby, I was always a villain,” Bea says with a wink. “The boys are just encouraging me to be the worst version of myself.”

“Yeah, at my expense,” Honey shoots back.

Bea just grins. “Exactly!”

With that, Bea swings open the door and the girls step into the bar. It’s shabby and dive bar-esque, but the music spilling from the speakers near the stage transforms the place. 

The band is made up of a group of local dads who have been playing in the area since they were teens, having abandoned their big dream of becoming rock stars to settle down in their hometown with their wives and families. Honey has hustled most of these guys before at the pool table, although she’s never been quite able to beat Andrew, who plays bass for the band. 

Whereas the wood floor seems creaky when there’s silence in the halls, now it seems to glimmer beneath the dancing feet that adorn it. The exposed brick walls echo the laughter of drinkers in the booths, reflecting the cheers of when a new round appears as if by a miracle.

Bea leads Honey to the back of the bar, where they find the boys in one of the bigger booths. Quinn is sat on the edge of the booth next to his brothers and he easily pulls Bea onto his lap, perching her on his thigh. Honey stands at the end of the booth, her palms flat against the table separating the groups of boys.

“You can sit right here, Honey.” Cole offers his own thigh, gesturing to the “seat” like Vanna White. 

Honey forces a smile onto her face. “I’ll stand.”

“No, you don’t have to stand,” Trevor jumps in, trapped between the wall and Jamie on Cole’s side of the booth. “We can find you a chair.”

“It doesn’t look like you’ll be escaping anytime soon to find me one,” Honey retorts. She’s pleased that he’s stuck in the booth, but she’s still itching to put some distance between them. “Jimmy-Jam, want to go dance?”

“Sure, Honey,” Jamie says with a smile, nudging Cole so the boy can let him out of the booth.

“Oh, that’s too cute,” Bea coos. “Honey and Jam. You’re like a little kindergartener’s lunchtime sandwich.”

Honey and Jamie, now standing next to each other, turn and make eye contact. They evaluate each other briefly, then Jamie shrugs. “I guess it is like that.”

Honey sees Trevor frown, but puts the image out of her mind. Focusing on Trevor leads to disaster (like in the closet), which leads to even more disasters (the bouquet of flowers and Trevor tripping over himself to date Honey), so Honey really ought to avoid him altogether. She drags Jamie off, across the bar and towards the dance floor, finding a place near the stage. They’re dancing with the music on one side and the old, 1950s pinball machine on the other.

Honey loses track of time, spinning with Jamie under the dim light of the bar. The spotlights are all trained on the lead singer of the band, a man named Arn who is still desperately clinging to the hair left on his head. 

She and Jamie laugh and talk as they dance, having the best time. It’s Jamie’s last night in town, he reveals during one of the slower songs of the set. He’s driving back to Charlotte tomorrow with Trevor, flying out of North Carolina and back to Toronto around two in the afternoon. The men are singing ‘Amarillo By Morning’ by George Strait and Honey is overcome with a brief feeling of sadness.

“You’re really leaving?” Honey asks. “So soon?”

Jamie smiles, sympathetic and sad. He nods gently, squeezing Honey’s hand in his own. “Z only booked me for a week.”

“Cancel your flight.” Honey pouts, resting her forehead on Jamie’s shoulder, pulling him closer with the hand on his shoulderblades. “You should stay.”

Jamie drops a kiss on the crown of her head, then rests his chin on top of where he laid his lips. “I’ll text you all the time.”

Honey wishes she could stomp her foot and put a petulant glare on her face until Jamie relents, but she knows it’s just not realistic. 

“I should warn you,” Jamie whispers into Honey’s hair. “Trevor’s coming over here and he’s not going to take no for an answer.”

Honey looks over her shoulder and catches Trevor’s eyes as he approaches. He’s determined, staring directly at Honey.

“May I?” Trevor asks when he makes it to the pair, nodding to Jamie in a dismissal. 

Honey feels betrayed the moment Jamie lifts her hand to his lips and plants a kiss on her knuckles. He’s got a hint of laughter glimmering in his eyes and if she weren’t so sad he’s leaving tomorrow, she would pop him on the noggin for abandoning her. 

Jamie hands her off to Trevor, placing her palm in his, and Honey suddenly feels shy.

Trevor pulls her close, reaching his arm around her waist and clutching at her opposing ribs. Her hand rests in his, just inches away from their bodies. Her other hand slides across his back and her fingertips brush the hair at the nape of his neck. She peeks over Trevor’s shoulder, watching Jamie walk away. 

The band is playing something more upbeat now, a modern country song that Honey vaguely recognizes. 

Jack and Bea are dancing off to their left, halfway across the dance floor in the direct middle, and Jack is trying to spin himself under Bea’s arm. She’s giggling and Jack tumbles against her, crowding her space. His hands find Bea’s hips and he sways against her, leaning in to touch his nose to Bea’s own. She throws her arms around his neck and allows him to dip her, pecking his lips on the way back up. 

Trevor’s not as energetic. He sways with Honey, but his touch is more like a grasp than a lead. Honey aches.

“Why didn’t you ask Jamie to stay longer?” Honey asks quietly. She’s embarrassed to ask the question at all, embarrassed to admit that she’d grown so fond of the boy. She knows that they’re all just visiting, but saying goodbye to Jamie is a daunting task that makes Honey think of why she left Charlotte. 

“I did,” Trevor replies, surprising her. “I asked him if he would stay for another week, but he’s anxious to get back to his buddies and training. He’s got his own summer routine.” Trevor’s temple presses against Honey’s own, his mouth hovering right next to her ear. “He only came because I was desperate.”

Honey fails to respond to his statement with anything more than a hum. She’s distracted, watching the remaining boys at the table polish off a pitcher of beer. Quinn stands to get more and brushes off Bea’s invitation to come dance with a good-natured wave. 

The band starts to play a cover of one of Bea’s favorite songs, a duet between a man and a woman that Honey only remembers because of how anguished the couple sounds. The lyrics of the song are something about begging for time to come back and Honey grimaces at how real the song feels.

“I wish he didn’t have to leave,” Honey admits, the pout on her face feeling permanent. 

“Me too,” Trevor says. It’s reassuring. “I’ll miss him.”

“Yeah.”

Trevor steps away, raising his hand and guiding Honey underneath it. He guides her through a series of steps, surprising Honey with his sureness and precision. She ends up facing the stage, her back pressed against Trevor’s chest. 

“How do you know how to dance?” Honey asks, a little laugh affecting her words.

“Cotillion and lots of weddings in the summers,” Trevor replies, spinning Honey away and then pulling her back into their original position. He smiles, inches from her face. “I know my way around the floor, just never really had a partner to dance with.”

Honey’s smile fades as he reaches the end of his sentence. She pulls away from him, dipping her head to avoid his eyes. Her hands fall to her sides, then she hugs herself, shaking her head. “We’re not partners, Trevor,” Honey says. “That isn’t what this is.”

Trevor’s own hands fall to his pockets. He’s got jeans on, and some creased white sneakers, and it’s the most dressed up Honey has ever seen him. He looks normal, like any other guy that she would dance with in another bar– in another life. 

“What is it, then?” Trevor asks. He’s not pushy. He doesn’t sound curious. He just sounds resigned. 

“A mistake,” Honey whispers, rubbing over the goosebumps on her arms to try and soothe them away. “We hooked up once, Trevor.”

“Honey.” Trevor’s face falls and it’s a sight that makes Honey want to run for the hills. “It wasn’t a mistake.”

Honey bites the inside of her cheek, thinking over her next words carefully. “You’re reading too much into it.”

“And you’re running away from it. Give me a chance, Honey,” Trevor implores, reaching for her hand again. “I promise, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I just want you to give me a chance.”

Honey pulls away. “I can’t do this again, Trevor.”

“I need you,” Trevor says.

The words settle in Honey’s stomach like a cinderblock at the bottom of the lake. He’s telling the truth– Honey does not see an ounce of doubt in his eyes. 

“Honey, I have not been able to think about anything except you for weeks,” Trevor continues. “Please.”

Honey steps back, her throat tight. Her eyes are darting every which way, just trying to avoid Trevor. She can’t hold his eyes for longer than a second, but a second is long enough to shake her head. 

She leaves him on the dance floor, joining the boys at the booth. She squeezes herself between Jamie and Luke, leaning into her friend’s figure. Jamie wraps his arm around Honey’s shoulders and she buries her face in his chest, squeezing her eyes shut. 

She’s right. She can’t do this again. She left her hometown after her last real relationship soured and rotted. Honey cannot let the same thing happen to her life in Litchton, especially not when Trevor’s going to leave at the end of the summer anyway. She’ll never see him again once he’s gone and things will go back to normal. It’s better this way.

25:90 – TREVOR

“I can’t believe you have to go,” Trevor says. He and Jamie are parked in the daily garage outside of Charlotte’s airport. 

“You’re the one who booked the ticket,” Jamie replies, the same excuse he’s used every time Trevor has brought up the end of his stay in Litchton. He’s got half of a smile on his face as he looks at Trevor.

“You could’ve changed it,” Trevor argues.

Jamie scoffs, laughing. “Dude.” He opens the passenger door and starts to climb out of the car. “You’re never going to make any moves on Honey while I’m still here.” He slams the door shut and rounds the car, pressing the button so that the trunk starts to open.

Trevor gets out of the car and joins Jamie in the back. He hops up and sits on the edge of the trunk, letting his feet dangle. “Was she serious about what she said to me last night?”

Jamie furrows his eyebrows. “What did she say? She didn’t tell me anything.”

Now it’s Trevor’s turn to be confused. “She didn’t say anything when she went back to the table?”

“No,” Jamie says. “Should she have?”

“I mean…” Trevor trails off.

“What did you do?” Jamie groans, rubbing a hand over his face. He grabs his carry on and sets it on the ground next to him.

“I didn’t do anything, really,” Trevor replies. He looks at his nails, then brings his index finger to his mouth to bite off a hangnail. “She just… shut down.”

“What did Honey say?” Jamie repeats, voice hard. He’s staring at Trevor now, eyes full of disdain. 

“That hooking up with me was a mistake and she can’t do it again,” Trevor says begrudgingly, a sarcastic smile on his face. 

“That’s… weird. I’m going to call her when I get through security.” Jamie extends the handle of his carry on, then kicks the bag so it’s perched on two of its wheels, ready to roll out. “You should go to the store when you get back. You finished that book today, right?”

“Yeah, this morning,” Trevor confirms.

“Return it. Buy it, I don’t care. Just talk to her– you can win her over.” Jamie shrugs. “I know she’s got some baggage that she doesn’t really like to talk about, but you could always ask. That’s how I won her over.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you got to kiss her,” Trevor grumbles.

Jamie takes a deep breath. “On that note, I’m out.” He reaches out to pull Trevor onto his feet and into a hug, clapping him on the back. “Thanks for the week, Trev. Don’t let her push you away, really. She likes you, I can tell. She’s just not ready to admit it yet.”

Trevor pulls away, dapping Jamie up as he does so. “I’ll try.”

“Just be yourself,” Jamie corrects. “Don’t try too hard.”

“Yeah, you’re right, she’d hate that,” Trevor says, chuckling to himself a bit.

“She’d hate that,” Jamie confirms at the same time. 

They stand in the parking garage for a moment longer, chuckling until their laughter dies in the wind. Trevor clears his throat and smiles, pulling Jamie in for another hug.

“Have a safe flight, Jim,” Trevor says. 

“Have a safe drive, Z.” Jamie begins to walk away, raising his hand over his head in a wave. “See you when the Ducks play the Flyers.”

“Yeah, if neither of us gets traded– again– before that,” Trevor adds. He closes the trunk of the car and climbs back behind the steering wheel. 

“Get over it!” Jamie’s voice is distant, echoing off the cars. 

Trevor responds by slamming his door and laying on the horn. 

He pulls out of the garage, paying the toll, and finds his way to the highway. He’s heading north to Litchton and he’s got about an hour of interstate time before he pulls off and takes the winding mountain roads the rest of the way. 

Trevor spends all of that time trying to stop thinking about Honey. He plays his music and sings out loud. He rolls his windows down and lets the wind wash over his face, messing up his hair in every direction. He even tries out an audiobook, which he hates, and turns it off within five minutes of starting it. 

The drive goes by faster than he thinks it will, or maybe it’s just getting easier each time he does it. 

Trevor feels a little bit like he does every time he heads back to Anaheim after the summer now that Jamie’s gone. The feeling never changes, even though he’s gotten better at managing it. It’s pure melancholy– knowing that he won’t see Jamie again for so long. It’s like when he leaves the Hughes boys or Cole, or even worse, when he visits home for a while and has to leave his family behind.

Trevor pulls into the driveway of the rental house, leaving the car running while he heads inside to grab his book. 

He knows just the cure for this weird mood that he’s found himself in.

Honey.

From the kitchen, Luke asks Trevor what he’s doing, but Trevor pays him no mind. He’s busy. Once he’s got his book in his hand, he’s walking back out the door and taking off in the car. 

He plows past Quinn, who is pulling back into the driveway after spending the night with Bea. That’s the best news yet for Trevor– if Quinn is only just now getting home from Bea’s place, then Bea is still getting ready to go to The Reading Nook. There’s a good chance that Honey is alone. 

Trevor has to get there first– he has to talk to Honey without a crutch. He’s going to convince her that he’s worth it. He just has to be less… direct. The commitment to Trevor is what’s scaring Honey, he can tell, and her fear is the one thing that’s really holding them back.

After almost a month on the mountaintop, Trevor feels comfortable enough to take the curves up the mountain the same way Honey does, loose and fast. He makes it up the mountain in record time and pulls into the grocery store parking lot, but walks the opposite way. 

He approaches The Reading Nook and finds the front of the store mostly empty. There are a few adults wandering around, but he doesn’t see Honey. 

Trevor follows the echo of voices to the back of the store, through the stacks to the cozy children’s reading area, where Honey is perched on a stool with a short picture book in hand. There are about fifteen kids of different ages crowded around her, all giving her their rapt attention as she reads the story. 

The book is familiar to Trevor– he was about the same age as these kids when his teacher read this book to his class for the first time. He doesn’t remember the name of the book, or the message, but he remembers the image of the dark-haired girl’s skin turning into rainbow stripes. Trevor’s face twists at the mention of lima beans, but he quickly realizes that he just forgot about that very important (and absurd) detail.

Honey hasn’t noticed him yet– she’s making faces at the children and doing different voices for each character. She’s making the toddlers giggle and the school-aged kids howl. Her nose is almost constantly scrunched up, accompanying a smile, and it’s infectious.

Trevor crosses his arms against his chest and leans on the edge of one of the stacks, admiring Honey. He’s hidden among the parents, smiling a little at the anonymity. In his mind, he’s acting out a movie scene where he’s waiting to pick his girlfriend up for a date and she’s running late because she’s nurturing the youth of the town. Trevor imagines Honey’s face lighting up when she spots him. He imagines Honey wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss when he approaches.

The real thing is not quite as romantic. 

As Honey is closing the book, wiggling her eyebrows at the kids and laughing a little when they whine and beg for another story, she scans the faces of the parents around Trevor. When she spots him, he gives her a little wave, and her mouth straightens into a thin line. It’s the only indication that she’s seen him because she just keeps looking around the room.

There’s a little boy kneeling in front of her, pulling at her skirt and pouting when she waves him off. 

“Luca, I’m not Bea,” Honey teases. “I’m a one story kind of girl and you got a long one today.” She taps his nose with a smile, which causes the little boy to giggle and grab at her fingers.

“It’s a shame, you know,” the mom next to Trevor says. “He loves it when she reads.”

“She’s entertaining,” Trevor agrees, not sure why she’s talking to him.

“Is this your first time at Story Time? I don’t think I’ve met you before. I’m Jessie,” the woman says, sticking her hand out for Trevor to shake. “Luca is mine. Which one is yours?”

Trevor shakes her hand, but lets out a relieved breath. “Trevor. I’m not a dad. I’m just here to drop my book off and I didn’t see Honey up at the counter.”

Jessie laughs. “Is Bea still not here? She used to be so much better about being here on time. It’s not like her to miss Story Time.”

“I think something came up,” Trevor covers, knowing full well that Bea and Quinn were tied up in the sheets until the early hours of the morning. 

“I was 22 once,” Jessie says, a smile curving her lips. 

“Mmm, and I heard rumors that you and Tyler used to drink at the water tower when you were 16,” Honey interrupts, sidling up next to Jessie and Trevor. The little boy, Luca, is attached to her side, hugging her thigh with one arm and sucking his thumb with the other. “So I can’t imagine the trouble you got up to at 22, Jessie.”

“A lady never kisses and tells,” Jessie replies, leaning in to press a kiss on Honey’s cheek. “Thank you for the amazing performance, as always. Luca wishes you would read more often. He misses you.”

“He barely has time to miss me now that his Mommy stays at home with him,” Honey says fondly. She reaches down to ruffle Luca’s hair and puts her hands under his armpits to lift him up. She sets the boy on her hip and presses a kiss to his forehead before handing him off to Jessie. 

Jessie takes her son and sets him on her own hip. Luca wiggles in her grasp, reaching for Honey. He whines, lower lip wobbling when his mom won’t let him go back to Honey. “Maybe Honey can come hang out with you sometime soon,” Jessie soothes her son. She looks to Honey. “Mommy and Dad can go out to dinner.”

Honey giggles, cooing as she reaches to wipe the fat tears from the corners of Luca’s eyes. “I’d be happy to babysit my favorite little man. Just call me when you decide on a date night and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Honey.” Jessie bounces Luca on her hip. “Say bye to Honey, baby.”

Still pouting, Luca raises his hand and waves. It’s less of a wave and more just the toddler flopping his wrist around so his hand moves, but Honey returns the wave nonetheless.

“Nice meeting you, Trevor,” Jessie calls as she walks away. Luca turns in her arms and his big eyes peer at Honey for as long as they can. She’s smiling at the boy until he and his mother are out of eyesight, then she turns to Trevor.

“What do you want?” Honey asks, crossing her arms over her chest. 

It never fails to impress Trevor how quickly she can turn on and turn off her charm. Not that he’s not charmed by this. He’s always charmed by Honey, even when she’s being mean.

“I’m here to return my book,” Trevor explains, lifting the item so she can see the cover. “Or buy it, I haven’t decided yet.”

“You can’t buy it,” Honey says in a monotone voice. 

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.” She walks off toward the counter and Trevor follows.

“That’s a stupid reason.”

“Well, it’s a stupid reason for a stupid person. Fitting.”

“Hey,” Trevor laments. 

Honey looks up at him, sliding onto her stool behind the counter. She holds her palm out, ready for Trevor to balance the book on the surface. “Give me the book.”

Trevor holds onto the book with both of his hands, frowning at Honey. “No,” he replies. “Ask nicely. You’re being mean.”

“I could be a lot meaner,” Honey says, pointedly glaring at Trevor as she snatches the book from his grasp. She types something on the computer, then slides the book onto a cart behind her. When she turns around, she folds her hands on the counter and stares at Trevor. “Do you want your receipt?”

Trevor makes a face. “No, I don’t want my receipt. What–”

“Good. Get out.”

Trevor’s mouth is agape. He’s staring at Honey in bewilderment. “I thought Jamie talked to you.”

“He did.”

Trevor flounders, trying to think of a response for her curt, two-word sentence. It’s barely even a sentence! It doesn’t even have a predicate! He fails to think of an answer and stands uselessly at the counter, unmoving in front of Honey. 

Honey waits. She watches him. They’re still for a good minute, just looking at each other until Honey pulls a book out from under the counter and opens it. She flips to a page about a quarter of the way through and begins to read.

Trevor is still standing in front of her.

The store has cleared out for the most part. A few children and parents are still in the kids section and an older woman is sitting at one of the tables near the back room, flipping through her own book. 

Trevor leans down, crossing his arms and leveling himself against the counter. He sets his chin on his hands and waits for Honey to look at him.

“What are you doing?” She asks, barely glancing at him before turning the page and cocking her head to the side, paying extra attention to the new words on the left side of her book. 

“I’m hanging out with you.”

“Why?” Honey’s lip curls in judgment and she scoffs. 

“Because you cheer me up, and the boys wouldn’t get it.”

“The boys wouldn’t get what?” Her eyes linger on him a little longer this time before returning to her book.

“They won’t be sad that Jamie left, but I know you are. We can be miserable together,” Trevor says, batting his eyelashes at Honey. 

She just looks him up and down, then pushes his arms off the counter.

Trevor straightens up. “C’mon, Honey. It’s hard to be apart from your friends, especially if they’re more like family. I was just hoping to see you.”

“Because seeing me makes you feel better,” Honey adds, unimpressed. She glares at Trevor for a moment, then turns to the next page of her book.

“I like hanging out with you. It’s easy to forget my problems when you’re around.”

“Good line.”

“It’s not a line, it’s actually how I feel.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize you were so in tune with your emotions.”

“You, of all people, should know that I’m a big fan of following the heart.”

“I couldn’t possibly care less about your heart, Trev–”

There’s a rustle of paper and a thud as the older lady sets her book down. “Honey,” she snaps.

Honey lights up at the interruption, looking over to the woman. “Yes, Ada?”

“Put the poor boy out of his misery,” Ada scolds, a tilted frown on her face. “You’re not helping him.”

“Ada–” Honey tries.

The woman raises her hand. “I don’t want to hear it. One of your friends is upset and you’re being rude to him.”

“I promise you, he’s not–” Honey says, but she’s interrupted again.

“I want you to take the day off tomorrow and spend it with him.” Ada nods at Trevor, then continues. “Because we spread kindness in this town. We do not perpetuate another person’s misery.”

Honey ducks her head. “Yes, ma’am,” she grumbles.

Ada picks her book back up and flips through the pages. “Now I’ve lost my page,” she complains. “Consider how Christ would view your actions, Honey, and how they affect others around you.”

Honey gawks at the woman, affronted and angry, shown by the tilt of her eyebrows. She snaps her jaw shut and looks up to the sky, thoughts racing behind her eyes and through her mind. 

Trevor’s got an amused little smile on his face, but he wipes it from his expression before Honey can spot it.

“Well, you got what you wanted,” Honey snaps. “Bea will text you the directions. We’re hiking up Stone Mountain. It’s an hour drive from here. I’ll meet you there at ten. Don’t be late, or else I’m starting the hike without you.”

“Do you want me to bring a sandwich for you?” Trevor asks, careful not to argue with Honey. He remembers Jamie packing a lunch for Honey and he wants to do the same– maybe if he recreates Jamie’s hike, then he’ll have the same success.

Honey looks at him with disdain. “I’ll pack my own. Thanks. Go away.”

Ada hums, but doesn’t look up. 

Honey cuts her eyes at the older woman, but plasters a smile on her face when her eyes return to Trevor’s. She turns her charm on, just for appearances. “Thank you for visiting The Reading Nook. Feel free to come back anytime.”

Her voice is sweet, customer service-y, but she’s glaring at Trevor and shaking her head ‘no’ as she says the words. She does not want him to return. 

Trevor most certainly will be back, if only to plant a smacker on Honey’s boss and thank her for the set-up. “See you tomorrow, Honey.”

“Yep.”

Trevor walks away, but he catches another scolding from Ada to Honey as he walks away. It sounds like Ada wants Honey to attend church this Sunday.

Maybe he can convince Bea to bring him and the other boys along.

26:90 – HONEY

She’s standing at the trailhead, next to the information board. Honey’s been here a thousand times, the view at the top of the mountain being one of her favorites in all of western North Carolina, and Trevor is late. It’s 10:11 and she told him to be on time or else she would start without him. It was an empty threat, but now she’s really considering it.

Honey’s phone rings in her bag and she has to scramble to dig it out.

“Hello?” She asks, not glancing at the screen. There are only a few people that have her number and would know that she’s off work today. Those people are Ada and Bea– and Honey is pretty sure Ada isn’t calling her.

“Trevor wants to know where you are.” Bea’s voice is choppy due to the service being so finicky in this area. 

“What? I’m at the trailhead. Right next to the sign. He doesn’t see me?” Honey asks, searching the parking lot. She raises a hand above her hand and waves. “I’m waving. Tell him to look for the girl who’s waving.”

“I don’t have two phones,” Bea snaps. “How am I meant to talk to you both at the same time?”

“Yes, you do,” Honey scoffs. Of course Bea has two phones– she’s at work right now. She can use the store phone to call Trevor and relay the message. “Use the phone at the Nook.”

Bea groans into the phone. “That’s so much work. Are you sure I can’t just give him your number?”

“Absolutely, I’m sure! What the fuck?” Honey exclaims, covering her eyes with her hand. “I told you no.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t listen. I already gave it to him, but he wanted me to call you first.”

Honey opens her mouth, a snarl rising up her throat.

“Have fun with your loverboy!” Bea laughs a little as she hangs up, the dial tone ringing in Honey’s ear. 

Honey pulls the phone away from her ear and scowls to herself, closing her eyes and looking up to the sky to calm herself. Bea has been on her nerves lately. Honey understands that the girl wants what’s best for Honey, but good God– does she have to meddle so much?

The phone starts to ring in her hand, a (914) number flashing across the screen. Honey stares at it, letting the phone ring a few times before she answers it.

“Hello?” She asks as she answers, annoyed.

“Honey? It’s Trevor.”

“I figured.”

“Where are you? I’m at the trailhead.”

Honey blinks, then looks around her. “No, you’re not. I’m at the trailhead.”

“No, you’re not? I don’t see you.”

Honey looks at the information sign next to her. She reads the location in her head, then it dawns on her. She winces, covering her eyes with her hand again. “Are you in the upper parking lot?” She wipes her face, then her hand drops to her hip. “Look at the sign next to you.”

Trevor is silent on the other end of the call. After a moment, his sheepish voice fills Honey’s ear. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Honey sighs. “This is Bea’s fault. I’ll come to you.”

“No, I’ll come to you!” Trevor corrects, sounding like he’s already jogging back to his car. “Don’t move an inch. I’ll be there soon.”

He hangs up, leaving Honey standing next to the lower trailhead. She’s lucky that no one really wants to hike the five-mile loop that Honey chose, especially not in the summer, otherwise there would be a constant stream of people passing her while she waits for her date.

Not that it’s a date. She’s being forced.

Trevor is racing across the parking lot towards Honey before she knows it, catching her hand in his as he approaches and panting out an apology. “I didn’t know there were two different trailheads,” he says. 

Honey pulls her hand away. “It’s okay. Bea should’ve told you.”

Unable to take a hint, Trevor just grins. “Well, now you have my number. We can just talk directly.”

“I already had your number. I don’t want to talk to you directly. That’s why I made you go through Bea,” Honey tells him, turning her back and starting up the trail. 

Trevor follows after her, quickly falling into step next to Honey. “You already had my number?”

Honey hums, nodding. “Bea gave it to me.”

“Why didn’t you use it?” Trevor wonders.

“Because I didn’t want to.” Honey adjusts her bag on her shoulders. She keeps her fingers wrapped around the straps as she walks, just in case Trevor does something stupid like try to hold Honey’s hand. 

“Honey, I really think you should just give me a chance–”

“Do you run, Trevor?” Honey asks, cutting him off.

“Not really. I’ll do sprints and stuff on the ice, but I’m not really a runner,” Trevor replies, making a confused face at Honey. “I broke my–”

“Cool.” Honey tightens the straps of her bag and looks down to make sure her shoelaces are double-knotted. “Race you to the peak. Just follow the trail.”

She takes off, putting distance between herself and Trevor. Honey hasn’t run consistently in a while, but she’s able to manage her breath well enough to run the two miles to the stone top of the mountain. Trevor plods along after her, but she loses him about a mile into the run.

Honey catches her breath once she breaks through the trees and steps onto the clearing of the peak. The stone is ashy and dry, but the different shades of stone across the face of the mountain give off the appearance of a waterfall. 

Honey reaches into her bag and takes out her camera, looking through the viewfinder to capture the skyline. She takes a few pictures, even balances her camera on a rock to set up her own timer picture. Finally, she hears the pounding of feet against ground coming up the trail and she turns her camera on the entrance to the clearing.

She captures Trevor’s final moments in quick succession– the relief that the run is finally over, the way his breath continues to run away from him even as his feet slow, and the annoyance washing over his face at the sound of Honey’s laughter.

He stalks toward her, grimacing noticeably when he steps out with his left foot. Honey dances away from him, evading his grasp and snapping pictures as she goes, giggling at his annoyance. The more Honey steps away from Trevor, the harder he tries to catch her, and the harder it is for him to keep a smile from making its way onto his face. 

Honey documents the whole thing– the transformation of his gaze from irritated to playful, the growing curve of his lips into a fuckass smile and a laugh, and the final moment when he snatches the camera out of her hand. 

Trevor turns the lens on her, snapping away and getting all up in her face. She pushes him, and the camera, away when she notices him trying to zoom in up her nostrils. He’s so fucking weird. 

Honey takes the camera back from him and tucks it into her bag, swapping the item for her lunch. It’s a little crumpled up from the time in her bag, but the food is still good. She reaches for her peach, looking to snack on the sweet fruit. She pauses when her hand brushes against the second peach she packed– the peach that she packed for Trevor.

“You know, you were right the other day,” Trevor says. 

Honey can hear just how feigned his nonchalance is from the second he opens his mouth. He’s thought this moment out, probably reenacted an idealized version in the shower yesterday, but he’s still hesitant to say anything.

“I really haven’t spent enough time trying to get to know you.”

Honey’s head snaps up, eyes fixing on Trevor. That’s not what she expected him to say. She doesn’t know where she thought this was going, but it wasn’t here.

“I want to know you, you know?” Trevor continues with a shrug. “I don’t want to have you around just to have you around. I want to know everything about you.”

Bea’s voice echoes in Honey’s ears. “I want him to be open with me. I want to talk to him about everything.” The realization washes over Honey like a spill soaking into a paper towel. She feels sticky, a result of the understanding, and a little panicked. Trevor likes me the way Bea likes Quinn. 

Honey ducks her head and studies the peach in her hand. It’s fuzzy and prickly against her fingertips, grating against the grooves of her fingerprints. She turns it over, moving the fruit from one hand to the other. It’s mostly red, dark and ripe. It’s got a bruise near the bottom and the stem is still intact. Honey picks it, twisting until it comes free, and she flicks it away.

Trevor keeps talking. Honey is barely listening, but he captures her attention again with an apology.

“I’m sorry I haven’t put more time into getting to know you– I was caught up in how I felt about you. It’s kind of shallow, but I think I didn’t try hard enough to talk to you because I felt like I already knew you.”

Honey stares at him, lips parted. They’re growing dry with each ragged breath she draws in, but she can’t speak.

“I feel… tied to you. You’re special,” Trevor explains, finally floundering over himself. Honey expects that he didn’t think he would get this far. “I’ve never had to try to prove myself to someone before, and I probably should’ve given up by now, but I just… I like you so much, Honey. I feel like I can’t lose you, and I don’t even have you yet.”

“You don’t even know me,” Honey says, a weak defense.

“That’s my problem,” Trevor agrees. “I haven’t even tried.”

“No, you haven’t.” Honey’s voice is far away, indicative of the mess of flames and smoke swirling around in her head. 

“Will you let me get to know you?” Trevor asks. He has stepped forward, closing in on Honey, and the hem of her t-shirt has found its way between his thumb and index finger. He’s just feeling the fabric, unaware that he’s keeping her from stepping away with his featherlight touch. His mouth quirks at the edges and he gives her shirt a little tug. “I’m desperate,” he adds in the wake of Honey’s silence, looking a little amused at his own words.

Honey tears her eyes away from the pinched fabric between his fingers. She lets her bottom lip drop from between her teeth, an unconscious reaction to Trevor’s words that she finally recognized and corrected before she drew blood. Her hands are shaking, so Honey tightens her grip on her peach and clamps the fingers of her other hand on her wrist. 

Trevor notices, of course he does.

“I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready,” he says, dropping his hand to his side. Honey misses the weight of it already. “I really will take anything you want to give me, Honey.”

“I can’t date you,” Honey says. “I can’t do that.”

“If I asked why, would you tell me?” Trevor prods delicately.

Honey shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Is it because of me?” Trevor asks, some reluctance seeping onto his face. He looks down and scuffs his shoes against the stone face of the mountain. “Is it because I’m in the NHL?”

Honey shakes her head. 

Trevor barely catches the movement, only looking up at Honey when her silence stretches too long. “It’s not me?” He asks, his features softening.

Honey could cry. His concern, his relief, his overwhelming and obvious desire for her, and his ability to just come out and say it is too much. She lets out a breath, reaching out to pinch the hem of Trevor’s shirt the same way he held hers. She tugs him closer and Trevor comes easily, tilting his head and raking his eyes over her features in admiration. He brings a hand up to her jaw, thumbing over her cheek.

“It’s not you,” Honey tells him quietly. “I’m just… stuck.”

“What do you mean?” Trevor asks, matching her pitch. He traces the collar of her shirt.

“I moved to Litchton five years ago after some stuff happened in my hometown. It wasn’t pretty and I kind of, you know… swore off dating and everyone from Charlotte except Bea,” Honey explains, ducking her head to the side and sighing in the middle of her sentence. “So I can’t date you, Trevor. I’m not there.”

“We don’t need to date,” Trevor assures her. He pauses, then rolls his eyes and cringes. He forces his next words out, an edge cutting into his voice. “We can be friends if that’s what you want.”

“Oh my God, I hate you,” Honey sighs. “Obviously I don’t want to be your friend, Trevor.”

“Yeah, for a second I forgot that you hate me,” Trevor says. He twists his lips with an exaggerated “ugh,” then smiles at Honey. “I was thinking about the blowjob. It’s very hard to think you hate me when you’re swallowing my cum.”

Honey scoffs, clenching her jaw. “Fuck off.”

Trevor hums, pouting at her. “What do you want from me?”

She takes a deep breath, then glares at him through her eyelashes. She reaches into her bag and pulls out the second peach, dropping it in Trevor’s hand. “I want sex.”

“Now?” Trevor exclaims, looking around. There’s no one on the peak with them, but Honey shushes him anyway.

“Not now, you moron,” she chastises. “Why would we have sex now?”

“That’s a really good question,” Trevor says. He points at Honey, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know. I was just excited that you said that.”

Honey laughs and shakes her head. “Just sit down and eat your peach, Trevor.”

He nods, a big goofy smile on his face. Trevor plops down right where he stands, reaching for Honey’s hand and tugging her down to sit next to him. “Thank you for the peach.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So you were thinking about me,” Trevor teases. “Are you still ovulating?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Honey snaps, rubbing a hand over her face so that he can’t see the smile on her face. She only takes her hand away once her face smoothens itself out and she can look at him without blushing.

Trevor bites into his fruit and chews, watching Honey with an amused glint in his eyes. “Tell me more about you,” Trevor prompts through a mouthful.

“Well, for starters, I don’t like it when guys talk with food in their mouth,” Honey announces. 

“Mm, I guess I’m out of the running.” Trevor leans against Honey, taking another bite. 

Honey rolls her eyes, an unimpressed smirk taking over her mouth. “Just… shut up and I’ll tell you my favorite movie.”

Trevor lights up, then makes a show of zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing away the key. He bites his bottom lip and scoots closer, their knees touching. 

Honey doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t tell him anything substantive about her life either. Trevor doesn’t push her, although he does ask her a few questions that she has to shake her head at– the first: the names of all the people who made her want to leave Charlotte, the second: if he could lick the peach juice off her lips, just to name two examples. He’s frustrating and annoying and a loser, but Honey would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy herself. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like Trevor’s company.

He tells her about his family on the way down the mountain. She tells him about how she doesn’t talk to her parents anymore. He tells her about his teammates and reveals a few embarrassing stories from the years he spent with the Hughes boys and Cole. Honey tells him about the times she and Bea would go out in the city and she’d hustle the pool players while Bea found a date. He tells her about how he broke his ankle this past year, and for a moment, Honey feels bad about making him run up the mountain after her. Then she remembers that he has her phone number now and he will certainly abuse that privilege, so she gets over her guilt quickly. Trevor talks about his life and Honey talks about hers– despite their differences, Honey likes hearing about his life as an athlete in California. It’s a side of life that she’s never heard about before. 

About halfway through the hike, Trevor’s hand brushes against Honey’s and she almost reaches to intertwine their fingers. She can barely hold back.

When they make it back to the parking lot, Trevor walks Honey to her car. He tries to open the door for her, but it’s locked, so Honey laughs at him a little bit. He pinches her hip for laughing, then swats her keys out of her hand to unlock the vehicle himself. He successfully opens the door for her and hands her keys back, then leans against the vehicle, blocking Honey from shutting the door. 

“Will you come over tomorrow?” Trevor asks.

“I think Bea already invited us over, so I’ll probably make an appearance.” Honey keeps her voice light, aloof. 

Trevor is unimpressed, frowning at her. “How can I get you to promise to come over?”

Honey mulls the question over, taking extra time before she responds just to make Trevor squirm a little. “Can you promise me something?” She asks as an answer to Trevor’s question.

“Anything,” Trevor vows, sincere in his words.

“I don’t want anyone to know about this. How am I supposed to maintain my street cred if I suddenly act like we’re friends?” 

Trevor chuckles a little, leaning down to press his lips to Honey’s cheek. They’re soft, but his skin is growing a tad bit scratchy. He must not have shaved this morning. “Whatever you want,” he says. “I promise to keep my mouth shut.”

“Then I promise to come over tomorrow,” Honey says with a smile. “Now, get away from my car before I run over your foot.”

“Yes ma’am,” Trevor drawls, raising his hands in surrender and stepping back. 

Honey reaches out and closes the driver’s side door, hitting the lock button out of instinct. Trevor hears the click and frowns at her, his eyebrows scrunched together. Honey rolls her eyes then waves goodbye, pulling out of her parking spot and heading home.

Trevor passes her on the highway ten minutes later and Honey can’t have that, so they race the rest of the way to Litchton.

She wins. Obviously.

27:90 – TREVOR

“Stop texting me!!! I’m at work!!!”

This morning, Trevor grinned at his phone. “I only texted you once and all I did was ask what you’ve got on today”

“& I’m not answering that! Stop being a creep! I can’t stand you”

“Ok, so sit down. Can’t a guy get to know a girl over text?”

“I am not telling you what I’m wearing. Do not sext me at work.”

“Whoa, whoa. I only asked what you’ve got on. Got GOING on. You’re a dirty girl, Honey.”

“Oh My God. What is your fucking problem?? Don’t make me block you, Trevor.”

“:(”

After the events of the hike yesterday, Trevor has been using and abusing Honey’s phone number. He texted her that he had gotten home safely last night, which she hadn’t replied to. He texted her a goodnight message, which she hadn’t replied to. He texted her a good morning, to which she gave a thumbs up. Taking that as a good sign, Trevor typed out a question of what Honey had going on today, but then giggled at the potential double entendre and sent “What have you got on today?” instead. 

He thought it would get him a reaction and the rewards he was reaping were so, so sweet. Talking to Honey, no matter how angry she was, was a joy. 

Trevor wants to do it all the time. He likes her so much. 

It feels impossible, but Trevor is even more connected to Honey than before. He’s on a high and has been since she told him that her hesitance is not his fault. 

The relief leaving his body was almost comparable with the feeling of Honey’s mouth around the head of his cock.

And once that image entered Trevor’s head, he was helpless. He couldn’t think of anything else all day. Honey is coming over tonight, and he’s been very, very hard since this morning.

It’s getting harder to hide from the boys, too. Trevor can only sit with a pillow halfway over his lap for so long before one of the four immature goons notices and starts to chirp. 

Trevor has reread his texts with Honey no less than six times since he sent his final sad face– now that Honey’s shift is just under an hour from ending, Trevor thinks it’s time to send her another message.

“When are you coming over? I miss you” Trevor types, not hesitating for a moment before he hits send. He grins at his phone like a goof, then tucks it into his pocket when Jack looks his way. Trevor pulls the edge of the pillow up to hide his erection from the boy. He’s really got to get his dick under control before the girls show up. He stands, drawing the eyes of the boys. 

“I’m going upstairs,” Trevor says. “Holler for me when the girls show up.”

Quinn snickers from the corner of the couch, his laughter breathy and quiet. Other than that, no one says anything, eyes glued on the television once again. Cole had turned on some reality show that Bea recommended, and all the boys are enraptured. 

Trevor pads upstairs, tugging his shirt off as he enters his bedroom. He collapses onto his bed, face down, and groans into his pillow. He stretches his limbs, feeling the joints in his shoulders pop. With a sigh, he rolls his hips once against the mattress before turning over and palming his cock. 

He scrolls on his phone for a while, mindlessly watching Instagram pictures load and clicking through stories. He fists his cock over his shorts, just holding the length. He glides his hand down to cup his balls and turns his phone off, shoving it under his pillow. 

Trevor feels himself out, squeezing and releasing his cock every so often. He’s not quite stroking, at least not until Honey’s face pops into his head again. 

“I want sex,” she had said the previous day. To say that Trevor was down for that was an understatement– sure, he wanted to be around Honey in more than a physical way, but he’d be an idiot if he pushed the topic. He’ll win Honey over eventually, but for now, he’ll just make her feel so good that she forgets she ever disliked him at all.

He can’t seem to decide which fantasy he wants to focus on while he takes care of his problem– it’s like every possible sexual encounter he could have with Honey is flashing through his mind at a rapid pace. He considers her hands, then her mouth, her tits, her pussy, over and over again, never deciding on one image as he starts to move his hand over his cock.

Trevor loses track of time and most of his clothes in the passing minutes. He’s only just wrapping his hand around his bare cock, imagining Honey’s soft lips against his own and her delicate fingers under his, when someone opens his bedroom door and gasps.

Trevor flinches, immediately scrambling to cover himself up with his blankets. “Dude!” Trevor exclaims, expecting to see one of the boys in his doorway. “Knock much?”

When he turns to face the intruder, Trevor pales when he sees that it’s Honey. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is open, one hand frozen on the doorknob and the other covering her heart like she’s a grandmother clutching at her pearls.

“I’m so sorry,” Honey rushes out. “I was just coming up here to yell at you for being fucking annoying, I didn’t realize you were… occupied. I’m just gonna–”

She starts to turn, pulling the door behind her, but Trevor calls out her name to stop her. 

“No, you should stay,” Trevor corrects. “After all, you’re here in my imagination. You might as well watch in real life.”

“Watch?” Honey snaps, incredulous. “Have you lost your mind?”

Trevor pushes the covers off his body, fisting his dick and stroking it back to full hardness after it had flagged a bit upon Honey’s original intrusion. It’s not difficult to get back to the point where Trevor was before she walked in, just the sight of her causing a chill to run up his spine. He bites his lip and groans when he swipes his thumb over his slit, spreading his precum over his tip. 

Honey is still frozen, but her eyes are drawn to Trevor’s cock and her bottom lip has found its way between her teeth. 

“Better yet,” Trevor continues, allowing his hand to stop moving and rest at his base. His cock jumps in his hand, seeking out more friction. “Why watch when you could help?”

Honey’s jaw drops again, blinking in surprise. “Help?” She repeats.

“You still want sex, don’t you?” Trevor asks. “You told me so.”

“I– well, yeah,” Honey says, stumbling over her words. She opens her mouth to say something else, but ends up shaking her head and shrugging. 

“So come here,” Trevor beckons. “I don’t bite, unless you want me to. I was just thinking about how your fingers would feel on my cock. Will you show me?”

He starts to move his hand over his cock again, slowly. His skin slides against his palm, the glide that was harsh at first becoming more and more effortless as he continues to leak precum from his tip. 

The shock of the moment has painted a pretty pink blush across Honey’s cheeks and her open mouth further exacerbates her dangerously attractive cheekbones, reminding Trevor of the way they looked when her lips were wrapped around his cock. Honey stays frozen, but Trevor can see that her nipples have grown hard and are pebbling against the fabric of her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra. Excellent.

“Honey,” Trevor says, waiting for her eyes to find his. “Please don’t make me ask again.”

Honey shakes her head. “No. Ask me again.” She takes a step forward, then another. 

Trevor relents, watching her approach the end of the bed. “C’mere,” he pleads. “Come help me.”

Honey climbs onto the bed and crawls toward Trevor, running her hands up his thighs and sitting back on her heels between his legs. She runs her hands up over his hips, deliberately avoiding his groin in favor of feeling over his stomach and sides. 

Trevor drops his cock, lacing his fingers behind his head. His member stands away from his hips, erect and twitching invitingly at Honey. 

“Take your shirt off,” Trevor requests.

“No. We’re not elongating this any more than we need to. I’m going to make you come and then we’re going to go downstairs and I’m going to kick Luke’s ass at pool and you’ll try not to get hard again when you watch me bend over the table,” Honey replies, reaching for Trevor’s dick. 

Trevor moans when Honey leans down and spits over the head of Trevor’s cock. He watches her saliva drip down his shaft and disappear between her fingers, acting as a sort of lube. She licks his tip like a kitten at a bowl of milk and moves her hand up and down, her grip on Trevor’s cock deliciously tight and practiced. Despite swearing off dating five years prior, it’s like Honey hasn’t lost any of her talent. 

Trevor’s hips buck up into Honey’s hand when she circles her lips around his tip and suckles lightly. The tip of her tongue flicks over his slit, then lathers the skin around his cockhead. In this position, Trevor has a great view of the curve of Honey’s lower back, the waistband of her jean shorts pulling away from her skin and revealing the lavender underwear she’s hiding beneath her clothes. Trevor lets out a low whistle when his eyes trail further up her body, fixing on the tattoo marking the small of her back. He’s surprised he hasn’t noticed it before. It’s a dragonfly, surrounded by two branches of flowers. The tattoo is made up of thin but sweeping black lines and it’s so perfectly Honey that Trevor makes a mental note to ask her about it later.

“C’mon, Trev,” Honey goads. “People are going to start wondering what we’re up to. Hurry up.” Her hand speeds up, twisting over his shaft. 

Trevor keens, pushing up into Honey’s grasp. 

“It’s embarrassing how badly you want me,” Honey teases. “You’re so easy.”

“You’re so pretty,” Trevor replies, voice strangled and caught in his throat.

The pleased little smile that crosses Honey’s face makes his heart jump. She shakes her head at him fondly, then takes him back in her mouth. She hollows her cheeks, creating a vacuum around Trevor’s cockhead. She hums a little against him, the vibrations causing Trevor’s thighs to spasm. Her left hand soothes his quad, kneading the muscle with a scratch of her fingernails, and Trevor spills over her tongue. 

Honey takes it all in her mouth like a champion, sitting back and swallowing, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Trevor watches the line of her throat move with her swallow and he wishes that his refractory period was nonexistent so that he could fill her mouth again. 

“Now that that’s over,” Honey says, shifting on her heels. She crawls up, straddling Trevor’s waist and hovering above him. 

Trevor tilts his chin up and purses his lips.

Honey covers his mouth with her palm, effectively forcing him to kiss her palm, and glares at Trevor through narrowed eyes. She leans in close, making it almost impossible for Trevor to maintain eye contact. 

“Do not fucking text me while I’m at work,” Honey says. “I mean it.”

She swings her legs to one side of his body, clambering off the bed and returning to the door. With one last look, Honey slips through the little crack of the door and shuts it behind her. Trevor hears her walking down the hall, then down the stairs. 

He throws his head back against his pillow and covers his eyes with the bend of his elbow. 

It takes him a few more minutes to catch his breath and move again. He washes his hands and goes to take a leak, replacing his boxers and shorts. He pulls a sweatshirt over his head, his favorite pink hoodie. He ties the strings into a cute little bow and leaves the hood over his hair, covering the mess beneath it that is, quite frankly, none of his business. 

He just came in Honey’s mouth for a second time in a week– his hair is the least of his worries. It’s not even a worry at all. In fact, Trevor might never have another worry again.

When Trevor makes his way downstairs, he finds Honey in his line of vision immediately. She’s standing next to Luke as he lines up a shot, hoping to sink the maroon seven into the third pocket. Trevor only knows which pocket is which because Jack tried to show Quinn up last year with his technical billiards knowledge, considering he couldn’t beat Quinn until halfway through the summer.

Honey’s eyes are drawn to Trevor’s movement, away from Luke’s long fingers creating a good base for his shot. Almost unconsciously, her eyes are flooded with pride and the edge of a smile quirks her mouth before she looks away, focusing back on the pool game.

Luke takes his shot, but the ball bounces off the cushion next to the pocket. He groans, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe under his eyes. Honey pats his arm as he paces past her, evidently frustrated by his game. 

Trevor looks to the table and finds that Honey only has a couple of striped targets left, while Luke has to sink four more shots if he wants to catch up to Honey. Having played against Honey before, Trevor is not confident in Luke’s ability. 

When he looks to the leaderboard, Honey’s name is starred. She hasn’t played as many games as the other boys, but she’s undefeated. She’s beaten everyone except Bea, but it’s a no-brainer about who would win that fight. 

Trevor spares one last glance at Honey before spilling across the loveseat. He lays for a minute, then turns over and gets comfortable. He pulls one hand up next to his head, using it as a pillow, and pulls his legs up toward his chest. He evaluates the room.

Quinn and Bea are sat in the plush recliner chair, sharing the small space. Bea has her legs thrown over Quinn’s lap, halfway seated on the arm of the chair. Quinn’s hand rests on Bea’s thigh, keeping her in place. She’s kissing over his neck and nuzzling into his side, letting her hands roam over his torso. Quinn catches Trevor watching them and fixes him with a hard stare, expression mostly unreadable. He’s mastered the art of the pokerface, but Trevor knows him well enough to know that his look is a warning. 

Jack and Cole are standing up from the couch, Wii controllers in hand and pushing each other over to try and get Player 1. Both younger siblings, Trevor snorts at their stubborn desire to be in charge for once. They found the Wii yesterday while Trevor was out, tucked away in the closet where he received his first blowjob from Honey, on one of the highest shelves.

Cole immediately dug it out and went searching for games. So far, he’s only found Wii Sports, but that’s all they really need. Last night, Cole and Jack had boxed, and things had gotten so heated that Quinn had to ban boxing from the house. He even hid the nunchucks that were necessary to play the sport– so the rest of the boys were straight out of luck.

They’re pulling up a game of golf right now, which causes Bea to roll her eyes. 

“You’re such boys,” she grumbles, lips pressed to Quinn’s cheek. “Golf is boring in real life. It’s even worse virtually. Can’t you play something good like bowling?”

Quinn chuckles a bit, pulling Bea closer. He wraps his arms around her waist and nips at her collarbone, causing the girl to shriek with a giggle. “I promise, if you come out on the course with me, I’ll teach you to like the game.”

Bea pushes him away, squirming on his lap until she finds a position where she’s comfortable. “You just want to get me in a little golf outfit so you can look at something pretty.”

“I will be looking at something pretty,” Quinn agrees. He leans in, pressing his forehead against hers and bumping their noses. He pecks her lips, brief and fleeting before he finishes his sentence. “The greens.”

Bea groans, tossing her head back. She goes to climb off of Quinn, but he holds her tightly on his lap and brings his mouth to her shoulder.

“Just imagine it,” he muses between kisses. “The smell of the freshly mown grass, the even blades, the sound of the club hitting the ball and the flag in the hole waving in the wind…”

“I can’t possibly think of a hole that you might be more interested in,” Bea deadpans, her bottom lip jutting out just a tad.

Quinn smiles, deciding to tug on Bea’s pouted lip with his teeth rather than deign her with an answer. 

Trevor watches the exchange in disgust. The disgust transforms when he hears Honey whoop and gloat from the back of the room, evidently still undefeated. His gaze on Bea and Quinn softens a little bit, tinged with envy. Oh, how sweet it would be if Honey was sitting on his lap the way Bea is sitting on Quinn’s. He’s so jealous that he has to look away.

“Update that board, Lukey,” Honey teases, her voice cutting through the rest of the chatter like the beacon of a lighthouse. 

Luke mimics her words, high-pitched and whiny the way only a younger sibling can sound, but reracks his cue and turns to the blackboard. He wipes Honey’s scores away with the dustrag that they repurposed into an eraser, then scrawls out a chicken-scratchy “6-0” next to her name. Next to his own, he erases the number of losses and replaces the number with one higher.

Honey beams at him, laying her stick along the table and walking around to gather all the balls from the pockets. She racks them up in a neat triangle, then leaves them immobile on the playing field. Honey joins the group, making herself comfortable on the corner cushion of the couch.

Luke plops down on the other end of the couch, closer to Trevor. Both pool players are studying the game on the screen with equal amounts of intensity, right thumbs pressed against their top lips and eyebrows drawn together in a tight pinch. 

Trevor pulls his phone out of his pocket, chuckling to himself and types out a message. 

“Look at Luke and Honey,” it reads.

Quinn pulls Bea’s phone out of his back pocket, glancing at the screen and making a face when he sees Trevor’s name flash across the screen. He eyes Trevor out of the side of his vision once Bea unlocks her phone and reads the message, tilting her screen so Quinn can see it. 

They both look over at Luke and Honey, eyes flickering between the two, and Bea giggles. She presses her hand to her mouth, but the damage is done. Quinn turns back to look at her, eyes shining as he admires the girl sitting on top of him. 

Trevor doesn’t know the details of his breakup, but he seems to be doing okay. Jack expected a whole lot worse, even briefed Trevor and Cole about the recent split during the drive down to Litchton, but none of them had expected to meet Bea and Honey.

It’s hard to be down in the dumps when there are people like them around.

Honey’s hand drops, dangling over the edge of the arm of the couch. “What?” She asks, apprehensive and skeptical. She glares at Bea, frown etched deeply on her face. There’s a little crease between her brows and Trevor itches to soothe it with a kiss. “What?” Honey repeats, looking around. 

Luke is unperturbed, sitting in the same position and watching Jack putt the virtual golf ball. He laughs out a breath when Jack misses, grinning against his thumb.

Honey seems to recognize the pose immediately, making a face at Bea when the girl giggles again. 

Quinn adjusts Bea on his lap, spreading his legs so there’s more room for her to sit in his arms. She’s practically cradled in his lap, legs no longer thrown over his lap but over the edge of the chair. 

Honey sticks her tongue out at Bea, then returns to the screen.

The sun has started to set by the time Jack and Cole’s game ends and they’re almost in complete darkness once Bea has beaten Honey in bowling. 

Trevor gets a kick out of seeing Honey lose– only because he’s never seen this side of her before. She’s competitive and she likes to win, so when she loses, she sulks the same way that Quinn does. Bea, to rub in her win, grabs Honey by her cheeks and plants a loud kiss on her nose. She overexaggerates a “mwah” and pinches Honey’s skin. Honey is blushing and pushing Bea away, wiping the kiss off of her nose. 

“You are such a sore winner,” Honey chastises, crossing her arms over her chest.

“At least I’m not a loo-hoo-za-her,” Bea replies, wiggling her finger in Honey’s face like Ace Ventura. She spins and beams at Quinn, crawling back onto his lap and pushing her fingers through his hair. 

Trevor isn’t sure that Quinn has told Bea that he’s getting a haircut before the Awards next week– or if he’s told her about the Awards at all. Trevor does know that Bea will be heartbroken when Quinn’s long hair is cropped back to a Catholic-school length and she can’t twirl the strands between her fingers as easily.

Honey blows a raspberry at Bea. She turns to walk toward the basement bathroom, evidently forgetting that it’s being occupied by Cole, and has to redirect upstairs.

Trevor misses her as soon as she disappears up the stairs and out of sight. 

Luke sets out to try and get a perfect score in bowling, but gets distracted making a Mii of himself. It takes far too long and Luke defends himself when Jack chirps him for trying to make his Mii’s body less like a stick than he actually is, which is when he rushes through the rest of his design to get to the game. He scores two strikes in a row, then restarts the game upon only hitting eight pins in his third frame.

He’s less successful the second time. And the third. On his fourth try, he gets a third strike in a row, but then loses momentum.

And Jack is getting antsy, itching to prove that he can do better.

He usurps the Wii, and Trevor realizes that Cole returned from the bathroom a few minutes ago, but Honey has not.

Trevor frowns. She can’t have gotten lost in the house since she’s been here enough times to know the layout and she’s certainly capable of going to the bathroom on her own. She should be back by now. He should go check on her.

“Anybody want a drink?” Trevor asks, rolling off the loveseat and catching himself before he hits the floor, straightening up. He stands still for only a moment before taking off towards the stairs, not allowing anyone to affirm or deny his request. He’s not bringing them drinks. He doesn’t care about that– all he wants is to go find Honey and see what’s taking her so long.

He scampers up the stairs, a baseball cap hitting him squarely in the back as he goes, probably a result of Cole wanting a drink and Trevor running away before he could say so. Trevor laughs a little as he goes and as soon as he makes it up to the kitchen, it’s evident where Honey has found herself.

The balcony door is cracked open and her back is to Trevor. She’s leaning over the rail, looking up towards the night sky. 

Trevor pauses, watching her.

Her hair falls freely over her shoulders, cascading down her back. It’s messy, windswept in a movie-star way. Her jean shorts are doing that gap thing again, showing off the dimples at the base of Honey’s spine and the tramp stamp– her mouth-watering tramp stamp– decorating her skin. Her hip is popped to one side and she looks good enough to eat.

She was right, too. Trevor has to make a very concentrated effort not to get hard while watching her bend over. 

He approaches the door and slides it open. “Hey,” Trevor says softly. “What are you doing out here?”

Honey jumps at the sound of him, but she calms down and returns to her original position in an instant. “You’ve got a lovely view out here.”

Trevor sidles up next to her, bumping her hip with his own before settling in. He looks up to the sky. 

Honey swallows, clearing her throat. “Do you get to see the stars like this in California?”

Trevor’s heart flutters with the question. She’s asking me about myself. She’s asking me about California. She cares. “I live outside of LA,” he explains. “So there’s a lot of light pollution. The stars are harder to come by.”

“Oh,” Honey says, sounding disappointed. 

“Which is why this is so nice,” Trevor adds. “Up here, you can see everything. I’ve been learning the constellations because of that book. It’s really cool.”

“What got you interested in space?” Honey asks.

“I don’t know. It’s kind of like hockey for me. I always loved it.” Trevor shrugs. “When I went to Boston for college, I was an astronomy major, but I went to the NHL before I got to take any of the really cool classes.”

“So that’s why you’ve been looking for books.” Honey looks at Trevor for a moment, locking eyes with him for a split second, then she turns back to the sky. 

It’s dark, but her face is lit up by the moon and the stars are reflecting in her eyes. They’re dimmer than normal due to the clouds rolling in from the west, dark and threatening. They seem far away. A strand of hair falls into her face, distracting Trevor, and his fingers twitch with the desire to sweep it back behind her ear, but Honey gets to it first. 

Trevor looks up. “I think some of it has to do with all the Greek myths attached to the constellations, too,” he murmurs. “I think it’s really cool that the Ancient Greeks were able to see all of their stories in the stars. Plus, I’m Greek, so I guess I feel connected.”

Honey hums, considering his words. 

They fall into an easy silence for a while, surveying the sky. Every so often, Trevor watches Honey from his peripheral. He catches her looking at him twice, and both times, they each blush and look away.

Trevor fixes on one of his favorite constellations– Cygnus, partially covered by a sprinkling of smaller rainclouds. It’s on his list of favorites because it took him so long to find and he’s proud that he was able to do so. Cygnus depicts a swan, who represents Zeus. He reaches his finger out and tries to point the constellation out to Honey.

“See there? That bright star separate from the others?” Trevor asks, pointing at the twinkle of light.

Honey furrows her brow and tilts her head, trying to line Trevor’s finger up with the star he’s pointing at. “No,” she replies. 

“Here.” Trevor stands behind Honey, bringing his hand up and pointing so that she can look down his arm like a scope. Honey leans against his arm, one of her eyes squeezed shut. “There’s Deneb, which is the tail. It’s so bright because it has the power of more than sixty thousand suns. Isn’t that cool?” He drags his finger across the sky to another two major stars in the constellation, spreading his fingers in a peace sign to point them both out at once. “And there’s Xi and Albireo. Albireo is the swan’s beak and if I had a telescope, I’d be able to show you that it’s actually a star that glows blue and yellow.” Trevor unfolds his palm and sweeps it across the sky, drawing the path of Cygnus’s wings. “And those little stars are the swan’s wings. He’s flying across the sky for all eternity. I think that’s really cool.”

Trevor stands, proud of himself, admiring the constellation and his explanation. It takes him a moment to realize that Honey has turned in front of him. 

When he does, he only has a second to take her in. That second of time suspends when his eyes meet hers. He can feel her breath puffing against his lips. Her back is pressed against the railing and Trevor is so close to her that he can feel her heat radiating outward and reaching for him. Honey’s eyes are big and wide, thoughtful.

Then she leans in and kisses Trevor.

Her lips are soft, just like they were when he kissed her in the closet. She tastes sweet, but not like any food Trevor has ever tasted before. He can’t pinpoint it– it’s just Honey.

Trevor barely registers Honey’s hands sliding into his hair, curling the strands around her fingers. He’s too busy reaching for her waist and pulling her close. Her skin is burning under his fingers and Trevor slides his right hand around to her back, resting his palm against the tattoo he discovered just earlier today. 

When Honey’s hips press against his, her torso brushing against his, Trevor allows his left hand to rise. He brushes over her collarbone, then up to her jaw. 

Honey’s fingers tug on his hair and Trevor groans, which is when she licks over his bottom lip and into his mouth.

And he thought he was giving his all to avoid a boner before. That effort is nothing compared to this one.

One of Honey’s hands leaves Trevor’s hair, finding his chest. She presses her palm against his shirt, between his pecs, and Trevor is sure that she can feel his heart pounding. All the while, she’s kissing him.

She’s kissing him.

Trevor crowds into her space more at that thought, taking charge of the kiss. His hand slips from her jaw, resting at the base of Honey’s neck.

And in a beautiful turn of events, she whimpers.

Trevor could bottle the sound up and put it in a safe for the rest of time. The breathy sigh only spurs him on and suddenly his teeth are clinking against hers with the ferocity of his movements. Like an electric shock, Honey breaks the kiss.

Trevor wishes he could take a picture of her.

Her cheeks are flushed and her gaze is a little foggy, focused on his lips until she blinks the confusion away. She sucks in a breath when she looks up at Trevor and her lips are plump, still parted like they’re seeking his own. 

Trevor stands still, not even daring to let out a breath lest it scares her away. He watches her expression go from dreamy to concentrated, and he’s ready to step away, but her fingers clench in his hair and she pulls him back in.

The kiss is not sweet by any means. Honey pulls Trevor’s hand back to her throat, then her hands pull at the fabric of his shirt. She tugs him close, making an indignant keen when he’s slow to move. Trevor is stunned, but the noise snaps him out of it. Her fingers are impatient, tapping against his sides, and Trevor springs forward. 

His hand caresses the column of her neck, feeling all of her little noises rise up and vibrate through her vocal chords. His other hand dips lower, under the gap her jean shorts created. His fingertips dip under the lavender band of her underwear, but they stop there, just teasing her. Honey rolls her hips against Trevor’s cock, totally not erect at all, obviously, and they break apart again.

Honey looks much more surprised this time, caught off guard by her own actions. She pushes Trevor away and he stumbles back, putting enough space between them that Honey can cover her lips with her hand. She feels over the pink skin, her hand shaking.

Trevor can still feel the ghost of the kiss and he expects Honey is feeling the same thing. 

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t interrupt whatever is going through her head. He can’t– he won’t give her any more reason to run away. He knows that’s what’s coming next.

Honey’s mouth is wide open. Her chest is heaving and she’s staring at Trevor. 

Trevor starts to worry when her silence stretches a moment too long. “Do you want me to get Bea?” He asks.

Honey snaps her mouth shut, swallowing the lump in her throat and shaking her head vehemently. “I need to go home.” Like her hands, her voice is shaking.

“Okay,” Trevor says. He’s not sure what else he can say.

Honey steps toward the sliding door, then halts in her tracks. “Bea drove me,” she realizes aloud, eyes widening in panic.

“I’ll drive you,” Trevor says, the words falling from his lips like an avalanche. “I’ll say you got sick. I’ll drive you home right now and I promise I won’t try anything, I swear–”

Honey cuts him off with a nod, meeting Trevor’s eyes for just a second before she looks away and starting blinking more rapidly. She looks like she’s fighting something internally, lost but panicked but ashamed that she’s acting this way, and Trevor just grabs her hand. 

He leads her inside, closing the sliding door behind them and beelining for the front door. He grabs his keys and presses them against Honey’s palm. “Go start the car for me, okay?” He says, talking quietly. He holds Honey’s shoulders, pressing his forehead to hers. She closes her eyes and leans against him. “I’m gonna go tell everyone that you threw up, or something, and I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” Honey agrees, whispering the word out. Trevor opens the front door for her, keeping a hand on her until she’s across the threshold. He leaves the door open and bounds downstairs.

“Hey,” Trevor calls, catching the attention of everyone in the basement. Jack gripes a bit, missing a strike because of Trevor’s call, but Trevor cuts him off. “Honey’s sick. I’m taking her home.”

Bea’s head pops up from where it was snuggled under Quinn’s chin. She bumps into his head by accident, petting over the point of contact as an apology while she turns to Trevor. “What? Is she okay?”

Trevor waves her off. “She’s fine. She doesn’t want to cause a big deal. She said it might be something she ate.”

Bea scowls. “I told her not to eat that turkey we found in the fridge at work,” she says. “I knew it had gone bad. Poor Honey.”

“She’ll be fine,” Trevor assures the girl, waving her off when she starts to stand up from Quinn’s chair. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Bea looks hesitant, but Quinn’s hand on her hip seems to convince her to stay. “Okay, fine,” Bea says eventually. “But be careful, okay? It’s supposed to storm tonight. You’re not used to the mountains in the rain. The roads get bad.”

“If it gets bad, I’ll convince Honey to let me borrow her couch,” Trevor says. “I’ll text you when we get there.”

Quinn pulls Bea back down onto his lap, kissing her temple and rubbing her waist comfortingly. “They’ll be fine, baby. Honey’s a big girl.”

“I’m more worried about Trevor,” Bea grumbles in reply, barely audible. “The curves are slippery.”

“He’ll be fine,” Quinn repeats. He looks at Trevor, glaring at the boy, before opening his mouth to boss him around yet again. “Don’t be fucking stupid on the roads.”

Trevor flashes a thumbs-up in Quinn’s direction, then hurries back up the stairs. It’s starting to drizzle already– he can see the sparse raindrops falling towards the ground. They’re lit up by the lights of his car, already up and running. 

Honey is curled up in the passenger seat, her fingers clutching the collar of her shirt and tucked under her chin. She’s looking out the window at the rain and doesn’t acknowledge Trevor when he joins her in the car. 

He drives home carefully, having to turn the windshield wipers up as the rain grows harder. Honey directs him in hushed tones, her voice monotone. Trevor wants to reach over and take her hand. He wants to distract her from whatever is going through her mind. He doesn’t– it’s not his place. 

“Pull in here,” Honey mutters, pointing toward an overgrown driveway marked by a painted-floral mailbox. It looks like a child had painted it and Trevor spots a flower made of little thumbprints on the front flap as he turns in. He creeps down the driveway, approaching the dark house.

He throws the car into park, then gets out of the car. He walks around in the rain, shrugging his sweatshirt off as he does so. He opens Honey’s door and unbuckles her seatbelt, putting the hood of his sweatshirt over her head to protect her hair from the drops. 

Trevor leads her by the hand to her front door, which Honey opens easily. She left it unlocked. Trevor feels taken aback for a moment, but then he remembers that she’s been living in Litchton for five years and there’s barely any crime in town. She’s fine. She probably knows better than Trevor does, anyway.

He stands awkwardly in her doorway, watching Honey navigate the space with memorized ease. Her footsteps are light. She disappears up into the lofted area above her living room, which is just as eclectic and unique as she is. He takes in the knick-knacks and the lived-in space. The blanket on her couch is thrown over the back haphazardly. He can see into her backyard, the big windows on the back side of her house taking up almost the whole wall. 

The house is dark, but it lights up with a flash of lightning. The house shakes with a crash of thunder. Trevor looks outside again and realizes he can barely see to his car, parked maybe twenty yards from Honey’s door. 

He sends a quick text to Bea, letting her know that he just got to Honey’s safely and that he’s going to hang out for a little while before the storm dies down. 

Trevor walks over to Honey’s kitchen, making sure he shut and locked the front door behind him. He finds a peach in a bowl on her counter and a knife in one of her drawers. Trevor washes the peach and cuts it into cubes, plating them. He searches for a glass and fills it with water, then takes both the plate and the cup in his hands.

Trevor climbs up to the loft, moving quietly and slowly so he doesn’t disturb Honey.

She’s curled up in her bed, just a little lump under the covers. It’s dark in her bedroom, but Trevor can see her eyes glinting. Her face lights up with another flash of lightning and he wants to break at the sight of the tears lining her face. 

“Honey,” Trevor breathes out, placing the plate and cup on her bedside table. He rounds the bed, kneeling on the other side and reaching out to touch her face. He wipes away one of the tears streaking her cheeks. 

Honey whines, squeezing her eyes shut and turning to hide her face in her pillow.

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” Trevor says. “I didn’t mean to.”

Honey groans, lifting her head to fix him with one big stink-eye. “You didn’t do anything,” she glowers. “I’m the one who kissed you.”

“Yeah, but I–”

“No, you didn’t.” Honey drags herself into a seated position, pulling her hair out of her face. She wipes her eyes and sniffs, looking miserable. “I’m just… working through everything.”

Trevor pauses, watching her. He feels absolutely helpless, unable to do or say anything that could make her feel better. “I brought you food and water,” Trevor says, feeling lame. “You should make sure you’re staying hydrated.”

Honey’s in the middle of wiping her eyes again as he says it, and Trevor panics when her shoulders start to shake again and a fresh batch of tears leak from her eyes. He moves back from the bed, eyes wide. Maybe it would’ve been better if he hadn’t said anything at all. Now Honey’s crying because of him.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up,” Honey tells him, her voice thick with tears, hiccuping. “You are so fucking insufferable,” she continues, and Trevor realizes that her shoulders are shaking with laughter even as she cries. 

His mouth forms an ‘o’ and Trevor looks around, afraid to look at Honey for too long lest she start bawling again.

“Just–” Honey cuts herself off. “Can you–”

“Anything,” Trevor agrees immediately, interrupting her.

Honey presses her lips together, letting the words form in her mouth. She seems to consider not saying them at all, but she eventually continues. She’s sheepish when she looks at Trevor, small and caved in on herself. “Can you lay with me?” The words are resigned when they leave her mouth, her eyes miserable.

Trevor scrambles onto the bed and has her in his arms before she can finish the sentence, all of the breath knocked out of his lungs with relief. He can do that easily– he wants to do that for Honey. He holds her against his chest, tucking her head into the curve of his neck. She’s sniffling again against his skin, marking his neck with wet tears. Thunder crashes outside again, and Trevor just holds her as tightly as he can.

She shakes for a little while, crying silently. Trevor coos at her and wipes her tears away, kissing her temple and rubbing her back in what he hopes are soothing motions. Eventually, her breath evens and her tears dry up, but she stays curled up in Trevor’s arms. 

When she calms down, Trevor starts to feel awkward again. She’s just laying there in his arms and he’s sitting on her bed, not really sure what he’s supposed to do. 

“You should sleep,” Trevor decides. He’s speaking softly, prompting Honey like the gentle nudge of a finger pointing her in the right direction. “The storm has died down, so I’ll head back–”

Honey frowns against his neck, pushing away from his chest to look up at him. “Stay with me,” she pouts. 

Trevor is helpless to say no.

They maneuver themselves down to lay on the bed, and Honey presses against Trevor. She bundles a hand in his t-shirt, throwing the other over his waist. She hides her face in his chest and Trevor hopes that she can’t hear his heart racing, punching against his ribs in harsh beats, even though he knows that she can hear that and more, like the rumbling of his stomach. 

She doesn’t seem to mind, though. She falls asleep, one last tear falling across her cheek as her face finally relaxes.

Trevor wipes it away and pulls her close, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. He doesn’t know what happened to Honey in Charlotte, what made her swear off dating, but he’s determined to find out. He’s going to do everything he can to reassure her and keep her safe. He never wants to see her like this again. 

Trevor’s last thought before he falls into his own restless sleep is, God, I hope I don’t ruin this by waking up hard in the morning.

28:90 – HONEY

It was inevitable. Honey should’ve expected it. Trevor’s dick is hard, nestled against her ass, and he’s holding her there. He’s still asleep, breathing evenly on Honey’s neck with his nose nuzzled behind her ear. 

He snores. It woke her up.

An hour ago.

She doesn’t have it in her to wake him up. Trevor was so sweet last night, trying so hard to do everything right. He cut her peaches up into cubes and poured her a glass of ice water while she expected him to walk right out the door and leave her alone. He held her while she cried and his stupid face, his dumbfounded and panicked expression, made her laugh through the tears.

He handled it well and Honey slept soundly in his arms. She was okay. She’s calmer now, more steady on her feet than she’s ever been after Bea talks her down from a freakout. 

Trevor’s arms are strong around her, affording her very little wiggle room. About twenty minutes ago, Trevor’s hand had shifted to graze her boob, tickling Honey with his movements. Unconsciously, when she leaned back against him, his hand found the curve of her breast and cupped the weight in his palm. 

Honey is surprised Trevor was able to sleep through her giggles. 

His hand is still holding her chest, occasionally squeezing the flesh through her shirt. It’s a comfortable weight now and Honey finds it too endearing to push him away. She also understands the comfort that comes with holding a boob– whenever she finds herself watching TV and lazing around on her sofa, she catches herself with one of her hands on the slope of her chest. It never fails to make her laugh at herself. She really is no better than a man.

Trevor’s finally stirring, though, so Honey has to push his hand away. His wrist ends up curving over her hip, leaving his hand to dangle near the hem of her shorts. His other hand is nice and snug against the curve of her waist, trapped between her body and the bed. Trevor sighs, his voice deep and thick with sleep, snuggling against Honey with a smack of his lips and a yawn before he realizes that he’s not alone, nor is he in his bed at the rental house.

He twitches, pulling himself away from the drowsiness that was threatening to overtake him again. He scrambles back, putting distance between himself and Honey. When Honey turns to face him, mourning the loss of the warm body against her back, Trevor’s eyes are wide and his lips are pulled back in a grimace. He’s watching Honey like he’s afraid of her next move.

She lays facing him and puts her arm under her head, using the curve of her elbow as an extra cushion. She tries to keep her expression neutral. She licks her lips, then reaches her other hand over and tugs Trevor’s shirt. 

He’s stupid, so he doesn’t get it. Trevor stays frozen, way too much distance between his body and Honey’s for what she wants to say. 

Persistently, Honey tugs again at the hem of his shirt. When he still doesn’t move, she rolls her eyes and sits up, scooting over. If Trevor moves any farther back, he’ll fall off the bed. Luckily, he seems to realize that and he stares up at Honey, lips parted. If she weren’t so sure he was freaking out about overstepping and staying in her bed after she calmed down, Honey would think that the look in his eyes might be something akin to awe.

With a huff, Honey lays back down and intertwines her legs with Trevor’s, keeping a hand on his waist. She drops his shirt, but rests her palm on the waistband of his shorts, thumbing over the bare skin above the fabric. 

Trevor shivers and his eyelids flutter a bit. 

Honey wants to laugh. She does, but now is not the time. He’s just so easy. 

“About six months before I moved to Litchton, my high school boyfriend and I broke up,” Honey says quietly. “We had been dating for almost two years and things were great until they weren’t.”

Trevor closes his mouth, watching Honey. His hand, hesitating in the air, comes to rest on her cheek. He pushes her hair over her shoulder and catches one of her waves between his fingers, feeling it out.

“He wanted to go to college. I didn’t. He wanted to make the most of the end of senior year and I wasn’t as into the party scene as he was. I had Bea, who gets invited everywhere by her adoring gaggle of fans, as you well know,” Honey continues, crinkling her nose and nudging it against Trevor’s in a teasing manner. “But there was still that distance growing between me and Thomas.”

“What happened?” Trevor asks, brows furrowed in concern. 

“He started doing drugs,” Honey explains with a shrug. “Speed, mostly, but a lot of acid in between trips. He liked the high of those things more than he liked me.” She looks down. “The first time he mentioned reaching into a pill bowl, I broke up with him.”

Trevor’s hand soothes Honey, running over her cheek. His thumb barely grazes her skin, just there enough that Honey can feel her peach fuzz moving with his fingerprint. He’s paying attention to her, staring at her like she’s the only person who has ever walked the face of the Earth. Honey wants to blush, wants to cover her face with an embarrassed hand, all too aware of the way Trevor is taking her in and admiring her. It’s scary, the way he’s looking at her. It’s the same way Thomas looked at her before everything turned to shit.

Honey looks away. She stares at the logo branded on Trevor’s t-shirt, tracing the line of the design with her fingernail. He draws a breath in when she scrapes over his nipple, making her smile.

“He didn’t take it well,” Honey continues. “Why would he, you know? He couldn’t handle losing all of this.” She gestures down at her body, watching Trevor’s eyes follow her hands. His eyes, unlike Thomas’s, make their way back up to her face. She starts to feel hot tears prickle in the corner of her eyes, but Honey shakes them away. “And I wouldn’t tolerate his behavior. He just wanted someone who would sit idly by as he ruined his life.”

Trevor hums, pulling her closer. He presses a kiss to her forehead, then closes his eyes as he leans against her. Honey brings her hand up between them and runs her finger down the curve of his nose.

“He thought that revenge was the best course of action,” Honey says delicately, smiling ruefully at the memory. It still affects her, even now, although Thomas hasn’t occupied her mind in a substantial way in years. She feels a little silly, gearing up to say what comes next, even though she knows it’s not her fault. She’s not to blame. It’s a shame it still affects her so much, five years later.

“He…” Honey clenches her teeth, cringing in a long pause. “Took things that I shared with him in confidence,” she decides on, her voice shaking not with sadness, but with anger. “And he sent them out to my entire class. They sent them out to other people in the city and they sent them to… explicit websites, not caring that I was underage at the time.” 

Trevor lets out a breath, his grip tightening around Honey’s body. He buries his face in her hair, squeezing her.

“So, I dropped it all. I dropped him, I dropped my other friends, I dropped the whole city of Charlotte and I left. My parents were great– they paid for a lawsuit and got all the pictures taken down from those websites. They finally accepted that I wanted to move here full time and my dad offered the house. I had to pay, yeah, but I had somewhere to live. Eventually, I stopped talking to them, but I wasn’t alone–”

“You had Bea,” Trevor completes the sentence for her, sounding equally as sad as Honey. Trevor tilts Honey’s chin up, capturing her lips in a sweet, chaste kiss. 

Honey needed that.

When he pulls away, Trevor takes a breath. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s okay,” Honey replies. “I’ve had five years to process it. Sometimes it’s hard for me, and I'll freak out, but I want to keep doing the… things… that we’ve been doing. I just can't have everyone knowing– it makes me feel like there's pressure to be okay and have everything seem 'perfect' all the time.”

“You do?” Trevor asks, biting his bottom lip. His eyes rake over Honey’s features, then he brings his lips down in front of hers. Honey can feel the little puffs of breath leaving his mouth, his bottom lip sliding against hers in something less than a kiss when he lifts his chin. "You know I'll do whatever you want, Honey. Secret or not, we should absolutely keep doing the things we've been doing."

“Don’t get too excited,” Honey says, pushing against Trevor’s chest. She smiles, lips pulled tight over her teeth. “I let you sleep way too long. I have to go to church with Ada in thirty minutes and I still have to shower.”

Honey tears herself away from Trevor, dragging herself out of bed. 

Trevor leans up on the back of his elbows, his hair still messy with sleep. “Do you want me to join you?”

Honey scoffs out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Absolutely not. I’ll take you home before the service. You can shower there.”

“Mmm,” Trevor hums. “Bea can bring me some church clothes.”

Honey lets out a little laugh, exasperated by his determination to see her naked. “You’re coming to church with me?” She asks, stepping through her conjoined bathroom door and reaching for the spout of her shower. She turns the knob, watching the water from the showerhead spurt to life and start to warm up. “I should warn you, I’m not a big believer. I kind of lost all that after… well. Now, you know.”

“I’m not a huge believer either,” Trevor says. “I only join Bea at church when I think I’ll see you. All one time so far.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet?” Honey laughs, sarcasm twisting her tone. She realizes that it was the wrong response when Trevor lets out a cackle, still bundled up under her bedsheets. 

“You would know,” he teases. “After all, you’re the one who’s tasted me… twice.”

Honey stares at herself in her bathroom mirror, unimpressed. “What the fuck are we doing?” she mouths at her reflection, throwing her hands up. She smooths her hair back, pulling it into a ponytail before letting it loose and shaking her hair. A smile takes over her face until she ducks her head, burying her head in her hands. 

“I’m not going to give you the privilege of a response,” Honey calls, turning and reaching her hand under the water to check the temperature. Steam is starting to rise toward the ceiling, and the water is warming up by the second, so she sheds her shirt and shorts, leaving her in just her underwear. 

Not taking the chance, or the distraction, Honey closes her bathroom door and locks it. 

Trevor knocks soon after the lock clicks, calling for Honey to let him in. Honey just laughs, loud enough that he can hear it, and hops in the shower.

She takes all of fifteen minutes to shower and get ready, leaving them with plenty of time to make it to the church along the main road. Trevor has to wear the same clothes as the night before, while Honey has changed into a flowery skirt and a white bodysuit. She looks much more put together than Trevor, who insists on hiding out in the car once they park in the church parking lot until Bea smuggles some clothes through his driver’s side window. Trevor changes in the backseat, hoping that the tinted windows are enough to cover him up (they’re not– Cole looked through the back window and affirmed that he could see Trevor’s dick… “and balls”). 

Instead of hanging around with the group, Honey walks into the church and finds Ada. She stands in the pew next to her elderly boss, holding Ada’s hand in her right and the hymnal in the other. 

Just before the usher approaches the podium to greet the congregation, Ada whispers to Honey: “Did you help that young man feel better after your poor behavior on Thursday?”

Honey wishes she could throw her head back and laugh aloud. She smirks, throwing a look over her shoulder and catching Trevor fiddle with his tie. Bea notices him loosening it and reaches over to tighten the knot, causing Trevor to faux-gag in the girl’s face. Honey looks at his neat white button-up and his dark jeans, snug against his hips with a brown belt, and she bites her bottom lip. Trevor catches her eyes and grins.

Honey looks back at Ada. “Yes ma’am,” she says, a little smug. “I would say that he definitely feels better now.”

[laswells-ashtray]

What if weapon!Price did get loaned out to another team to help with a mission and comes back more violent and snappy?

It takes work to locate him, when John doesn't want to be found you've got a snowball's chance in Hell finding him. But if there's one weakness they share, it's standing out in the cold with a fag in their mouth.

So, when he has an inkling that John is smoking, he's quick to appear out in John's typical hideyhole. One spot that's hidden from view that most people don't tend to notice unless it's pointed out to them.

John doesn't even blink at his sudden appearance, focused on his lighter as he lets out a string of curses trying to get the poor, abused thing to work.

So, he resigns himself to leaning against the wall and ignoring how the cold brick decimates his shirt in the fight to keep his body at a normal temperature as he crosses his arms and watches the angry sergeant in front of him.

The failing attempts to intimidate his lighter into working would be comedic if it didn't lead to John dropping the thing and stamping on the cheap plastic until it cracks, leaking lighter fluid over the concrete below his boots.

He had made the mistake of trusting another captain, allowing him to drag John onto a mission with a team of strangers who were all thrilled at the knowledge of working with their best weapon of war. The mission had been a success and John had returned back to him in one piece but the younger man had been prone to sporadic bursts of directionless anger.

The machinery that he had so carefully deconstructed with his hands, guiding him into the shape of a young man who made his own choices and fired a gun of his own accord. Only to be wrenched and shaken back into submission at the hands of someone MacMillan trusted with rusty tools and force.

He may as well have cut the wires with his own hands.

"Fuck did that lighter ever dae tae ye?" He utters, watching the Englishman with barely concealed concern.

John looks up at him with a blank expression that sends him years back in time, to meeting a young man who knocked him on his arse because the only thing he was trained to be was an attack dog in a muzzle. An expression he hadn't worn in months.

Mac doesn't comment on it, God knows John doesn't want to hear it. Instead, he uncrosses his arms and digs his obnoxious Barbie pink lighter out of his pocket, tossing it over to the sergeant. John only grunts in response.

"Heard ye almost ripped the face aff ae Miller."

John doesn't attempt to feign guilt, it would be an insult to the both of them. "He was running his mouth."

"He does that a lot, it's never really been an issue wae ye before."

He's yet again met with silence that has guilt churning in his gut as he closes the distance between them. John's attention has not so subtly drifted back to his cigarette as he lights it, the closest to a fuck off he'll offer Mac.

"Ye ken talk aboot it if ye want, unlikely but the offers there. Or ye can spar it oot wae me and batter someone as ye so desperately want tae dae." It's the closest to a proper apology that he'll offer John.

He might've helped mould John into the finger on the trigger instead of the barrel on the gun but you can't shape a weapon into a human capable of proper communication skills if you haven't mastered them yourself.

"I'll think about it."

"That's aw a'll ask of ye."

[saltsicklover]

Bikinis, Breasts, and Bucky Barnes

Title: Bikinis, Breasts, and Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4350

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Light Misconduct/Abuse, A singular joke that may be offensive to First Nations folks. Talks about breasts and augmentation.

This is my first request and I am so thrilled about it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

Summertime has got to be one of the most oppressive parts of the year. Between the sweltering heat and the expectation to be tan, fit, and breathtaking in the smallest bikinis leaves me feeling with nothing but dread. The nausea twists in my stomach, churning and bubbling. 

My boyfriend, Brock, sits on the sofa next to me, staring at the side of my face intently, a gift bag held out in his hand expectantly. He has been talking my ear off about the party that the tower is hosting and I have been dodging the invite for weeks- from him and my coworkers. Any sort of mention and an excuse falls from my lips- "Well, it is a work party, and I would like to spend my day off not at work," or "I don't have anything to wear to that sort of thing," and even, "It's good for you to spend time with your friends and I don't want you having to worry about me the whole party" - Nothing worked. His buddies are supposed to be there, and some new recruits. The idea of it makes me queasy.

"Come on Sweets, open it!" I cringe a bit at the nickname, the one he has been refusing to drop for months. He thrusts the bag into my hands and the plastic crinkles under my touch. I take a deep breath in a shallow attempt to center myself before taking out the few pieces of tissue paper he shoved into the bag haphazardly. 

The feeling of his eyes  on my profile never leaves, not even as the bag hits the floor in front of my feet, a string bikini in my hands. The strings fall loosely between my fingers like limp spaghetti, the small bits of fabric meant to actually cover something seem to be almost non-existent. I hold the fabric up to the light and shapes of the room can be seen through the tan weave of the material. I can't imagine what could be seen through it if it were wet. 

I chuckle out a tense sort of laugh and it gets stuck in the back of my throat- I choke on the idea of wearing something so small. "What's this, Brock?" I hold the swimwear out to him in my hands and it sits on my palms like an offering to a long forgotten god. My palms care clammy, threatening to shake as if I were facing this ancient being head on. Maybe my head on a spit would be more comfortable than this moment; my body flayed out on an alter would feel more conservative.  

"It's for the party, don't you love it?" His eyes search over my face, my figure, the outfit he plans on parading me in front of his friends in. I might be sick. 

"Ha, yeah Brock, that's funny," I throw the pile of strings on the table in front of me. I run my hands over my jeans, hoping to stuff the anxiety from my palms between the stitches of denim. The look he gives me is somewhere between pissed off and disbelief and it is flooding each and every line of his face. 

"It's not funny, it's a gift, Sweets. You should be grateful," He informs me as he pushes himself to his feet. He grabs the bikini off the table as he grabs my wrist with a grip that is just a bit to firm. He pulls me to my feet and over to the full length mirror. 

"See look," He positions me harshly in front of the glass, my reflection staring back at me. I don't like what I see with him standing so close behind me. I shiver, but that doesn't stop him from tying the top on my body, over my clothes. "You are going to look good in this. Could look better, but there isn't a whole lot we can do about that before Friday rolls around," He shrugs like his words mean nothing, yet they are like razorblades. "These need work, but you refuse to do anything about that," He brings his hands up to grip at both of my breasts, squeezing them tightly, his fingers digging into the tender flesh. 

I fight off every instinct to elbow him straight in the gut. Bastard.

"You know better than to bring that up, Brock," I spit at him, trying to wriggle out of his tight grip. He just chuckles at me like we are playing a game- and maybe we are, cat and mouse, and it looks like I'm the mouse. 

"I'm just saying, you make more than enough money at the little job of yours, you could definitely afford it, and you and I both know you would look so much better with maybe a D, or a double D," He keeps scrutinizing my body in the mirror, his eyes locked on my chest. We work at the same place, but because I am a member of the human resources department he seems to think my job is lesser than his- until there is something wrong with his paycheck. 

I have never once question my breast size, at least not until Brock came along. I try not to let his words eat away at me, but with the frequency he brings up the topic I can't help but let my mind drift to it even when I'm alone. The whole thing leaving me tired, uncomfortable and self conscious. 

"If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times, I am not getting breast implants Brock. If you want a girl with big fake tits, that's fine! There is nothing and I mean nothing wrong with implants but they are not becoming a part of my body and that is final," I rip the bikini top off my body as fast as I can before pushing past him and out the door of his apartment. I am done with this conversation, absolutely, positively, done. 

By the time the party rolls around, Brock is practically vibrating. He pulls me behind him, his signature too-tight grip on my wrist as he pushes through the other party goers, straight over to his friends. 

"Sweets, you know John Walker, Lemar Hoskins, and the rest of the guys," He points at the men all gathered around one of the picnic tables. The party is being held on the upper floors and roof of Avengers Tower; everyone who works in the facility was invited. Tony Stark sure loves to throw a party, and the more the merrier seems to be his philosophy. 

I wave awkwardly with the hand Brock dropped as soon as we were in sight of his friends. I shift my strappy top, pulling the neckline up further with the other hand, my bag swinging from the crook of my elbow. "Hi guys." John goes on to explain to me how he and Lemar are being contracted to work with Brock's team, and how great it is to be contracted through the military. He explains this all so carefree, like he is trying to impress me with the information. It takes all my will power not to roll my eyes. He forgets he met with me to sign his damn contact, what a tool. 

I try and hum and laugh along with their stories as they continue to shoot the shit and catch up, Brock leaving me standing while he sits with his friends. I tune them out, looking around the party for anyone else that I could escape and talk to. John grabs my wrist, his fingernails digging into my skin, leaving small crescents in my wrist as he pulls me harshly into his lap. 

"You're right, Brock, she would definitely do better with some double D's! Say, Sweets, take off that shirt of yours and let us see what you're working with," He tugs the hem of my shirt, causing the deep v of my top to pull down, exposing my swimsuit and sternum beneath it. 

"John," Brock starts, looking stern. Maybe this time he will actually stand up for me, "Let's just say if she had an Indian name, it would be "Starving Children"," He bellows, laughing and grabbing at his own chest. When John erupts into laughter with the rest of the group, I stand, breaking free of his embrace.

"You know what Brock, fuck you, fuck your friends, and fuck this whole situation. I am done. Forget about me, lose my number, and go find a set of fake tits to shove your tiny dick between because we are finished,"  I shout at him, and I know people are watching, but I don't care. Anger is just the part of you that sticks up for yourself, right? 

I can feel the hot sting of embarrassment begin to bleed over my skin as I rush for the building and crushed raspberries have nothing on the color that shows on my face. I stumble down the stairs, praying that I can make it to the washroom before I fall into tears. I push past Bucky Barnes and his friends as they climb the stairs. His eyes meet mine and he offers me a small, kind smile, one I can't find anywhere in myself to return. I push past them, trying not to dwell on it, or the curve of his lips. 

When I push the door open, I am met with two pairs of familiar eyes and one set I don't recognize. Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff are standing in the washroom, no doubt having some sort of conversation before I burst through the door. The other woman, who can't be older than 19 or 20 stands at the sink, washing her hands diligently. They all eye me carefully and it's at that moment my body, my heart, my emotions betray me and tears begin to pour out of me with ragged sobs. 

"Are you okay?" The girl at the sink asks, dragging her wet hands though her curly hair. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid question. My name is MJ, How can we help?" She asks. The other women hum in unison, rushing to my side. 

Before I know it, I am lamenting about the bullshit I have been putting up with due to Brock and his never ending obsession with breast implants. Six hands begin to dry my tears and rub over my back and arms soothingly. I tell them about the barely existent swimsuit he forced me to wear to the party and how I am embarrassed that I even put it on. 

"You know what, I am sure between the three of us, we can get you a bikini that you will be proud to be seen in," Natasha tells me as she wipes some smudged mascara from my cheek. She gives me the most gentle smile. I can't help but smile back, and before I know it they are dragging me to Wanda's room to get me outfitted into something new. 

By the time they are done, I am clad in a beautiful purple bikini top, one that has hooks and clasps instead of flimsy ties, and a pair of black boy-short bottoms that hug my ass. Wanda pulls my hair back out of my face with a couple of braids while MJ stands next to us telling us all about Peter and how nice he treats her and how any man who doesn't treat me the same way should eat dirt. It's really refreshing to meet a young girl who has such a good head on her shoulders. Natasha slides a beautiful gold and silver necklace over my head, the chain hanging down to mid sternum, highlighting my natural body. 

"You look spectacular," Wanda whispers in my ear as we walk back out onto the roof. I have to admit, I don't think I have ever felt more powerful than I do right now, with these three women behind me. 

"Hey Barnes, get your ass over here," Natasha shouts. I follow her eyeline to the pool where none other than Bucky Barnes is pulling himself out of the water. The water slides down his figure and I can't help but watch as each drop runs over his defined muscles, dipping and rising over each one of them as gravity pulls the water towards the Earth. Once he is out of the pool, which takes seconds, he saunters over to us, a goofy smile plastered to his face. 

"What can I do for you?" He asks her, eyes not leaving mine. 

"I need you to show our friend here a good time, the girls and I have some trash to take out," She informs him, tapping him on the shoulder, like she knows something I don't.

"Hi, I'm Y/N" I hold my hand out to him, still shaking a bit from my earlier encounter with Brock and his scumbag friends. 

"I know who you are, Doll," Bucky chuckles a bit, but takes my hand in his anyway. The handshake is firm and his eyes never leave mine. "Let's get you a drink, shall we?" 

He pulls me along, fingers laces with mine, his touch the complete opposite of Brock's. The idea warms me from the inside out, a sense of comfort finally falling over my soul. Bucky leads me to a table with a couple of his friends, Steve and Sam, who both stand to shake my hand and tell me how good it is to see me again. I can't explain the feeling that thrums through me body when I catch Bucky smiling at me as I shake hands with his friends.

Sam reaches into the cooler and pulls out a bottle of water and a beer for me, handing them across the table. Bucky takes them from him, cracking open the bottle of water before using the table to pop the top off of the beer. He sets them both in front of me with a smile.

"These okay? Or should I get you something else?" He asks, a tinge of worry flashing in his eyes but quickly disappears with my reassurance.  The boys talk and laugh, each making sure that I am included in the conversation. Bucky never fails to open a drink for me, or to share his snacks, which earns a huff from Steve, who claims Bucky won't share any of his snacks with anyone. 

As the daylight is flushed away with the sunset, people begin to trickle out of the party, and before I know it, Bucky and I have been left alone at the table, each nursing a half full beer. Sam and Steve left to help clean up awhile ago, leaving Bucky and I in our own little world of conversation. 

I am listening to Bucky, but my mind seems to drift a bit before a full, hearty chuckle leaves my lips. I slap my hand over my mouth quick, a strawberry kiss of a blush on my cheeks. 

"What are you laughing about? I haven't even gotten to the funny part of the story yet!" Bucky laughs, nudging me in the knee with his foot playfully under the table. 

"I just had a funny realization, that's all," I try to dismiss the thought with a wave of my hand, bringing my beer back up to my lips. I tip the bottle back and Bucky just watches in bemusement for a moment before continuing.

"Oh, you've gotta tell me now!" He insists, crossing his large arms over the expanse of his chest. 

"Okay, okay, fine," I take another swig of my drink before setting it down on the table, "I just realized that I'm not nauseous, for the first time in I can't even tell you how long," I chuckle to myself, shaking my head to dismiss any disbelief.  Bucky cocks an eyebrow at me, so I continue, "With Brock it seemed like I was always nauseous or ill, and now that I broke up with him, everything has finally settled."

"Oh, that's- that's really good, I'm happy for you," He sounds sincere in his words, a smile pulling over his lips. 

"Thanks, Buck," I return with a shy smile.

"Can I ask what happened?" He questions, not quite meeting my eyes. I can feel a stinging flush of color invade my skin at his words but I fight the feeling, rubbing at my skin to ease it. 

"Yeah, sure. He has been harassing me for months about getting breast implants. He said that an A cup, which I am, isn't even a handful, which isn't good enough. He wanted me to get absolutely huge, fake tits because that's what he is into. Then John started harassing me about it too, and I guess I just snapped. I broke up with that tool right on the spot," I explain, and Bucky listens, like really truly listens to each and every word. When I finish speaking, he leans back a bit, a gentle huff escaping his lips.

"So that's what Nat meant about taking out the trash, huh?" He chuckles, bringing his bottle to his lips. 

"Yeah, I guess so," I laugh with him, and the feeling is truly refreshing. 

"I know this might sound horrible, but I am kinda happy that things went the way they did today," He admits, rubbing at the nape of his neck. His hair has long dried now, his bangs flopping in front of his forehead, threating to droop in his eyes. 

"Wow, thanks Buck," I roll my eyes at him and he tries to backtrack his words. "I am just fucking with you, Buck, calm down!" I laugh, and he laughs too, after a beat.

"You scared me!" He throws a towel at me, across the table. It catches both of our beers, the bottles tumbling over. The sticky sweet beer rolls off the table and into my lap as a small sound, somewhere between a laugh and a shriek leaves me. "Oh my god! I am so sorry!" Bucky jumps to his feet, rounding the table to look at the sticky mess in my lap that coat my swim bottoms. 

"It's okay, Bucky," I laugh, toweling off my thighs, "It will wash off, don't worry about it," 

"Well at least we got your suit wet. It would have been a shame to have come to a pool party just to have stayed dry the whole time," We laugh together at his words. "Wanna get in the pool? Just for a little while? It's a beautiful night, it would be a shame to waste it."

I just nod at Bucky with a smile, holding my hand out for him to lead the way. He takes my hand, pulling me to my feet before leading me over to the pool. He gets in first before guiding me down the stairs, holding my hand for balance. I can't help but swoon a bit at the action, a warmth filling my cheeks. 

We walk out to the five foot point, the water deep enough to cover most of my body. With the water covering my chest, the  last bit of insecurity is drowned beneath the surface.  

"I know I keep pushing the envelope with you tonight, but I am just going to say one more thing, than I am going to shut up and keep my ass quiet for the rest of the night, okay?" Bucky runs a wet hand through is tousled hair, water droplets dripping down his face. His eyes glow under the amber lights of the roof, complimented by a tint of cherry pink that is brushed across his cheeks.

"I think you look absolutely stunning, and I'm not talking about the swimsuit. I think your body is absolutely perfect, just the way it is. When I look at you, I don't see boobs or hips or ass or anything else for that matter, I just see you." With each word he takes a step closer to me. 

As the space between us shrinks, the ripples of our movement in the water run together. Finally, mere inches apart, Bucky looks down at me carefully, his whiskey full eyes moving carefully over every inch of my face as if he is taking in the littlest details I even overlook. 

"Thank you, Bucky, I can't even tell you how nice that is to hear," I look down towards me feet out of instinct, but he meets me halfway with a gentle finger beneath my chin. 

 "You don't have to shy away from me, Doll, hell, if it were up to me you would never shy away from anything else in the world," His words drip with honesty. His hand has moved to cradle my face, his thumb sweeping over my cheekbone with soft movements. He holds my hand beneath the water with his other hand, his grip gentle. I squeeze his hand in return. 

"You know, lately I have been getting through the day by telling myself by body is good enough because it holds all of my organs in the right way and it carries my brain from place to place, so it doesn't matter what it looks like, but, if I'm being honest, Buck, today with you has been one of the most comforting days I have had the pleasure of experiencing in a long, long time," I can feel my  breath bouncing off of his skin due to our close proximity. "So, I guess I am trying to say thank you. Thank you, Bucky," 

He barely gets the beginning of a word out before I am on my tiptoes, pressing my lips to his in a soft kiss- one that feels like it has been years in the making, all the time folded over and compressed into an afternoon spent poolside. 

His hands snake around my figure, chests pressed together as the water moves gently around us. He kisses me like I am holy, like I am the most beautiful thing he has ever had the pleasure to touch and I melt. 

For once I am not the one on my knees at the alter, sacrificing parts of myself to a man who can barely keep a flame alit to keep us warm. Blood no longer drips down my hands, there is no bone clutched in my palms. I am no longer loosing a fighting battle against myself for a man who would never carry a shield for me- Brock was the artillery being fired my way and the only thing that ended up in the crossfire was the image of myself. But now, now, it's as if Bucky is honoring me with every brush of his calloused hands against my fingers. With every run of his tongue over my bottom lip I am finding the strength to worship myself again- just the way it should be. 

So I press my chest to his a bit harder, my heartbeat rattling my ribcage. The way he runs his hands over my body is like breathing air, fresh and crisp after years of smog. I let my fingers tangle in his hair where I can, my nails brushing over his scalp and he stifles back a moan. 

I pull back, peering up at him through my eyelashes. "Bucky, you are an incredible man. I hope you know that," I whisper, a small smile spread over my kiss sodden lips, "But that's not going to stop me from doing this!" I sweep a foot under his while pushing him backwards towards the water. Maybe it catches him off guard, maybe it doesn't, but he falls beneath the surface, pulling me along with him. We share an underwater kiss, but that just earns me bubbles to the face. I come up sputtering water and laughing full belly laughs that feel at home outside of my body.

He grabs me again, pulling me into a tight hug. His arms are wound around my shoulders, head perched atop my own. I wrap his midsection in my arms loosely, taking in the night sky just beyond the building. 

"I wish we could see the stars," I whisper, water droplets running from my eyelashes down to my lips. 

"I can't imagine they would outshine you," Bucky mutters, a hint of flirtation in his voice. 

"That's because you grew up in the city, Barnes," I laugh, and his body rumbles with laughter too. He runs a hand up and down my back, his fingertips barely brushing over my skin, but they leave warm tingles in their wake. 

"I've been other places!" He attempts to defend himself but he doesn't go any further than that.  

"Speaking of other places, I should probably get going," I tell him, pulling out of the embrace. "Thank you for tonight, Buck, truly," I move across the pool and ascend the stairs, heading to collect my bag. "Would you tell Nat and Wanda that I'll bring there stuff by on Monday?" I ask him, while I run a towel over my body. 

"Of course I will," Bucky smiles at me. God I could get used to that smile, and those blue eyes of his. I smile to myself as I stuff the now wet towel into my bag. "Speaking of Monday, you and I are getting lunch- or if you are stuck in the office, I will be bringing lunch by for us. I want to see you again." By the time he finishes speaking, he is out of the pool and standing in front of me, a look of excitement scribbled across his features. That big goofy smile of his is going to live rent free in my head for the weekend, maybe longer. Definitely longer. 

"It's a date," I tell him, holding out my hand to shake on it. He takes it and pulls me into his wet body.

"It's a date, Doll," He whispers against my lips before sharing a kiss with me that is too full of smiles and giggles to be done properly; and for the first time I find myself thankful for bikinis, breasts, and Bucky Barnes. 

[pseudoquiddity]

Here is my radical "The Nocturnal Ending is Bad for the Kin" take because I feel the need to write it down.

As I see it, the Diurnal and Nocturnal ending are equally as bad/good for the people of the Kin (to modify the statement I just made above). It's Artemy's miserable job to choose which part of the Kin is "most" Kin to him, based on his lived experiences the past two weeks.

Oyun and several other NPCs state multiple times that the Kin are a single-headed beast. If you kill the worms in the Termitary, Artemy can also believe that the Kin are a hivemind. If this is what you and/or your Artemy believes, then so be it, but there is evidence to the contrary. Aspity has a different take on this, Isidor has a different take on this, you can have a different take on this, and you're all undeniably Kin. The Kin members you meet in Aspity's place asking for her advice all come to her with different problems representational of the factions the Kin are splitting into. Should they rebel violently? Should they learn Russian? Is there a point passing down their values when their values have no purpose in this settler society? Var, too, "looks" Kin but claims he isn't. But the Worms attack you and help you "as one" in the Abattoir. Taya believes they're all fingers on a hand and inseparable. There is no "alone." So which is it? Well, Artemy, you choose ...

The "Kin hivemind" is an objectively fantastical concept that may or may not exist in the Kin, the same way that massive aurochs maybe did, maybe didn't roam the Earth at one point.

During the plague, massive numbers of the Kin die. In the Termitary, for one, but also people on the street. We know this is because they're "too individualistic." They're too integrated into the town and have strayed too far. It's a kind of internal diaspora. Artemy, who leaves the town and is himself half Kin, and so grapples with whether he has the right to make massive decisions for the Kin or not, whether he's really Kin enough, is like these people. These people have never left the town but they have left behind part of their Kin identity. These are the "average" people, people who aren't fantastical, who need to work jobs to feed their families, who make mistakes and, like Artemy, struggle to fit in a world that at its convenience, sees them as a member of the town or not.

During the Nocturnal ending, the members of the internal Kin diaspora will probably die to the plague. They never had the chance to prove themselves, like Artemy did, that they're still connected to the Earth. What's preserved is the fantastical. Murky, Grace, Taya and Clara get to live because they are also partly embedded in the idea that they are pieces of a whole, and they're also little miracles themselves with their latent abilities tied to the Earth.

So, here, Artemy makes the decision that to him, the Kin is miracles; it's all of the myths he heard, they're a hivemind, they're magical, they're suprahuman. There's no room for the mundane, disconnected members of the Kin, who are long-since discarded victims.

In the Diurnal ending, the miracles die. In the Diurnal ending, to this Artemy, the Kin are the everyday people who are caught up in this settler colonialism system like he is. There are no more strange Worms, or Herb Brides, but there is a little steppe encampment outside the town for anyone who considers themself Kin and that might be good enough for Artemy. This ending, though, is a deeply conservative one where things won't change. Conditions will modernize as Vlad improves quality of life for the workers, but members of the Kin who join him again and decide to live in the town will drift farther away from their heritage, further churned up in the system.

So, it really is an impossible decision ... for Artemy to not quite feel like he belongs himself, who is passably European but is also interpreted as Kin when people want to mark him an outcast, and then he ultimately has to sever one aspect of the Kin forever. And neither decision is "good," but he has to make it, so neither decision is "bad," too. Ultimately, like the Bachelor, in the Haruspex's P2 ending, the "system" wins. For the Bachelor, it's a new oligarchical system spearheaded by the willfully corrupt Kains, and for Artemy, it's the system he struggles with since day one when he was hunted in the streets.