#The kind of person who looks the same at 30 as they do at 50

[eclecticwordblender]

i know this aunty who happens to be a homemaker and perhaps she is the only woman in my parents' social circle who is not financially independent. apparently she has never been very good academically and "chose" to be a homemaker. but her street smarts are absolutely off the roof. she has the highest emotional intelligence that i have ever encountered. she has a great sense of aesthetics. she has amazing people skills. her home is always impeccable. she’s a brilliant cook. her husband also has absolutely no idea about the functioning of the household because she has handled it so well. might i add she is also naturally very conventionally attractive. even at the age of around 50 she looks like she’s in her early 30s at best. this woman is the ideal tradwife by any standards.

her husband is also quite nice to her. always acknowledges her role in taking care of his household and his children. he’s generally one of the nicest and kindest men i’ve ever come across tbh. but despite all his niceness and kindness there is the occasional wife joke. and after all the emotional and unpaid labour she has put into their lives, it is his house after all. there is an obvious power dynamic where she constantly acknowledges her husband as someone she depends on, which is obviously true because she has no monetary independence. also, despite how smartly she manages the household, there are always jokes about how dumb she is in every social gathering and it is extremely humiliating to say the least.

this couple has a daughter who is in her late 20s now. she refuses to get married. now this aunty's in-laws refuse to get off her back because apparently she has failed as a mother because her daughter refuses to get married. aunty is often insulted about this in gatherings. her father in law once reprimanded her saying that she had one job staying at home and she couldn’t even do it properly. obviously, she was pissed off and answered back saying her husband was an absent father altogether. surprise surprise the husband started yelling at her in front of everyone saying that he had to break his back working for his wife was too stupid to get a job.

i’m sure these fights have escalated in private because recently aunty had a talk with me saying that i must earn my own living no matter what. this is the first time ever. we’re pretty close and she never said anything of this kind. she has also stopped pestering her daughter to get married and recently admitted that she is right about not wanting to get married altogether. i have also witnessed a recent drastic change in her personality lately. she isn’t as chirpy as she had always been.

now i do not know what is going on with her behind closed doors. but what i do know is that she has nowhere to escape because she has no monetary support.

if you think being a tradwife is a great choice, THINK AGAIN. perhaps your husband treats you right, but remember your life is at the mercy of how he treats you.

in an ideal world, money does not have the kind of power it does in our world. but unfortunately, we do not live in such a world. we as women, must, first and foremost secure financial independence for ourselves. money buys everything, even emotional and care labour. as educated and employable women, we also have a moral obligation to women who do not have the same privileges as us. we have a moral obligation to do whatever we can to offer them avenues to access whatever freedom we can bring their way. we owe it to the women who came before us, to the women who live with us, and to the women who will come after us.

YOU ARE A WOMAN BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE. ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT.

YOU OWE IT TO YOUR SEX CLASS BEFORE ANYONE ELSE. ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT.

[saucerfulofsins]

CUDDY IS 38 IN S5?

[omgthatdress]

the major takeaway from last night is that Karl Lagerfeld was more of a personality than a designer and that Yves Saint Laurent was the clear winner of that rivalry.

For those who aren’t familiar, Karl Lagerfeld and Yves Saint Laurent were both fashion wunderkinds who emerged in the late 1950s, both appointed heads of major brands at the same time, and had very intense rivalry. Yves Saint Laurent took over Dior after the passing of Christian Dior, helped cement the brand as a major player in fashion, and then after a disastrous stint being drafted into the French army, built his own fashion brand that went down in history with its unique and diverse and always evolving looks.

Karl was always kind of behind Yves. He designed for a lot of major fashion brands, and managed to establish himself at the top of the game at Chloé, but he didn’t get his full on legendary status until he took over Chanel in 1983. This history of the Chanel brand was already pretty frought, with Coco Chanel modernizing and defining the fashion of the 1920s and 30s, but being forced to shut down during World War 2, during which she collaborated with the Nazis. Behind the Bastards did a pretty great two episodes on her. When the brand returned in the 60s, fashion had changed tremendously. Dior, Givenchy, Balenciaga, and Balmain had all taken over mid-century fashion, and now that aesthetic was being taken over by mod, the miniskirt, and the likes of Mary Quant, Pierre Cardin, and Paco Rabanne. So when Chanel came back it was largely seen as a stuffy old lady brand, which it remained until Karl took it over.

Now, this is where Karl actually did something really impressive that you honestly can’t take away from him: he took a fashion house in severe decline, one that had been in its flop era for literal decades, and he made it hip again, while still managing to stay true to the ethos that Coco Chanel had laid out.

Chanel is clean, minimalistic, and classy. It is easy to wear, effortless, and always extremely glamorous, which is what made it so iconic in the 20s and 30s. Given that the 50s and 60s were all about making a fucking effort, the thing that the brand managed to keep doing well was its suits. You know what kind of suits I’m talking about. Tweed jackets and midi skirts, neat tailoring, delicate pastel colors, pearls and camellias and chains. It’s not so much that it was edgy and exciting but it was expensive and it was *Chanel* and people wore it for the status symbol alone. That is what Karl took advantage of and managed to re-invent.

That sort of aesthetic fit perfectly into the you-can-never-be-too-rich-or-too-skinny 80s, when wearing status symbol clothing was everything.

Then, in the 90s, he managed to keep things exciting by following exactly what was on-trend at the time and incorporating elements of street wear and hip-hop.

However, after that, he kind of lost his edge and just rested on “it’s Chanel” rather than actually pushing the fashion envelope. By the time he died in 2019, he was a fucking dinosaur and fashion had long since moved past him. The thing that he was ultimately most well known for was his own very distinctive look and flamboyant personality.

Before I ever started studying fashion, I knew who Karl was because I’d seen him so many times, and I’d seen parodies of him so many times. I knew *him* but I didn’t really know his work. And I think having an incredibly boring Met Gala dedicated to him reveals that: his actual artistic legacy is skinnier than the models he used to berate. Karl Lagerfeld built his brand on his diva personality, and that sort of personality and outlook just isn’t hip anymore. Fashion is always about moving forward, and Lagerfeld’s beliefs should remain fossilized in the past.

[norrizzandpia]

Soo

Smut survey

On each question you can answer Oscar or Lando. You can choose both of them if you want obvi. And of course leave brief comment why do you think so

1. Who do you think can do several rounds at one night?

2. Who is more vocal in bed? Like moaning, grunting and complimenting

3. Who is better at giving oral?

4. Who is lasting longer at one round?

5. Who is showing more intimacy? Like kissing, looking into eyes while sex

6. Who is better at missionary?

7. Who is better at doggy?

8. Who is better when you're riding them?

9. Who is more likely suggest to make a sex-tape?

10. Who is more likely suggest you to invite his friend to spice up things?

11. Whom you would wake up with blowjob?

12. Who is more gentle during sex?

13. Who likes to give marks? (Hikeys)

14. Who likes to receive marks? (Scratched back and ass)

15. Who is more fun to have sex with? (Like sex with actual laugh)

16. Who is more likely suggest semi-public sex? (Like in WC at party)

17. Who is more into praising?

18. Who has longer dick?

19. Who has more thicker dick?

20. Who is more likely send nudes to you?

21. Who is more likely to cum early at your first sex?

22. Who is more dominant?

23. Who can fuck while standing?

24. Who is more like to cum at blowjob?

25. Who is more likely to give multiple orgasms?

26. Who is more likely do angry or post-fight sex?

27. Who is more into spanking and hair pulling? (Receiving)

28. Who prefer to cum inside?

29. Who is more trimmed and who has more pubic hair?

30. Who is most likely to cum in the same time with you?

31. Who has best hair to play with while making out?

32. Who has best lips to kiss?

33. Who has best broad shoulders?

34. Who has best strong back to scratch while sex?

35. Who has best (strong, veiny) arms? Biceps and triceps

36. Who has best pecs/chest with nipples to kiss?

37. Who has best abs to lick?

38. Who has best happy trail?

39. Who has best ass to squeeze?

40. Who has best tights to sit on?

41. Who is more into shower sex?

42. Who is more into morning sex?

43. Who is more into quickies?

44. Who is more into slow passionate sex?

45. Who is more into fingering?

46. Who is more into handjob (receiving)?

47. Who is more into cumming on you (back or stomach or etc)?

48. Who has vocal kink? (Likes to hear your pantings, moans and screams)

49. Who has praising kink? (Likes to hear compliments)

50. Who has is more into boobs, into ass, into pussy

51. Who wears boxers and who boxer briefs?

52. Who is more likely to be best lover?

Me at midnight in my room thinking through each of these questions bc im insane:

1. Lando fs. I think this one was a no brainer for me particularly because I feel like he has a lot of energy and just gives off the vibes of having better stamina

2. I think grunting and moaning would be more lando but compliments and whimpers would be more Oscar. I feel like this one is self explanatory idk like their personalities just match up with it.

3. Tbh i feel like it’s Oscar who is better at oral because i feel like he just gives off more attentiveness. Lando gives off player vibes which isn’t a bad thing but i feel like he wants to get to the main event of it all quicker while Oscar gives the vibes of being a man who takes things slow

4. I was going to say Oscar for some reason but then I changed to Lando because I feel like this man has A LOT of experience with being older and sleeping with more women (i assume obvi). I just feel like lando has built that kind of stamina if you get me

5. Oscar. Immediately. Oscar. I said in 3 that i think Oscar takes things slow and that pertains here. I think he’s more romantic, like soft dom aesthetic, while Lando is rougher, more degradation maybe

6. I feel like we all know who im going to say here lol. OSCAR. He just gives off soft sex vibes i can’t explain and i feel like he would be the type of guy to be like “look in my eyes while i fuck you” or “I want to see all of you while I fuck you” like he just wants to keep the genuine connection going

7. I think Lando is better at doggy. I just think, because I think he’s rougher, he’s the type of man to want things hard and fast, which doggy can add to that vibe

8. I think they’re both really good during ridding in their own aspects. I think Oscar’s touchy, going for the boobs and stuff, but I also think Lando is putting in the work too, pushing up into her while she rides him, ya know? I think they both bring positive things to the table for this question

9. I WAS GONNA SAY LANDO BUT ALSO I FEEL LIKE OSCAR COULD DO THIS TOO?? I feel like with the racing schedule and all the traveling they do, at some point, they’ll want a video of sex because sometimes they can’t call so they need a default if phone sex isn’t a thing. I could see this for both of them, yeah.

10. I’m thinking Lando for this one. Just because Lando seems to be a bit crazier than Oscar, partying more and more sociable, so he seems to be a bit more mischievous this way

11. I’m going to say both for blowjobs in the morning because the soft of the morning coupled with Oscar’s soft moans could be so so good, but also just blowjobs at any point with Lando seems… perfect 🤭

12. Oscar is for sure more gentle I think. Just the way he treats others, i don’t know. There’s something about him fr that just screams “Doing so well for me, baby… good girl, love” YA KNOW???

13. I think Lando likes to give more marks because he seems more protective and territorial over his friends and stuff. Like this man is fiercely protective over the people he loves. He would want people to know his girlfriend was his for sure. He’d be like “Crystal clear yet?” To a man hitting on his girl at the bar and then gesture to the dark marks on her neck

14. I think both Oscar and Lando like to receive those kinds of marks. Tbh i feel like it’s just a thing for men where they like to have physical evidence of how good they are in bed, how capable they are of pleasuring their partner

15. Awww I could see this with both but more so Lando because his laugh is so infectious that it would derail the whole operation fr. Like one small, not even funny joke, could turn into a fit of giggles with this man and im sure sex just adds to that. Plus Danny Ric has even said Lando is so easy to make laugh like sex with laughs just screams lando.

16. I actually think Oscar for this tbh. Oscar is very idgaf for one, but also he just seems like he’d be able to be quiet enough and exert enough energy into making sure his girlfriend is quiet enough for it to work. He’s also just fucking smart and logical, he’d think about a place to do it before figuring out the best possible location for successful, uninterrupted sex. Like Oscar just seems capable enough to think through every possible outcome

17. I think they both are, but I think Oscar praises more. I think Lando doesn’t have anything against praising but he would rather take the degradation route (i think its the mustache idk) while Oscar is just love drunk on his naked girlfriend

18. There are some pictures of Lando I’ve seen…. That suggest he’s a bit on the thicker side rather than length so im going to go Oscar on this one.

19. Lando. THE PICTURES IVE SEEN oh lawd like ive seen some where he’s walking, playing golf and such and you can just tell this man is thick.

20. LANDO WOULD SEND AN ABS PICK WITH HIM STROKING HIS DICK IN THE FRAME TOO I KNOW IT. I cannot describe why i wholeheartedly believe this but i feel it in my bones that lando would send his girlfriend a down-angle video of his abs with his hand pumping his dick at the bottom of the frame

21. Tbh i think lando would cum earlier during the first sexual encounter like he’s just consumed and overwhelmed by all the feelings so he just cums earlier. I still think his stamina is cray and he can go for multiple rounds but i think the first time he gets with his girl, he can’t last

22. I think Lando is more dominant in the relationship as a whole. I think they are both dominant in the bedroom but I think Lando is the most dominant because he would be more protective and manly throughout every part of the relationship.

23. Have yall seen Oscar’s arms…. Tbh BOTH of these men could fuck standing up. They have the strength in their arms and legs to hold some WEIGHT. Trust me on my delusions ppl, it’s both.

24. I think they both will like idek my gut j tells me its both

25. I think they both give multiple orgasms because, as ive said, they come across really attentive so providing multiple orgasms seems on brand plus they seem like the kind of men to base how fat their egos are on how well they can make a girl cum

26. LANDO! He’s just rougher in bed i know it so makeup sex might just be his favorite thing

27. I think they would both be into giving hair pulling and spanking (maybe spanking more so Lando) but I don’t think they would be that interested in receiving it

28. I think Oscar prefers to cum inside because i think one of the things that gets him off so much is the connection and the emotional feelings and cumming inside is such an intimate thing to do… i think he’d be all over it

29. Lando’s gotta have more hair. His hair grows so goddamn fast hello. Like that’s easy. Idk about Oscar tho, im thinking trimmed?

30. I think Oscar for this one. Again, i think it’s just the intimacy of it all. I think Lando would cum after.

31. LETS TALK ABOUT IT YEAH! Lando. I would love to sink my hands in that man’s curls asap like- i love Oscar’s hair but Lando’s hair seems so soft and there is so much of it like i just know tangling your fingers in it would be satisfying

32. I think they both do tbh like they both have relatively full lips (Oscar’s are a bit on the smaller side but he’s got that upturned lip thing going on)

33. CAN WE TALK ABOUT OSCARS BUILD PLZ because i feel like I BLINKED and this man had the sexiest build i have ever seen. His shoulders are exquisite.

34. I’m thinking Lando has a stronger back, more toned, just because… the pictures ive seen… yum.

35. Ok for veiny arms it’s gotta go to Lando BUT biceps??? Oscar owns biceps. His biceps. THE VIDEO OF HIM IN THE WHITE SHIRT PLZ TELL ME YALL KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABT LIKE I NEARLY DIED

36. OOOOOO both. Lando’s pecs are so nice to look at him im so sorry that is so creepy but like his and Oscar’s pecs just look so scrumptious im so sorry god almighty

37. ….LANDO. Let’s talk about it right now. His abs are so defined and don’t get me wrong i think Oscar’s are really hot but Lando’s abs are just so toned and defined like you could lick up and down each ridge so well

38. Solely because of the fact he has thick dark hair and a lot of it, im going to say lando

39. OSCAR that man has some cake on him fr like he needs to drop the workout routine asap bc im trying to get a juicy ass like that for summer

40. I think my purpose in life was to actively seek out the Oscar thigh-riding fanfics on this app bc it’s all i ever do. If Lando wore shorts and sat down in them more often, im sure this answer would be different, but, from what ive seen, Oscar has some perfect thigh-riding thighs.

41. I think lando is such a shower sex guy BECAUSE he seems like the type to take such long showers. He just seems so into his appearance (in a good way) and wanting to be clean, come off stylish that his hygiene is up there for his priorities THEREFORE he’s no rookie when it comes to long showers so why not add sex into it?

42. Oscar seems more into morning sex because he seems to be more into the intimacy aspect. Like morning sex is so cosy and soft and romantic like this man is all three of those things

43. Lando fs he wants his girl wherever, whenever, for how ever long he can have her like he will have a quickie in the bathroom of his house while he’s on stream because he saw her wearing tight pajamas off screen

44. WE KNOW WHO IM GOING TO SAY FR it’s Oscar. No explanation.

45. I think Lando is because that man’s streams like he is always flexing and just into his arms/hands in general. He seems like he’s very much of a touchy person so he would be good with his hands i assume. Couple that with the need to please his girl, you’ve got fingering galore.

46. I feel like Oscar is into handjobs more. I just feel like lando is more the type to be like “on your knees, love… open that slutty mouth for me” and make it all dirty whereas Oscar’s mind hasn’t gotten that far yet

47. I think lando is man obsessed with cumming all over every body part of his girl. Like i just think he is so into marking her as his, he finally resorts to that small subconscious desire to cum all over her body.

48. Lando seems like a man who has a vocal kink. I think this goes with my idea that his ego is based on how well he can pleasure his girl so knowing, in the moment, what he’s doing is working, that would get him off too

49. I think they both do but lando more. I just think that like in the midst of his dominance, he would love to hear a small whisper from his girl as she rambles “you’re so pretty, lan… making me feel so good” but like don’t get me wrong Oscar would eat that up too, i just feel like lando would cum harder because of the small praise

50. Because I’m self-indulgent, I’m going to say lando is more into boobs as well as Oscar but i do also think lando is really into pussy and there is no reasoning behind any of that

51. I feel like lando wears the boxer briefs and Oscar wears the boxers. I just feel like landos a bit of a slut (endearing) so he’s like “let me where something skin tight” whereas Oscar is just trying to chill and be the most comfortable

52. I feel like they both are really good partners in their own aspects. Lando more of a rougher dom but prioritizes his girl still and Oscar softer as he just tries to exist in the moment with his girl

AND WE FINISHED! Lowkey lost myself in this hello like forgot that i do not know these men at all and have no basis for any of these reasonings i am so sorry lord

[whatbigotspost]

God I hate this kind of comment on my posts that are specificity pro aging and/or talking about having appropriate friendships with people who are much older or younger than yourself.

Like, I’m not calling anyone out here or anything it’s just really sad when someone says this kind of thing because they’ve so massively missed the point. And when you miss a point like this, it’s not doing yourself any favors.

We can all agree that very few binaries exist in life, yes? Well kiddies, I wish that someone had told me much sooner that “friends own age = good. friends older = bad.” is no exception. It’s nonsense. There are terrible people your own age who will make terrible friends. And having APPROPRIATE friendships with someone 10, 20, 50 years older than yourself can enrich your life enormously.

Sure friendships with someone who is much your elder won’t look the same as the friendships you share w/ a bestie you met in kindergarten but they can and do exist in healthy ways. I’m glad I eventually got this. Someone 25 years older than me shared personal stories with me that changed my life and encouraged me to really interrogate about if parenting was for me. Someone 30 years older than me gave me great advice I use at work literally every day. I help a friend over 80 with stuff around her house whenever I can because she used to give me rides to all kinds of activities and stuff as a kid when my parents couldn’t. In each of those cases, my life and their lives are better off because we are friends.

Damn am I ever proud and encouraged that kids these days are wary of inappropriate age gaps. They should be. Boundaries between adults and adolescents are extremely EXTREMELY important. Aaaaaaaaand it’s not only possible but HELPFUL to build friendships with people who are older/younger than you. Friendships take different forms and you’ll miss out on a ton of support and wisdom and connection if you walk around thinking every 40 year old is always inherently a threat to you.

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | june 3 - june 9

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

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

8:90 – HONEY

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

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

She can’t stop thinking about Saturday night.

It was fun. She had fun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Better than Overalls Joe,” Bea replies.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you felt bad.”

“Yeah.”

“And you still feel bad.”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“Do you regret it?” Honey asks.

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

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

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

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

But she's not finished.

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

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

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

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

“It's how I think it works!”

“Okay.”

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

Ten minutes of thought later, she sits up abruptly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor.

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

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

It’s a futile effort and she knows it.

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

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

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

“Hi,” Trevor says.

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

“Do you like tarts?” Trevor asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

9:90 – TREVOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Trevor knows that she enjoys it.

Poor baby.

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

Which is peculiar.

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

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

Disgusting.

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

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

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

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

Not his most shining moment.

He would absolutely do it again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He cannot possibly think about this any longer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” Trevor says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baking,” Trevor snaps. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10:90 – HONEY

It’s officially summer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’re kind of fighting anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anthony,” Honey reveals, giggling. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s not looking for that.

11:90 – TREVOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honey stares at him, quirking an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

12:90 – HONEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing,” Honey deflects. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Obviously dare,” Jack laughs out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor blinks, then looks away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ew.

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

Hopefully.

“Bea,” Trevor says.

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

“Truth or Dare?”

“I’ll dare,” Bea decides.

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

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

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

“Q,” Bea sighs. “Truth or Dare?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lukey, Truth or Dare?” Quinn asks.

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

Honey smiles at him and rolls her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NO.

Not Trevor.

Yes, Trevor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor’s thumb moves closer and nudges her thigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honey takes it back. Cole is her least favorite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She refuses to look Trevor in the eye after that.

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

That, Honey can do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh my God.

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

Fuck.

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

Trevor was licking whipped cream off of her nipples.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s not looking for that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I felt– seventeen.”

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

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

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

“It’s okay if you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

Bea pets her hair. “He likes you.”

Honey nods.

“You feel– something.”

Honey sniffs, but nods again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

13:90 – TREVOR

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

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

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

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

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

It’s pure torture. 

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

He’s helpless.

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

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

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

Quinn might be the only one left who would have a shred of dignity after a whipped cream encounter, and only because he’s been keeping up with Bea so well.

Ugh, and Bea’s name brings another problem to mind.

Trevor can’t bail on the lake trip that Bea invited them on when she stayed over the other night. The boys have been so excited, so ready to rent out a boat and a wakeboard so they can surf. They’ve been planning the trip meticulously, down to the minute. Trevor knows that he can’t bail because he’s the only one with Bea’s phone number– something she refuses to give out to the other boys, for some fucking reason. She won’t even rattle it off for Quinn to put into his phone– it would make the light night booty calls a little easier, Trevor thinks. 

Not that they’ve had that many. Just the two. Trevor was expecting a third last night, but with the way Honey ran out of the house…

Fuck, it was no surprise Bea went with her.

Honey looked rattled to her core, staring down at her hands and back up at Trevor like she had never seen them, or him, before in her life. She had guarded herself almost immediately, stepping away and flicking the whip off Trevor’s nose rather than licking it off and completing her bet. 

It’s Cole’s fault, and yet Trevor can’t help but feel responsible for the panic in Honey’s eyes and the abrupt end of the night. 

He can’t talk to her today. He can’t sit on the boat and see her in her little swimsuit. He wants her so badly– and not just to see if she really looks that ethereal when her lips are wrapped around his dick. 

He wants to talk about Leaving Orbit with her, the book she recommended that he so clearly enjoyed, even despite his bad mood the other day. He wants to poke fun at the other boys with her, team up to get revenge for that dare that made the air so tense between them. He wants to cuddle up next to her on the couch, pull her into his lap, and watch Shark Week documentaries and the Olympics later in the summer. He wants to hold her hand.

He has never wanted anything like this from any woman before. It’s never been this bad.

But he can’t have it– Trevor can tell that there’s something nagging at Honey. Maybe he’s too similar to an ex-boyfriend, or someone else that she doesn’t have the fondest of feelings for. Maybe she truly believes her little quips about his California lifestyle, and she can’t see herself with someone like that.

God, maybe she looked him up. He’s never had the best attitude on the ice, especially when he gets frustrated. He knows he’s a good player. He wants to show that off. He knows that sometimes, it comes at the expense of his team. He’s heard it all too well from the staff, from his coaches, from his teammates.

He’s dreading today. 

Trevor can’t even hide from it up on the balcony. Yeah, anyone who entered his bedroom wouldn’t be able to see him. His bed is perfectly made up, untouched from the night before. He was so frazzled last night that he cleaned his room, just to regain some order in his life. For all they would know, he disappeared– and yet, Cole manages to spot him below, from the chairs near the fire pit in the yard.

“There you are!” Cole exclaims, brandishing his spoon at Trevor. He looks down at his shorts for a split second. Trevor can only assume a drop of milk from his cereal splashed on his lap. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah, you tried really hard,” Trevor replies, an edge to his voice. He still hasn’t forgiven Cole, or Jack for that matter, for their ploy last night.

Cole’s face falls, then he shakes his head. “Are you ready for the lake or what?” His voice starts to mirror Trevor’s.

“All I need to do is put my fucking swimsuit on,” Trevor snaps. He stands from the rocking chair. 

Somehow, the meanest retort Cole can think of is “Don’t forget to bring your sunscreen!” like a nagging mother who’s just one complaint away from sending her child to his room. His words clash with the slam of Trevor’s sliding door.

Trevor grumbles to himself as he changes into one of the swimsuits he packed for himself, only ever really planning to use it in the hot tub. He’s excited, deep down, that they get to go to the lake and do some of the stuff that they usually do at the Michigan house. God, he can’t shake the Honey problem.

He does pack his sunscreen, the face lotion and body spray that he picked up last week at the grocery store when he and Jack wanted to lay out by the rink and tan. He even grabs the browning lotion he bought for pale ol’ Luke. It smells like bananas and coconuts.

Trudging downstairs, Trevor finds himself back at the scene of the crime. Instead of Honey on the counter, it’s the cooler, and instead of Trevor in front of her, it’s Quinn transferring beers from the fridge.

He chuckles when Trevor stops and stares at the cooler on the counter. 

“Thinking about something?” He asks. Trevor scowls when Quinn’s eyes pointedly drop to Trevor’s crotch and the semi that he’s, once again, sporting.

“Shut up,” Trevor growls, adjusting himself in his swim shorts. He clasps his hands in front of him, shielding himself from Quinn’s knowing smile.

Quinn shrugs and goes back to transferring beers to the cooler. 

Trevor steals a piece of ice and chews it, hoping to cool himself off. He makes himself a little bowl of cereal and scarfs it down. He checks the clock. It’s almost time to leave.

Fuck.

Bea’s picking them up in the truck she’s borrowing from Earl (only because Vera offered it up to them) in ten minutes. She and Honey are going to ride in the cab, while the boys are supposed to ride in the bed of the truck. It’s legal in North Carolina, apparently. Plus, it’s just a fifteen minute drive. The lake isn’t too far from their house. Trevor barely remembers reading about it on the AirBnB website when he booked the rental for the summer, but the host had referred to the place as a “reservoir” rather than a lake. Semantics. They don’t matter. 

He takes a deep breath, still not sure how to feel about seeing Honey again. He answers a couple questions from Quinn about how many beers he wants (a lot), if he has a towel for the lake (no, but Quinn can grab him one from the hall closet), and why he’s sulking so much (he doesn’t want to talk about it).

The minutes drag on and Trevor is scalding his hands with hot water washing his bowl when Bea honks from the driveway. He’s the last to make it to the front door and he’s shocked when he’s whacked in the face by a stray pool noodle. Where did Jack even find that?

Quinn is standing with his arms against the window pane of the passenger door, his head dipped and Bea’s phone in his hand. She takes it from him and says something quietly, then brings her hand to his jaw to draw his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. 

Trevor can see Honey’s silhouette behind the wheel, her hair knotted up on top of her head. There are flyaways everywhere, probably because of the open windows, but somehow it doesn’t look messy. Trevor can’t even see her face, but he has to close his eyes because she’s so pretty. 

He climbs into the truck bed, Quinn following shortly behind him, and tucks himself neatly into the corner of the tailgate. He takes in the other boys– the gray trunks on Cole, the towel around Luke’s neck, Quinn’s terrible navy crocs that he’s had since he was in high school. They kind of don’t fit him anymore, but they’re molded to his feet and he swears that they’re still perfect. Jack is using his pool noodle– origin still undetermined– as a method of recreating a certain Drake video. It would have been more funny if the video weren’t old news by now.

Trevor still kind of feels the string of dread and uncertainty tugging at him, but all of that crumbles away when Honey takes the first curve up the mountain. She speeds up in the old truck, dragging the wheel. Jack falls off the hump of the wheel where he was sitting as she turns, yelping wildly and losing his pool noodle in the fray. Cole snatches it up and takes the chance to hit him with it.

With each curve, it only gets worse. She’s got the boys in a fit of shouts and giggles as they scramble to find purchase in the back of the truck. Bea is laughing from the front seat, turned around to look out the back window, to take in the chaos firsthand. Her left hand is reaching out the window and holds Quinn’s right, keeping him in place.

Trevor’s laughing too, especially when Luke starts to slide into a supine position, his knuckles white with how hard he’s trying to stay upright. He continues to laugh as he looks up, past Bea, and meets Honey’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

Her gaze turns from soft to wide and alert in an instant, returning to the road the second she locks eyes with him. He can only imagine his own eyes look the same when he turns to face the peeling paint at the bottom of the truck bed.

They arrive at the reservoir in due time, parking in the lot near the boat rentals. Bea and Quinn take care of that, having called ahead a few days prior to get one of the bigger boats that could fit their entire party. Quinn shells over a few dollars in thanks, the cash seamlessly transitioning to the worker’s hand. 

The employee leads them to a ramp, where a boat not unlike the one they have at the Michigan house is parked. The boys climb on. Jack has reclaimed his pool noodle and has it tucked under his armpits, safely away from Cole’s grubby fingers.

Trevor finds a spot near the front of the boat, knowing that Quinn will want to drive and Bea will want to sit next to him. Or on his lap. Ew. He doesn’t want to see the blatant PDA from the two, but that’s not the only reason he’s strategically choosing his seat. 

Honey’s going to do the same thing– she’s going to stick to Bea’s side, if Trevor’s gut feeling is right, and that’s going to be that. 

He’ll avoid her, she’ll avoid him, and the day will be over before they know it.

Trevor pulls his shirt over his head and lays out on the cushions at the bow of the boat, covering his face with the item of clothing. He blocks out the sun and closes his eyes, feeling the sun prickle at his skin.

“Did you put your sunscreen on?” Cole asks, his annoying voice far too close to Trevor’s ear for his liking. 

Trevor swings out with a hand, hoping to connect and clock Cole on the side of the head, but as he rips the t-shirt from his face, all he sees is the boy jumping back and laughing with the rocking of the boat. 

“Why, do you want to help me?” Trevor retorts, frowning. 

Cole smiles. The edges of his mouth quirk up in a mischievous way and Trevor gears up to snap his shirt at the boy. Whatever’s about to leave his mouth is just going to piss Trevor off more.

He doesn’t say anything, at least not until he’s skipping away towards the back of the boat. Trevor squints at his retreating figure, but relaxes his shoulders a bit. 

“Honey!” Cole calls, dancing around the girl who has only just managed to get both feet on the boat. She watches him move around her, expression impassive. He extends a hand to help Bea onto the boat, to the chagrin of Quinn behind her. 

Trevor’s shoulders snap back up towards his ears, the line of his spine long and tight. He looks around for something to throw at Cole, something harder than just his t-shirt, but there’s nothing.

Cole talks on. “Trevor needs help with his sunscreen and he was asking for you.”

Honey’s gaze turns to Trevor’s expectantly. Her lips are slightly curved and her eyebrows are raised. 

“I wasn’t.” Trevor’s voice comes out strangled. “He’s just– causing trouble. Like yesterday.”

Immediately, he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. He shouldn’t have brought up what happened last night. It causes her lips to press into a thin line and makes her expression grow calculated. She’s scanning him like a robot would and it’s making his skin crawl.

She opens her mouth with a tsk and says, “I’ll do your back if you do mine.”

Cole and Jack hum and haw at that, dapping each other up. Bea finally flounces her way onto the vessel, creating waves and casting a spare look at Trevor. 

“And Cole, you have to do mine,” Bea adds, blinking at the boy innocently. She smiles at him, not quite reaching her eyes. “Since you’re so concerned about sun safety.”

“I’m pale.” Cole shrugs. “Someone has to think about it.”

Bea’s attention has already shifted past Cole’s shoulder. Quinn and Luke have both shrugged off their shirts and twisted their Yankees caps so they’re backwards on their heads. Luke has laid the towel along the swiveling passenger chair behind the raised console in the middle of the boat, blissfully unaware of the five pairs of eyes gawking at him and his brother.

“You’re pale?” Bea asks, incredulous. She points at the Hughes boys. “Look at that.” She fishmouths for a moment before rediscovering her voice. “Quinn, you didn’t look so fair-skinned when I last saw you without a shirt. Luke, you’re like a beacon at a lighthouse!” She turns back to Cole, her finger finding its way to his face. “You, at least, have some pink undertones. You’re made to burn. These guys are made to tan and it’s clear they’ve been neglecting their time in the sun.”

“That’s what I said,” Trevor agrees. He remembers the tanning lotion, sitting in one of his pockets, and digs it out. He waves it in front of Bea’s face, then tosses it to her. “I even brought some tanning lotion for them.”

Bea catches it and her face lights up. She shows Honey the logo on the front of the bottle and grins. “This kind always smells so good,” she praises. “Good choice, Trev.”

She stomps toward the boys, intention written all over her face. Luke’s back is turned to her once again, reverting back to the way it was before she called his name, but Bea views it as a canvas. She clicks open the bottle and gives it a shake, squirting the cool liquid all over Luke’s back in curves and twirls. 

Luke squeaks when she does it, lurching forward, but Bea chastises him and makes him hold still so she can rub it into his skin.

Trevor’s eyes move from that scene to the girl in front of him. She’s wearing a sweatshirt over her bathing suit, the cuffs rolled up above her wrist. It’s long enough to hide any shorts that she could be wearing. She’s looking at Bea with a tiny smile on her lips, head tilted to the side. Her legs are long and tan and she’s got a freckle behind her ear. 

Trevor aches to press his lips to her skin. Her flyaways would tickle the side of his face, the shell of her ear would smooth itself against the tip of his nose, and he’d be able to wrap his arms around her to pull her against his chest…

That’s enough of that.

He wants to touch her, he does. He wants to put sunscreen on her back and let her return the favor. He wants to be the one to slide his fingers under the straps of her top and dip into the waistband of her bottoms, just to make sure all of her skin is covered. Obviously. Nothing more.

Nothing more.

Oh my God, he wants to touch her so bad.

Trevor has to tear his eyes from Honey and clench his jaw, biting his tongue between his teeth to bring him back to reality. He’s back to sporting a semi– if it isn’t the consequences of his own thoughts– and he knows that if he touches her, if she touches him, he won’t be able to control himself.

“Looks like Bea’s out,” Trevor says, thinking quick on his feet. “I think Cole’s sunscreen is more important than mine, since he’s ‘made to burn.’” He takes out his sunscreen and claps it into Cole’s palm. “You and Honey can do each other up. I’m going to take a nap at the front. Wake me up when we start surfing.”

His eyes slide over Honey just before he walks away, and she looks puzzled. Trevor swallows a smile and returns to the bow of the boat, laying out and dropping his shirt over his face. 

He zones out, eyes closed and breath even. Someone joins him on the cushion at some point, just before the boat starts to lurch away from the dock. He feels the spray of the lake dampen his shirt and cool his skin. The sun is already starting to pick at his chest, his tolerance not as high as it is when they’re always on the boat in Michigan.

“You’re burning, Trevor.” 

Trevor startles, sitting up and ripping the shirt away from his face. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the sun.

Honey holds out his sunscreen. The can is in one hand, the face lotion in the other. She’s biting the inside of her cheek and staring at him.

Trevor reaches out and plucks the items from her grasp, purposefully avoiding her fingers. 

“Thanks,” Trevor says, looking anywhere but her face. He can’t look her in the eyes. He can’t touch her. He tucks them away, tying them into his shirt and tossing it to the side. He misses the way her eyes flash and fix on the movements of his fingers, her lips parting. He’s too busy making his way to his feet and turning away. “I think I’m going to borrow the tanning oil from Luke, though. I’ll probably get him to do my back. Cole already did yours, right?”

Honey just hums and nods. Trevor looks up just long enough to take in the tight smile on her face. He can see that her eyes are rimmed with sunglasses, so he’s safe from the look in her eyes. 

Trevor raises his fingers in a half-hearted wave before he walks away, joining Luke and Jack at the back of the boat. They’ve each got a hand in Cole’s pockets, making sure he doesn’t fly away as he stands on a bench and ties the lead-ropes they brought to the canopy. 

Bea sits on Quinn’s thigh as he drives the boat, arms around his shoulders and laughing at the boys. Her eyes flicker with alarm as Trevor approaches, and she turns to face the front of the boat, rising off Quinn’s lap slightly to peek around the console.

Trevor hears her scoff and hop off Quinn’s lap, pattering away with light steps. He pays her no mind– just gives Cole a lovetap on the stomach so he doubles over. Jack and Luke laugh and Cole glares at Trevor, but the bickering transforms their area of the boat into a bubble where only they live. Quinn visits sometimes, to switch out once they’ve got the surfboard ready, but the day belongs to Jack, Luke, Cole, and Trevor.

Honey and Bea tan in the front and Trevor misses every pointed glare from Bea and sneaking, evaluating glance from Honey that comes his way.

14:90 – HONEY

Honey and Bea are sitting at the picnic table in Honey’s backyard. They’re sipping tea and the sun is setting. Honey blows on the surface of her mug, keeping it raised to her lips to take a sip.

She and Bea have been hanging out all day. 

Honey was in this position at sunrise, sipping coffee out of the same mug and looking at the same mountains. 

They’ve mostly sat in silence all day, reading their books or scrolling on their phones. Honey finishes the book she had been reading, so they break into The Reading Nook as soon as Bea wakes up, and Honey borrows a new one. She’s over a quarter of the way through the new book now, but the sun has set too much for her to continue reading.

So, they drink tea. They drove to Bea’s house to get some calming tea, then back to Honey’s. Bea made the tea while Honey sat and breathed, listening to the birds sing their eggs to sleep. They sip their tea, but Honey knows that time is running out. Bea’s been patient enough.

“I think it’s time we talk about what happened these past two days,” Bea says, setting her mug on the flat of the table. “Really, really talk.”

Honey sighs, putting her own mug down. “Yeah, I know.”

“I only have two questions for you, Honey,” Bea says. She laces her fingers together and leans in, like a principal or a school counselor. 

Honey wants to laugh. It’s like an intervention. “What are your questions, Bea-girl?” She asks with a breath of a laugh and a roll of her eyes.

“Question one,” Bea pauses for effect, tilting her head to the side and widening her eyes. “How did you feel about Trevor after you licked, uh, everything off of his body?” She gestures with her hand, waving it in a circle. She tilts her chin up and smiles, sarcastically in pain, at Honey. 

“I was thinking–”

Bea interrupts. “Nuh-uh. I don’t care about what you were thinking. What were you feeling about Trevor? And not once you started thinking about home, or any of that. The second you looked at him: what were you feeling?”

Honey’s face twists, her nose crinkling. She hates when Bea plays therapist.

“I felt like…” Honey trails off, thinking back. She gnaws on her bottom lip, looking at the dark masses of leaves rustle on the trees surrounding her home. “It was warm. I felt… light. If Trevor hadn’t had his hands on my waist, I might’ve… been like that puddle guy… in Sky High.” Her voice gets quieter with every pause and Honey is very conscious of the fact that she’s referencing the cult-classic ‘DCOM’ Sky High in her therapy session with her best friend.

Bea’s conscious of the reference, too, staring at Honey. Her jaw is dropped and she’s filled with mild aghast, just like Honey. She shuts her mouth, closes her eyes, and nods to herself before opening them again.

“Question two. How did you feel after Trevor went to the back of the boat yesterday?”

Honey knew it was coming, but the memory still tugs at her. 

She doesn’t get it. Trevor had been so… talkative, at first. He had sought Honey out and, as much as she hates to admit it, being chased was nice. Trevor had stood out from the first day, so much so that she wouldn’t even consider the other boys if they asked– and Jack did ask, that one time. 

It was like a complete 180º after the dare. He steps away from her, he can’t meet her eyes, he found not one, but two excuses to get away from Honey after she offered to put sunscreen on his back. Yeah, she figured Cole was joking and setting them up for disaster, but she was ready to role with it after having that conversation with Bea on Friday.

Trevor froze when she was around and avoided Honey like a fucking. plague.

Honey’s silence speaks for itself, because Bea opens her mouth to continue.

“Maybe–”

Honey talks over her, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t– think he likes me.”

She takes a breath before opening her eyes again. 

Bea stares at Honey, her first two fingers covering her mouth. 

Honey blinks and looks down at her hands, wrapping them around her mug to save them from the sudden frostbite spreading over her fingers. “If he felt like I did after that dare… he wouldn’t have ignored me yesterday.” Honey presses her tongue into her top teeth, clamping her lips shut. The edges of her eyes are prickling with wetness again.

Bea reaches across the table and takes one of her hands.

“If that’s how he feels, then he’s stupid,” Bea says, voice definite. “He would be an idiot to stop chasing you.”

“I wish it was as easy as you and Quinn,” Honey admits. She stares at the warped and chipped wood under their hands. She’s sick to her stomach for a second, having déjà vu of the same image five years earlier, when she and Bea left Charlotte and spent their first night here. They didn’t even have mugs yet. They just talked and held hands and took in their new home. It’s the same feeling.

Bea shakes her head. “It’s not the same. Quinn and I aren’t–” She pauses to scoff, a grimace across her face. “We’re hooking up. We both know that and we don’t want anything more. That’s why it’s so easy.”

“But you felt so bad when you had to tell him,” Honey argues.

“I felt guilty.” Bea shrugs. “It passed.”

They sit in silence for a little while longer. Bea drops Honey’s hands and returns to her tea. 

Honey looks down at her tea and brings it to her lips, sipping. She takes a second sip, clearing her throat. 

“I want to be wanted,” Honey says. She feels silly saying it, the phrase obvious. Everyone wants to be wanted. She’s not special. To make herself feel better, she adds, partially as a joke: “And I want to have sex.”

“It’s been a long time since you said that,” Bea replies and Honey’s heart soars. She always understands exactly what Honey means. She always knows exactly what to say. Honey covers her face with her hands, overwhelmed. Bea continues. “It doesn’t have to be silly old Trevor, since he’s a loser.”

“Yeah… I don’t want any of the others,” Honey laughs.

Bea scoffs, defensive. “Yeah, and I wasn’t gonna give you any of ‘em.”

They laugh together, heads thrown back. Bea’s foot stomps against the dirt. 

When they quiet down, Bea adds with a grin, “I was just thinking that we could have a night out or something. Wilkesboro has to have something you can settle for. Just for a fuck, you know?”

Honey nods, smiling. She raises her tea to her lips and swallows the last of it. The mug clatters when she sets it down.

“Would it,” she starts, her smile breaking into a toothy, tilted beam. “Would it be so bad if I wanted it to be Trevor?”

Bea squeals and wiggles. She grabs Honey’s hands and squeezes, bouncing in her seat. She’s so excited that it causes Honey to break out into a fresh round of embarrassed giggles, shielding her face from the aftermath of her admission.

“We’re going on double dates,” Bea makes Honey promise, linking their pinkies. “We are. Just talk to him… tomorrow…” She wiggles her eyebrows. “And tell him that you want him to flirt with you again.”

“Well, it’s not that easy,” Honey denies, rolling her eyes.

“Isn’t it, though?” Bea squints one of her eyes shut and tilts her head, making a face at Honey. She smooths her expression and makes her eyes wide, blinking innocently as she mocks: “‘You know, you should really keep flirting with me, Trev. You never know when it’ll pay off.’ See?” 

Honey laughs in disbelief. “Yeah, okay. I’ll say exactly that.”

“Fine, if that’s so hard, go find me a pen. Then I have to go home. It’s late.” Bea bosses, pointing towards Honey’s living room. When Honey stands, she smiles again, sickly-sweet. “Thank you, Baby-Honey.”

“Whatever,” Honey replies, standing and finding a Sharpie in her junk drawer. She overemphasizes the nickname sarcastically when she returns to the table: “Buzzy.”

Bea sticks her tongue out at Honey and holds her hand out expectantly. Honey clicks her tongue in annoyance, but puts her hand in Bea’s, her palm facing up. Bea leans over her, stretching Honey’s skin so it’s taut. She scribbles something onto Honey’s hand, at one point pulling out her phone to read a message. She nods when she’s done and reaches up to draw a little heart on the inside of Honey’s wrist. She blows a kiss at Honey and slaps the marker in her hand, closing her fingers around the marker. Bea stands, takes her mug, and drops it off in the sink before she walks out of Honey’s front door. 

Honey raises her other hand in a belated wave, barely looking. She returns to her other hand, unfurling her fingers. Scrawled on her palm are ten digits and Trevor’s name. 

It’s a phone number.

Honey pales. She can’t text Trevor. She has to tell him to keep things going in person, not behind a screen. That’s not who she is. She hasn’t acted like this in five years, and she’s not planning on reverting to old habits. No, she has to go see Trevor tomorrow. 

Monday!

Tomorrow, the fruit stand is open. Trevor knows that Honey goes to the fruit stand on Mondays, and if he’s interested at all, he’ll show up. It’s, like, a ‘thing’ now, right?

Yeah. She’ll see him at the fruit stand tomorrow. If she doesn’t, then she’ll know how he feels for sure. She won’t have to text, she won’t have to go track Trevor down– it’ll be easy, like how Honey wants it to be. Quinn and Bea aren’t the only people who can have it easy.

[liesmyth]

did john decide which of his friends would be the necromancer and which would be the cavs when he brought them back from the dead, or was that random?

I wish we knew for sure! John's friends ending up 50/50 adepts vs. non-necromancers is obviously one of TM's premises and was done for doylistic reasons first and foremost, but I don't think we have enough elements to conclusively interpret it as intentional in-universe.

Putting aside any kind of authorial intentions, this is what we know:

» The rate of necromancers as part of the population hovers around 30%. John's core group being 50% adepts is way off from that, and could point to manipulation, but also we're working with a very small sample size. Think about how it's very possible to get head five times in a row when flipping coins; probabilities are much less accurate on a smaller scale. I don't believe it's out of the realm of possibilities that a group of 10 people had exactly 5 necromancers in it.

» Harrow's birth. The Reverend Parents made sure she would be a necromancer by manipulating the embryo with thanergy. It's clearly not a known practice among the Houses at large, and John calls it "a sort of Resurrection" — implying that he could be able to do the same with thalergy. However, this doesn't confirm that he actually DID.

In the same conversation, John says, "This was all different before we discovered the scientific principles," which I think is also worth noting. The fact that he understands NOW how you could get an embryo to grow into a necromancer doesn't mean that he had that knowledge at the time of the Resurrection. It also doesn't mean that the same identical process would apply to making formerly-dead-people into necromancers as they got brought back to life.

It could very well be that necromancy was a generalised side-effect of the Resurrection that affected some people more than others; or it could be that John DID do something different when bringing back some people that conferred them necromantic aptitude. Even if it's the latter, I don't think we can take for granted that 1) it was intentional and 2) he fully knew what the side effects would be.

» Ulysses and Titania. Counterpoint! It's also worth noting that John's "test cases" turned out to be one (1) adept and one (1) non-adept. Like I said above, this could still be a random bi-product of the Resurrection... but given Ulysses and Titania's whole everything, their dichotomy reeks of control group. They are a big point in favour of the "John did it on purpose" column.

Still: I still don't think we can tell for sure that John knew from the moment of Resurrection that he was giving some people death powers, and how that'd turn out in the long run. Like I said above, he could have done something different when resurrecting Ulysses vs. Titania, but it doesn't mean that he knew what would happen.

(Obviously, this argument only makes sense if we assume that Ulysses and Titania were among the very first batch of resurrected. I personally think they were, but obviously it's not confirmed)

» The inner circle. From NtN

I could only trust the inner circle. My scientists, my engineer, my detective, my lawyer, my artist, my nun, my hedge fund manager. My diehards. The ones keeping the lights on.

Putting aside the fact that Lyctors exist the way they are because Tamsyn needed them to exist, and looking at the Canaan House necro/cav pairings from John's point of view: why not give ALL his friends magical powers? That's something I struggle to wrap my head around, for about half a dozen different reasons.

Mind, I don't think John picking and choosing who gets to be a necromancer is that far-fetched, but from a #character point I find it less likely than the alternative (he didn't do it on purpose but turned it to his own advantage). IF it turns out to be canon, I'd be really curious about what the watsonian reasoning for it, beyond "this needed to happen."

Most meta posts I've seen that take for granted John picked and chose his future necromancers ascribe him a level of foresight, knowledge, and long-term planning that I simply don't think he'd have had at the time (not to mention the mental lucidity). To quote HtN John again, "[he] had never been God" before. I truly think he was winging it at least 60% of the time.

[itaehynz]

three’s a (choi) charm! ˙ ⋆ . ˚ ☆

08. DO THEY KNOW?

warnings: written and socmed. (written under cut!)

2:50 A.M.

you have your airpods in, keeping all sound stored in your ears, away from the quietness of your shared home hoping to wake absolutely no one. your phone begins vibrating lowly, vibrations slightly awakening your senses.

incoming facetime call: yeonjun (tinder boy #3)

you gasp softly, getting up and walking out of your room quietly hoping not to wake yunjin.

you walk into the living room with quiet steps, seating yourself on the couch and answering the phone.

“helloooo,” yeonjun says shyly. you smile at his quiet yet warm voice, saying hi back.

“why are you so quiet?” he asks, raising his brow in curiosity. “why aren’t you?” you ask, he shrugs, flipping the camera over to who you’re assuming is his roommate, who’s on his pc playing whatever game.

“he doesn’t mind me being loud so,” he adds, smiling at you. you nod and hum at his response, silence filling the air. he clicks his tongue, “date with beomgyu tomorrow, correct?”

you roll your eyes playfully, already knowing what he’s getting at. “yes yeonjun, why?” he chuckles softly, shrugging his shoulders once more. “just curious, i would be the last person to know,” you scoff, “i personally think you’d be one of the first to know, actually.”

he laughs at your response, “why do you think that?” he asks, genuinely curious. you shrug, “well for one; he’s your cousin. two, you live together and three, oh this one is my favorite, you’re apparently competing for me? how’s that?” you respond, eyebrows furrowed.

he laughs once again, shaking his head at your words, “fair enough but all jokes aside, i did know, i just wanted to see what you’d say.” he smiles, blinking slowly. you roll your eyes at him and smile softly.

“you’re so stupid,” you say, making him laugh louder. you laugh along with him, his laugh being oddly contagious and comforting. “ah, really? would i be stupid for saying it’d be better for you to go out with me instead of gyu?” he questions cockily.

your eyes widen in surprise, caught slightly off guard. “i mean, it wouldn’t be stupid but it would be pretty rude of me to just bail on beomgyu after all this planning he’s done,” you reply, frowning at the thought of beomgyu’s reaction once he realizes you bailed on him for his cousin.

“y/n, i promise you, he literally wouldn’t mind, he’d be shocked that i was able to even persuade you and probably try harder next time, if he even gets a next time.” yeonjun says, exaggerating his words. you take his words into consideration, thinking hard on his suggestion.

“okay, what would we do though? like as a date,” you ask, intrigued. he seems to think on it for a few before coming to a decision, “there’s this place i go to, they offer couples dance lessons sooo if you’re interested, i can set an appointment for you and me? for 11 am tomorrow?” he asks with a large smile plastered on his face.

you scoff and smile, “we’re not a couple though,” he rolls his eyes, “not yet at least.” he says, making your smile widen. “look, i could schedule it and if you’re not up for it by 9:30 am, i’ll cancel it and you can go on your date with beomgyu, i guess. how’s that?” he suggests with the same smile that’s been on his face since the beginning.

you laugh quietly, “no need, i’d be happy to go. i just need to figure out how to tell beomgyu somehow…” to that, he rolls his eyes at the mention of his cousins name. “don’t tell him, we can do a hard launch kind of thing and tag each other on our posts, with a picture.”

you smile, shaking your head at him. “sounds good,” you say before getting up and walking to the bathroom. you sit your phone upright, hoping it stays. once it’s positioned correctly, you turn on the water, starting your skincare routine as yeonjun watches you in awe.

“are you getting ready for bed?” he asks softly, still looking at you. you nod, cleaning all product out of your eyes. he hums, eyes still locked on you. once your eyes are able to open, you catch him staring, “what’re you looking at?” you ask as he smiles.

“i’m obviously looking at you, y/n. you’re so pretty,” he says, catching you off guard once again. you feel your cheeks rising to a burning heat, but you continue to apply your skin serum with a gentle smile.

slowly but surely, your skincare routine is coming to an end. you wash your face with warm water and dry it thoroughly. you look away from your phone for a moment and look back to see yeonjun no longer surrounded by light, he’s now in the dark and laying down.

you begin turning off all lights and walking back into your room but not before shushing yeonjun. he nods and smiles, watching as you quietly step into your room and lay down in your bed, resting comfortably under the covers.

“do you wanna sleep on the phone? i’m not implying anything but i’m just asking,” he whispers. you only nod to that as you plug your charger into your phone. he smiles at you softly once again and you roll your eyes once more, “what’re you smiling at now?” you whisper.

he chuckles lowly, “it’ll always be you i’m smiling at, y/n.” you hide your smile and only show your eyes. his laugh increases in volume, never seeming to die down anytime soon.

you quickly snap a facetime photo of him, catching him off guard. “wait let me sit up and turn this light on, then you can retake it.” he says, reaching for his bedside light.

he lays back down and hides himself under his covers, showing nothing but his eyes. “mmkay, take it like this,” he says, smiling with his eyes. you smile gently as you take the picture. “i’m gonna go to sleep,” you say, eyes filled with tiredness. he hums and says, “me too, night night y/n!”

“night night, jun.”

—

MASTERLIST ☆ NEXT ★ PREVIOUS

TAGLIST: @https-yeonjun, @sugaringgcaramel, @boba-beom, @ur-mother-realnotclickbait, @nan-lzzn, @txtbrainrot, @soobsfairy444, @wonunuwoo, @coconutjjun, @headlockimnida, @dinosluver, @gwookie, send an ask or shoot me a dm to be added! ^^

A/N: “little beomgyu and y/n moment before their date 🤭” YOU’VE ALL BEEN PRANKED!!!!!i’m such a silly goofy goober 😁

[jun-of-love]

kiss cam - lee seokmin

summary: an extra ticket. a pathetic stranger. a kiss cam. what could possibly go wrong?

tw: none

words: 1.7k

genre: fluff

pairing: yn × dokyeom

a/n: dk is the cutest most precious talented man ever- i was overwhelmed with his sunshine and spontaneously came up with this. hope you like it :)

It’s been a month or so.

A month since you saw your ex, who was once the light of your life, soundly sleeping in some other girl’s arms, butt naked at that. You grimace as the scene plays out in your head again, making you feel the same way it did the first time it happened. You had immediately cut off all contact from him to the point that you had moved to a new place, just so that he didn’t have any access to you. You wanted to see him grovel and beg for your forgiveness, or at least take excruciating revenge for wasting two years of your life, but you let it all go for your own peace and self-respect. All of these drastic measures, yet your stupid heart mourned the absence of the heartless man.

You looked the tickets on your table. You had gone through hoops to get a hold of them, the key to the best seats possible for the finals of the Ice Hockey tournament. While you personally had no interest in the game, your ex was super into the niche sport- the tickets were supposed to be his early birthday gift. You shook your head, trying to get out of the sobby mood. So what if he wasn’t here? You went above and beyond for these tickets, and you will have the best possible experience of the game anyone can have!

Easier said than done, you thought, as your loneliness pinched more with every couple or big group of friends passed by you. They didn’t have the best seats like you did, but they were surely going to have the best time with their friends and partners. You were seriously contemplating giving away the tickets and going home when you heard exasperated yelling by the ticket verification stand. It seemed like a man was throwing a tantrum, and the authorities were close to calling the security on him. The man turned away angrily, sniffling and wiping his tears.

You carefully approached the man, partly because you intrigued by his condition, and partly because he was hot. Everyone knows that stranger danger reduces by 30 percent if the stranger is hot. 50 percent if he is smoking hot.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

The man looked at you. Even with his tearful eyes and runny nose, he had a certain charm about him. The kind that made you want to hug him till he felt okay. Pathetic charm, if you will.

“I got scammed. The agent I bought the tickets from sold me fake tickets and I’m obviously not able to reach him now-” He put his head in his hands. “I really wanted to watch this game, it’s the last game my favorite player is going to play before he retires.”

You take a look at his jersey. He supported the same team you were planning to root for- mainly due to the reason because that is the one that played opposite to your ex’s favorite team. You eyed the two tickets in your purse, feeling a flutter in your stomach- you might not have all that a terrible time today.

“You want to accompany me? I have an extra ticket.” You asked him, already knowing his answer.

“Are you joking right now? Are you another scammer? Please, I don’t have any money left, please don’t play with my feelings.” He seems so innocent; you resist the urge to pull his cheeks.

“I don’t know, do scammers give away tickets for free?” You say cockily, clearly enjoying this too much.

“For free?!?!?!!?” His eyes almost fell out of their sockets. “Why would you do that!?”

“Because I bought these tickets to watch the game with my boyfriend, but he decided to cheat on me and now he’s my ex and I’m at this game alone with an extra ticket in my hand.” You offer him the ticket, “do you mind being my date for tonight?”

“Date?” He asks, his eyes round and expressions eerily similar to a cute puppy.

“You know what I mean!” You cleared your throat. “Anyway, yes or no?”

“YES!”

The entire time you took to reach your seats, your date did not stop talking for even a minute. By now, you knew that he came from a family of four, his best friends were called Jeonghan and Mingyu, none of them had any interest in this sport which is why he was alone. He was not shy around people (evidently so) and his favourite colour was green. It did not get boring though, for some reason. It just made you want to know more about him.

Once you were settled in your seats, you decide to disturb your date from his awe of the view, “You never told me your name.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m Seokmin. You can also call me Dokyeom.” Seokmin flashes a smile that could soothe a crying baby.

“Why would I call you Dokyeom if your name is Seokmin?”

“It’s actually because my mom and my dad had differ-”

“Never mind, hello, my name is y/n.” You put your hand forward. “Nice to meet you.”

Seokmin smiles again, shaking your hand. You didn’t know the standard time duration of a handshake, but you were sure yours was taking a bit too long. You shyly remove your hand from his, and ask the most embarrassing question of the night, ”So before the game starts, can you tell me a little about the team we’re supporting right now? I know nothing.” You bite your lip, hoping he wouldn’t take offence at the statement.

Seokmin laughs a little, “I will try to let you know as much as possible, but feel free to ask questions even during the game if you want. I like to share my interests, you know.” And off he went, about the players and their positions, and who played the best and who was the weakest and his favorite player who was retiring- and you had to fight yourself to pay attention because all your damn mind could think of at the moment was how kissable his lips are and how endearing he looked with all his excitement. A month without any action and you were already losing your marbles. You nod along with him until the horn goes off signaling the beginning of the match. Seokmin jumps up at the sight of the players and cheers for them, leaving you to wonder how a person can store so much excitement in them.

Gradually, you started getting into it. The complicated sport seemed so easy now, almost too easy. You knew which players were reliable, and you found one or two that you would root for. Everyone around you felt like your childhood friends, cheering for your favourite team. You look at Seokmin, who shook your arm every time something exciting happened in the game, its been an hour since you both had been acquainted, and his wide smile had not budged even for a second. You feel warmth in your heart as you realize, you were having so much fun.

For the first time in thirty days, you were not moping around or crying, but actually smiling, ear to ear at that. Enthusiasm had to be contagious, because if not, why were you yelling at the top of your voice, clapping till your arms hurt and high fiving everyone around you? Maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was his beautiful smile, you felt a special fondness towards Seokmin, the kind that made you blush every time he grabbed your hand.

It was the intermission, and both of you were relatively relaxed since your team had been doing pretty well. You were explaining your exact job description to him, since he seemed so curious about everything in your life. Almost like it was his life’s mission to write a biography on you by the end of those three hours. You just noticed how he still hadn’t let go of your hand, when you were interrupted by loud audience cheers; it was the crowd’s favorite pastime: the Kiss Cam.

Personally, you loved things like these. You loved how couples were caught off-guard with their faces on the screen, and then continued to have their own little moment. Embarrassingly enough, you had pictured yourself getting proposed (by your snake of an ex) on one of such instances, where the kiss cam would focus on you both and then he would pull out a ring and-

A particularly loud cheer from people around you woke you up from your thoughts. A part of your imagination had come to life- you were indeed on the kiss cam screen. With Seokmin at that. You both meet eyes and you feel awkwardness seizing every nerve of yours. While he is busy calming down the crowd with hands, making the ‘X’ gesture and shaking his head politely, you wonder if this was an opportunity to do what you had been wishing to do all this time. As the crowds’ cheers of “Kiss him! Kiss him!” get louder (have people always been so nosy?), you grab him by his shoulder, whispering in his ear, “Can I kiss you?”

He smiles softly, putting his warm hand on your neck, “I was hoping you’d ask.”

He closes the gap between you two by putting his lips on yours, pulling you in by the back of the neck. You could hear the crowd react, but you didn’t care- your senses were overloaded by his expensive perfume and how good his lips felt on yours. You deepened the kiss, your hands around his neck, playing with his hair. He puts an arm around your waist, pulling you closer than possible. His body feels hot and perfect to yours it feels to good to be true. That is until a middle-aged woman coughed loudly behind you, forcing both of you to pull away.

People were now minding their own business, looking put off even, by the overboard of affection portrayed by you. These were the same people that put you in that spot in the first place, you scoffed at the thought. You turned to Seokmin, who was already looking at you with the most doe-eyed gaze possible. You giggle, “What is it? What do you want to say?”

“Would you go out on a date with me? Like officially?” He bites his lips, as if he doesn’t know the obvious answer.

“Sure,” you smile cockily, “but you’re paying.”

“I’ll pay for every date ever if it means I get to kiss you again.”

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

…something been in draft for while:

idk how say this exactly but often like. use what look like binary clear cut dichotomy that have set definition this is this that is that. because oftentimes call “cake” “cake” instead of “flour milk egg baking powder salt etc etc” that kind language faster simplier and nuance can easily put word count 10k+. and. with language communication disabilities not always able translate all nuance into tangible word on paper/screen/type sometimes have to call something with imperfect blanket word. and then you find out other people not really hold as much nuance as you & still simplify your nuance into something binary this this that that

but reality rarely that binary— say on here that nonverbal mean not mouth speak at all all time & semiverbal is struggle all time but can mouth speak some & verbal but actually more nuanced than that like some severely apraxic people who mouth do say thing but not in their control not what they want say & they still call self nonspeaking because it not intentional meaningful speech; or someone labeled nonverbal who actually do commmunicate with mouth words just not full sentence & not full clear pronounce but still labeled nonverbal anyway as almost like microaggression of not recognize their single or two word mouth word phrase as valid enough communication worth listen to; or someone with echolalia that not mean anything with it (vs someone with echolalia that is use echolalia as communication (think gestalts, etc)); or some research showing even able say 1-2 words more ability than those with 0 word; or research debate about where minimally verbal end is it 20 words 30 words 50 words

when combat “go nonverbal” crowd often say there is clear cut about what nonverbal and what isn’t and yeah there is clear cut but also is there

many not ready for this level muddiness & nuance because some take bring nuance as invite to say like “i nonverbal but can still (intentionally) mouth speak” or gateway to claim nonverbality as if fun new identity collect instead of some complicated complex experience with mixed emotion but often some level of grief at some point that get lot targeted awful ableism & discrimination like denied education refuse accommodation like IEP or put in segregated classroom without even consider accommodation in general ed to isolate away from peers n not actual to help nonverbal person where they best thrive, or secluded or restrained, or denied healthcare, denied communication, which all still happen now btw it still common now it not rare obsolete it majority still

which make me feel like this image

[id: meme. left side is philosophers (school of athens painting) with caption “talking about nonverbal nonspeaking with other nonverbal people”. middle say “vs”. right side image is parent guiding infant to look play at toy and captioned “talking about nonverbal nonspeaking with not nonverbal people. end id]

because sometimes really is that but also even this is binary. thinking about how some motor nonspeaking people without intellectual disability who language okay say their mind intact that they not stupid thus deserve education and not deserve abuse and throw people with ID & language impairment. or how nonverbal nonspeaking from autism so different from (but so similar to) from motor apraxia from cerebral palsy from intellectual disability from genetic or chromosomal disorders from stroke from TBI from aphasia from vocal cord dysfunction from dementia from from from… how talking to someone nonspeaking from primarily motor reasons without cognitive intellectual language disabilities as someone nonverbal because high level autism cognitive language disabilities, we not guarantee understand eachother experience, same with talk someone from acquired things vs mine neurodevelopmental, how what i say about nonverbal here may not apply to someone who not speak not because autism etc

but “if words so meaningless if experiences so boundless let abolish all” not helpful because for all kind way be nonverbal there experiences that 100% not nonverbal there experiences so different from nonverbal “not able meaningfully intentionally speak all the time” for every meaningless there meaningful reason nonverbal people use nonverbal and deserve word “nonverbal” for ourselves and how this difference in experience is intracommunity issue issue within nonverbal nonspeaking community something we have to grapple with and not invitation for people outside to talk about how “if nonverbal so wide, drawing line at going nonverbal & say that isn’t nonverbal is ridiculous and gatekeep” because as much vast different experience there is reason why there community why there this word we all call ourselves and. not one. of the reason is we can slide in and out of not speak and speak daily or weekly or monthly or regularly. there still common theme to what we call nonverbal despite different

wide word isn’t “functionally useless” it just you not know how n when use it

& this conversation not just apply to nonverbal but many other words n other things as well

[howtofightwrite]

For super-powered individuals, if we assume the standard of characters being stronger, faster, more durable than normal, is there a reasonably thin enough material (i.e. not just 5 inch thick hardened steel) that a super strong individual could carry to be bullet-proof (enough), presumably in some form of plate armor where you can still be agile?

Not exactly. The problem with armor (in the context of armored vehicles) is that you can just hit them harder. Something that can stop a .50 round might not do so well against a guided explosive munition, and if that fails an artillery strike. But, against a roughly human foe, those anti-material rounds would probably get the job done.

So, let's stick with your hardened steel solution for a moment. A .50 BMG round will penetrate ~1.5 inches, but for the sake of argument let's say 2 inches. That's a pretty good defense against a sniper with an AM rifle. However, this is also used in heavy machine guns, where you're looking at a cyclic rate of ~750-850rpm. In a situation like that, your armor might hold up to a short burst, but probably will not survive multiple bursts in the same area. As is often the case, the real problem isn't the bullet with your name on it, it's the 20 or 30 buddies who wanted to swing by for a fun time.

This leads to another problem. While bullets punching holes in you is bad, your armor taking a hit can be pretty unpleasant in its own right. A .50 BMG will deliver somewhere north of 14k joules of force into the target. That's enough for the bullet to do some pretty unpleasant things to a person in the armor, even if the armor itself isn't compromised. This a large part of why there isn't any armory rated to soak a hit from one of the AM rifles. (The Russians claimed that their Ratnik-3 armor would be able to... and then it never really appeared. The claim was someone dubious to begin with, but that's a much larger, and wilder, rabbithole than you're asking about.)

For a normal person, wearing high end body armor, hits from normal combat rifles (intermediate and high power rounds) can result in broken ribs and internal hemorrhaging. It's not just about your armor being bulletproof, it's about your armor being able to effectively dissipate kinetic force as it's received. If it doesn't do that effectively, the bullets may get the job done, even if they don't manage to penetrate the body armor.

On an individual level, simply adding more armor isn't a particularly efficient solution. It makes sense to a point, but if you're already saying someone is super-humanly strong, and tough, covering them in steel plate isn't going to make them immune to harm.

Beyond that, there have been experiments with developing combat exoskeletons, to allow normal soldiers this kind of protection. The aforementioned Ratnik-3 was the Russian program, while the American project was named TALOS. TALOS was scrapped sometime before February 2019, citing technological limitations. So, this isn't a new concept.

Something I found deeply amusing is the “See also,” section on TALOS's Wikipedia page includes a link to Crysis. For those unfamiliar, Crysis was a first person shooter set in the distant future year of 2020, which would have come dangerously close to matching the intended schedule for TALOS, if the project had continued.

Powered exosuit research is probably not dead, even if TALOS has been scrapped. It may be a bit further out than was originally expected, but it is a reasonable bet that it will happen at some point. There are a lot of technological hurdles, including both the issue with the armor failing under direct fire, and dealing with kinetic force, but, at least from an optimistic perspective, it's somewhat plausible.

Unless you're talking about vehicles, modern armor isn't about adding more metal, it's about being more efficient with dissipating the kinetic force from a hit, and still survive to do it at least a couple times.

That said, whatever you do come up with, it's likely that the old adage will hold true, if force doesn't solve your problems, you're probably not using enough of it. No matter how good your armor is, it won't survive sufficient application of high explosives.

Even ignoring all that, a Type IV plate will still take a hit from most rifles (up to and including .30-06 AP rounds.) You don't need fantasy armor for that, it's something that already exists. Real world body armor is designed to take hits. Full plate was designed for melee combat. Neither one is particularly good at doing the other's job. That's not a limitation of the materials or technology, it's a function of what the armor is designed to deal with.

Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, one of my scoutmasters warned us that if you use a knife as a screwdriver, you'll break it. It has an intended purpose. Trying use that tool, (whether it's a knife or body armor) for a purpose other than it's intended ones, will usually end poorly. (Of course, I also remember a crayon eater who was rather vocal in his opinion that the USP's only effective use was as a hammer.)

If you want to put a character in fully enclosed armor, take a look at Ratnik-3 or TALOS armor. If you just want a character who's unusually durable, and you're willing to go for (low key) superpowers, you don't need special armor to get that idea across.

-Starke

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[lonelyspacedragon]

The one and olny thing I will say about this

as a brasileiro let me just give some context on some things

thoses jokes? yeah they were/are pretty lets say "normalisate" here, yes they are disgusting and horrible yes, but they are also very very common

FOR FUCK SAKE OUR SONGS HAVE "novinha" in them thats a way to say young girl, like 15 years young, in a sexual way, its disgusting YES, yes it is, but is so fucking common its almost normal, we have 14 years old boys singing, as in they’are singers sell music and stuff, about sex in a very heavy way

Lissen, my uncle he is like 50 something he has a daughter, (I didn't know this thill this christmas) and he was telling me about her, how she is so hot, and tall and when he goes out with her all the men (and he means men old men 30 something old men) keeps salivating over her and he is all like hey ehat u looking at, in a don't even think of getting close to her but also in a yeah thats my daughter she is hot, and I was like okay, I was envisioning a 18-20 years old by the way he was talking about her, and then he said SHE IS 11, ELEVEN YEARS OLD, I was in shock. It unfortunately is a very very common way of seeing and treating young girls, specially if they are "already all developed"

we have a culture of sexualising young kids, for fuck sake, we had a master chef kids here, one time and one time only, in 2015, and it was disgusting, the amount of men, commenting disgusting things about one of the participants that was 13 I think, and it was so fucking disgusting and bad that we didnt had another one till 2022, exclusively because of those behaviour, we grow up in a disgusting culture of sexualising kids and young teens

to be honest, it was shocking to me when I started accompanying Cellbit and Felps again after so so many years, to see that they are leftist

its a shock because I wasn't expecting that, because I watched those people when I was young and they were too and they said some shitty stuff back there

and yes he had already talked about wanting to delete his old tweets when people wanted to take Pierre out of the qsmp because of old tweets of his and cultural differences, he said the person he was years ago is not who he is now, he said himself that he wasn't happy with his old views on women and politics and lgbt people stuff like that when the stuff with Pierre happened,

He deleted 900 tweets, but did you guys stop to think about it? Would 900 tweets be all about making sexual jokes about minors? And no one would have seen those 900 tweets of him being creepy towards kids?

Or are these 900 tweets also his old views on politics, queer people, feminism? Thinks he had already said he wanted and was deleting because of stuff like this?

lissen almost everyone that is 23+ right now was banging pans for what was basically a coup in ixi 2014 i think? when Dilma was in power and they impcheamented (i don't know how to write this shit in portugues I don't know how in english either) her over something that they(the politicians that wanted her gone - right wingers) made legal a month later, and now those same people are leftists

so yes those are shitty jokes yes, those are shitty views yes, they are, but they are also from 8 years ago, he already said stuff about that, about how his views had changed, and how he was scared that people would do exactly this, get his old tweets and use it to cancel and judge him for it, for views that he no longer has

just think people, does this say anything about who he is now? does he still do this kind of jokes? say those types of things?

if you guys go after all of the qsmp members old tweets and content, I'm sorry to disappoint you but all of them will have things that people will want to cancel them over, if you have to go dig more than one year to find bad things to cancel people over, its that not indicativii that that person no longer thinks like that? that thats no longer who they are now?

Does your tweets from 8 years ago reflects who you are now?

does all of this means you have to forgive him, ignore, watch his stuff, interact with his content? fuck no, do whatever you like and feels better for you, but also have some critical sense for fuck sake

yes if he did something he deserves to be held accountable for it, and if is something worth of being in jail he should be, if he did something criminal he should be dealt with it with the justice, deplataforming him will do jack shit if he did something thing and still walks free, what will this have accomplished?

but if its just old tweets, old jokes, bad jokes at that, but still old, old views that unfortunately are ingrained with cultural context, and that that person no longer has and no longer behaves like and believes they no longer hold, lets just calm the fuck down please

all this to say people change, lets calm down, and wait to see what will happen

[mirai-e-jump]

Masato Yano Photobook: TONE (translations and select pages below)

Publication: March 15, 2024

Masato Yano's 132 Q&A About 13 years ago, "Masato Yano's Style Photobook" was published with a Q&A. Now, a 32 year old Masato Yano answers nearly the same questions again.

1) What's your nickname? Yanocchi, Masanii, Masati

2) When were you born? December 16, 1991

3) What's your blood type? Type B

4) Your zodiac sign? Sagittarius

5) What size family are you from? I come from a family of 4

6) How tall are you? 173cm

7) Your shoe size? 26.5cm

8) What are some of your strengths? My jokes

9) How do you spend your days off? I'll drink the night before, go to the gym

10) What subjects were you worst at? Math and history

11) What are your favorite foods? Sushi and tsukemen

12) What's your assessment of your own personality? I'm easily obsessive and bored. I'm actually shy, but I'm trying my best so you don't think that way (laughs)

13) What are some of your weaknesses? I'm not good at remembering things like people's birthdays or names

14) What are you proud of? That I made my debut in "Shintokumaru"

15) What's your favorite color? Red and white

16) What type of woman do you like? Someone with a good core, someone who eats beautifully

17) What instruments can you play? None

18) What's your special skill? That I can guess who someone is just by their voice

19) What's your best feature? My double eyelids

20) What do you wish would disappear from the world? War

21) The first impressions that are often said about you? That I look scary

22) The person that you respect? Tsumabuki Satoshi-san and Fujiwara Tatsuya-san

23) What do you have a habit of saying? "~nanoyo" and "oh no"

24) Your least favorite type? Someone who only talks about themself

25) What's your treasure? The wallet I received from Tsumabuki-san

26) The ideal self that you desire to be? I want to be liked by many people

27) What's your "theme song"? Recently it's been that I'm the "most powerful king"

28) Your favorite artists? WATWING, the Carpenters, Eric Clapton, GENERATIONS

29) What do you do when you first wake up in the morning? Put on my glasses

30) What do you do right before bed? Put on the radio

31) What habits do you do unconsciously? Touch my nose, do things like suck on the end of a straw

32) What do you usually perform at karaoke? I tend to sing alot by SMAP

33) What foods do you not like? Shiitake mushrooms

34) What's your favorite thing to drink? Mets Grapefruit

35) What was the first CD you ever bought? Jet Coaster Romance by KinKi Kids

36) What do you like to watch and what's your favorite anime? Great Pretender, soccer games

37) How long does it take for you to bathe? 1 hour

38) What's your favorite season? I don't do well with heat

39) When do your emotions become intense? They don't

40) What are your hobbies? Muscle training

41) Do you cry easily? When I feel like it

42) Do you have a pet? What's it's name? I had one. It was a cat named Chaco

43) How many children do you want? I want two. A boy and a girl

44) What's the first thing you look at when entering a convenience store? The bento corner

45) What do you usually buy from a convenience store? Water and spicy ramen

46) What really makes you angry? Nothing much

47) What's the number one thing you want right now? Muscles! (laughs)

48) What have you been secretly interested in recently? The Korean language

49) What's the one thing you'd take to a deserted island? A lighter

50) How do you relax at home? Burn incense and listen to some records

51) What's necessary for world peace? Love

52) What do you wonder about? Why is there a Ladies Day, but not a Men's Day?

53) What would you do if the world ended today? I'd overdo things as usual

54) S? M? I wouldn't say I'm an M💦

55) What's your phone background? Currently it's King-Ohger (for the past 2 months)

56) What animal would you compare yourself to? Some kind of reptilian I guess

57) What are you into these days? Cilantro

58) What do you like to collect? Miniature food sets

59) What's your favorite scent? White musk types, Savon by SHIRO

60) What's something expensive that you bought recently? A vintage varsity jacket

61) How often do you go out shopping? At the very least I go out once a month

62) Can you cook? I do it often

63) What kind of present would you be happy to get from a friend? I'd be happy with anything

64) What would make a girl happy if you gave her a present? Aesop

65) What's your fetish? Legs

66) What would the ideal confession be? Saying it on the way back home after going out for meals a few times

67) At what age do you want to marry by? Hopefully by 40 (laughs)

68) What's something good you do for your body? I go to the gym

69) What's something you always have on you? Chapstick

70) What's the ideal spot for a date? A buffet

71) Which do you prefer? The sea or the mountains? Both the sea and mountains have alot of bugs

72) What scares you? Roller coasters, horror, cockroaches

73) When does your excitement rise? When my work goes well

74) What's your favorite place? Home

75) What's your favorite store? It's a secret ❤️

76) Are you a meat eater? Vegetarian? Are you a fan of cabbage rolls? I eat bugs

77) What's your favorite onigiri topping? Salmon roe

78) What do you usually get at a cafe? I don't go to cafes

79) What's something tasty you've eaten recently? The umeboshi Fukuyama-kun gave me

80) What have you been paranoid about recently? That a big earthquake will hit Tokyo

81) Where do you start washing your body from? My head

82) What's your favorite type of fashion? Things that give off an "American casual" feel

83) At what moment do you fall in love with someone? Sometimes it's not really apparent

84) What words make you happy to hear? "Your performance was good"

85) What's your favorite movie? Grave of the Fireflies

86) What person do you really want to meet right now? Ninagawa-san

87) What's something that's alittle luxurious? Sushi that doesn't come from a conveyor belt

88) How would you describe yourself with a single (kanji) character? "Think," because no matter what I do or say, I have alot to think about.

89) How long does it take you to get up in the morning and leave your house? On a work day it takes 20 minutes. I usually don't go out on my days off (laughs)

90) What changes your mood? When I'm left out

91) What would you consider (if they did) to be cheating on you? If they did a deep kiss (laughs)

92) Are you sensitive to the heat? To the cold? I don't like either

93) Emails or phone calls, which is better? Writing is best

94) What do you frequently use on your phone? Instagram, Twitter, Uber

95) How old were you when you first fell in love? What kind of person were they? It was a kid who lived in my neighborhood when I was in my second year of elementary school.

96) What gestures do women do that make you feel excited? When they put their hair behind one ear

97) Are you enjoying work right now? I want to have fun (laughs)

98) What's your favorite TV program? Programs that only feature comedians

99) What's your favorite sport? Soccer

100) What's your least favorite sport? Baseball

101) Are you the type of person who likes park rides that cause you to scream? I don't do well with them, but if I'm asked to ride one, I will (laughs)

102) Are you good at athletics? I think I'm a good at it

103) What do you take photos of? Tsukemen and sushi

104) What's your favorite flower? Gerbera

105) What's your favorite event of the year? It's New Year's Eve, I'll have a party with my friends and we'll eat alot

106) What's your top 3 favorite stalls at a festival? Beef skewers is #3, grilled squid is #2, okonomiyaki is #1

107) What was your most stressful experience? Performing on opening day for Shintokumaru

108) Your favorite donburi? Beef bowl

109) Are you good with your hands? I wonder~?

110) How long do you sleep in a day? About 3-7 hours. I sleep alot longer on days when I don't work

111) Is your sleeping position good? I think it's okay

112) What's your favorite ramen? I love tsukemen. I have a "cat's tongue" though

113) What color would you compare yourself to? Purple

114) Do you like scary stories? I don't like them in any way (laughs)

115) What subjects were you best at? Gym and art

116) What club activities were you involved in? The soccer club in middle school and the dance club in high school

117) If you were reborn, would you rather be male or female? I'd still want to be male

118) What part time jobs have you had? A bread factory, an Izakaya, a festival stall

119) What do you want to do when you're 40? Meet fans at events

120) What were your favorite school lunches? Nanbanzuke, meat sauce

121) Have you ever seen a ghost? I might've (laughs)

122) What's something you'd like to try that you've never experienced before? Travel overseas

123) Where would you like to take a trip to? Hot springs, Korea, Italy

124) What's your favorite ride at an amusement park? The exploration based ones

125) How many times in one day do you send emails? Currently, I exchange about 30-50 LINE's a day

126) Were you the type of person who finished their Summer homework early? I always felt like I was rushing to finish it at the last second💦

127) Are you more likely to arrive early for a meet up? Or do you arrive late? For work I'm early, in my private life I'm late

128) If you want to go out with someone, how many years older are you okay with? I've never thought about it in terms of age

129) What's an essential item you need when traveling? Earphones

130) What do you do when you can't sleep at night? There are so many things that I'll just give up. I actually thought about this questionnaire when I couldn't sleep (laughs)

131) What do you think about while brushing your teeth? I imagine that there's red paint on my teeth, and then I'll imagine how I have to get it off

132) If you only had one week left to live, what would you do? I'd eat a bunch of the foods I like. I'd meet up with the people I like as much as possible. I'd leave a secret audio farewell message for everyone

[writeandsurvive]

AUTHORS NOTE: like I posted recently, this was supposed to be short at first, but here we are now, cutting it in two parts. I'm not sure I did a good job but I really liked the idea. So I hope I did it justice and you guys will enjoy it! 🫣

SUMMARY: your husband wants to open your marriage and Alden Parker is there for you.

WARNINGS: Fem!reader, marriage, open relationship, nsfw, protected sex, piv, oral, spanking, age gap (30s-50s), fall, injury, concussion, lies, vegetarian!reader, Alden kinda teaching sex, ass man!Alden, toxic!mom, reader being her (real) daddy's little girl

Taking over ~ Alden Parker 1/2

From the moment your husband of five years asked for an open relationship, you knew it was over. Bigamy was never your thing, you dedicated yourself to one person at the time and you thought it was the same for him. But somehow, after almost ten years of dating and five of marriage, he needed something new, someone else. Of course, he already had a person in mind; his cute coworker who had been eyeing him for a while, she was barely in her twenties, and was everything you were not. Beautiful with prominent curves, tall. The woman who wears high heels and makeup every single day of their lives, no matter what the circumstances. Your work as an NCIS agent didn't allow you to be this girly kind of woman, not that you'd be even with another job. It wasn't you and you thought your husband liked it, or at least, was fine with it. How wrong.

You were not sure why but you agreed to his request. The wedding vows meant something to you; you were ready to make it work, no matter what. To be entirely honest, the idea of divorcing in your mid thirties wasn't appealing at all, especially with the job taking eighth percent of your time. It felt impossible to meet someone new and start all over again. The plan was for you to have kids soon, not your husband fooling around with his hot new coworker.

There was no way you'd tell the team about what was going on. They wouldn't understand, especially Nick and Tim, who love and protect you like their sister. They like your husband very much, he became family too but this wouldn't sit right with them, and you wouldn't blame them. It didn't sit right with you in the first place. So you hid it to everyone for a couple of months. Every night your husband was out with her, you felt betrayed and thought so little of you. Were you a fool for agreeing to this?

But you decided to stop feeling sorry for yourself. After all, it was an open relationship, which meant you could be with someone else too. But who? You had never been the type of person to go out and hook up with the first stranger you found attractive, so going out just to meet someone wasn't an option. Sleeping with someone from work? The only option was the new team member Alden Parker, who you admittedly found very attractive, but this could be a very bad idea. You were still learning to know one another and getting used to the new team dynamic.

You felt desperate and alone.

You thought you hid it well, but you were quite wrong. During a stakeout, where it was just you and Alden in the car, he didn't wait long before asking how you were. "I'm fine, why?"

"I know I've only been here for a few months, and we're still getting to know each other, but I can tell something's wrong with you. You're closed off."

You laughed softly, earning a side eye from Alden. "Surprising that you're the one noticing."

"Maybe I'm paying too much attention-- to the team. So, what's up? You know you can trust me, right?"

You locked eyes with him for a moment, seeing how sincere and sweet he really was. "Yeah, I know. It's just-- embarrassing? Sad? Wrong? I don't know." You sighed, looking around the area because you had a job to do.

"Is this about your marriage?" He asked suddenly, catching you off guard. You looked at him with a puzzled look. "You don't talk much about your husband, even when the guys asked about him. They mentioned not seeing him in a while." You played with your wedding band while looking at it. "I've been married for ten years. Nothing you'll say will surprise me."

"Think so? Did your ex-wife ask for an open relationship?" You didn't really think before talking, and immediately regretted telling Alden about it. Your cheeks turned red, and you avoided his eyes for a very long time afterwards.

"Okay, um. I admit that-- you surprised me, good job." He paused. "Did he ask that suddenly?"

Since you spilled the beans, you might as well tell him everything. You needed to talk to someone, have someone's opinion. So, you gave him a resume of the past two months. How your husband told you about it, his coworker he's been dating, how you had been feeling, your fears.

"Honestly, I don't even understand how he could've asked that. I mean, if I was your husband, I wouldn't want another woman, and I definitely wouldn't want to share you."

You uncontrollably smiled at that despite the tears threatening to fall. "Too bad you're not my husband then." You joked, but Alden didn't laugh. He softly put his hand on top of yours, stopping you from nervously rubbing them together. The simple contact felt very nice, you didn't remember the last time your husband held your hands.

"I don't know your husband, and I want to meet him even less than before, but it does sound like he just wanted to be with this girl, without actually cheating. But mark my word, he'll regret it. I'm pretty sure that the moment you tell him you're seeing someone, he won't like it."

"Yeah, well I don't know if that'll happen, so..." You trailed off, looking down at your joined hands. His thumb was rubbing small circles on your knuckles, and that tiny gesture felt great. All you wanted to do was reach out for a hug from him. You were certain he'd give the best hugs; gentle and tender but tight.

"Why not? I mean, you could get anyone."

"Even you?" You weren't sure what had gotten into you, where this bluntness was coming from but since it was out of your mouth, you turned your face to lock eyes with Alden. He was already looking at you, leaning just slightly. He stayed silent for a moment, his eyes going down to your lips a couple of times.

"Anyone." He repeated softly.

Silence filled the car from a moment, it was just you and Alden speaking through your looks. Eventually, you broke it off by laughing. A soft and nervous laugh, and you immediately buried your face in his shoulder. He chuckled too, unsure of what this meant.

"I'm sorry," you said. "I laugh when I'm nervous. I'm not sure what's happening here, or even what I'm supposed to do."

His cheek was resting on the top of your head. "I didn't mean to make you nervous. I don't want us to be awkward with each other. It's just-- yeah, you can have me if you want."

You slowly lifted your head, just enough to look him in the eyes. He was sincere. After a moment of hesitation, you reached out and pressed your lips against his. Alden immediately melted into the kiss, holding the back of your head to intensify it. Before you knew it, his tongue was inside your mouth, allowing you to taste the coffee he just drank. The kiss lasted a long time and you couldn't remember the last time you'd been kissed like this. He truly wanted you and at this moment, he was all you wanted.

Remembering that you were on a stakeout, you eventually pulled away. Growling, Alden took a second to adjust himself and that was when you noticed the obvious budge in his suit pants. It seemed...big. "Oh wow." You said, uncontrollably.

Alden followed your eyes to his erection, and readjust himself again. "Um, yeah, sorry. I can leave the car--"

"What, no! Absolutely not! It's just-- intriguing? How big are you?"

He laughed - not without a certain pride. "Nothing to be afraid of." He smirked and winked.

"I highly doubt that." You said, still looking at it.

After a split second, you felt Alden's fingers stroking your chin and pressing gently to make you look at him. "Let me take you out to dinner. No pressure, just a nice time between two friends."

"So, not a date?"

"If you want it to be a date, then a date it is."

"Do you want it? I mean, it's not a regular situation and I'd understand if you didn't want to get in the middle of this."

"Your husband is clearly failing in his duties, and I'll be happy to take over, show you how you're supposed to be treated."

"Okay then."

Okay then. You and Alden did your best to take your hands and mouth off of each other during the rest of the stakeout. It was rough, because all you wanted was to climb onto him in the driver seat and discover how he feels. How he would make you feel.

But Alden was the perfect gentleman. After agreeing to have the date once the case is closed, he kept a reasonable distance from you. Too much time with you would prevent him from acting correctly, because he desperately wanted you.

He had since he joined NCIS. But he immediately noticed your wedding band - plus the age difference - so he tried to shut his crush down. However, everyday was a challenge. You were everything he ever dreamed of in a woman, and not just physically. He felt like a teenager around you, which pissed him off sometimes. How could he, a fifty-something years old man, could have a stupid crush on his thirty-something years old coworker? He felt highly inappropriate for months, especially when you stopped talking about your husband and Alden wondered if it could mean something. For a second, he hoped you had split up before being mad at himself for thinking about something like that. Now, the opportunity showed up, and if he had to be the side boyfriend, then he would be.

It was Friday night, the case was finally closed and you were working on reports and paperwork. Alden told McGee and Palmer to go home and be with their kids, when Nick complained about not being able to leave early cause he didn't have kids. "Fine, go home too before I change my mind. You too girls." He added, looking at Jess then you. Nick and Jess were in the elevator before you had time to respond. You stood up and walked over to Alden's desk.

"Good job, boss." You giggled.

"Nick is too predictable, that was easy."

"Now what?" You leaned against his desk, and it took him all his self control to keep his hands to himself.

"You tell me. Is it too late to go on that date?" He stood up from his chair, his body dangerously close to yours.

"I don't think so, but I'm gonna need an hour to go home and get ready."

"Why are you still here?"

Unconsciously, you pecked his lips before leaving. Alden smiled at that little gesture, before rushing out, so he could go home and get ready too.

Good thing your husband wasn't home. He had texted you that he would be out for the night, with her you assumed, not that you really cared anymore. Alden texted you, asking if he could pick you up, and if he should park away from the house. 'I'm home alone, act like you'd do normally.' you answered. So he did just that.

You opened the front door to find Alden Parker all dressed up, holding some flowers. You couldn't control your grin, nor the butterflies in your stomach. "You had time to pick up some flowers for me?" He handed them to you, and leaned over to kiss your cheek, making you blush and feel other things.

"They are actually from my greenhouse. I picked the most beautiful ones, but you are the most beautiful flower."

You giggled nervously while smelling the flowers, before walking towards the kitchen. "Come on in for a sec -- they are so pretty, Alden. Thank you so much." You couldn't remember the last time your husband offered you some flowers.

"Are you sure that's okay? For me to be in?" To be honest, he felt a bit uncomfortable there. It was just a reminder that you weren't completely available. You were married and would never be his entirely.

"We're not doing anything in the house. I'm just putting these in a vase."

To Alden's relief, you were out just a minute later. He held your hand up to his car, opened and closed the door for you. It wasn't much, but those small things melted you. "Where are we going?" You asked, after he started to drive.

"That's a surprise." He smirked.

"Not to be a pain, I don't know if you know, but I'm a vegetarian and it--" you felt his hand on your thigh. His touch was soft and gentle.

"I know, don't worry, okay?"

You obviously didn't have to worry because Alden took you to a vegetarian restaurant. It was fairly new and you hadn't been there yet, so you were excited. Again, he acted like the perfect gentleman, holding doors, keeping his hand in the small of your back, telling you to pay no attention to the prices.

The dinner was amazing, both the food and the chemistry between you and Alden. The conversation flooded easily, you got to really know each other, talking about your families, childhoods, hobbies. At any point did you talk about work, nor your marriage. "I could eat more vegetarian dishes." He admitted, tasting how good the food was.

"That'd definitely be better than your current diet." You teased.

"What's wrong with my diet?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Don't make me say it." You giggled.

"Please do."

"It's the diet of an overworked bachelor, plus pastries. Tons of pastries."

"Overworked bachelor, huh?" He smiled. "And I thought you liked my pastries."

"I do, very much. I just think you should eat healthier."

"Point taken. It's nice to have someone who cares."

You put your hand on top of his, and he welcomed it. "I do care, Alden." He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

"So do I." He answered.

Were you supposed to care in a situation like this?

After the restaurant, Alden asked if you wanted to keep the night going or if you wanted a ride home. There was no way you were going home just yet, so you drove for about fifteen minutes, before pulling over to the Bowlero. Alden laughed when you looked at him with a grin. "I knew you'd like that."

"So much! I'm so gonna kick your ass at every game!" This time Alden didn't have time to circle the car cause you were out before him. You grabbed his hand and rushed him inside.

You started with the arcades. Alden knew you were a competitive person, he heard you arguing with McGee over a game you played together, he even remembered Jimmy saying something about Victoria being upset during a board game because you wouldn't let her win. But Alden would let you win every game possible if it meant you'd smile and do a ridiculous happy dance. He wanted to kiss you every time you mocked him for losing, and also punished you in his very own way.

Then you offered to play pool. Except that pool was Alden's game. He was ridiculously good at it, probably because he spent long hours playing with friends when he was younger. However, he was distracted. Every time you leaned over the table for your turn, showing off your pretty ass in that tight dress, his cock twitched. The things he wanted to do to you in that position. "I thought you were a killer at pool?" You teased, mid-game.

"I'm a bit distracted." He said, positioning himself over the table.

"By my ass?"

Since you were on the other side of the table, you slowly turned around and shook your hips just slightly. "Fuck, sweetheart. You can't do this here. That ass is only for me to enjoy."

You turned around again, laughing. "Looks like those teenage boys enjoyed the view."

Alden immediately turned his face to where you were pointed, ready to give those boys a death glare. But there were no boys, or anyone else. "Not funny." He turned back to you. "Get out of my eyesight, so I can win this."

You circled the table to be behind him. You actually checked out his ass too. After hitting the white ball, and watching two balls going inside the holes, he faced you. "Much better." He smiled, proud of himself.

You got closer, pressing your body against his. "I didn't pin you for an ass man." You whispered.

He cleared his throat. "I'd always considered myself a tits man. But you--" he pressed his forehead against yours, his hand roaming at the small of your back. He wanted to touch your butt, and so did you. "You drive me crazy." He just said.

"Let's finish this game, fast."

To your displeasure, Alden won, even though he did fail a few balls on purpose. On the way back to the car, you kept talking about the game, what you did wrong, even accused him of cheating which made him laugh. "Damn, you don't deserve sex tonight." You finished the rambling, as you reached the car.

"Okan then," he opened the passenger for you but stood in the way. "I'll just drop you off." He had a tiny smirk on his face, but his instinct told him you wanted sex as much as he did, but he was also afraid you just wanted an excuse to go home. "Can I kiss you good night now?"

"Idiot." You said, grabbing his collar into a fist and bringing him into you. His body crashed into yours as he didn't hold his weight back on purpose, so he could catch you. His hands were immediately on your ass, right before his lips were on yours. If that kiss in the car had been something, this was even more. You and Alden were practically making out in the parking lot, not caring that you could be seen. "I wanna see your greenhouse." You whispered, out of breath.

The greenhouse was prettier than you expected. While holding your hand or your waist, Alden showed you some of his plants and flowers, even telling you about the ones he offered you earlier. But your eyes were more focused on him, his face, his lips, than anything else. "You're not listening to me, are you?" He chuckled.

"I'm a bit distracted." You said, reminded his words from earlier.

He gently grabbed your face in his hands and locked eyes with you. "I gotta ask-- are you sure about this?"

"Are you?"

He kissed you as an answer. Then he carried you into his bedroom, and put you down, without ever breaking the kiss. Your lips were probably bruised and swollen by now, not that you cared one bit. He paid attention to your neck, finding that sweet spot, while his hands traveled your body. You were completely melting under his touch. "Have you told how fucking sexy you are?" He asked.

"No."

"Then I'm sorry. Cause damnit you are the sexiest woman ever." His hands and mouth were working on your breasts as you were desperately trying to unbutton his shirt. His words did something to your core and to your heart.

"I need to feel your skin, Alden." You whined. He stopped so you could get rid of his shirt and he took the opportunity to strip you off your dress. Seeing you in your matching lace underwear shortcut his brain. There was so much he wanted to do and say, he couldn't decide where to start.

You touched his hairy chest, kissing his pec then his neck. "Alden? You with me?" Growling, he picked you up just enough to lay you down on his bed. He covered your body with his, kissing you roughly.

"I'm right here, sweetheart." He whispered. "Right here with you."

You both agreed to skip the foreplay, and orals, as you just needed to feel each other right away. Alden was already painfully hard, while you had already ruined your panties. So he grabbed a condom from his nightstand, rubbed his length against your slit for a moment before intruding your core. You both moaned at the feeling, even though he wasn't fully in just yet. "I knew it. I was right to be afraid."

Alden got confused for a second before understanding. He completely laid down on you, stroking your hair and softly kissing your lips, chin and cheeks. "Just a couple more inches, baby. I know you can do it. You're my good girl, aren't you?" His praises worked wonders on you.

He gently thrusted without going fully, until you told him he could. When he bottomed out, you screamed out loud, your eyes rolling back inside your skull. Alden didn't hold back his noises either - which got you even wetter - as he stared down at you with pure lust. It took all of his willing power not to pin you down and fucked you hard. "That's it, princess. I told you you could take all of me." He kissed you. "Fuck, your pussy is sucking me in." He nipped your bottom lip. "Can I move, baby? Please?" He sounded desperate.

"Fuck yes, Den. Fuck me." He didn't need more.

It wasn't a long and sweet love making. You were both so worked up and desperate for each other, it didn't take long until you and Alden came undone, shouting each other's names. While his cock softened inside you, he collapsed on you, listening to your heart pounding in your chest, just like his was. Your hand was resting in his hair.

"That was--" he tried to say.

"Yeah." You agreed.

Soon after, Alden left for a minute and came back with a wet cloth and some water. He cleaned you up, while you drank and stared. "I didn't hurt you, right?" He asked, concerned.

"Not at all." You stroked his cheek. "but you're definitely bigger than--" you stopped there. His brows furrowed together and he was speaking again.

"Was he the only one you've ever--"

"Yup." You confessed, looking down at the glass of water which suddenly seemed intriguing.

"Oh, um. I didn't know," he drank from his own glass.

"Would it have changed something?"

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"Well I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It seemed irrelevant." You started to move. "If you want to pretend this didn't happen, then fine with me, I'll--" Alden grabbed your arm before you could pull yourself on your knees and brought you against his chest.

"That makes me your second?"

"One, two... You can count, good job." His hand immediately smacked against your butt cheek. You looked at him in disbelief but with a smile on your face.

"I should teach you how to count the right way." He spanked you again. Your eyes went dark, and he knew you liked it very very much. Perfect.

"How many was that? Four?" You teased and two more spanks hit you. You uncontrollably moaned in his chest, and bit his nipple. He let out a high pitched yelp, making you giggle. He put his glass down on the nightstand, - almost dropping it - before getting on top of you, face down on the mattress. Since the four spanks had been on the same cheek, it was already pink, and it sprung Alden's cock back to life. He gave your other cheek a spank.

"No biting, little brat."

You could feel his cock resting between your ass cheeks and for a moment, you considered giving Alden what you always refused to your husband. This ass, your ass... was Alden's to love, fuck and spank.

"Not even a little?" You asked, innocently and earned another spank. You moaned against, burying your face in the pillow - that smelled wonderfully like Alden.

He grabbed a handful of your flesh, leaned over and bit your ass, before smoothing it with his tongue and lips. "Alden," you whined.

"What is it, princess? Do you want something?"

"Your tongue." You whispered.

He spanked you again but was a bit gentler this time. "Louder. You need to be loud and clear."

"I want you to eat my pussy!" You cried.

"Ask and you shall receive."

He turned you over and did exactly what you wanted.

After you came in his mouth, allowing him to drink every bit of you, Alden was painfully hard and ready to go again. He teased your entrance with the tip but you stopped him. He immediately pulled away, giving you space, afraid he did something wrong. But when he saw you turning around with a mischievous smile on your face, he understood. "My turn."

You knew you gave good blowjobs...to your husband. Then again, he was smaller than Alden's so it was easier for you. As you started to suck on Den's cock, you were desperately hoping he would enjoy it. You didn't want to disappoint him. But you could barely take half of him without choking. Still, from his noises, growls and words, he seemed to love it. "Relax your throat, baby. No rush, no worries. You're doing so good." This man could read you like a fucking open book.

You followed his instructions, took your time and slowly, you were able to take a bit more of his length. "Baby, if you choke on my cock one more time, I'm gonna cum." Since it was exactly what you wanted, you took as much as you could, choked and drank to the very last drop of his release.

As bad as he wanted to fuck you one more time, Alden's cock was unresponsive for the rest of the night. So you simply cuddled in bed, made small talk before quickly drifting away.

For a month, everything was great. Things with Alden were amazing, he was an actual dream. Most of the time, you forgot you were married to someone else, it was all about Alden, Alden, Alden. He was extremely sweet and thoughtful, he cared and wasn't afraid to show it, he treated you like a princess, except sometimes during sex. You always liked sex, but with your husband, it has never been too crazy, not that it was bad either. However, with Alden, you discovered yourself, found out you had some kinks and he was more than happy to oblige them.

The team complimented you several times, saying that you were glowing. Thanking them, you saw Alden smirking behind their backs, knowing he was the reason for that glow. It was crazy that they didn't notice what was going on, or at least, they never said or hint anything.

Your relationship with your husband was practically non-existent. You'd run into each other here and there, talked briefly about stuff but that was it. You obviously told him you were seeing someone, and he didn't ask anything, not even who was the guy, or if you were respecting the rules. It felt like he didn't care anymore, and eventually, you stopped caring too. All your focus apart from work, was on Alden and your relationship with this wonderful man.

It was your husband's birthday, and as a tradition, his family and your parents would come over for dinner to celebrate. You turned down Alden's offer to go on a date, mostly because you felt like you had to be there. The families had no idea what was happening and you couldn't just bail on them.

You were preparing a couple of dishes when your husband came home after meeting with his best friend - he said. He surprised you by hugging you from behind and planted kisses in your neck. You instantly stiffed, and tried to wiggle your way out. "What are you doing?" You asked.

"Kissing my wife. Am I not allowed?"

"You haven't touched me for months. Not even a hug."

"I know." He grabbed your waist and spined you around to face him. "It was my mistake and I'm sorry."

He leaned in to kiss you, but you pulled away before his lips could touch yours. "Wait, what is happening here?"

"Did you seriously pull away from a kiss?"

"You can't just come over to me, after months of ignoring me, and expect kisses, cuddles or whatever."

"I don't remember you trying either. I mean, you've barely been home this past month."

"You know exactly where I was."

"Right, with him. Who is he anyways?"

You let out a dry laugh. "So, now you're asking?"

"I am, and I expect an answer." He folded his arms against his chest.

"Someone from work."

He stayed silent for a second. "Nick?"

"Ew, come on."

"I know for sure it's not Tim, nor Jimmy! Wait-- is it the new guy? What's his name?"

"Parker, yes." There was no point in lying.

"Oh my god," he had a humorless laugh. "I can't believe this. That's why I never met him."

"No, you never met him cause you haven't cared in a long time."

"Says the girl who only cares about her job and her team!"

"If that was the problem from the beginning, you could've just said so and asked for a divorce."

"I don't want a divorce! I love you still." You stayed silent. He was obviously expecting you to say it back, but you couldn't. You didn't know if you still loved him. "You're not saying it back."

"I've got to get ready. The parents will be here soon."

You and your husband basically ignored each other, which wasn't difficult. Between the parents, siblings and kids, you each focused on different persons and nobody questioned it. Dinner was barely getting started when your phone rang. It was Alden, so you picked and listened while he told you there was a crime scene and gave you the address. "sorry for ruining your evening, sweetheart." He said.

"Oh no, don't worry." You were somehow relieved.

You got back to the living area where everyone was. "I'm sorry I've got to leave guys. Duty calls." They seemed disappointed but they knew how your jobs worked. "Gonna get changed." You rushed upstairs.

You had barely taken off your dress that your husband merged inside. "It was him, wasn't it?" He asked, angry.

"He's the team leader, he gets the calls and then calls us, so yes." You put on some pants.

"How do I know it's really about work?"

Onto the shirt. "Our families are here. Do you think I'd give up on them?"

"No, but you'd give up on me. You are."

"Stop." You opened the door, and walked away but your husband stopped you right next to the stairs.

"Don't go, stay here with us, with me."

"It's my work, I have to go."

"Work, yeah right." He was raising his voice. "You just want to see him."

"I said stop it!" You tried to pull away but he wasn't letting go of your arms.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" He yelled.

"Let go of me!"

You fought him off, and that was all you remembered but it went dark.

Alden knew something was wrong and so did the team when you never showed up at the crime scene. They all tried to call you multiple times for hours until finally someone picked up when Alden called one more time. "Sweetheart, hey, is everyth--"

"I'm sorry, do you call all of your colleagues 'sweetheart'?"

"Hmm." Alden didn't recognize the voice on the other side but it definitely wasn't you. He suspected the woman to be your mother. "Why isn't Y/N answering? Is she okay?"

"She's at the hospital." Alden's heart stopped at this moment. "She fell down the stairs while she was getting ready and hurt her head. I just got back to the house and found her phone."

"Oh my god," his heart was pounding. "Which hospital is she at? She's gonna be okay, right? The injury isn't too bad?" Nick who was hearing the conversation, called out the rest of the team to approach.

"She has a mid concussion, they are keeping her overnight but she's fine."

"Thank god!" Alden exclaimed uncontrollably. "Which hospital? I'll go see her--"

"No."

"No?"

"She's a married woman, so you need to stay away from her."

"Ma'am--" he tried to talk, say something, anything but your mother kept going.

"I don't know exactly what happened, but it honestly doesn't matter. Whatever was going on between you and my daughter, it ends now. As her superior, and a man old enough to be her father, you should be ashamed."

"Ma'am!" He tried again.

"You know what, you should quit. But if you don't, I'll make sure she doesn't come back to NCIS. It'll be for the best anyways, this job takes too much of her. And it's not taking her marriage. So don't come anywhere near her, and have Nick call next time." She hung up.

Completely stunned, Alden had to sit so he opened the car's door and let himself fall onto the seat. The team was staring as he covered his face and rubbed his eyes. "Parker!" McGee brought him back to reality.

"Yeah, um. She fell down the stairs apparently and has a concussion. They are keeping her at the hospital for the night."

"Okay, move Park, I'm driving." Nick said, waiting for Alden to leave the driver's seat vacant.

"I don't know which hospital. Tim, please tell me you got your laptop?"

Luckily, Tim did have his laptop, and they checked every hospital admissions until they found which one you were at. Nick did drive himself and Alden, while the other had to stay behind to finish up on the crime scene. The team leader didn't say a word during the ride, and Nick respected his silence. He's known about Alden's crush on you for months.

After a few hours and multiple exams, the medical team finally put you in a room. The doctor asked you to not sleep for now, even though you were exhausted and in pain. Your dad joined in, and you were relieved to see that he was alone. "You scared the shit out of me, babygirl." He said, gently kissing your temple. "I'm glad you're fine. The doc doesn't want you to fall asleep just yet, so we're gonna talk, okay?"

"Dad, I don't want to talk right now."

"I need to understand what's going on. You know I'm not judging you and I never will, but did you have an affair with that new guy in your team?"

"That's what he told you?" Your dad nodded.

Of course your husband lied, but you told your father the entire truth. From months ago, to the moment right before you fell down the stairs. You told him about Alden, how you were falling with this man, and how you wanted to be with him and just him. You've been a daddy's little girl from day one, and have always been honest with him, he was kinda hurt you didn't confide in him when it all started, but you know he wouldn't react well.

"Where is he?" You asked eventually, speaking of your husband. "I don't want to see him. Please, don't let him in, dad."

"He's probably getting his nose patched up right now. And I warned him, don't worry. I don't want him anywhere near you." You looked at him, puzzled. "Whether you had an affair or not, I don't care. You fell because of him. Did he--push you, honey?" Your father's jaw was clenched, as well as his fists. He was ready to fight some more.

"No, no! He was just holding me back, I was trying to get out of his grip and the stairs were right there."

Your dad relaxed his fists only slightly, but he didn't have time to say anything.

"You fell because of that motherfucker???"

Alden and Nick were standing at the door.

You never saw that look on Alden's face before, never actually heard him talk this way. Nick wasn't looking any better, very much like your dad, he was ready to fight. Smiling shyly, you extended your hand towards the man you loved. Alden took it, while your father stood up from the bed.

"You two!" You called out your dad and Nick. "You're gonna stay in the hallway, but I swear to god if you go rogue, I'll kick both your asses."

"Yes ma'am!" They both answered, before leaving the room.

"You--" you turned your attention back to Alden, who was breathing heavily. "Sit." He did, and you stroked his beard. "I'm okay."

"You fell, you have a concussion, because of him. That's not okay for me."

"Just hold me, love. Stay here and hold me." He did. "And don't let me sleep."

[ovaruling]

i found this very interesting, especially as a woman who has cheated death several times, came away from it disabled, and is now fiercely determined to live independently into old age, child-free (in this case, the relevance of that being the context of having no children to assist me with care or basic function as i age).

however, this is also important for all women, because being able to carry fitness (and by fitness i refer to the ability to complete everyday tasks and basic mobility without extreme difficulty or injury) into old age is a topic that affects us as a sex with some growing urgency.

statistically, we know (or should, by now) that women cannot depend on male partners/family members to care for us in times of illness or crisis, and that also goes for caring for us as we age. they leave. they shirk. they hope we’ll just die and relieve them of the burden of caring for us.

and even if male partners are not a factor, aging women ARE seen as a burden–to our families, to our friends, to our loved ones, to our doctors, to our governments, to our societies. having children or a partner or family members or friends does not necessarily guarantee that they will assist you in your old age.

so it is of utmost importance that we as women educate ourselves on how to stay as physically independent as possible as we age. here is an excerpt of the article that describes why i think this is so important:

"Think of the Centenarian Decathlon as the 10 most important physical tasks you will want to be able to do for the rest of your life. Some items on the list resemble actual athletic events, while some are closer to activities of daily living, and still others might reflect your own personal interests. I find it useful because it helps us visualize, with great precision, exactly what kind of fitness we need to build and maintain as we get older. It creates a template for our training.

I start by presenting my patients with a long list of physical tasks that might include some of the following:

1. Hike 1.5 miles on a hilly trail. 2. Get up off the floor under your own power, using a maximum of one arm for support. 3. Pick up a young child from the floor. 4. Carry two 5-pound bags of groceries for five blocks. 5. Lift a 20-pound suitcase into the overhead compartment of a plane. 6. Balance on one leg for 30 seconds, eyes open. (Bonus points: eyes closed, 15 seconds.) 7. Have sex. 8. Climb four flights of stairs in three minutes. 9. Open a jar. 10. Do 30 consecutive jump-rope skips.

The full list is much longer, with more than 50 different items, but you get the idea. Once they’ve read it, I ask them to please select which of these tasks they want to be able to perform in their ninth, or better yet 10th, decade. Which ones do they choose?

All of them, typically. They want to be able to hike a mile and a half, or carry their own groceries, or pick up a great-grandchild, or get up if they fall down. Or play 18 holes of golf, or open a jar, or fly somewhere on a plane. Of course they do.

That’s great, I say. You’ll make that kid’s day when you pick her up like that. But now let’s do a little math. Let’s say the kid weighs 25 or 30 pounds. That’s basically the same as doing a squat while holding a 30-pound dumbbell in front of you (i.e., a goblet squat). Can you do that now, at age 40? Most likely. But now let’s look into the future. Over the next 30 or 40 years, your muscle strength will decline by about 8 to 17 percent per decade—accelerating as time goes on. So if you want to pick up that 30-pound grandkid or great-grandkid when you’re 80, you’re going to have to be able to lift 50 to 55 pounds now. Without hurting yourself. Can you do that?

I press the issue. You also want to be able to hike on a hilly trail? To do that comfortably requires a VO2 max of roughly 30 ml/kg/min. Let’s take a look at the results of your latest VO2 max test—and guess what, you only scored a 30. You’re average for your age, but I’m afraid that’s not good enough, because your VO2 max is also going to decline. So you can pull it off now, but you likely won’t be able to do it when you’re older.

On it goes. To lift a 20-pound suitcase overhead when you are older means lifting 40 or 50 pounds now. To be able to climb four flights of stairs in your 80s means you should be able to pretty much sprint up those same stairs today. In every case, you need to be doing much more now, to armor yourself against the natural and precipitous decline in strength and aerobic capacity that you will undergo as you age.

Eventually, my patients get it. Together, we come up with a list of 10 or 15 events in their personal Centenarian Decathlon, representing their goals for their later decades. This then determines how they should be training. In the end, most people’s Centenarian Decathlons will probably overlap to a degree. Someone who enjoys stand-up paddleboarding, for example, would perhaps choose “events” focused around building core and cross-body strength. But she will likely be training the same muscle groups as I am doing for archery, and maintaining a similar degree of stamina and balance.

The Centenarian Decathlon is ambitious, no question. A 90-year-old who is even able to board a plane under her own power, let alone hoist a carry-on bag, is doing extremely well. But there is a method to the madness. These individual tasks are not out of reach. There are octogenarians, nonagenarians, and even centenarians right now who are running marathons, racing bicycles, lifting weights, flying airplanes, jumping out of airplanes, skiing the Rocky Mountains, competing in actual decathlons, and doing all sorts of other amazing things. So all these events are within the realm of possibility."

[agendabymooner]

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (4)

Summary:  Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: Can you actually fall in love fast? or is Tilly just fortunate enough to catch Toto's attention and gain his respect and determination in span of a day? As of this point, she might as well host a slumber party as Daniel and Lewis continue to pester her with the most important topics of her life right now: her family and the hypothetical ones she'd make with Toto.

Content warning: Age gap, brief use of explicit language, discusses the 2014 austrian gp, flirtatious banter, mutual pining kind of romance, platonic relationship with Lewis Hamilton and Daniel Ricciardo, fictional family and business involved (Hearth family and Hearth Automotives Group). NO PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS INVOLVED SORRY

Note: Thank you all so much for the 50 followers! I honestly have been writing these just because I didn't have anything occupy my time and it's a good idea that I posted them up here. knowing that you're enjoying my brain's ideas, it fuels me even more into writing. As of this point I'm currently writing a spin-off for Rush and this series so keep an eye out, I suppose. I hope you all enjoyed today's race because I certainly did (Albon was way too fucking good this weekend, I shit you not). And I hope Alonso's 2nd place makes up for the Father's Day that I'll never get to spend with him. Enjoy xx

masterlist

iv. fast lane but not the race weekend kind

“Regards,

Tilly Marie F. Hearth…”

That should be okay, I tell myself silently as I put away my laptop. It’s only 6 pm, and I already wish to retire to my bed early. 

I can be doing a lot, but instead I’m moping inside my hotel room while I’m waiting for Lewis. Being on a paid vacation is nice; I don’t have to do anything and deal with people. But at the same time, I’m craving more tasks to occupy my time because truthfully, I do NOT want to be stuck in a hotel in Silverstone with nothing to do. I spent my early 20’s being away from people, but now I’m entering my early 30’s, I’m slowly thinking that I probably should’ve done more than attend festivals by myself or with my sisters.

None of the people I was around with earlier had looked my way until after they'd been told that I was working in communications and was a boss’ child. The staff from the other teams also did the same—but some of them knew who I was already and had already made themselves comfortable. Just how I wanted.

But then again, this is my first day. And Sunday would probably be my last considering that I’ll be back to my stuffy office the next week. 

I can take up the role as a consultant for communications. My father did offer me that role for Ferrari, Red Bull and McLaren—telling me that I can do so much more in Formula One than my no-good employers. 

Bunch of bullshit, I curse out. He wouldn’t let go of his legacy like that. 

I already told him about writing for magazines or simply writing in general, but he still placed these executive positions in front of me as if he knew I’d give in. Sad fact is that he actually is right; I’m close to giving up on my job. If The Devil Wears Prada didn’t warn me the first time, Lauren Weisberger should have at least taken both of my shoulders and shaken them. 

It didn’t hurt to think about balancing Formula One and journalism out. After all, it’s what I can do as a journalist—know enough about racing and engines and ensure that my knowledge is being shared through my writing and published works. 

I try my best to relax in my bed, lying flat on the mattress with my hands resting on my stomach. The silence is deafening and I can hear my steady breathing. My eyes are growing tired as they continue to look up at the ceiling of my room. 

For a moment, I debated whether or not I should come downstairs for dinner with Lewis. If there’s anything that I know about him, he takes his dear time to get ready—and I have an endless closet at home. That’s telling you a lot. 

A knock on my door makes me stand fast and rush to open it. Daniel Ricciardo stands there with a grin.

“Oh you,” I blurt out.

Displeased with my response, Daniel cries out, “I’m not terrible all the time, Tils.” 

“Sorry,” I shake my head as I correct myself, “I meant that I thought you were Lewis.”

“He phoned me and said we should head down instead of waiting for him,” he shrugs as he sticks his arm out and offers, “let’s go?” 

I nod and head to where my flats are, slipping them on with ease as I grab my keycard and wallet. 

Daniel only pulled his arm back when I wrapped my arm around it. We descend to the ground floor where the restaurant is located. 

A host takes us to a four table seat at a corner. Seeing familiar faces from the venue, I nod at them as a greeting before I find myself sitting across Daniel. 

Soon enough, Lewis arrives and we begin to talk about today’s events. Forty five minutes had passed, and we found ourselves conversing in front of our already empty plates. 

Daniel asks about my family and all I can tell him has something to do with my mother’s side of the family. I guess out of the wealthy people in my family, I can understand my mother’s connections to the automobile industry. My toxic trait is that I despise my father but love my mother.

The difference is that my mother loves us more than anything and cares for our half-sister more than he does. 

But it seems Daniel has focused on a different matter.

“Your mother is— you’re a Ford, Tils,” his eyes widen like an owl as his mouth gapes open. I can practically see a fly entering his mouth. 

“My mum is,” I laugh, looking at Lewis as he, too, laughs at Daniel’s shocked expression. 

“Mate, she’s a Ford,” Daniel reaches out to nudge at Lewis and gestures at me. “You carry that information around just like that?” 

“She’s not really putting it out there for everyone to know,” Lewis chuckles, sipping on his water as he puts it down. “Besides, if you were really into racing you probably have heard about her dad or mum’s family one way or another.”

“I don’t really go digging for information about old money families,” Daniel rolls his eyes as he looks at me again, “you don’t look like you’re happy to be here. For someone who came from families who are into cars.”

“My father insisted on having me work for his teams,” I tell him, “I’m not exactly the brightest for motorsport. I prefer the media more than what my father wishes me to pursue.”

“Have you raced before?” 

“I had a karting career at some point,” I shrug, “or at least I started at the age 4. Mum didn’t agree with it and I should’ve started at 7, but my father insisted. I was already competing by 7. My sisters were too, but some preferred equestrian over racing.”

“If my dad was a twat, I’d stop it just to spite him too,” Daniel says as I raise my brows at the statement. He then corrects himself, “What I mean is I’d pursue the karting career for me, not for him.”

“Gotcha.”

Lewis pipes up, “Blanche is a pretty decent woman. You should see her, mate.” He turns to look at me and asks, “Is she coming this weekend?” 

“With Aimee and Sylvie,” I nod in confirmation, “I’m not quite sure about Stevie yet but she wouldn’t want to miss out on your home race.” Not elaborating any further, I return to the topic, “My father is absolutely baffled when I quit karting but he can’t do much because Poppy, my mum’s dad, was still alive. So between him and Poppy, he chose not to interfere.” 

“But you’re still here on behalf of your father though,” Daniel points out.

“It’s to secure my position and family’s future,” I tell him with a sigh. I look at him then back at Lewis before I say, “Whether I like it or not, I still need to do my part regardless of how much I hate the surname. It’s an obligation that I can’t avoid but it’s alright. It’s not just for me— it’s for my sisters and my future children.” Wow, I’ve only been friends with Daniel for a month and I’m already airing out my dirty laundry to him. Is this what happens when your friends are your sisters and just Lewis?

“You’re taking your elder sister role way too seriously. You can’t even catch a break,” Daniel says incredulously. 

I can only nod as I agree; my mother’s capable enough of worrying about them and I should just be doing whatever I want. She cares for my sisters as much as I do but being cut off from my father’s side of the family isn’t something that I’d allow. 

It’s not as if my sisters don’t want to join me at the trackside; they want to keep an eye on one of each team in fact. They want to be able to know what kind of thing our father brags about. But much like me, they don’t want to be on the track itself—they’re better off being models because that's what they wanted to be. They’ll join me soon enough, they just need to make a career out of modelling and come to work for the driving teams whenever they’re ready. 

“They’ll be in a lot of magazines soon enough,” I shrug nonchalantly. “I’d like them to do that first unless they feel like carrying a headache coming from either Brown or Horner.”

“There are three of them,” Lewis chuckles, “if anything, those three would outnumber your team principals. With you alone I got scared, could you imagine Sylvie? She’s feisty.” 

“It’s not just to keep them sane,” I roll my eyes, my foot underneath the table kicking Lewis in the leg. The table shakes lightly. “I just started working in this kind of industry. What kind of a big sister would I be if I’m just as clueless? I need to know more, especially if I want to be able to teach my potential kids about it.”

Lewis, the piece of shit, decides that this is the right time to joke about it and say, “I didn’t know you’re already thinking about a future with my boss, Tilly.” 

I snap my head to Lewis’ direction too much that I’m thinking I just got a whiplash. My glare hardens when Danny and Lewis’ faces turn red from laughing too much. 

“You ought to quiet down, boys,” I hiss, not wanting to look at the people who are giving us the unnecessary attention being gathered by their laughter.

“You have to admit,” Lewis breathes deeply to refrain from laughing again, “you two got along well. Was it because of Dubai?” 

“I told you that in confidence,” reaching down in his thigh, I pinch it as he whines quietly. He slaps my hand away as I say, “You’re a shit secret keeper.”

“Wai— what about Dubai?” Daniel, clearly not understanding what’s going on, asks as he looks at me while he expects a context. 

I muttered to him, “Met Toto Wolff in 2006. Spoke to him and all that.” 

Lewis nearly cries in laughter as he speaks, “She told me about it years ago. She never knew his name–or she refused to tell me who. She said he was attractive alright but—ow, stop it, Tils.”

I pull myself away from Lewis and sit back straight on my seat as I claim, “He doesn’t remember nor think of me like that, Lew. He’s just a silly crush.” 

“Is he?” 

“He was,” I correct him even if I’m wrong. It’s like Toto Wolff got an on-and-off button in my life. One moment he’s there making me blush the next thing he’s already gone. 

“You’ve been single for as long as I know,” Lewis huffs out, “why don’t you try dating again anyways?”

“With your boss?” I raise a brow, “Are you that obtuse?”

“What? He isn’t bad,” Lewis shrugs, returning to his usual composure as he crosses his arms, “the opportunity’s right there. Why are you adamant on not taking it?”

“Because she doesn’t want to get on Christian’s bad side for fraternizing with the enemy,” Daniel jokes. 

“I’m gonna kill you, Daniel,” I threaten him emptily, making him giggle again. 

“I’m repeating what you said!” He cries out, still laughing as he laughs obnoxiously. Men! Seriously.

“He’s quite interested you know,” Lewis states, his arms now crossing as he leaned against his seat. “He’s playing 20 questions with me whenever you leave. I’m not sure if he’s interested in me winning or you.” 

“He’s not interested like that,” I insist, “I’m sure he means well because I just popped up all of the sudden today. Nobody likes to step on the wrong foot of a newcomer. You’ll just make an enemy.”

“Yeah, sure,” Daniel scoffs haughtily, “the guy who’s been asking Christian questions about you left and right— the same person who doesn’t like Christian— isn’t interested.” 

“I haven’t been in a relationship with anyone since 2004,” I scowl, trying to keep my voice quiet as I say, “What makes you think I’ll be able to have an interesting relationship with him?” 

“He isn’t subtle about wanting to spend time with you,” Lewis answers, “what did he say again? You’re welcome to be in our paddock anytime? Does that ring a bell?”

Of course I do, I almost huff out, it’s one of the things that I intend to do. Be able to spend enough time admiring his team…

“I know men,” Daniel adds, “and with the way of how he’s looking down at you during the interview? With the heart eyes making contact with another pair of heart eyes? Yeah, that man is in loooove~”

“Like it’s a fast lane.”

Now I can’t deny it. 

I like being around Toto Wolff, more than anything. Speaking to him is like a breath of fresh air after stepping out of a cigar lounge. He’s a gentleman; I’ve always wondered how he’s not married. Women deserve him. Yet he’s here, being the most eligible bachelor in the grid following Fernando Alonso. God, I will snatch him up if I can even meet his level. I doubt he likes his women like me… trashy trying to be classy.

But it turns out, my cynicism is unnecessary. I find myself thinking a lot about the things that could be. In an empty elevator, I wait as it slowly closes. But the call from outside forces me to keep the door open until the person catches up. 

The man makes it inside as he stands tall, trying to catch his breath. There’s no way in hell—

“Tilly,” oh my god. I’m seeing too much of him today. 

I turn to my left as I dumbly ask, “Bonjour, what floor?” 

Toto looks at me with confusion in his face, probably wondering if I’m playing stupid or just stupid in general as he looks past me and says, “You’ve got it.” 

Wow, not only am I seeing too much of him, I’m also on the same floor as him. 

I nod and look back at the front, I can see him through the reflection from the doors. His polo remains unbuttoned and his hair unruly after running his fingers through it. I can see traces of sweat dripping down his forehead. I probably shouldn’t do a physical examination on him.

I look at him and ask politely, “Have you had dinner yet?” It’s a polite thing to ask, right? Like I’m not coming off as desperate to speak to him?

“Ah,” he keeps his mouth shut for a second and answers, “it is something to take up in my room, unfortunately.”

“Is it?” I ask out of curiosity, “You could have joined others for dinner?” 

“Busy, as always,” he smiles sadly, “it’s an endless battle.”

“Quite a shame,” I tell him with a shake of my head. “Do people know time zones or just business hours or is it just something written on papers?” I ask no one in particular.

“My brain doesn’t shut off the moment 7 pm hits,” he tells me with a rueful smile. “It calls for work all the time. So, no. I don’t follow my own business hours policy.” God, I feel sorry for him. 

“It’s like a wire, Toto,” I nibble on my bottom lip, not knowing how to express my empathy without looking like an arse, “you can’t plug it back in if you’ve something to prevent it from happening. Like a baby proof.” 

“You’re right,” he laughs. “What do you suggest I should do? The baby proof, I mean.”

I watch him as the door slides open, thanking him as he gestures for me to walk out of the lift first. Then my mouth does not stop speaking, “Have a dinner away from your work, for instance. Never hurts to isolate your work once in a while,” he laughs at that, “read a book? I love reading novels— I am currently skimming through Das Parfum. You can even time your break before going back to work because I can assure you that habit isn't good.” 

“Do you understand the German language?” He asks me. Mentioning Das Parfum clearly piqued his curiosity. 

It was smart of me to bring it up. When he told me earlier that he came from Austria, I knew I could talk to him in so many languages. Like I knew what I should say next. Like a mastermind.

I'm such a fucking mastermind.

My mouth quirks up and I answer, “Wir haben schließlich viele deutsche fahrer.” We have a lot of German drivers, after all.

He nods at me like he listens to everything I tell him. As if he’s following an order or he’s rather impressed with my pronunciations. Nice. 

Our conversation leads us in front of my hotel room. 

I look at him and gestures to the door, “This is my bat lair.”

“Bat lair?” He chuckles.

“My little humble abode,” I joke. “I can unfortunately hear my bed calling for me. I have to go.” 

“Right,” he nods as I open my door and step inside my room. Telling myself to get my shit together, I turn around to see him still waiting for me to head in. That was a surprise. 

I suggest, “One way to turn your stressful work day around would be breakfast. If you’d like, you can have one with me tomorrow?” 

“Are you asking me on a breakfast date?” He teases, watching me fall apart with my face flushing red. He stops eventually and answers, “I would be more than happy to accompany you before we head out.” 

“Okay good,” I laugh nervously, “I’ve no one else with me anyways so there’s that… does seven sound okay?” 

“You can ask me for anything I think I’ll say yes, liebling,” boom. There goes my heart once more. He grins gleefully as he says, “I know a place nearby. Would you like me to pick you up tomorrow?” 

“As far as I know I’m the one who asked you first,” I roll my eyes in a joking manner, smile escaping my lips. 

“I’d love to have you pick me up but I know the place,” he tells me with a shrug. “Besides, it’s by the tracks. We can head down there together before they start piling up for the day.” 

Not wanting to fluster myself anymore, I nod almost eagerly and he exclaims, “I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Have a good night, bello. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, schatz. Sweet dreams.”

Oh I really am going to have the sweetest dreams ever. Trust me.