#aloe reading fics

[mangoflavouredmoonshadow]

sokka really heard his sister say "you didn't love our mother the way i did" and had to live with that

[jankwritten]

hey. hey.

what if i posted the first chapter of hockey au today

[russilton]

Aough are you really compiling a list of fic recs? Thank you for that

- same anon who asked for one

I AM ANON IM GLAD YOURE HERE bc I wanted to tell you I’m doing it without losing the ask

But I don’t half ass shit so I flipped though all 20 gewis pages on ao3 to grab any I’d forgot and I’m just skimming a few old ones to make sure I still fuck w them. Then comes formatting- but know I’m working on it! Soon!

[howldive]

too many things i want to draw and i still have that taishura post rotating in my brain ARGH. ARHG . WHY ARE THEY LIKE THAT

[dixonzzgirl]

imagine… 

finding daryl a really cool zippo lighter and seeing him mindlessly flick it open and close throughout the day.

sitting with your feet in his lap while you both relax on the porch swing (alexandria era).

pinky linking instead of full on hand holding. 

finally getting to the playful butt swat stage of your relationship + him winding up his t-shirt and chasing you around the house. 

him praising you whenever you kill an animal: “nice shot, girl.” “look at you.“ “atta girl.” 

reading a book with your legs crossed on his work bench as he tinkers with his bike.

getting a cold and when daryl dips down to kiss your lips, you turn your head away from him. “daryl, don’t! i don’t wanna get you sick!” and then he grabs your chin and presses a firm kiss on your lips anyway.

daryl finds a cowboy hat and drops it on your head. you let out a giggle. “what’s that saying? save a horse, ride a cowboy?” you smirk. his cheeks darken and he turns away from you. “think ya’ got tha’ backwards..” he drawls. “no? pretty sure i’m right…”

eating a lollipop and daryl walks right up and pulls it out of your mouth and puts it in his (or vise versa).

having a journal that you can both communicate in. we all know daryl isn’t the best at communicating his feelings verbally and maybe you aren’t either, so you just write back and forth to each other.

i love the journal idea because you would use it for everything. daryl has to be up early to help rick with something? he’ll scribble a quick “helping rick. come find me.” and as soon as you wake up and feel the void in bed beside you, you go right to the journal.

him getting hard as fuck when you give shane attitude (farm era).

you get into an accident on a run and ending up losing a lot of blood and you wake up later in the infirmary. “ya’ lost a lotta blood,” he says. “then i bet you did too…” you smiled groggily knowing that he gave you some of his (he’s a universal donor).

rubbing aloe vera on his sunburnt skin and he just lets out these sexy ass heavy breaths.

him watching you get visibly frustrated when someone else is helping you with something, but not doing it the way you want it done, so daryl steps in and tells them to get lost.

daryl giving you cold medicine while you’re sick and he makes you take it in front of him and open your mouth to show him that you swallowed it.

a/n: these are my favorite scenarios to imagine when I'm in class :) if you wanna use any of these ideas for a fic, tag me! i'd love to see them!

[hannyoontify]

[21:23] jeonghan sighed to himself before gently knocking on your bedroom door.

'i'm home'

he heard you shuffling on the other side of the door before your soft voice called out. 'come in'

he pushed the door open and walked into the sight of you covered with tissues, plushies, and pillows. your laptop was resting on your lap (duh) and your eyes were red. jeonghan felt a fond smile tugging on the corners of his lips and he made his way to your side of the bed.

'what movie was it this time? big hero 6? inside out? up? coco? ratatouille?' jeonghan cupped your face with his hands and wiped away a stray tear with his thumb.

you pouted and hit his chest. 'ratatouille was sad, okay? they opened a new restaurant and remy was able to live the life he wanted with the support of his family' you sniffled. you felt your eyes sting as they began to tear up again and hit jeonghan's chest once more when he laughed. 'it's not funny! linguini and colette were in love and they ended up together'

jeonghan smiled. 'and that's why you're covered in tissues. because a rat can cook'

''better than you, at least'

he gasped and you giggled in delight in the way he took (pretend) offense to that. you smiled and pulled away as he reveled in his shock, his mouth hanging wide open. 'go get changed, i don't want your outside germs on the bed'

jeonghan did as he was told. he climbed into bed next to you (pushing a couple plushes off the bed in the process–you would kill him for that but that was a future jeonghan problem. right now he just wanted to hold you in his arms) and guided your head to rest on his chest. his arm wrapped around you and rested on your waist and pulled your body closer to his.

'how'd you know?' you asked more quietly. jeonghan rested his lips on the top of your head, inhaling the gentle scent of aloe shampoo.

your boyfriend simply hummed. 'what's there not for me to know about you, my darling? i can read you like a book- actually not a book, i don't like books'

you snorted.

'i can read you like.. a magazine! yeah. magazines. magazines are better because i'm in some of them. and they have pictures. lots of pictures'

you wrinkled your nose at his short ramble and pressed a quick kiss to his collarbone. 'i think you're sleep deprived, hannie'

'nuh-uh'

'yuh-huh. what if i told you that best friends to lovers was better than enemies to lovers'

you never got a response because jeonghan had already fallen fast asleep.

(although if he heard you say that, he would've been whipped up into a frenzy and present a 125 page PPT about why ETL was better than FTL)

a/n: and what if i wrote a jeonghan enlistment fic. would that be too horrible

[zepskies]

Strong as Blood - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out? 

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

AN: This two-part fic can be read as stand-alone, but it’s really a bonus sequel to Break Me Down!

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Angst, fluff, and a smutty ending. 

To find the chronological reading order for the series, check out the series masterlist. ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down

Part 1: “Probably Temporary”

Make no mistake. Ben was still a terrible cook.

He’d sort of gotten the hang of the grill though, even if he technically wasn’t supposed to be smoking meat on the apartment’s second-floor balcony. 

You peeked out at your boyfriend through the sliding glass door to make sure he was still doing okay. He caught you though, and shot you a wink.

He was very proud of his grill. 

We’re so gonna get in trouble with the homeowner’s association, you thought, but you couldn’t help a smile. You obliged him when he beckoned you over, and you slid the door open. 

“Almost done? I think our neighbors are going to complain again,” you said with a laugh. Ben rolled his eyes.

“It’s a bit of smoke, not a fucking forest fire,” he groused. “Let those uppity fucks complain. Bet’cha they won’t have the balls to say shit to my face if I go across the street for a little visit.” 

You soothed him with a hand along his shoulder. It also gave you an excuse to check on his progress. You considered this episode to be a success, considering the balcony wasn’t up in flames this time. And the steaks actually looked good. Not brittle pieces of charcoal, but not raw and bleeding either.  

“I think those are done,” you advised. Ben followed your gaze and nodded. He used his bare hands to turn the foil-wrapped potatoes, just because he could. 

“Why don’t you take ‘em in while I finish up these potatoes,” he said. “How’s the rest coming?”

“Good. I’m about to take the casserole out of the oven,” you said with a nod. Meanwhile, he placed the steaks in a glass dish that been sitting near the open grill. He handed it to you, but you almost dropped the steaks when the hot glass burned your hands. 

You hissed in pain, while Ben caught the dish with both hands. His brows furrowed, first in surprise, then in thinly veiled concern when he looked over at you. He reached out for your shoulder. 

“Damn,” he said. “Didn’t seem that hot…you okay?”

You looked up from your stinging hands and sighed at him in exasperation, but you couldn’t get that mad at him. He sometimes couldn’t gauge things like this when it came to what he could handle, versus what your normal human body could. 

“Yeah. I’ll just break out the aloe. First, let me get some oven mitts,” you replied, but your answering smile retained some good humor. Ben quirked an apologetic smile of his own. He decided to follow you into the kitchen, taking the steaks in himself. 

You grabbed your favorite green oven mitts and carefully took out the veggie casserole. It smelled delicious, but Ben still peered at it over your shoulder when you placed it on the counter. 

“Don’t you look at my casserole sideways,” you quipped. “You need to eat more veggies.”

He leveled you with a dry look. “You saying I’m getting out of shape?”

“God forbid,” you gasped, playfully jabbing at his firm abs with a mitt-covered hand. “I’m just saying, your super metabolism is compensating for a lot of booze and Taco Bell.”

Ben rose a brow at your cheekiness. He drew closer behind you, trapping you against the counter with one hand braced on the edge, and the other sliding up your jean-clad hip. 

“You’ve got some nerve. I don’t talk shit about the stash of Twix bars in your nightstand, do I?” he remarked. He nipped at your ear, making you flinch and giggle. His beard was also tickling your neck. 

“You’re peeping in my nightstand now? How dare you,” you teased. He snorted in response. 

“Please. Your purple vibrator isn’t exactly a fucking mystery to me,” he retorted. You felt his smirk growing against your neck. “Might wanna keep it away from the chocolate though. That could get messy…unless you want it to be.” 

Your body shook with the effort of containing your laughter. He was so fucking gross.

“Don’t you need to check on the potatoes?” you asked. “I don’t want to have to pressure wash the balcony again.”

Ben made a sound of agreement, but was sure to swat you on the ass before he went. You jolted, but you just shook your head with a blush and a smile. 

It had been over a year since you and Ben had moved in together. Already you’d had your first fight as a true couple, your first Christmas, and so many other challenges, large and small, that had all come to solidify one thing for you.

You were happy. Maybe for the first time in your life. 

It just came with some…small caveats, you reflected, as you reached into the fridge to find the jar of aloe vera. Before you slathered some onto your hands, you realized they were no longer red, and they didn’t even sting anymore.

“What the hell?” you muttered. You put back the jar and rested a hand on your hip. 

Well, maybe you hadn’t burned yourself as bad as you thought. 

With that oddity still in your mind, you pulled on your oven mitts again and took up the casserole with the intention of bringing it to the dining table. Admittedly, you were a bit distracted. You didn’t remember about the raised ledge in the doorway to the dining room until it was too late.

You tripped, and though you managed to make it to the table, you gasped when you broke right through the wood. 

The table just seemed to give up when you hit it, cracking in half, and sending you tumbling to the floor with hot casserole heaped on top. You were still stunned when Ben tore back inside. His green eyes were wide, his brows furrowed as he took in the state of you on the floor with the broken table.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, though he bent down to help you up. He checked you for injuries, but both of you found nothing. 

“I’m okay,” you said, a bit shakily. “I tripped, that’s all.”

Ben’s brows raised as he looked from you to the shards of the table. He knocked on the wood surface. 

“Cheap piece of shit. Where’d you get this thing?” he asked. 

You flickered at a smile and admitted, “IKEA.”

Ben shook his head. “We really need to broaden your palate.”

You insisted you were all right. But he insisted, without words, on checking you over again. His hands brushed down your shoulders and arms, your hands and neck.

He held your face in his hands, and he let out a deep sigh. You just smiled up at him, though inside, you were hiding a bit of worry yourself. 

That table hadn’t been cheap. It was solid pine wood. 

But Ben seemed to believe you. He also seemed a bit exasperated. 

“I should just layer you up in goddamn bubble wrap. The way you find ways to break yourself is beyond me,” he muttered. Your lips pursed. 

“I resent that—”

“I’m sure you fucking do.”

“Besides,” you said, a smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth. “What a pain in the ass would it be to unwrap me?” 

Ben huffed, even as his hands traveled down to wrap around your waist and pull you in close. 

“True,” he smirked. “You’re already a pain in the ass as it is.” 

You opened your mouth to mount an indignant protest, but he shut you up the only surefire way he knew how. His kiss was swift, deep, and left you humming into his mouth in surprise. 

But you soon pulled back, brushing a thumb along his chin. “We’ve got to clean up this mess. And…did you get the potatoes?”

Ben thought for a moment, but then his mouth firmed into a line. 

“Shit,” he muttered, and released you to run back to the grill. 

That night, you stood barefooted in your nightgown and took a moment alone in the bathroom to breathe. And to think. And to test the strength in your hands, by bending one of Ben’s metal wrenches like it was a useless paper straw. 

Okay, now you were panicking a bit. 

What the fuck? you thought. You had only ever experienced super strength when you were on V24 (which you had not taken, let alone the permanent stuff). 

But…if you thought about it, there had been one other time when you had felt this strong. And it had been when you were in the hospital, almost two years ago, after Vought Tower collapsed. You’d needed a surgery you might not have lived through. It was Ben’s actions that had saved you…after he donated his blood.

Unless he was somehow giving you transfusions without you knowing, there was only one other possibility you could think of for Ben’s DNA to somehow be in your system…

Holy shit, you thought. And you sat down on the closed toilet. Hard. Enough to dislodge a decorative dish that was perched on a shelf behind you. You gasped, but weren’t able to catch it before it hit the ground loudly. You winced and picked it up, even as you heard Ben’s steps approaching the bathroom. 

“You okay?” he asked predictably, through the closed door.

“Fine!” you said, your voice too high. You cleared your throat and tried to normalize your voice. “I’m fine, just dropped something.”

“Christ. You going for a record today?” he remarked. 

You rolled your eyes. 

A few minutes later, you finished in the bathroom and tried to act as normal as possible as you slid into bed next to your boyfriend. He was watching TV, but he glanced over at you. You knew he was silently assessing you, seeing if you were really okay. 

You gave him a smile and leaned over for a goodnight kiss. You attempted to be chaste, but he deepened it. He slid an arm around your waist and tilted his head, slipping his tongue between the seam of your lips. 

You welcomed him at first…but a tremor of warning flashed in your mind, along with the persistent thought that had followed you from the bathroom.

Should I tell him? 

You didn’t know why your inclination was to hold it in. There very well could be something wrong with you. But if your suspicions were true, then you wanted confirmation first. 

“What’s the matter?” Ben asked. He’d pulled back, sensing your distraction. You came back to yourself.

“Nothing, just tired,” you said, stroking his chest over his shirt. 

Ben looked into your eyes, his face more or less stoic. You saw the way he was trying to get a read on you though, like he didn’t quite believe you. You couldn’t blame him, but you could be very convincing when you needed to be.

He eventually nodded, letting you turn away from him to slip under the covers. Even though you felt the sting of your lie tingling unpleasantly down your spine. 

You met Dr. Tonya Baker at her office in the Supe Affairs building. She’d been Vought’s top scientist, up until last year. After Stan Edgar’s death and the company’s collapse, the CIA recruited Dr. Baker. 

You didn’t like her. Nor did you trust her, exactly, but she had assisted Dr. Vogelbaum when Becca Butcher came to him with a unique problem. Now, Dr. Baker was the only one left with the knowledge and resources to advise you.

And she was able to confirm your suspicions. She came back with lab results while you sat up on an examining table. 

“You’re eleven weeks pregnant,” she informed you. 

Even though you’d been somewhat expecting it, suspicion and knowing were very different things. You took in a shaking breath, and through your shock, you were smiling. Happy, and even relieved.

Until Dr. Baker spoke again. 

“The super strength is probably temporary. A side effect of the fetus’s genetics. But, it’s also advantageous for you,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “This makes it much more likely that you’ll survive the birth.”

Your breath ceased at that thought, not to mention her clinical delivery. 

“Always with that delightful bedside manner, Doctor,” you quipped. All of a sudden, you were feeling lightheaded. 

Or maybe you were just freaking the fuck out. 

When you got home that evening after work, Ben watched you. 

He knew something was off with you the second you walked through the door, pale and pensive. Still, you flashed him a greeting and a smile that didn’t reach your eyes on your way to the bedroom. 

So he followed you. And the fact that you didn’t even notice, even flinched when he dropped a hand on your shoulder, told him that you were more than just distracted. The last straw was when you walked into the dresser while glancing back at him. You hissed and shook out your sandle-clad foot. 

Now, you were injury prone at the best of times, but this was a bit much, Ben thought. 

“Geez, I didn’t even hear you,” you said, trying at a chuckle. “Normally you thud around in those combat boots like an elephant. We’re lucky no one lives below us—”

“What’s the matter with you?” Ben asked. He was never one to beat around the bush. 

Your eyes widened a fraction; unease crept down your spine, but you gave him a quirk of your brow. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You fucking heard me,” he said. His gaze was hunter green, serious, and focused down on you.

“I’m fine, Ben—”

“No,” he snapped. “There’s something off with you.” 

You bit your lower lip. It seemed your boyfriend knew you better than you thought. You’d had a plan though. You had wanted to wait until you had a moment to shake off your anxiety and focus on the good when you sat him down this evening.

But you should’ve known better. Ben was remarkably impatient, even when he didn’t know what he was in for. 

And he got tired of waiting for your answer. 

He changed tactics, reaching for your arms. His grip was firm, but gentle in brushing his thumbs back and forth across your skin. His mouth was in a line, and you caught the concern hiding under his furrowed brows. 

“What’s so bad you can’t tell me?” he asked. 

You looked up into his eyes. Despite yourself, you had to smile. I’m not playing fair, you realized. 

“Okay, come ‘ere,” you said. You took his hand and led him to sit with you on the bed. Pulling his hand between both of yours into your lap, you sighed and thought about how you were going to say this. 

After a moment, you got a burst of inspiration. You held up a waiting finger to him and went into the closet to pull out one of your 25-pound hand weights. It might as well have weighed a pound, for how light it felt. You brought it back to the bed, and Ben stared back at you quizzically. 

“So…I didn’t get that table from IKEA,” you confessed. “It was solid wood, and I really did break straight through it.”

He rose a brow. “All right…”

You then showed him your newfound strength, by breaking the hand weight in half with your bare hands. His eyes widened, making you giggle a bit. You deposited both metal heads into his hands. He considered them, then you. His brows were knitting together even tighter. 

“What the hell—”

“Remember when you donated blood for me, when I was laid up in the hospital a couple years ago?” you asked. “I got your super strength for a day or two afterwards.”

Ben nodded. You had been a bit more than laid up, but semantics, he guessed. He was getting more confused by the moment. 

“Well this time, I’m told it’s also temporary…for the next seven months or so,” you said with a playful smile. 

Ben considered your words. He turned them back and forth in his head… 

Finally, his gaze flicked from yours to the broken weights in his hands. And he tossed them to the floor with a heavy thud on the hard wood. 

You giggled in earnest when he reached for your face with both hands. His eyes searched yours for any hint of a joke, his jaw tight and working. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?” he asked. His voice was a hint unsteady. You smiled bright and covered his hands with your own as the beginnings of tears stung in your eyes. 

“Not this time,” you said. “Ben, I’m pregnant.” 

It took him a moment to register your words. You saw the moment it all finally set in, with new realization etching into his features.

Never once had you seen this man tear up. He turned his face away, but you still caught the edges of his emotion. 

You reached for his bearded cheek, turning him back to you. His eyes were red and starting to shine, even though he was fighting it. A muscle in his jaw clenched, and then eased.

After a beat, his hands moved down from your face to brush down your arms, down your sides and around your frame. He pulled you into his lap, for which you went willingly into his arms. And your tears fell in earnest when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You knew what this meant to him, but you still couldn’t help but prod at him.

“Are you happy?” you teased, rubbing his back. Ben huffed and brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes. 

“What do you think?” he countered.  

Your hand moved down to slip under his shirt, gliding over the taut muscles in his back as they responded to your touch. You met him with a small smirk. 

“Show me,” you challenged. 

His lips quirked; that was all the encouragement he needed. Ben’s hands moved to tangle in your hair and squeeze the curve of your waist, bringing you flush against him when he kissed you. You inhaled deeply. Your nails dragged up his back, applying some pressure that made his shoulders twitch. 

You didn’t know what your newfound strength felt like to him, but for Ben, you felt solid in a way you hadn’t before. He could let go of some of his self-control and knead your hips with a force beyond bruising.

He could veer away from your lips and raze down your neck, and give your shoulder a love bite that would’ve drawn blood. Now it didn’t even break your skin. It did, however, earn him a pleased gasp. 

Maybe he’d just have to keep knocking you up, he thought. So you’d always be this strong.  

You started rucking up his shirt first, and had to push him back to even get it off him. After that, all bets were off.

It was a mad scramble to shed each other’s clothes, with Ben not being able to get away with his usual manhandling. Your smile grew, as you now had the strength to literally push back and make him work a bit harder for it.  

He smirked up at you when you managed to take him by surprise and push him back onto the bed. You’d successfully bared him for your gaze, but you still had your bra and panties on as you climbed over him and straddled his lap. 

Ben held himself up with a hand on the bed as the other slid around your waist and hooked you in. You took his face in your hands and gave him the full force of your passion.

Your lips claimed his in a devouring kiss, teeth clicking and tongues dueling for dominance. And you ground down your clothed core against his rising length, earning his groan of appreciation into your mouth.

With a flick of his wrist, your bra strap snapped off in the back. You huffed, knowing he’d probably broken the clasp.

Ah well, I’m about to need new ones soon enough.

The thought made you smile against his lips. You let him pull the bra down your arms and wherever he decided to fling it off to. You thought he might start traveling down between your breasts, as was a favorite path of his to map out.

But then, in one smooth motion Ben had you flipped over onto your back. He grinned at your yelp of surprise, but he didn’t give you a chance to recover. He latched onto your neck again, this time on the other side as he scraped his beard and teeth across your skin.

Meanwhile, you moaned encouragements in his ear while his heavy hand squeezed one of your breasts, rolled a thumb over a pert nipple. 

You trailed your hands down his chest, soothing over golden tan skin and freckles and sculpted muscle until you reached his hard length. You earned a straining grunt from your man as you teased the sensitive flesh, a thumb circling over its weeping head. 

Ben grabbed your wrist and gave you a warning look. “Can’t let me fucking concentrate, huh?”

You just grinned and took his hand instead. You dragged it down your body until you guided his fingers into your underwear, between your wet folds. 

“Ben, I need you,” you said. But your need was already in your eyes. Your skin was on fire wherever he touched, and deep inside, where you burned for him most. 

Ben felt it in your iron grip on his hand, now almost as strong as his own. Your legs curled up his thighs to wrap around his hips, teasing him with the soft promise between your inner thighs. So how could he do anything else but give you what you wanted? 

He teased between your folds with his fingers first. Gathering some of your wetness, he circled over your clit firmly. You whimpered as your back arched in response. 

“Gonna sing for me, baby doll?” he teased. Your breathing became more labored as his fingers continued to play with you, but you managed to offer a small smirk. 

“You gonna make me?” you asked. “Think you need to bring out the big guns for that one.”

Ben chuckled. As usual, you were being a little shit. 

So he brought you to the edge of your release, just with his fingers. You were starting to squeeze them tight with your inner walls, your moans getting more urgent. But he withdrew his digits at the last moment, leaving you panting and confused.

“What…”

He smirked down at you and wrapped his slick fingers around his cock, stroking himself a few times. You watched him with expectant, hungry eyes.  

“You want the big guns, I’ll fucking give ‘em to you,” he said. It made you huff, but you had to smile as he returned to you. He hooked his fingers on the hem of your panties and slowly, torturous, he pulled them down your legs.

Those same hands then traveled back up, gliding across your skin with purpose. Your breath shallowed in anticipation.

He eventually gripped your hips, pushing your thighs up a bit farther, and you lined his cock to your entrance. Your heels dug into his ass and added a bit of force when he pushed inside you. And your moans tangled together along with your bodies.

You fairly pulsed inside, and he felt it in your inner walls wrapped so fucking tight around him. His forehead briefly fell to your shoulder. Even though you were panting for breath, you still soothed him, carding your fingers through his hair. 

Normally he’d be going off at a relentless clip by now. But Ben started slow, rolling his hips back and forth into yours at a steady rhythm that managed to take your breath away and make your toes curl.

His name fell from your lips, reverent and pleased. You felt every part of him as he plunged inside you, and it was incredibly fucking hot.  

He took a moment to meet your eyes. He gave you a grin that softened the hard edges that so often lined his face in times like this. And you realized then what was happening.

Ben didn’t do slow. Not for long anyway. But it seemed like he’d taken your challenge to heart. In fact, you had a feeling he was showing you what he couldn’t quite put into words. 

When he reached a hand to part your folds and circle two insistent finger pads around your clit, you couldn’t help but grip his arms tight enough to bruise him. Your mouth opened on a keening moan.

Combined with his deep strokes starting to brush all the right spots inside you, it had you squeezing on him from the inside as you came hard, and made it known in his ear.

“Fuck—” Ben’s brows furrowed as your release finally triggered his own. And his voice joined yours, muffling in the pillow under your head. You shuddered as he spilled deep inside you. 

Your arms came around his back and held him to you for a moment afterwards, just stroking his back, his shoulders, his neck, whatever you could reach while you both caught your breath.

Eventually, Ben’s lips found your neck. You felt the shape of his smile grow there. 

“Too bad you’re already knocked up, or that could’ve been a great way to bring in our second kid,” he remarked.

This time, it took a second for his words to click together in your mind. As soon as they did, you uttered a laugh that shook both of your frames. You swatted his ass in reproach. He smirked down at you.

“I can't with you,” you said. Though you were still giggling. “You’re just gonna have to wait for the first one to come out of the oven.” 

Ben’s smirk evened out into a grin, his face almost boyish in his glee.

“Well, what can I say, baby? You’re a damn good cook.”  

AN: 😂 Well then. What did you think of how she broke the news? And Ben's reaction to finding out he's finally going to be a dad? 🥹

But of course, it's not going to be all sunshine and roses in Part 2. The reader and Ben reveal the good news to her family, and as we all know, he's hoping for a son...

Next Time:

“Hey,” she said. “You know how much I care about you, right?”

“And where’s this going?” you quipped. But you turned around and gave your little sister a half-smile. You knew what she was about to say.

“So what are you going to do about that?” she asked, gesturing to your man in the kitchen. “Mr. Macho wants his prized stud. What happens if he doesn’t get him?”

You sighed. “Ben’s wanted this for a long time. He’s got an idea in his head of what it’s going to be like, and…we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Keep reading: PART 2

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[sssilverstoned]

sympathy for the devil ꩜ cl16

type: fluff? besties to lovers? let's say that. a friend is done dirty but is she really a friend? debatable. flashbacks, angst-ish (a guilty conscience is always a great outfit addition, no?)

word count: 4.6k

warnings: language, suggestive but no smut (finger sucking. i was in a mood,) charles is a reformed cheater, so let's say some moral ambiguity all around

lily said: hello hello! welcome to the inner workings of my hyper fixation on summer romances and a couple of bestieeeees who should just be a couple. now that this guy is out the way, i'd love to formally open requests! a drabble, fic, oneshot, hit my line ! we can get into the details of who i do and don't write for later <3

You are not a terrible person. You're not even a bad person, truly. It's something you repeat to yourself like a mantra as you look away from Charles's side profile across the long table.

He's looking like summertime, soft like an afternoon nap, but sharp like a stinging on your skin from too many 5 more minutes called from the patio. His neck is elongated slightly, trying to hear Joris's story over Mirabel's loud laughter. When he leans like that, you can see a peak of the remnants of the hickey you sucked into his pale skin the evening before. Your stomach hurts.

Charles's own nose is red, he's scrunching it on occasion like no one will notice his discomfort, and his necessity for aloe vera. You've packed it in your bag because you know he wouldn't have. He knows to ask you for it later.

You excuse yourself from the long table, your dinner in front of you looking great, but you were nowhere near hungry. When you push your chair back to stand, it makes a low noise against the floor of the garden, and his head whips to you immediately.

It was your friend group's traditional holiday you were gathered for, an annual week at Mirabel's family home right on the water. 4 girls and 5 boys, room assignments remaining relatively static throughout the years. There was that one year Clara and Sammy shared a room, but, as both of them would easily say, it wouldn't be happening again.

"Everything okay, y/n/n?" Peter asks from your diagonal, which makes more heads turn to your now standing figure. You let out an uncomfortable huff, disguised as a laugh. Charles can read you like his favorite book.

Your linen dress clings to your body, yet flows off you effortlessly. He remembers seeing it on a hook in your room, wondering how it would look on your figure when he pretended to not watch you change tops. Reality was always better than fantasy, this he knew for certain.

"I'm alright, just chilly. Want to grab my sweater."

"I'll go with you, want to charge my phone anyway," Emma smiles up at you from her seat, standing up as well.

Charles follows your figure with your eyes until you disappear into Mirabel's villa, then continues to pretend to be listening to whatever Peter has begun rambling about.

"Did you see the way he and Oliver left the pantry in disarray this morning?" Emma's practically hissing her disdain, her shorter legs pumping overtime to catch your gait. You were hoping she couldn't.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Charles," she gags. "Tried to cook breakfast, and of course it was shit. Can't believe you didn't know."

You did, you helped him clean it up.

"I feel like it's quite hard to burn oatmeal," you snort, scrubbing the pot.

"Too much sugar in the pot, I suppose. That's how you make yours, yes? With brown sugar?"

You look back at him from where he was leaning against the counter, watching you help him fix his mess. Oliver had cleaned up the spilled flour on the floor of the pantry, then ran out to get pastries from a bakery before the rest of the villa woke up and threatened his life.

"Surprised you remember how I like my breakfast," you say.

"Why?" he asks, cocking his head. "I know a lot about you."

You click your tongue, suddenly shy under his intentional gaze. Your focus is back on the pot, and a stubborn clump of congealed oats. Charles peers around the kitchen quickly, before coming up behind you, a large hand circling your waist.

"How did you sleep? I realize I didn't ever ask," He drops a kiss to the crown of your head when he finishes speaking, and your breath hitches. Not with love or affection, but with a strike of fear, almost. It was an open air kitchen, and while everyone seemed to be sleeping in, you never really could know who may be stirring about.

"Slept fine. Kept the windows open," you shared a room with Clara on these trips, you two were always the closest of the girls growing up and never minded sharing. She didn't say anything when you came in at 2 am with mussed hair and swollen lips, and you were grateful for it.

"You could have stayed, Joris didn't come in until late."

You finally bristle, dropping the pot onto the drying rack. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that."

You turn in his grasp, eyebrows frayed in the middle of your face. He hates when you look at him like this. "Y/n, we're not children anymore. We're two consenting adults."

"Emma will hate me."

"And is that worth your happiness? Whether or not your friend, who you aren't that close to, by the way, is mad at you?"

"You cheated on her, Charles."

You clear your throat as you blink away the memory. Emma scoffs again at the thought of Charles. "He even had the gall to come out on the patio at the same time as me this afternoon."

"Everyone was on the patio, Emma," you level, already getting irritated with her tone. She irritated you often, Charles wasn't necessarily wrong about your lack of proximity to her. She was always a bit bratty, but had too much history with the group to be left behind, no matter how much she seemed to irk everyone. "You can't expect him to walk on eggshells around you, he's still a part of the group."

Emma stops walking, but you keep pace. "Are you defending a cheater, y/n?" You're glad you didn't stop.

Your eye twitches, and you're glad that she can't see it. This conversation was draining you, yet it's barely started, and already, it's over. She did this nearly every time they were in the same vicinity, and it was getting old. Or maybe, it was the guilt that you were fucking her ex-boyfriend.

It was a mistake that they dated in the first place. He had just broken up with his long term girlfirend, someone you all never seemed to get along with, and Emma's eyes were always slightly googly for the boy. Her attention was more palpable, and better received, than the rest. So they began to fool around, began to hold hands a bit more at group dinners. You heard her say 'boyfriend' much more than he did, though.

The cheating was a bit egregious, even for Charles. For the sake of everyone's friendships, his romance with her was kept under wraps, the superiority of a professional PR team apparent over gossip columns and nosy fans. It was the nosy fans, unfortunately, that had found Charles in a club somewhere in Italy with his tongue down some model's throat.

She cried, shouted, did everything but rip her own hair out at the photos that surfaced. Perhaps it hurt her most that people were excited to see Charles with the woman, finally seen with someone that wasn't an engineer or Vasseur. They didn't know about her, and frankly, they never would. She was never terribly important to Charles, everyone knew that, and now she did too.

The group had moved on, sans Emma. No one really made fusses about it in the first place, their relationship running its course over only about 3 months. The boys saw it coming and, well, the girls had warned her. A rebound was always obvious to those watching.

The worst part, the part that made you feel so ill all the time, is Charles wanted to be yours, and you wanted to be anywhere but the villa.

You grab your sweater off of the chair at the vanity mirror in your room, bristling at the chill coming from the open window you had left during the night, and now day. You hear the laughter of your friends, of Peter shouting over Oliver, and Charles laughing from his belly. You hate that you can tell his laughter from the rest.

When you sit back down at the table, Clara waits for you to scoot your chair back in and place the napkin in your lap. "You lost her inside, eh?"

You crack a smile, Clara was your most blunt, and funniest, friend. "Had to, lest I hear about Charles's trespasses again."

Clara chuckles into her wine glass. "If only she knew."

In a lowered voice, you turn closer to her. "I think she may actually lose her mind if she found out, Clara."

She rolls her eyes. "Find out what? That you two are obsessed with each other, yet you won't take him seriously? That she was collateral? Shit happens."

"That's not what this is."

"Please. He'd marry you tomorrow if given the opportunity, y/n. Deep down, she knows that was never her anyway."

When you look back up at Charles, he's already looking at you, looking so endearing that you have to look back down at your chicken and roasted vegetables. You're still not hungry.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

It happened quickly, but the buildup seemed to make it inevitable. You were always a friend of the leclercs, your mother's growing an affinity for each other when you were quite young. You grew up alongside the boys, Charles always having a soft spot for you in particular. Charles escorted you every time your father hosted a gala, and voluntarily was your designated driver on nights out. One in particular, 6 months ago, sealed fates.

"Charlie, just take one shot."

"If I take a shot, I won't be driving," he laughs at you, looking at you with little twinkles in his eyes. He and Emma had just finally broken up, the past 3 months couldn't be categorized as anything but odd. After they had notified the group, in their own respective ways, you had seemed to have gotten your fun loving, a tad awkward, but always down for what you were plotting, Charlie back. He had agreed in a heartbeat to meet you and Clara at the club. It makes you grin.

"That's fine, uber exists. Have fun for once, please?" You pout, tequila speaking for you. Everything was already a bit hazy, much funnier than normal, and less serious.

"Yeah, come on Chaaaarlie," Clara giggles knowingly. He'd do anything if you asked for it, this was a fact.

With a shake of his head and faked disdain, he downs the shot, hears your cheers, and suddenly, one shot is seven and you're both screaming the lyrics to an old Fergie song that blasts through the speakers.

Heels were a bad, but stunning, idea. You felt cute and confident, but by the time you had stopped dancing like a mad person to get a drink of water, the balls of your feet began to throb.

"Please don't take your shoes off in this place," Charles begs.

"Don't be my father," you frown. "My feet hurt."

"Your feelings will be what's hurting when someone steals these off the section couch," he points to your feet, and there was a touch of validity. They were Jimmy Choos, after all, and cost more than you could comprehend. Charles often went overboard on your birthday gifts.

"I'll take that risk."

"I'll hold them."

"You won't," you say with a laugh, used to his dramatics. But he shocks you, gingerly picking them off the couch and holding them on his index and middle finger.

"Charlie, put my shoes down."

"I will do no such thing."

Somehow, somewhere between promising Clara you'd text her when the uber dropped you and Charles off at his place, helping him get the key into the lock of his door, and sitting on his kitchen island, Charles finds himself in between your legs, staring into your eyes that had glitter and mascara surrounding them.

It wasn't normal of "best friends" to be around each other like this. He knew that. He hadn't wanted to be just your best friend in a while though, but having you in that capacity was better than nothing at all. Especially when he had seemingly bounced from one girlfriend to the other, and deep down, he knew it was because he was bored. They weren't you, no matter how much imitation was attempted. Perhaps the only person who was aloof to his truest desires, was you.

"You looked very pretty tonight, y/n/n."

"You looked dashing yourself," you wink, "the girls in there told you that though, no?"

He rolls his eyes. "That wasn't anything. Just fans, same shit as usual."

"You usually are being hit on by pretty girls, is what you're saying?" You continue to tease. Charles can't stand your smart mouth sometimes, especially how much he can't help but love it.

"To be fair, I don't really notice. I'm always looking at you, anyway."

You don't have a response for that. He's never said it outright, never crossing the line. But now he has, and there's no going back.

"Charles, you just broke up with Emma."

"I know,"

"You cheated on her."

"I know,"

"I'm your best friend."

His turn to grin. "I know."

In a fashion completely unlike you, throwing caution to the wind felt like the only option, pulling him in with your legs, locking around the back of his waist, lips pressed onto his, hair between your fingers. He tastes like tequila and mint gum, like the things you regret yet adore. He wonders if this means the same to you as it means to him.

When you wake up in his bed, makeup removed and your favorite shirt of his draped over your body, you inhale deeply when you feel the familiar soreness stretching through your lower half, and the weight of his arm roped around your body. Now that you've gotten your taste, you weren't giving it up.

"Did you pack the aloe vera?" You hear him from your doorway, blinking back from yet another memory.

"'S in the bathroom, look in the blue toiletry bag," you call, not looking away from where you were taking your hooped earrings out in the mirror. It was a domestic encounter in a way, like a scene taken out of context 20 years from now. Maybe one day, you'd be on holiday with a family of your own, enjoying silence once your kids were asleep after playing in the water all day. Maybe you'd be actually sharing a room, instead of whatever the fuck this was.

"You seemed off at dinner, everything okay?" Charles asks, rubbing the gel on his soon-to-be-peeling nose.

"Fine," you shrug, turning back to look at him, and not just his reflection. "Just wasn't so hungry. And cold, like I said."

He chuckles a little to himself. "I could tell," he nods with his head down to your chest. Your nipples had pearled, and supposedly, had been pearled, and were obvious through the thin fabric of your fitting dress.

"Jesus Charles," you berate, turning back to your mirror. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm a man," he corrects. "Who's seen what's under that dress and thinks it's a great sight. But I also like your mind and your personality and all that, of course." Idiot. He sits on your bed, making himself comfortable against the headboard as he watches you get ready for bed. Domesticity. "Will you be going back to Monaco after this?"

"No, visiting Clara's family in the states for a little."

He makes a discontent noise. "How long?"

"A week," you answer. "Miami."

"Fun, going to go out?"

"What is it to you?" You ask, half jokingly, half alerted by his series of questions.

He shrugs this time. "Care about you, want to know what your plans are. Is it a crime?"

"No, just makes me fear you're in love with me."

"I'm on my way to that, I tell you that all the time. And you make jokes because you know it's true."

You stand up from the vanity, looking at him with an expression that makes his heart hurt. It's that wounded puppy look, the way you used to look at Arthur when Charles would tell him to fuck off from trying to hang out with the two of you as teenagers.

"I don't really know what to say when you say those things." He stands up from your bed, meeting you where you stand in the middle of you and Clara's room. He still smells just like all your favorite aspects of summer, and that tired look in his eyes from a day of relaxation and release melts you. "I know I'm in my head."

"'S a good head to be in." He moves the strans of your hair that were falling over your forehead behind your ear, smoothing his fingers over your jawline until his fingers lift your chin. "That's better. Couldn't see your face."

"What is this, Charlie?" Your eyes search his, and he hates how scared you look. "Like, seriously. We, we fuck, we sleep in the same bed more than we don't."

"We always have done that, you've shared with Enzo and Arthur before too I'm sure."

"Don't be dense."

"I think that's just how I am, mon amour."

"Such a shithead," you mutter with a huff, annoyed with his smug expression. "I'm being serious. If sex is just what you want, or need, right now, I don't think I can do this anymore."

"It's much more than that to me, don't insult me," He no longer has a grin on his face, mouth turned much more stoic. "My actions precede me, yes," you withold commentary on that, "but I'd never do anything to hurt you, y/n/n. I care about you, think about you all the time, want you wherever I am, always."

A part of you thinks this is what you've always wanted to hear. A gorgeous, successful, personable man who you've grown to trust infallibly your whole life is 5 feet short of professing his love for you, and yet, you can't let yourself fully be happy. Because for the last 6 months, you've ducked and dodged your own friends, not wanting them to know about the two of you. He did cheat, for crying out loud. On someone you have baby photos with. No matter how annoying, or selfish, she comes off, Emma wasn't going anywhere in your life. And you'd be devastated if she did this to you, so he remained your dirty little secret.

"Am I interrupting?" Clara says teasingly from the doorway, a wine glass still in her hands. "Sorry, Mirabel wanted me to check on you."

You clear your throat and step away from Charles. "Not at all. Charlie's got a sun burn."

"Ah. You are pale," Clara notes. "Figures."

"Thanks, Clar."

"Still drinking?" You nod toward her glass. "Pour me one, will you?"

"Sure will." She turns, and you make to follow.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, I think."

"Y/n,"

"Not right now," you say firmly, "please?"

And you've got that withered look, that look that screams exhaustion. Guilt's gonna kill him one day, he's sure.

"Fine."

And with that, you head out the door, leaving Charles in your room, regretting not telling you how he felt about you when his girlfriend told him to. Before Emma took that mantle instead, and before you started looking at him like it was hard to do so.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

Sammy brings it up first, but the entirety of the day was the beginning of the end of secrecy.

The next day had been decided as a boat day, everyone prepared for another long day in the sun, this time on the open waves. The girls had all gone below deck, in search of champagne and a bottle opener, and Sammy and Charles were far enough from Oliver, Joris, and Peter for them to hear a conversation.

"I've got a question I think," Sammy asks. He makes an affirmative noise, head leaned back against the cushions of the lounger, sunglasses sliding down his still peeling nose. "Are you and y/n hooking up?"

Charles immeditely looks up at Sammy, mouth open in a scramble for the most believable way to say no. "No, ah, why would you say that?" oh dear.

"Mate," Sammy winces.

"Fuck me," Charles yanks the glasses off and wipes both hands over his face. He keeps them there when he asks, "how?"

"Leaving hickeys is one thing, her jewelry on your bedside table is another." The central heating unit for their floor was in Joris and Charles's room, Sammy did go to adjust it yesterday morning. Fuck. "Does Emma know?"

"No," Charles says quickly. "No. Y/n doesn't want anyone to."

Sammy quirks his mouth to the side. "Well, are you dating?"

"No,"

"Ah." Sammy looks out on the water, stewing over this confirmed theory of his. You all suddenly appear from inside, cheering with a bottle clutched in Emma's hand, you with the opener. When he looks back at Charles, he sees that even though all four of you stand there he's looking at you. This must be sympathy for the devil, Sammy thinks, because why else is he feeling bad for someone whose problem was multiple attractive women had feelings for him?

"Charlie, can you help?" you pout, unable to get the cork loose from the bottle. It was obvious you were tipsy, drunk even, you all had been drinking since the sun came up.

"Fucks sake y/n, use your arm!" Clara groans. Sammy looks back at Charles, willing him with his brain to not be at your beck and call for once.

"I've got it," Charles chuckles, like an idiot, if you ask Sammy. He pops it, a cheer coming from the group at the appearance of bubbles and spray. It gets all over his hands as he attempts to hold the bottle away from his body, and he shakes the excess off as the cheers continue. Oliver whisks the bottle away to be divied up between everyone's cups, and Charles goes inside to wash his hands off. You slink off behind him, unbeknownst to him, or the rest of your friends, except for Emma, whose interest is piqued by your sudden absences.

"Thanks for the help," your voice is sweet in the silence of the kitchenette.

His head whips to your figure, slightly startled by your presence. You're barefoot, a brown bikini only covering what's absolutely necessary to be covered. He can't tell if he loves it or he hates it. Your open button up shirt tossed on as a cover up intrigues him, because, is that his?

"Is that my shirt?" Charles repeats, out loud this time, eyes trained like heat seekers as you move close. His hands lay in the towel, champagne still dripping off his fingers. You've seemed to have distracted his process.

"No, but it seems like you would love it if it was."

He raises his shoulders. "You're welcome to them."

You hum, "good to know." You're looking at him like prey, it makes his throat dry and he's not sure what to say. You're always the bubbly one, the sunshine when he's being grumpy and difficult.

Charles lifts his hands from the towel that he still hasn't utilized yet, pushing his luck by placing a hand on your hip. He plays with the string on your right hip, fingers begging to untie the bow. "You only like talking to me when we're in kitchens, huh?"

He makes you laugh with that, or maybe it's the alchohol making you do it. "I always like talking to you. It's you that can't keep hands to yourself."

A hand slides up his chest, resting casually, yet his heart races faster. That familiar, warm feeling settles in his lower stomach, and he wills himself not to harden like a teenager. "We both have a problem with hands, I see."

You tilt your head in challenge. You pull his hand off of your hip and lift it, analyzing the digits still drenched in champagne. And to his utter surprise, you take his index finger into your mouth. The eye contact you hold as you do so has his mouth dropping open slightly in a daze, mind going to static as he feels the warmth and wetness, the pucker of your lips. You hum as you release his finger with a pop, licking your lips.

"Don't think I have a problem with your hands at all, Charles."

Charles, not Charlie. He's ruined.

How you saunter away after that leaves him gobsmacked, flustered, and most of all, hoping this boat would be docking soon.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

"I have an offer for you," is how you start the conversation. You're all showered, evening attire thrown on and awaiting the metaphorical dinner bell. The two of you plus Peter were sat out on the patio, and were left alone when Peter ran in to the bathroom for a moment.

"When I come back home, we should go on date."

Charles thinks he mishears you. "What?"

"A date, Charlie. You know, when two people who share a romantic interest go out toge-"

"Enough, smartass," He stops your condescension. "You would go on one with me?"

You take a deep breath. "Yeah, I would. I like you, and all that."

"And all that," he repeats. "What every man wants to hear."

"Do you want to go on the date or not?"

"I do, I really do. Have wanted to for a while, you know."

You smile softly, resting your head on the lounger. "I know."

"Dinner's ready," Emma comes out to announce. When she sees it's only the two of you, her expression changes slightly, something only you'd notice after years of experiencing emotions from her. "Where's Peter?"

"Bathroom," you answer easily. Emma looks at the two of you intently, and Charles turns towards the water, not really interested in making conversation with the woman who's profusely stated her aversion to him.

"Hm. Well, come down soon."

When she closes the glass doors, Charles all but laughs out loud. "What a nightmare."

"Your ex," you rebut, "can't believe that to this day. If you didn't like her, why'd you do it?"

"Because I didn't think I could have you."

His veins fill with regret when he says it, he knows its not fair. But it's true, you know it as well. "Well, no more collateral damage, then." You stand up from the lounger, brushing down your dress. "Pick a good restaurant for the date."

Dinner begins well, Mirabel telling stories and Oliver denying them all. It's when the laughter dies down after Joris recounts their last trip to Nice that things begin to slant.

"Y/n/n," Emma calls from down the table. You turn to her, as everyone does.

"Yeah, Em?"

"I just have been dying to know," she starts, clasping her hands under her chin. "How long have you and Charles been fucking?"

Peter chokes on his wine. The table is utterly silent, and everyone's face carries the same shocked expression. And, wow, you've pictured this moment dozens of ways and hundreds of times, but honestly, this one was rare form. But after everything, especially today, caution was once again to the wind.

"About 6 months," you calmly answer, reaching for your glass. "Give or take."

"You bitch," she hisses. "Are you not even ashamed of yourself?"

"Are you not going to address Charles in the slightest, or is it just y/n's fault that they have sex?" Clara asks, and Mirabel and Oliver can't help the snicker in their chests. Sammy takes another piece of salmon from the middle platter.

"Yes, I could have said something," you mull.

Emma looks around, utter disbelief on her face as it seems everyone's refusing to intervene on this one. You can't blame them, and those who did know, well, their wine glasses are filled.

Emma gets up from the table with a curse of Charles's name and a disgusted look your way, and Clara clears her throat.

"So, anyone have any recommendations for clubs in Miami?"

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, self doubt, body image, mention of the word ‘daddy,’ kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 16 - Ready for Spain | ‘Ours’

Trent returned back to first team training in the beginning of the week and got to play about 60 minutes at the match over the weekend. In your opinion he played great and looked even better doing it. Trent had been told by the manager to chill a little bit. It wasn’t a high stakes game so he wasn’t going into it maybe with the same exertion he normally would so the internet had a field day. ‘He can’t defend’… yada yada the same old. It usually didn’t bother Trent all that much but after a while the repetition of it just got so tiresome. He was coming home from the match knowing no matter the game he had, the conversation would always be there. There would always be someone saying he played poorly. You felt terrible but all you could do was be there for him. 

“Tough day, pretty boy?” you cooed gently seeing Trent come in the house back from training. You had put Teddy down for a nap so you were sitting by yourself on your living room couch dressed in Trent’s sweat pants rolled at your waist and an Alo bra tank. Trent let out a groan and nodded before he came over and laid practically on top of you. He settled into your embrace nuzzling his face into your neck. 

“It’s so frustrating. There’s nothing to do but it’s like anytime I open my phone. Sky sports say this… Gary Neville says that… I just can’t get away from it.” He sighed, his voice muffled by his proximity to your skin.

“I’m sorry, baby.” You cooed, running your hands up and down his back. He hummed, enjoying the feeling. He cuddled a bit closer to you. “It’s irrelevant. You’re amazing. Teddy and I think you’re the best in the world, baby.” He nodded against you. At the base of his spine you slipped your hands under his shirt to be closer to him, grazing your hands over his warm skin. You wanted to comfort him the best you could. 

“Yeah? Still your baby? Even if I’m a ‘shit right back’” He asked you quietly repeating what he read. He just wanted to hear he was yours He knew he was, he just wanted to hear it. Hear it in your voice, in your accent. One of your hands continued up his spine to his neck, you wrapped your hand around the back of it scratching his skin gently. He closed his eyes and kissed your neck. As confident and strong and often guarded as Trent presented to the outside world, he found that he was able to be softer and more sensitive around you. You let him be vulnerable with you. It was something that Trent never had experienced before he was with you. The safety of letting your guard down with someone. He remembered telling you your first night together he had never called anyone baby in his life. He just was a total melt for you. He remembered the shiver running up his back when you called him each different pet names for the first time. At first he couldn’t believe he was acting this way but he just embraced it. Now, on hard days, the ones where he used to just want to be alone, he just wanted to be with you. He wanted to hear all the mushy things you had to say and you were more than happy to indulge him. 

“Yeah, always my T.” you cooed. You kissed his hair. “My baby, my husband.” you softly cooed again. You felt him shift a little in your arms. You giggled imagining what could possibly be running through his mind after you said that. He pulled away from your neck and placed his chin on your collarbone to look up at you. He smiled. “Just trying it out...” You giggled again. He lazily reached up to grab your jaw with one hand and pull your face down to his. He kissed your lips softly. 

“Say it again f’me, beautiful.” He looked up at you like you were an angel. He loved you so much. He had completely forgotten about all the shitty things happening online. He was soothed into a haze by your touch and the sound of your voice. You repeated it a few times before you got tired. He tucked his face back into your neck and sighed contently. For the moment, he wasn’t Trent Alexander-Arnold the footballer, he was just the man that was going to be your husband and there was not a more comforting thing in the world than that.  

“Want me to make you something to eat?” You cooed softly, rubbing your hand over his head. 

“Nah, stay right here, please” He mumbled against you moving his head onto your chest nuzzling his face into your boobs. You felt like someone in this house constantly had their face there whether it was him or Teddy but right now this was nice that it was him “ I love coming home to you.” He hummed soothed being back with you. It was nice until Trent was back to his old self and feeling particularly cheeky. It started with one peck to your chest, then a slow kiss onto your boob, moving to a bit more of a suck, and then essentially just a bite.

“Erm.. ow! Excuse you? You’re worse than Teddy. That hurt!” You giggled. His hands came around you began to massage your tits. You hummed getting lost in the moment loosing the pain from his bite quite  quickly. 

“I’m sorry, baby. Let me kiss it better, yeah.” He began kissing your chest. He pulled you more into him than he was on you now. You leaned back into him arching your back pushing your chest out. He kneaded your tits gently with his hands as his kisses got closer and closer to one of your nipples. He slyly pulled your top down, your boobs falling out for him. Both hands rolling the buds of your nipples between his fingers. 

“Oh T… fuck.” You let out a whiny cry not expecting this but honestly, you should have. You felt a shiver run through your whole body. He was being so gentle with you but you were so sensitive. He shifted to be behind you and pulled you into his lap. You laid back against him with your legs spread unintentionally. He pulled your legs even further apart though to drape over his, hooking your feet behind his calves to keep your legs open. His arms wrapped around you, hands back playing with your tits. He guided his hands down from your boobs over your stomach and teasingly into your his sweatpants. His fingers danced over your covered pussy and your breath hitched. Trent loved that the tables had turned. He was so vulnerable moments before and now he had you needy and squirming against him. Your head almost felt dizzy. You let out a pathetic whine as he began to stroke over your clit. He began to draw circles over it softly humming in appreciation of the dampened spot on your panties already without him really doing anything. He moved your hair off your shoulder and placed his lips on your neck. He dragged his tongue over your most sensitive spots, nibbling and sucking when he felt like it just to get you to moan.  You tasted so good though, you felt so good, so Trent got a little greedy. His free hand wrapped around your throat and turned your head for a kiss. Your breathing became erratic lost in his kisses, you couldn’t think. Trent never failed to take his time even with his kisses. He was so sweet with you yet simultaneously incredibly dirty. Kiss after kiss, you were so caught up you barely noticed his fingers move your panties to the side he did it so smoothly.  He picked up the pace of his finger now directly playing with your clit. Your pussy was sopping wet now, you were dripping all down your thighs. His fingers managed to be both tender and sweet and harsh and rough all at the same time. Your thighs began to quiver. You slumped back against Trent desperate for a release. He bit onto your neck a little, feeling himself beginning to get harder and harder just from your pleasure. 

“It’s okay, baby. Relax. Cum f’me, yeah? I got you. It’s okay to make a mess.” He whispered in your ear.  The sound of your wet pussy was lewd you had a hard time even listening to your words but you clocked the word 'cum' easily because you were about to.

“Ah fuck! Oh my god, T!” You whined beginning to babble. It was more pleasurable than anything but it was slightly annoying that he got you like this. Your pussy dripping in the living room all from playing with your clit.  “I’m gonna cum, baby. Please let me me cum.”

“Yeah, go on, baby.” He whispered again. The warmth of his breath against your ear, the feeling of his fingers on your pussy, his free hand fondling your tits. You gripped onto his knees hunching forward a little so overwhelmed by the high about to wash over you but your body crashed back against him seconds later. He kiss your collarbone. You whined when his movement became slow and precise. His rhythm was melodic and perfect. You impatiently grinded against his hand. You dropped your head back against his shoulder behind you. Your jaw slacked, your breathing only intensifying. You shut your eyes as white hot pleasure coarse through you. Your orgasm ransacking your every thought. “Good girl.” He smiled smugly, very proud of his handy work and your body’s reaction. He slowed his movements as your pussy continued to spasm. “Such a good girl f’me.” He whispered against your neck with a kiss. He removed his now wet hand and hugged your waist reverting back to his cute cuddly self. You turned your head tiredly to look at him. His eyes were bright with amusement. Teeth, pearly white, shining in his big gin as he breathlessly laughed. You knocked your head back against his chest once more in feigned embarrassment at what just happened.

“Erm… Okay, well.” You giggled a little, turning once more to look back at the gorgeous boy. “Let me make you some food please because now, I’m hungry and I need to get off this couch.” You spoke quietly with a slight laugh, your eyes filled with hearts gleaming up at him.

“Yeah, yeah fine! If you want” he teased, like somehow you making Trent food would be a burden on him. He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Love you, baby.” 

The Champions League group stages had begun. Trent had played a home match already but the first away leg was approaching and in an exciting draw or, for Trent, a difficult one, Liverpool was playing Real Madrid. You thought it was cute when Trent played against his friends but he didn’t really view it that way. You were going to fly to Madrid with Dianne and Teddy for the match but you figured maybe, just maybe, your best friend had heard about the game and would be there as well. 

“Did you know our boyfriends are playing this week!?” You giggled on Facetime with Lauren. 

“Neither of them are boyfriends. T is your fiancé and Jude is… I don’t know what he is but he’s not a boyfriend, I know that” She quipped back with an annoyed face.

“Oh, you’re no fun! Come on! Joke with meee.” You whined. She smiled seeing you so excited. 

“Fine, Yes, Y/N, I am going to be in Madrid for the game.” She laughed at the enthusiasm igniting behind your eyes. You squealed. “You really think I wouldn’t be there? I am not letting you visit Jude over me.”

“I never know where you are! You’re always on the move!” You responded to her adjusting yourself in your chair at your kitchen island. “It’s not like I’m visiting him, I’m going to watch T but I mean if you two are together…..” You drew out the word putting an emphasis on the fact that when Lauren was in Madrid she was always staying with Jude, she had things at his place, they were definitely together.

“Y/N…. we are not together but I will be there.” Lauren was adamant about convincing you Jude wasn’t her boyfriend but no boy, no matter how nice they were, would do the things Jude was doing for her if they weren't in some capacity together.

“Can you say hi to nana, Ted?” You were walking on the tarmac with Teddy on your hip towards Dianne. The three of you were flying today to go to Liverpool’s clash against Real Madrid. Trent had already made his way to the city with the rest of the team. Dianne, Teddy, and yourself had decided to go on the day of the match.

“Who are these beautiful girls!?!” Dianne came up to you two. “Hello my sweet teddy girl!” She cooed. It was early in the morning and Teddy was still a little tired.

“Hi Di” you gave her a tight hug. “Ready for Spain?” You asked her with a tired smile. You were happy to go. Champions League games were fun no matter what. This was just that much better because you got to see Lauren and Jude as well.

“Yes, we are. Going to go see daddy right, Ted?” She cooed, pressing a sweet kiss to Teddy’s cheek. Teddy yawned and cuddled into your chest more. She was in a cute sweat set and you pouted looking down at her. She was being fairly quiet because she wanted to go back to sleep.

“Yeah, we’re so happy to be going to see daddy.” You kissed her head, rubbing your hand over her back. “Huh, sleepy girl? Ready to see daddy?” You cooed to Teddy. She whimpered out a tired ‘dada’ pushing her cheek further against you attempting to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep. By the time you boarded the plane and got seated operating with one arm as the other held Teddy to you she was out cold. You leaned your head on top of hers. Her tiny chubby arms trying her best to hold onto you. She was fast asleep and you were thankful because you weren’t sure how a tired and cranky 14 month year old was going to handle take off.  She was just fine though. Her perfect lips agape with a little bit of drool already beginning to drop onto your warm skin. You didn’t mind,  you wiped it away every so often for her but it was a lost cause. 

“You’re doing a good job, sweetie.” Dianne cooed from her seat across the way. Trent was nice enough to get you a private plane to take you to Madrid. It was a short flight only about 2 and a half hours but it was nice to have the space and privacy. 

“Yeah?” You responded by picking your head up to look at her. You brushed your hand over Teddy’s hair. You were nervous about what other mums thought about how you were doing. Dianne was lovely but you worried you maybe weren't doing things right or the way they were done in England so you didn’t know.

“Really good, hun. I’m so proud of you.” She cooed again looking at you and Teddy tucked in your seat. She seemed sincere and she was. Dianne wasn’t introverted but she definitely wasn't an extrovert. You got along really well and you were grateful for that. She was like a second mum to you but you of course were curious of what she thought and what she thought was that you were doing wonderful.

“Thank you, Di. It means a lot, honestly. Half the time I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. I just want to keep her happy for him.” You spoke quietly. It was true. You had no idea what you were doing being your first baby but all you wanted to do was keep Teddy happy. Dianne's validation felt incredible. 

“Oh Y/N. You make that little girl so happy. You make him so happy. You’re doing amazing. You should keep her happy for you though not for Trent.” She spoke softly making sure you heard her important words but that you didn’t disturb Teddy. It wasn’t lost on Dianne how hectic her son's life was. That in the middle of the week you were having to fly to another country to see him. It had a lot of perks but just as many difficulties and she was impressed with how well you handled them.

“I’m trying.” You giggled, kissing Teddy’s forehead. You talked for a little while longer but you started to get tired so your answers began to slow. Dianne picked up on your delay and the plane went quiet. Soon you were falling asleep yourself. You hugged Teddy and dozed off. Dianne snapped a sweet photo of you and Teddy cuddled up and sent it to Trent.  

Your girls coming to see you. Lucky boy, Trenty xx

My whole world 😘 See you tn

By the time you got to your hotel room in Spain you were exhausted. You laid Teddy down and called Trent. She had been fussy since you landed. She got so upset when the flight began to descend and you couldn’t really do anything to help. The plane had to land whether she liked it or not. You had a short window to shower while she napped but you hadn’t talked to Trent since you told him you’d arrived so you wanted to give him a call. You could multitask. 

“Oooof wow baby.” Trent cooed ogling at you as you peeled your shirt over your head in the bathroom. You propped your phone on the sink counter to speak with him as you got undressed for your shower.

“This isn't for you. I need to shower before the match.” You giggled still a little flattered by his reaction. You were trying to do two things at once not put on a show for him.

“Oh…” he looked a little hurt but then he smiled at you. “It’s always for me… just a little bit though, right baby?” He cheekily flirted with you pinching his fingers together trying to get you to say that you getting naked right now was secretly for him.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, pretty boy.” You giggled picking up the phone now that you had sucesfully peeled your clothes off. You told Trent you had to go and got on with your shower as quick as possible. You got yourself and Teddy ready and met Dianne down in the hotel lobby to head to the match. You arrived at the Bernabeu with them after a traffic-filled drive and a spilt bottle of milk. You decided to wear a Liverpool jersey that was now quite messy so you changed into an extra t-shirt you had and Area high waisted jeans with a crystal embellished slit. You wore a pair of Prada red heels to pair with your top. Teddy definitely had started to develop a lot of opinions and in turn she had become a lot more particular about things, clothing included. You put Teddy in her jersey, of course, and thankfully she was happy with that. You assumed it was because she liked that she matched her dad. She had leggings on as well after two tries. She didn’t like the first pair for an unidentifiable reason. You walked up to where the Bellingham family sat up in a box high in the tall stadium. Lauren was already there sat with Jude’s mum. Denise hadn’t met Teddy yet but Lauren and Jude of course showed her plenty of photos. You walked in holding her so that was a give away but she recognized her face immediately. 

“Oh my goshhh, aren’t you gorgeous! You look even more like your daddy in person, huh?” Denise cooed seeing Teddy. She had gotten up from her seat and met you near the door. 

“My dada.” Teddy giggled pulling on your shirt with her grubby hands. She started introducing the word ‘my’ lately. She was clingy and possessive in a healthy baby type way so it was cute. You could tell she was very proud to clarify that Trent was her dad. You hummed to her in acknowledgement.  

“Let me see my cutie girl!!! Hii Ted!!” Lauren sang, jogging excitedly over to you in the box. You gave her a hug and then stepped back a little for her to see more of Teddy. 

“Can you say hi please to Lauren and Denise?” You kissed Teddy’s forehead in encouragement for her to say hello. You had noticed she definitely could get shy around new people and preferred to be just glued to you. You picked up her hand and squeezed it a few times. “Can we say hi?” You cooed. She got out a quiet ‘hi.’ “Good girl. You know Laur, yeah? And we know Judey. Daddy’s friend Jude?” She nodded against your chest hiding her face. “Yeah? You do. That’s Jude’s mummy, okay?”  You cooed softly, beginning to bounce her in your arms. Lauren reached out and tickled her tummy. Teddy didn’t want to but she couldn’t stop her giggles. 

“You like Judey, remember? You talk to him on the phone all the time with daddy, Ted.” Lauren reminded her with a laugh hearing her small giggles. Jude and Trent FaceTimed a lot… like a lot. Often, Teddy was along for the calls. She was usually just laying on his chest but nevertheless she was there. You went to sit down with Lauren and Teddy outside. Dianne and Denise stayed inside catching up. Warm ups for the game hadn’t even begun so you were scrolling on TikTok when you coincidentally saw an edit of Trent and Jude appear on your feed. You turned your phone screen for Lauren to see the video.

“Yeah, if only they knew how fucking annoying they were.” You laughed as you rolled your eyes. It was a thirsty video to say the least. Of course they looked good. They always look good but it was a little bit funny to knock them down a peg when you could. 

“I don’t knowww they’re pretty handsome.” She pouted at the video seeing them yap away together. Lauren grabbed the phone from you to take a closer look. When she reached out for it, you were quick to notice a shiny new Cartier Juste in Clou bracelet on her wrist. 

“Erm… when did we get that?” You prodded at the bracelet. Lauren didn’t acknowledge you she just continued on watching the edit loop for the third time. 

“He gave it to me yesterday.” Lauren said nonchalantly keeping her focus on the phone as she began to scroll through the comments on your phone.

“Erm… Jude did?” You questioned her casual tone. “Were you going to mention this?” You laughed with your jaw dramatically slacked awaiting her explanation.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Y/N. He just gets me little things. He buys stuff for me all the time just to be nice.” She explained resting your phone on her leg and turning towards you with an unimpressed face. 

“Did you hear that, Ted? He buys stuff for her all the time.” You mocked her. “It’s a £5,000 bracelet Lauren, it's not little.” You reminded her. It was really nice of him, that wasn’t what you were saying. You were trying to get her to realize people don’t just do that because.

“I never have so many girls here, this is so lovely. Especially you, cutie.” Denise cooed pinching at Teddy's cheeks eliciting a hearty giggle.

“It’s usually just us and occasionally Toby or Jobe.” Lauren laughed, squeezing Teddy’s chubby arm keeping her giggles flowing. She explained only furthering your confusion about the status of her relationship. 

“We need to see you more. Excited for the big day?” Denise looked at you with curiosity. You were focused on Lauren so you had to apologize and ask her to repeat herself. You spoke about the wedding until the game began. You told her it would be small but still special. You had gotten your save the dates out so she was telling you how much she loved the aesthetic of the cards already. Dianne gassed up how organized you’d been and how little Trent had done teasingly. 

“No, no, he’s been great. It’s just so hard in season so even next month I am flying to New York for a few days to get some things done for it by myself... well and with Teddy, obviously.” You smiled, waving off that Trent wasn’t helpful. You were flying in January while Trent had international duties but then it occurred to you where Lauren would be. “Lauren, will you be in town?” You asked in an cheeky tone. 

“I am spending the beginning of January in New York and then I think I'll be here.” She responded to your question with a sharp smile. You raised your eyebrows. The game ticked on. It was a little firey. It made you slightly nervous when games got this chippy but it ended in a draw. Thankfully to be honest. You weren’t super familiar with the stadium so Denise offered to take you down to the pitch once the final whistle blew. Jude texted Lauren to come down to meet them on the field after. You made your way down and were amazed at the scale of this stadium. Sometimes you wondered how the boys managed to just walk out and perform and look so calm. The stadium was emptying out and you felt stressed still even with the reducing amount of eyes potentially on you now. Trent came out the tunnel first with a sluggish Jude following. They had both changed out of their uniforms. The stadium had basically cleared out by the time they both were done with all their post match duties, only the ground keepers were left. You were sitting on the edge of the back of one of the seats. You were facing up away from the pitch chatting with Lauren. Dianne and Denise stood with Teddy further up in the sections stands. Trent came up behind you and smirked, placing his cheek next to yours. His face excruciatingly close to you made you jump. You could feel his aura encasing you immediately. He hugged you tight from behind. He sighed feeling his body relax with you back in his arms

“Missed you, baby” He whispered and you smiled as he kissed your cheek. He flicked his eyes up to his mum descending down the stairs carrying your little girl. He squeezed you extra tight and you melted.  

“Dada!!!!” Teddy squealed seeing Trent appear behind you. Dianne walked down closer to where you were holding her. She wiggled in Dianne’s arms so she put her down letting Teddy do the last two stairs by herself to reach you two. She ran up to you pulling at your jeans wanting you to pick her up. Trent leaned over the ledge separating you and the pitch and picked her up instead. He held her between you two. “Mama dada.” She giggled, kicking her feet excitedly in his arms.

“That’s right, my Ted. Good girl.” You applauded her. “Happy we’re back with dada?” You asked. You were met with a very rambunctious ‘dada’ from Teddy confirming she was.

“My girls. Did you miss me, Teddy girl? Huh? Were you good for mummy?” Trent asked her a million questions, excited to have her back with him. Teddy didn’t really answer any of them though she just clung to him happily.

“Look at you! Such a big girl now!” Jude came over to you three after he said hello to Lauren which you were a little annoyed you missed the opportunity to analyze their interaction. Dianne and Denise sat in a random row of seats watching you all. “I have her birthday present by the way.” Jude picked up Teddy from Trent, you nodded hearing about the present he didn’t need to get her. “Because you turned one years old! You’re so old now!” He laughed raising her up a little higher than she probably cared for.

“Mama!” Teddy squirmed in his arms reaching back out for you in a moment of panic.

“Ted, you’re okay. You know Jude, yeah?” Trent cooed, reaching out to her reassuring her that she was fine. She didn’t spend a lot of time with Jude in person so she was still trying to connect the dots. She eventually did. She liked hearing him talk over facetimes. She looked up at Jude with big eyes inspecting him once she identified that she recognized him and his voice.

“Hi” she giggled then looked back at Trent who nodded confirming that she was okay. She reached her tiny hands up to Jude’s face. She pulled on his goatee. 

“Ouch!” He laughed holding onto her little arms now trying to get her to not. It didn’t actually hurt of course.

“Can we be gentle with Judey, please.” You cooed, pushing a curl behind her ear. She giggled and pulled his facial hair again. “Teddy girl…” you warned her in a more stern tone. She let go of him. Her mouth a little agape, not sure what to do now. She was a good listener. If you told her no she'd stop but then she didn’t know what to do once she was told that. “Maybe can you show Judey how you give a kiss instead?” You looked at her encouragingly. She pushed her lips out towards him. She smashed basically her whole face into his cheek. 

“That was so nice of you, Ted.” You laughed at the face Jude made. He was taken aback by her version of a kiss. 

“Wow, thank you so much. That was… that was…” Jude couldn't exactly find the words to describe the slobber of a kiss he just received. 

“Really nice of you, baby bear.” Trent finished his sentence for him. He squeezed Teddy’s danging leg. 

“Ted, you didn’t want to wear the jersey I got you?” Jude teased. He gave you a Bellingham jersey back when you were pregnant for her. To be fair, she probably could fit into it now but not a shot Trent was going to let her wear it, especially today. Teddy held onto the hood of his tracksuit with a death grip pulling at it watching you all laugh not understanding what he asked her. 

“Nah, my Ted’s a red.” Trent cooed, prying her hand off of Jude’s hood. 

“T, can we take a picture quick?” you asked. Trent nodded. Jude offered to take it for you so Trent helped you over the ledge dividing the seats and the pitch. You grabbed Teddy back from Jude. You walked a little further onto the pitch. Trents arms around your waist. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. He kissed Teddy’s hair before telling her to say cheese. She didn’t, she couldn’t, but she giggled when you tickled her a little so it ended up being a good picture. 

“Okay Fam!” Lauren yelled out smiling seeing your little family all together.

“Baby bear at the Bernabeu.” Trent cooed taking Teddy from you and lifting her up over his head and then back down. He’d toss her up and she’d scream. He laughed and kissed her cheek. Dianne came onto the pitch and asked to take a photo of the five of you. You loved the idea. It made you kind of emotional but you didn’t let anyone else know that. You gathered and Lauren took Teddy from you, wanting to hold her. Jude held Lauren in front of him and you tucked into Trent. It was crazy that this was your life now. On the other hand, Lauren couldn’t help the feeling pinging in her chest. She was next to her best friend's family, your fiancé, your baby and... this boy behind her, what was he? She joked a lot about it but it was hard to avoid when you’re taking a photo like that. She thought about in 5 years time if someone were to ask her who was in the photo, she’d say the Alexander-Arnold family and then… who? What were her and Jude? It was a fairly early game so Teddy was still wide awake. She stood next to you on the pitch holding your hand above her head swaying back and forth. She kept pulling your arm though once she noticed Trent and Jude kicking a ball back and forth as they stood further away on the pitch talking about the game.  

“Hello!?” You giggled. “Do you need something?” You looked down at her with a smile. She looked up at you with wide eyes and pointed over to them. “Oh I see. You want to go be with the boys. Do you want to play footie with daddy?” You asked standing with Dianne, Denise and Lauren. You called out to Trent and let go of her hand. She eagerly ran towards them with a giggle. Trent crouched down to her level and waited with open arms for her to reach him. He gave her a big hug and then placed the ball in front of her. She kicked it a few times and fell a few more times but it was cute. They were attempting to pass back and forth but you stopped paying attention after a while coming back into your own conversation in front of you. You heard Teddy squeal a bit later so you turned around to make sure she was fun. She was. Jude was chasing after her, actively trying to go slow so he didn’t catch her. 

“Dada!!!!” She screamed with a giggle. She ran to Trent and hid behind his legs. 

“Can’t get away from me, Ted, C’mere!” Jude yelled, running behind Trent and scooping her up. You watched Lauren’s face shift from intent focus on what Dianne was currently saying to a soft pout seeing Jude running carrying Teddy. It was all jokes and she’d never say but Lauren was processing a lot right now. Back on the pitch, they played a game of 2 v 1. Teddy and Jude versus daddy. Jude did most of the work but he’d get the ball to the goal and set it for Teddy to come and kick it across the line. Jude naturally made her do his trademark celebration. 

“Turn, Ted and then we face the big crowd, yeah? Put your arms out like this.” He instructed her pulling her arms up far and wide for her. “Good girl!” He cooed before tickling her tummy. She giggled and dropped her arms trying to protect herself. 

“Baby bear! You can’t be doing that wearing daddy’s jersey.” Trent pouted, making a sad face at her, taking a defeated seat on the grass. She ran over to him swiftly yet clumsily. 

“Dada, no sad.” Teddy cooed worried she had actually made Trent sad. She wrapped her arms up around his neck. She grunted adorably trying to get closer to him. 

“I’m okay, baby. We’re just having fun, okay?” He cooed, pulling her off him to look at her face. She nodded, pursing her lips and pushing them out towards him. “Want a kiss from daddy, now? You beat me in a game and now you want a kiss from me!?!!?” He yelled teasingly as she stood between is sprawled out legs with his hands around her. She giggled in his arms but kept her lips pursed out adamant she got one. “Mwah! C’mon, on my team now.” he instructed her, amidst Teddy's excited response to the kiss.

“Gotta score if you want to celebrate, mate.” Jude laughed standing in front of the goal with his hands on his hips watching Trent standing back up.

“See, Ted, you don’t want to be on his team anyway. He’s mean. You want to play with daddy, right?” Trent rolled a ball in front of her.  They played for ages but Teddy eventually got tired. She pulled at Trent’s joggers not wanting to move any more.

“Dada up!” She whined looking up at him desperately. “Up!” Her eyes beginning to water. Trent picked her up and gave her a cuddle before Teddy tucked her face in the nape of his neck sleepily. He kissed her cheek but didn’t abandon the game, naturally. Trent scored on Jude and ran with Teddy celebrating. 

“Get in! TAA’s take the win.” He held Teddy out in front of him and kissed her dramatically. Lifting her like she was a trophy. She giggled but eagerly grabbed to hold on to his neck when he brought her back down to stay tucked in his arms. 

“You’re the only person I know that is a sore winner. Teddy, be better than this. Be a better TAA.” Jude shook his head as the three of them walked back over to where you all were on the side of the pitch. 

“She is a better TAA.” Lauren cheekily poked at Trent.  

“A better TAA and a sleepier one too. huh?” You cooed, grabbing Teddy from Trent. She yawned and closed her eyes cozying up on your chest. You got all your things together and said goodbye to Denise. Lauren and Jude you were seeing later for a late dinner. Like very late but you were in Spain so maybe just late for you.

“Ted, want to lay with me? Can we let mummy shower please?” Trent cooed with a laugh. He was exhausted after the match laying in the hotel room bed. Teddy was sitting on the floor of the bathroom adamant about being with you but you needed to shower. “Come gimme a cuddle, baby bear.” He asked for her again, sitting up a little to make sure she heard him. That was it. Hearing he wanted a cuddle was all she needed to hear. She was immediately up and running to his side of the bed. He picked her up and tucked her in close to him. “Thank you for playing footie with me tonight. Did you have fun?” He asked Teddy, helping her get comfortable. She nodded, rubbing her face against his chest. Her tiny hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. Trent was focused on Teddy but definitely didn’t miss you exiting the bathroom a little while on in just your panties and a skimpy tank top. “Mmm c’mere mummy.” He cooed, seeing you. You rolled your eyes at his seductive tone but with Teddys instant call of your name you easily gave in. You cuddled with them for a little. Both Teddy and Trent out quite quickly. You were just happy to lay with both of them though. It was late so you needed to have Teddy stay asleep at this point but you also needed Trent to get up now.

“T… Baby, we have to get going. I’m sorry.” you whispered, stroking your thumb over his high cheekbone to wake him. “You promised you’d go.” you cooed, reminding the sleepy boy.

“Well I take it back.” He whispered in response, still keeping his eyes shut. You first felt a tinge of annoyance but then you just felt bad he was so tired. 

“Okay, I’ll tell Lauren we can't.” You softly told him, moving your hand to brush over his hair. You wanted to go out but whatever he needed was more important even if it was his sleep.

“Nah, nah, don't. I’ll go, baby, I’ll go.” He groaned but managed to open his eyes. He looked at you with a sincere but sleepy smile. “I’ll go, wanna take you out.” he cooed and sent you a wink. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t still get you flustered when he did that.  

“Would you mind taking Ted to your mum's room so I can get ready quick?” You asked him quietly, looking at Teddy still soundly passed out on his chest. He hummed a 'yes' following your sightline to her. You watched his eyes wake up more and gleam looking at his baby girl.  “She’s gorgeous, isn't she?” you cooed sweetly both admiring your tiny creation.

“Yeah, absolutely perfect.” He ran his hand up her back, pressing a kiss to her head.

“I love how happy and excited she is by things. Tonight, watching her run around the pitch with you was so amazing. I just want her to stay that happy. She has the most beautiful smile, I never want it to go away.” You gushed about how adorable you thought she was. Teddy could be shy which wasn’t exactly far fetched considering you and Trent’s approach to life but despite her fears, she seemed to want to try things. She’d cuddle close to you but then pull away wanting to go check something out. You appreciated how curious she had become but the smile on her face whilst doing it made it all the better.

“She will. You make her happy, baby. You make me so happy. Trust me, she has a mummy like you, she’ll be happy.” He turned to you, grabbing your jaw with one hand and tilting your head up to look at him.

“Yeah?” You asked him shyly for reassurance. “I love her so much.” You confessed the obvious to Trent.

“Yeah. You know, my mum texted me a photo of you two on the way here. I told her that’s my whole world right there” He explained before he kissed your forehead and then Teddy’s.

“My little Teddy…” You cooed, turning your head out of his hand's grip to look down at her. You pulled her tiny pajama top that had ridden up revealing her adorably pudgy tummy back down. 

“And you, baby. You. My girls are my whole world.” Trent whispered, still keeping his gaze on you. 

“You’re our whole world, T.”' You kissed his shoulder. Even in a foreign country, with you and Teddy with him he had never felt more at home. Trent carried Teddy carefully to Dianne’s room, ensuring he did not wake her. Dianne told you she’d watch Teddy for the night so you two could go out with Jude and Lauren which you appreciated. It was nice and honestly such a luxury you had such a willing family to help you out. You got dressed while Trent was down the hall in a Mui Mui sweater and tiny silver shorts paired with pink metallic Louboutins Trent said were silly to bring to a city with so much cobble stone but you disregarded him for the sake of a good outfit.  It was December but it was still Madrid so definitely warmer than where you’d have to fly home tomorrow. Trent came back into the room and plopped down on the bed. His outfit took about 1 minute in total to pull together. White t-shirt, tan trousers, out the door. 

“Explain this to me…” Trent asked you with a cheeky smile sitting on the edge of the bed inspecting your outfit with you as you stood in front of the hotel room's full-length mirror.

“What?” You picked your head up and looked back at him through the mirror.

“These.” He stood up and walked over to you before he pulled the short hem of the shorts down trying to do the impossible and get them to cover your ass. 

“You don’t like?” You asked him earnestly. Readjusting the waist of the shorts to return them to their original fit, a bit of your ass showing again. 

“Erm… you look good, trust me… you look really good but more in a ‘I want to take these off’ than in a ‘this fit hits.’ way.” He looked at you seriously trying to wrap his head around the outfit. 

“Maybe that’s what I was going for.” You spun around and kissed his lips. He laughed and rolled his eyes. You two joked that often if Trent didn’t ‘understand’ your outfit it probably meant it was good. You left the hotel to meet Lauren and Jude at a restaurant in a lively part of the city that they liked a lot. You trusted them and neither you or Trent knew Madrid so it was where you were headed. 

“Oh I’m sorry, are we interrupting something?” You giggled. When you walked in you immediately saw Lauren stood in between Jude’s legs as he sat on a bar stool. Her arms lovingly draped over his shoulders. Their lips ghosting over each others as they talked because they were that close. Lauren pulled away bashfully.

“Hiii!” You sang your greeting, smushing a kiss to Jude’s cheek. He rolled his eyes at your maternal affection. “Long time no see.” you cooed sarcastically.

“Mrs. TAA.” He kissed your cheek back.  “Just saying… I called this from early. I said Mrs. TAA before Teddy was even born.” He quipped trying to take ownership of something he had no affect on. 

“Jude, everyone in their mother knew this was happening you weren't exactly predicting the unpredictable.” Lauren laughed. He kissed her shoulder and you tried your best not to let your eyes widen. They seemed so… coupley. You did wonder to yourself if this was what they were like all the time and Lauren was just keeping the domesticity of it all hush. “Anyways! I love these!” Lauren cooed pulling on the belt loop of your shorts. You giggled and turned towards Trent to make sure he heard the compliment.  

“Trent is not on board.” you smiled at him smugly then turned back to Lauren to tell her the brand of the shorts. 

“I didn’t say that! I just… “ Trent began to prepare his defense but Lauren was quick to cut him off.

“What!? She looks so good. You’re just dumb.” Lauren dismissed his opinion. 

“I didn't say she didn't look good! Oh my days! Jude, back me up, bro.” Trent tried to get him to join his side of an argument no one really cares about. 

“Nah, this is a lose lose for me if I say anything here, mate, sorry.” Jude wasn’t risking his evening making a comment about your miniscule shorts. You got sat for dinner at a table tucked in the back of the restaurant far away from any chaos that followed Jude around the city. It was nice to catch up with them. You tried your hardest not to ask what was going on between them because you didn’t want to put them on the spot but just the way they were sitting had you dying to talk about it. Lauren tucked in Jude’s arms, head resting on his shoulder talking about the breakfast place they went to the other day. You were transfixed on every slight movement. 

“You gonna pay attention to me at all?” Trent whispered in your ear, sliding his hand over your thigh squeezing the inside. You smirked not realizing you had been so focused on them and not him. You apologized for not being very present.  “Nah, don’t say sorry. Just checking in. Making sure the most beautiful girl is all good.” You hummed letting him know you were just fine before he kept talking. “How do you do it, baby? Every country we go to, you're always the most beautiful girl in the whole place.” He cooed. 

“Stop…”  you hid your face behind your hands. He pulled them down. 

“I’ve been telling you since our first date don’t hide that face from me, baby.” He cooed, holding your hands in his. His finger stroked over your massive engagement ring. You turned your head to look directly at him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

“Best thing I’ve tasted all night.” He whispered, ghosting his lips over yours. You giggled at the ridiculous flirtation. Your dinner ended with you and Lauren begging the two boys that had played 100 minutes of football tonight and just paid for the 2 hour dinner you had at a luxe restaurant to go out to a club. They did not want to go but either you managed to convince them or they secretly wanted to go all along. Regardless, you were now going. You had security escort you out. It’s not like you had not been around this type of attention or media circus before, especially being around Jude, but in Spain, in Madrid, this was a madhouse. Trent kept you tight to the front of him. One arm wrapped around your waist the other draped over your chest. You snuck into a club that had private areas which was important for the boys but in general it was a low key, relaxed place once you got inside. Trent and Jude of course, got stopped entering the club for photos. They stopped but told you and Lauren to head in. Lauren jetted off to the bathroom. Despite your pleas, Lauren told you she’d die if she didn’t go so there you were alone in a club in Madrid. You posted up against a pillar and not long after two men approached you. You hated being outnumbered anywhere but in a club with a language you didn’t speak stressed you out even more. They kept trying to talk to you so you’d give them a polite smile and tell them you didn’t speak Spanish. Finally though you just hit your limit of niceties. 

“I’m getting married and I’m literally a mum, I’m sorry!” You yelled into one of the men’s ears trying to deter them away. 

“No tienes una bebe!” One replied, shocked, ignoring the first part of your sentence. You didn’t speak the language but you could piece together words here and there so you understood what he was getting at. 

“You're way too sexy to be a mum… not with a body like this.” The other man piled on. You shut your eyes not flattered by the compliment but annoyed. Where the fuck were Trent, Jude, and Lauren! You looked down at your phone trying not to pay attention to the man refusing to leave your side. Then in an instant when you picked your head up you clocked a 6’2 angel boy cutting through a crowd of people towards you. 

“Hiiiii!!” You just about screamed wrapping your arms around Jude. Feeling relief wash over you. Jude draped his arm around you. He pulled you closer to him but was trying to play catch up with what was causing the uptick in affection. Of course, the two Spanish men’s jaws dropped seeing him. 

“Es Jude Bellingham! You have a child?” One of the men was shocked and confused trying to deduce if the child you had was Judes. 

“Yes! Yes!” You answered for him. Cuddling up to Jude. He tightened his hold on you but leaned down to whisper to you very confused. 

“What is going on?” He asked in your ear. He looked at the men then back at you and put two and two together so he smiled finally understanding. He difused the situation without bringing up the topic of a child. The men eventually left after a selfie with Jude. 

“Gimme a kiss baby… god, I love my baby mama so much.” Jude cooed teasingly, dropping his hands to your waist. 

“Oh fuck off!” You laughed moving out of his hold. “So ridiculous. I don’t understand guys like that. I told them I’m getting married, I told them I have a child and yet they stay.” You ranted to him. Trent appeared and you just fell into his arms. “I missed you.” you cooed, clinging to him.

“I missed you too even in the 5 minutes we were apart, baby.” Trent laughed pushing strands of your hair behind your ear coming to cup your cheeks. Suddenly the room felt small, the lights dimmer than before. You stared back at Trent and you could feel your heart thumping in your chest. You felt like a magnet being drawn into him. Your lips gravitating towards his without a thought. Your lips pressed into his perfect pout softly kissing him. 

“Sorry…” You pulled away giggling. 

“I’m not… c’mere." He pulled you back into him. His hands dropped down to your ass. “Maybe I like this shorts after all.” He whispered.

“Yeah? I thought you might.” He kissed you again slow but it heated up, your nails dragging over his chest.

“T…” You warned him. “People might be watching.” You were assuming because at the moment you couldn’t take your eyes off him but it was a pretty safe bet.

“I don’t care. Let them watch. I want people to know you’re with me.” His eyes were glued to your glossy lips. His hand movements getting cheekier and cheekier.

“Erm… okay, we’re going to the table. You can join us if you’re ever able to pry yourself off one another. “ Lauren interrupted you. You didn’t look at her, neither did Trent but you heard what she said.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍 SMUT will return in a big way in the next chapter I think...

Next part - Chapter 17 xx

[starlightkun]

➠ college au (and after), hockey captain!sungchan, chronically ill!reader (migraines)

➠ series word count: 75,154 (completed)

KEY

f - fluff a - angst and/or hurt/comfort m - mature and/or heavy themes (i do not write smut, but not everything here will be appropriate for all ages, proceed with caution and read all warnings provided at the beginning of fics)

the beginning ; read these first

buzzer beater (f) ── 22.0k | 27JSC (f) ── 21.3k

the little things ; slice-of-life shortfics, pick at random or skip them entirely

on needlesticks and other metaphors (f, a) ── 4.6k | garbage goal (a, f) ── 3.9k | between two palms (a, f, m) ── 2.4k | saltwater smiles & aloe vera kisses (f) ── 2.6k | freezing the puck (f) ── 4.5k

the happiest ever after ; the end.

little league (f) ── 13.5k

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | june 10 - june 16

note: this chapter FINALLY includes some NSFW content. you have been forewarned. i do believe every chapter beyond this will also include NSFW content. y'all follow my blog– this should not come as a surprise. WELCOME TO THE FIC JAMIE DRYSDALEEEEEEE! another forewarning: this is the longest chapter yet at 24.6k words. the google doc is 54 pages long. be aware of this fact when reading.

15:90 – TREVOR

“You’re burning, Trevor.”

Trevor startles, flinching and ripping the shirt away from his face. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the sun. His shirt falls to his lap and his hands instinctively come to his chest to cover his nipples– years of being woken up on the boat by the Hughes boys and Cole. 

Honey laughs with her head thrown back at his reaction, her hands finding his and pulling them down. She brings them around her body, letting go of his arms when they pass her waist. 

Trevor was too taken by Honey’s face, lit up by the sun and shining in front of him to notice anything else, at least not for a second. When his hands drop to his sides, knuckles grazing Honey’s calves on the way down, he registers where they are and where she’s sitting.

Her knees bracket his thighs, straddling his lap. Her hands are already reaching for his again, a fond smile and the roll of her eyes stunning Trevor. She brings his palms to her hips, then slides one further, down to the curve of her ass. She closes her fingers around his palm, forcing him to grab her cheek and squeeze. She bites her lip and grins down at him as she does it and Trevor twitches in his boardshorts.

His mouth drops open and Honey giggles, her nose crinkling like a little rabbit. Oh God, Trevor thinks. She’s so cute that I compared her to a woodland creature.

“I told you that you needed to grab the sunscreen, but you were too excited to fuck me on the boat to listen to me?” Honey asks. She licks her lips and smiles down at Trevor. One of her hands comes up to twist through Trevor’s hair. She pouts, mocking him. “And now I’m going to have to rub aloe on your chest because you’re a big fucking baby.”

Trevor blinks in shock. There’s no fucking way.

“Do you like making me do all the work, Trevor?” Honey asks. No, accuses. 

“I drove you out here,” Trevor stammers out, frozen underneath the girl. He doesn’t remember doing that, but he’s probably still groggy from the sudden burst of light when his shirt fell off his face. He shakes his head, blinking a few times to orient himself. 

He squeezes Honey’s bottom again, his fingers digging into her skin to ensure she’s really there. That she’s really letting him do this. 

She seems to know his motivations immediately as he does it. She presses into his touch, her eyes flashing with a playfulness he’s never seen before. She rolls her hips down towards his, brushing against the tent in his shorts. She’s smug, confident in her movements, and it’s like everything is in slow-motion, that it’s sensual and electric. 

She leans in, her lips nearing Trevor’s. She tilts her head, ready to slot their lips together. She hovers, stopping when Trevor’s lips parted in a silent gasp. He pulled back only a millimeter in surprise, and she noticed. 

Honey pushes away from Trevor’s chest, sitting back on his lap. He groans and pitches forward as her weight settles against his aching cock. His lips follow hers and she laughs him off, turning her cheek.

“Maybe I shouldn’t let you fuck me,” Honey teases. “Since you’re so bad at listening to instructions.”

“Honey,” Trevor whines, his other hand dropping to her ass and pulling her forward, rocking her hips against his bulge. The fabric of her swimsuit barely grazes him, with Honey resisting Trevor’s movements. 

“Are you begging me?”Her voice is high-pitched. Her fingers dance over Trevor’s clavicles, where she licked the whipped cream from his body the night before. 

Trevor stares at her mouth, the plush, pink lips that are intimately close to his. Suddenly, it’s like he’s watching himself, pulling away from his body to view the scene from afar.

It gets darker, and darker, and farther and farther away, and Trevor nearly jumps out of his skin when he realizes that he was dreaming. He wants to shove his pillow over his face and scream into it. 

He’s been having this dream every night since Honey talked to him on the boat. He thought the whipped cream dream was bad, where she pushed her hands into his waistband and reached for him. As soon as she made contact, just as her fingers curled around his weeping cock, he’d jolt awake like he’d been punched.

But having Honey on top of him, teasing him in her devoted way… it’s tearing Trevor apart. Every time he wakes up, he’s practically bursting at the seams.

He hasn’t gotten much sleep these past few days. He thinks the lack of sleep might be making him hallucinate. And the nerves are making him dream about it more, desperate for relief.

And the boys haven’t left him alone. It’s like they’re taking shifts throughout the night– someone is up in the kitchen at 3am, someone wakes up early to work out, someone stays up late playing pool against himself, and someone skating in the rink  after midnight and shooting pucks at his window. 

Someone is always awake and Trevor thinks they’re doing it on purpose. They’re taking shifts, Trevor knows it, but he just hasn’t caught them. He’s paranoid.

He hasn’t been able to jack off. 

They’re listening. He knows they are. They want to bully him some more, cut into him like they did after he pussied out on the boat on Saturday. Quinn is particularly relentless, ragging on Trevor to no end. He can’t make it worse.

But today– today– everyone’s out. Miraculously, Trevor is alone.

Cole is down at the hardware store, helping Vera with a shipment while Earl is out fishing. Luke and Jack went out to buy a water tube for the next lake day. Quinn is at Bea’s– it’s their day off. Bea and Honey don’t have work on Mondays, so Bea invited Trevor’s greatest enemy over. 

Trevor could sing.

He’s gotten past the point of guilt, past the point of pushing his desire away. Trevor just wants to come.

He reaches under the covers and pushes his boxers down with one hand, reaching down to stroke himself with the other. It’s quick and desperate and Trevor stumbles over himself a little bit, his head dropping back against his pillow.

Trevor pictures Honey grinding down against him, her pussy dripping all over him. He spits on his hand, slicking it up to make the glide easier. He groans, throat tight. He imagines her hands pressing against his chest, fingernails digging into his pecs. His fist flies over the length of his cock, squeezing precum from the tip. 

Trevor’s balls are tight and heavy and he pictures Honey reaching down to fondle the skin. He chokes out a whimper as he starts to spill over his hand, his hips twitching up like he’s trying to fuck into Honey’s imaginary and distant heat. 

Trevor slows, then withdraws his hand from his boxers. He takes a few deep breaths, then swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He stands and walks into the bathroom, tossing his boxers in the hamper before wiping himself down and washing his hands. 

He turns on the shower and keeps it cold, shaking away the guilt that comes crashing back. He shudders under the water, making it the quickest shower of his life. Trevor shakes his hair out as he exits the shower, wrapping his towel around his wait.

Someone pounds at the front door and Trevor scoffs in disbelief. He makes his way down the stairs, running his fingers through his hair so it stops drooping in his face. He bets it’s Cole, who likely forgot to grab the house keys when he went out to help Vera. 

Trevor swings the door open and a brown bag hits his chest.

“You motherfucker,” Honey snarls, pushing Trevor back into the house and slamming the door behind her. “What’s your problem, huh?” She pokes a finger in Trevor’s chest. “You flirt with me for two weeks and then you ignore me? After I licked your fucking body? What’s your problem, Zegras?”

“Honey?” Trevor asks, incredulous. He stumbles back into the wall, knocking into the corner of a table and wincing. 

“It was just a dare, you don’t have to act like I have the fucking plague,” Honey continues, her voice hard. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Why weren’t you at the fruit stand?”

Trevor flinches back. “Why weren’t I at the… what?”

“I cannot believe you don’t want to flirt with me after all of that shit you said.” Honey stomps her foot and turns on her heel, slamming the front door behind her.

Trevor is left with his back against the wall, droplets of water falling onto his shoulders and moistening the paper bag in his arms. He looks down into the back and finds raspberries, flour, sugar, eggs, all of the fixings for raspberry tarts. The recipe Honey wrote out is laid to the side of the ingredients, tucked into the folds of the bag.

He’s still in the same position when Cole does come home, and only snaps out of it when the boy pretends to box against his stomach. In retaliation, Trevor drops the groceries on his toes. The boy wore flip flops to the hardware store to carry in shipment. 

He’s far away for the rest of the night, flickering between Honey’s rage when she entered the house for reasons he doesn’t know and the arousal he feels from seeing her right after he had come thinking of her. 

He eventually decides to go see Honey as soon as The Reading Nook opens tomorrow. He doesn’t get it. She hates him, then she’s mad at him for not flirting with her? And not going to the fruit stand? Is he supposed to bake these tarts to win her over?

He does just in case, and Jack laughs at him the whole time.

16:90 – HONEY

Honey is still fuming from the moment she wakes up. She practically throws herself out of bed when her first alarm rings, then speeds to work when she’s finished getting ready for the day. Her knuckles are white against the steering wheel and she thinks she’s mumbling to herself, but she can’t be sure.

She’s not even mad at Trevor, is the thing. She took it out on him last night and he definitely didn’t deserve the yells and the borderline assault from when she threw her grocery bag against his chest, but she’s not mad at him.

No, Honey is furious at herself. 

How she managed to convince herself that Trevor would show up at the fruit stand last night and everything would be like normal, Honey doesn’t know. She should’ve workshopped it with Bea, to be fair, but Bea was busy.

Busy with Quinn, because everything is easy for them.

A fresh round of grumbling falls from Honey’s mouth, a scowl marring her face.

Somehow, Trevor might be the only person that Honey is not mad at right now.

When she got home last night, she had gone over every interaction she and Trevor have had. She wrote down every fact of the matter: he approached her first. he sought her out at the bookstore. he made her carry his beer, and hand it to him, and admitted that he did it on purpose. he bought strawberries for her so that they could bake pastries together. he had pushed Jack up against the wall when he went upstairs with Honey, alone, just for going upstairs with her?

That one was less than a fact, but Bea swears it’s true. 

And the other less-than-facts: that Trevor had seemed just as affected by the whipped cream dare as Honey was.

She’s doubting that more and more with every interaction.

Then, after making her list, Honey had driven over to Bea’s and knocked on the door until Quinn answered it in his boxers, disgruntled and messy like he’d just rolled out of bed. He had, and Honey wasn’t ashamed that she had interrupted them. Good, even– they needed something to come between them. She even locked him out of the bedroom, but Bea allowed him back in after a few minutes.

Quinn had thrown his shirt and pants back on and glared at Honey, sitting on the other side of the room while Honey paced and ranted. Eventually, Bea waved him over and he settled between her legs, laying so his head rested against her stomach. 

Bea had started to pet her fingers through Quinn’s hair, but she stopped when Honey let out a series of insults and swears at the sight. Oh, and things had only gotten worse when Quinn asked Honey what her “fucking problem” was. He had laughed when Bea shushed him and explained that it was about Trevor, which is when they kicked him out for the night.

He slept on the couch until Honey left. Bea definitely rewarded him for his patience afterward. Honey wishes she didn’t know her friend so well.

But now Honey is at The Reading Nook, and it’s a new day. She sweeps the store, even though she swept it on Friday night. She dusts the windowsills, restocks some books, and unlocks the door when Scarlett knocks, knitting in hand.

The woman shuffles past Honey with a hug and a smile and takes her normal seat at the table. They make small talk for a few minutes and Scarlett shows Honey her project– a blue cardigan for her daughter, whose birthday is coming up.

Fuck, so is Bea’s. Honey has to buy her a present.

She’s about to ask Scarlett for her knitting pattern when the door to The Reading Nook swings open and slams against the doorstop.

“I need to talk to you.” Trevor stomps toward Honey, shoving a tupperware into her hands. The door swings shut again behind him, rattling in its frame. 

It’s a mirror image of what happened the night before and Honey abruptly understands the shock that overtook Trevor’s face. It’s the exact expression on her face, and when she looks over, it’s the expression on Scarlett’s face, too.

“I’m at work,” Honey replies, eyes wide. 

“Then I’ll wait for you until you’re done,” Trevor says. He’s staring into Honey’s eyes, overenunciating his words. His jaw clenches, green irises hard and determined. He finds a chair at Scarlett’s table and sits, the tight smile on his face reaching only the edges of his lips. It makes Honey uneasy.

“You don’t have to do that.” Honey plasters the same tight smile on her face and blinks at Trevor. Please, God, don’t do that.

“That’s alright, he can join us,” Scarlett coos, patting a hand against Trevor’s arm. “Hello, darling, I’m Scarlett.”

Trevor quirks his eyebrows at Honey in an ‘I-told-you-so’ sort of motion, then smiles charmingly and introduces himself to Scarlett. He dotes on her cardigan for a moment and she reaches into her bag, finding another set of knitting needles and a skein of yarn for Trevor. Scarlett starts to teach him how to cast-on stitches, and Honey watches on in something akin to horror.

He’s really planning on staying here until I’m ready to talk.

She looks down at the tupperware she’s cradling, the translucent lid revealing a neat pile of pastries. Honey’s mouth drops open and she looks between Trevor and her hands, then to the door. The bell above the door jingles as Sacha and Vera walk in, and Honey watches Vera’s face light up.

“Oh, Bear!” Vera chirps, extending her arms to Trevor.

Trevor lights up and stands, leaving his knitting in a knot on the table to hug the small woman. He kisses her cheek, then pulls out the chair next to him and helps her down. He then extends his hand to Sacha, introducing himself.

“You know, Trevor, Sweetie helped me with my shipment yesterday,” Vera continues, her gaze pointed and disappointed. “Why didn’t you come and help me, too?”

“I…” Trevor trails off, his gaze finding Honey and then snapping back to Vera. “Was busy.”

“Well, in the future, you ought to know that some people might find it rude to not help an old lady,” Vera pouts, digging for her own knitting project.

Trevor chuckles and replies, “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll give my number to Earl next time I come by the hardware store. Your Sweetie will probably break something at the house and he’ll make me fix it.” He finishes his statement with a little wink. 

Honey breathes out a surprised little laugh, involuntary like it was pulled from her throat on a fishing wire. It’s quiet, quiet enough that Honey is the only one who notices, and when she does… she bolts.

She flees to the back room, tossing the tupperware of pastries onto the table with a clatter. She pushes her hair away from her face and takes a deep breath, staring at the ground. A real laugh escapes her this time. Honey feels hysterical.

Trevor is at her place of work. He’s sitting with the founding ladies of Litchton and they’re teaching him how to knit. He has a nickname from Vera and he is going to leave his number at the hardware store for Earl. 

Earl, the grumpiest, most traditional man in Litchton. The man who hasn’t updated his store in forty years because he likes things the way they are is accepting an outsider. Trevor managed to win over Earl.

Honey can’t believe it. She gave them a week, and they’re still here, three weeks into the summer. 

It is pure torture– at first because Trevor was flirting with her even though she didn’t want it, but now because Trevor cannot seem to make up his mind, and she does want it. Honey is confused. Beyond confused, because what the fuck is he doing here and why is her heart beating so fucking fast?

Someone knocks on the doorframe and Honey whirls around. 

Trevor seems smaller here, shoulders hunched. A grimace is half-formed on his face and when he opens his mouth, Honey can’t bear it.

“Don’t,” Honey says. “Please.”

“Honey.” Trevor breathes out, tilting his head, then shaking it from left to right. “I don’t know what you want from me.” He brings his hands up like he’s holding a tray, palms out.

Honey sputters, looking everywhere but at the boy. “I– I want you to leave,” she says, stumbling over her words. “I want you to… to not show up at my work and- and mingle with my customers just for a chance to talk to me.”

Trevor winces and rubs the back of his head, sheepish.

Honey continues before he can say a word. “You had chances to talk to me and you took those,” Honey explains, speaking with her hands. She places her index finger in the center of her outstretched palm and raises an eyebrow at Trevor. “Didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Trevor responds, like it’s obvious. 

Honey motions for him to zip-it when he goes to speak again. She brings her middle finger to the palm of her hand as well, counting off while poking her own hand. “And not only did you reassure me when I put whipped cream on your nipples–” Honey’s voice breaks with disbelief, a laugh that is bubbling up due to the bewilderment of the situation. “– but you also got a little hard when I licked it off of you.”

Trevor’s jaw drops and he flushes. He nods once, shakily, slamming his mouth shut and biting the inside of his lower lip.

“And then, you don’t talk to me and you don’t show up when you’re supposed to,” Honey finishes, grinding her teeth. Her tone is cool and calm, glaring daggers in his direction. “You don’t know what I want from you? How about this: I don’t know what you want from me, Trevor!” 

Trevor fishmouths, shrugging with one shoulder. 

Honey waits, prompting him with a wave of her hand.

“I just need to talk to you,” Trevor relents, his voice low. Honey is shocked by the torment that washes over his features. “I need to understand what you want.”

“I just told you what I want,” Honey says, sass dripping from her words despite the shake of her voice.

Trevor holds a hand up and takes a breath. “I need to understand if you want me to keep flirting with you or if you want me to stop,” he corrects. “Because I don’t get you.”

“You don’t get me,” Honey repeats.

“You act like you’re not interested and you couldn’t care less, then you tuck your little fingers in my waistband and run your tongue all over my body,” Trevor exclaims. “That’s confusing!”

“More confusing than constantly seeking me out, then dropping me in an instant?” 

“It’s not a competition,” Trevor hisses. He pauses and his eyes dart around the room, before finally returning to Honey. He shrugs and his voice goes from biting to embarrassed, a shy admittance. “I baked for you… twice.”

He pouts a little bit and Honey almost collapses into one of the chairs at the table. He’s precious. He’s just a boy. 

She catches herself and presses a hand over her eyes. “Oh my God,” she laughs. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” Trevor asks, alarm ringing in his eyes. He repeats it, searching Honey’s face. “Can’t do what?”

Honey gestures between them. “This,” she says. “I don’t want something… confusing and hard and– and annoying.” 

It’s a weak insult and Trevor is unimpressed. Honey can tell from his look.

“If I’m going to do… this,” Honey pauses for emphasis, waving her fingers in a circle, trying to grasp something that isn’t there. The wave turns into a rapid brush shooing Trevor away when he steps forward, words on the tip of his tongue. “It can’t be hard, Trevor.”

“Well, I’m gonna be hard,” Trevor mumbles, shrugging.

“Are you trying to kid around with me right now?” Honey asks, incredulous. She feels suddenly calm, suddenly murderous at the idea that Trevor can laugh and think to joke in this very serious moment. “Was that a joke?”

Trevor seals his lips shut and clasps his hands in front of him. 

“Good choice,” Honey praises sarcastically. She grinds her teeth before speaking again. “You could not be more wrong for me, Trevor. That’s what I’ve decided.” Her voice shakes. “I want you to leave.”

“I don’t think you do,” Trevor erupts, his eyes flooded with doubt. “You wanted something that night and it scared you and I don’t think that it has anything to do with me.”

Honey stands tall. “You’re wrong,” she lies.

Trevor steps forward.

Honey steps back.

Trevor’s voice is nearly a whisper now, as sincere and genuine as Honey has ever heard it. He’s unblinking as he takes another step forward and says, “I have never wanted anyone the way I want you. It scares me, too.”

Honey clears her throat and looks away. “I’m not scared.”

Trevor hums, disapproving. 

There’s not much more room behind Honey. She can’t back any farther away from him, and he’s blocking the exit.

“Trevor,” Honey warns.

He comes to a stop right in front of her. He taps his foot, staring at Honey. “Do you want me to stop flirting with you?”

“Yes,” Honey declares, pinching her lips together. She looks past Trevor to the door, unable to find his eyes and see what they hold.

Trevor huffs out a little laugh and brings a knuckle to Honey’s chin, the contact electrifying.

She’s forced to look up into his eyes. She suffers at the sight of the quirk of his lips. 

“Do you want me to stop flirting with you?” Trevor repeats.

Honey finds herself pausing, hesitating. She more so sees his lips move than hears the words leave his mouth. She blinks.

“Yes.” Honey’s breath catches in her throat, but she holds her chin up in defiance, away from his hand.

It drops to his side. Trevor hums again, lighter this time, almost inquisitive. Pondering.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I don’t believe you.”

He turns and leaves the room, leaves Honey shaking with her back pressed against the counter. 

When she gets it together and returns to the main store, ready to wait for Bea by the door, Honey finds Trevor seated with the knitters. His eyes meet hers and he offers her a little smirk.

Honey returns to the back room. When Bea finds her an hour later, Honey stutters out a goodbye and a worthless explanation before shoving past her best friend and running out of The Reading Nook. She doesn’t dare take another look behind her.

17:90 – TREVOR

The puck hits the boards with an angry clatter. Trevor misses another shot, just going wide. He curses to himself, watching it fly awry from the second the puck leaves his stick.

Quinn pushes into him, hip checking Trevor and causing him to stumble. He doesn’t go flying, but Quinn does manage to make him fall, and he laughs at Trevor as he skates away. 

Trevor curses again, pounding his fist against the ice. He’s been off for weeks and it’s not getting better. He can’t blame it on his injury, since that healed before the season even ended. He can’t blame it on the other guys, because he’s been playing with them almost seamlessly for years. He can’t blame anything but the truth– that he’s distracted because of Honey. 

He likes her too much. He hasn’t been able to get her off his mind since their conversation yesterday, or maybe the day before that when he got off to the thought of her… or maybe last week when he felt so consumed by the tension between them that he almost exploded on the spot. Well, maybe since the first day that he bumped into her at the fruit stand and decided to go back to introduce himself.

Yeah. He’s distracted because he hasn’t stopped thinking about Honey since the moment he met her. 

Seeing her gaze grow dreamy when she looked down at his lips… Trevor was sold. It was an unconscious reaction, so unconscious that he doesn’t even think it registered in her mind. He read through the lie as soon as it left Honey’s mouth the first time, but the tiny poke of her tongue licking her lips before she spoke the second time cemented its falsity in stone. He snapped.

“Fuck you, Quinn,” Trevor shouts, picking himself up but leaving his stick and gloves behind. He lifts his helmet and places it on the ground.

Quinn spins around and skates backwards, shedding his own gear quickly. He loops around behind Trevor, but Trevor turns around to face him. 

“Stop.” Luke skates between them and puts his hands out in front of Trevor, pushing his chest back. He feels behind him for Quinn, fisting his jersey when he catches him. He’s looking between the two boys wildly, trying to capture their eyes. “What’s going on?”

Trevor catches Luke’s gaze for a millisecond and Luke leans in, studying him. He pulls back, and comes to a sharp stop. 

“Oh my God,” Luke breathes, pushing Quinn back into the boards. He drops his hand and faces Trevor, squishing Quinn. He raises his voice. “Trevor fucked Bea!”

“What?” Trevor exclaims, stepping back in surprise. “No, I didn’t!”

Cole skates up and grabs Trevor’s arm, stopping behind him. “You did what?”

“You did what?” Quinn demands at the same time, reaching for Trevor and nearly catching his hair. He’s turned murderous, lunging farther around Luke than before.

Jack approaches leisurely, but turns to crash into Quinn back-first. He creates further space between the boys, back to back with Luke. He stops Quinn, forcing him to skate backwards. “No shit,” Jack bites back with a smile. He’s laughing a little bit. “So that’s why you’ve been ragging on Trevor so much. He fucked your girl.”

“Don’t fucking talk about Bea,” Quinn argues. 

Jack rolls his eyes and knocks Quinn’s helmet back, covering his face with his red glove. “Dude. She told you that she’s sleeping with everyone.”

Quinn pulls back. “How do you know that?” He asks, stunned. 

“She told me,” Jack replies, tsking at the boy. He scoffs. “Quinn, she told you,” he says again.

“She’s sleeping with everyone?” Cole interjects, and he sounds just as clueless as Trevor feels. 

“When did Bea have the time to tell you that she’s sleeping with everyone?” Quinn asks, his focus only on Jack now.

The brothers stare at each other. Quinn searches Jack’s face for information and his own face grows stony. 

“Bea and I talk,” Jack says coyly, then his expression loses its cockiness when Quinn’s fists enclose on the collar of his jersey.

“This isn’t about Bea.” Trevor shakes his head, wanting to escape the scruffle. Cole holds onto him for a second longer before he slips away. “Quinn just needs to stop messing with me.”

Quinn smirks at Trevor for a split second before turning his attention back to his younger brother. 

Trevor loses his head at the sight of that and speeds off the ice, not bothering to shower before leaving the locker room. He takes off in the car, leaving the guys and the gear behind.

He drives to the rental house in a frenzy, stopping in the driveway and taking a breath. It feels like the first one he’s sucked in since getting behind the wheel. 

He reaches into his phone and dials a number, knowing it by heart. He raises a shaky hand to his ear, counting the rings. 

Jamie picks up on the fourth. “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?”

“I need you to fly out to Litchton, North Carolina right now.”

Jamie coughs, a question stuttering his breaths. “Where?”

Trevor shakes his head. Duh, he didn’t tell Jamie where he was. He’s not going to see him until the season. Jamie’s in Philly now. “Fly to Winston-Salem,” he explains. It’s the closest airport to Litchton, he’s learned. Earl told him the other day. 

“Again, where?” Jamie repeats. 

Trevor rolls his eyes. He thinks. “Fine, fly into Charlotte. I’ll drive down and get you tomorrow.”

Jamie is silent on the other end. 

“Please, Jim, I need an ally,” Trevor begs. “The guys are killing me here.”

Jamie speaks after another moment of hesitation. “Okay. What time do you want me to come down?”

“Early,” Trevor says. “As early as you can.”

“Z, that’s not realistic,” Jamie tells him and Trevor can practically hear the roll of his eyes through the phone. “I have to pack and shit, and I have practice in the morning.”

“I will pay for your flight,” Trevor announces, cutting him off. “I don’t care. You can have the most expensive, bougiest flight and I will pay for it as long as you get here as fast as you can.”

Jamie sighs, taking in a deep breath. “Fine, Trev. Find me a flight and I’ll be on the way.”

“I’ll text you,” Trevor says as a goodbye and hangs up. 

He’s still sitting in the driveway of the rental house, but he thinks he’s got time before the other boys make it home. The usual setup for practices on the ice was that Trevor drove to Charlotte alone with the gear and Quinn drove all of the other boys in the car, but now Quinn has to figure out some way to pack the gear in the vehicle and still have room for the boys. With Luke’s lanky legs, he doesn’t stand a chance.

Trevor can’t believe that Luke assumed he hooked up with Bea. Isn’t it obvious that he couldn’t care less about the girl? Sure, he has her phone number, but he only got that when he was trying to get insider knowledge about Honey. 

He thought the boys knew that he wanted Honey, with how often they’ve been teasing him. Now that he thinks about it, the only one who’s been messing with him more often is Quinn. Even the shifts they seemed to be taking could just be coincidence.

Trevor suddenly realizes that he had too much faith in his friends. They’re not doing anything on purpose. They’re all idiots who think with their dicks.

So is he, most of the time, but that’s neither here nor there. He wasn’t thinking with his dick when he went to The Reading Nook yesterday. How could he have been– he told Honey exactly how he felt. He could’ve made a pass at her, could’ve just flirted with her until she was taken by his charm, but no. Trevor took a risk and for the first time in his life, told a girl just how badly he wants her. He told her how badly it scares him.

Honey had rejected the notion, but she couldn’t have been clearer about what she really wanted. She wouldn’t even look at him at first, trying to stay strong, but when Trevor tilted her chin up and she met him halfway, it all clicked.

Honey had been trying to run away from her feelings for a long time. When they showed up right in front of her– no, when Trevor appeared right in front of her, she felt that same indescribable pull that Trevor felt for her. 

They’re drawn together and while Trevor has accepted it, Honey is still fighting it. 

He’s going to keep flirting with her. He’s going to make it happen. Honey wants him, he knows that she does. He really hopes that she does.

Trevor searches for a plane ticket and buys the first one he sees– a flight that arrives in Charlotte around midday tomorrow. Jamie will just have to get to the airport by 9:30 if he wants to board on time. Maybe he can leave practice early. 

He purchases a window seat for the boy, a first class ticket to make up for the short notice and to properly portray his desperation. He sends the ticket to Jamie and the boy responds with a simple thumbs-up. 

The least Jamie could do is give Trevor a better thank you for the $400 ticket than a thumbs up, but Trevor decides he’s not going to press the issue. Jamie is doing him a favor, coming up and hanging with him for a few days. It will be good. It’ll be fun.

Trevor finally enters the house and showers, planning to hole himself up in his room for the rest of the day.

Mid-evening, Jack knocks on his door.

“Z, I got you dinner,” Jack calls. “Let me in.”

“It’s unlocked,” Trevor replies, scrolling on his phone in his bed. 

Jack cracks the door open, slipping inside. He’s got a plate in one hand and he closes the door quietly behind him. He hands the plate off to Trevor, who sat up to greet him, and then flops on the bed and pulls out his own phone.

Trevor takes in the meal– a home cooked steak, potatoes, and asparagus meal that Quinn likely whipped up when they got back.

“How’d you get back from Charlotte?” Trevor asks, spearing the asparagus and bringing it to his mouth. 

“Quinn rented a U-Haul,” Jack replies. “The little one. He attached it to the tailgate and threw all the gear in there. He also wanted me to ride in there, but Luke managed to convince him that I’d die due to the fumes. He said it was like a gas chamber and that Mom and Dad would be mad if Quinn killed me.”

Jack shrugs as if he didn’t just say one of the weirdest sentences Trevor has ever heard. It’s par for the course with the Hughes boys– these weird stories. They’re close, but they butt heads all the time, and they always need to think of new and creative ways to get under each others’ skin. Jack seems to have found something that makes Quinn furious.

“What did you do to Quinn to make him so mad?” 

“Same thing you did,” Jack scoffs. “I made a move on Bea.”

Trevor chokes on a potato, taken aback. “I didn’t make a move on Bea,” he denies. “When the fuck did you make a move on Bea?”

“At the lake, dude.” Jack pats Trevor on the back as he coughs. “Did you really not notice?”

“No,” Trevor replies.

“Huh.” Jack frowns. “I guess that makes sense. It was when you were driving and Quinn was surfing. I asked her what was going on between her and Quinn, and she said they were just hooking up and it wasn’t a ‘super serious, committed thing.’” Jack uses air-quotes, raising his voice to mimic Bea’s. He drops his hands. “And I thought that was it, but then Honey jumped in and told me that Bea wanted to have a ‘Slut Summer’ and we were all her victims.”

Trevor makes a face. “What?” He’s more surprised that Honey called Bea a slut with the girl right next to her than the fact that Bea wants to hook up with everyone in the house. 

No, thanks. Trevor is not interested in hooking up with Bea. 

She’s too loud, too comfortable with them. She’s not a challenge. Trevor wants a challenge– the challenge that Honey is giving him– because the reward will be so much sweeter. Trevor already feels a warmth in his chest at the mere idea of Honey cuddling up to him on the couch in front of the other guys– he can’t imagine how he’ll feel when it actually happens. He’ll probably have a nice tent in his pants from just her head on his shoulder, or her fingers intertwining with his own.

God, he feels like a virgin with their first girlfriend. Everything is new and exciting and each touch, no matter how innocent, makes him think of how great their chemistry will be in bed.

Oh my God, shut up, Trevor thinks to himself, adjusting his position so that Jack doesn’t notice his arousal. It’s barely a semi. It’s fine. Just stop thinking about Honey.

“Yeah, she wants to hook up with everyone in the house,” Jack continues. “She said that dating in Litchton sucks and when a bunch of eligible bachelors showed up, she knew it was her chance to have a really fun summer.”

“So you hooked up?”

“No, not yet. Next time we hang out, I think. I told her that my bed’s always open, that it’s bigger than Quinn’s, and that I have my own room. Did you know they’ve been kicking Luke out every time she sleeps over?” Jack asks, bouncing to face Trevor like it’s the juiciest piece of gossip in the world. “He’s been sleeping in the bunk beds in that spare room. I think he’s a top bunker, too, even though he’s the only one in there.”

“Well, he’ll be sharing with Jamie if Quinn kicks him out this week,” Trevor acknowledges, rolling his eyes. He forks a piece of steak and brings it to his mouth.

“Drysdale is coming?” Jack asks, sounding surprised. His upper lip curls briefly. “Why?”

Trevor glares at Jack from his peripheral. “Dude, fuck off. I don’t get why you don’t like him.”

“He’s so shy,” Jack complains. “He’s worse than Luke.”

“He’s not that shy, you’re just a dick to him because he’s quiet,” Trevor argues. “Plus, you’re being a dick to everyone lately and I need an ally.”

“Yeah, ally is right, because you’re fucking gay for each other,” Jack laughs, chirping. He raises his palms in surrender, standing and backing away from Trevor towards the door. He’s still got a shit-eating grin on his face. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Happy pride month and all, Trev. I’m just saying that Bea’s going to be very disappointed that two of her potential hookups are off the market ‘cause they’re in love with each other.”

“Dude,” Trevor scoffs, pissed off. “Get the fuck out of my room.”

Jack laughs and slips out of the room. As soon as he closes the door, Trevor hears him shout: “Trevor’s boyfriend is coming to visit! Everyone dig out your best clothes! It’s a special occasion!”

Not for the first time this summer, Trevor considers wringing Jack’s neck. He’ll be surprised if he makes it to preseason without killing Jack and burying him in bumfuck, Litchton, North Carolina. They’ll never find his body.

18:90 – HONEY

“Honey, come look at this book,” Bea calls from within the stacks. She’s in charge of their newest shipment of books and she’s been complaining all day about how they should just organize the stacks based on “how recently they got the damn thing,” so Honey is itching to hear something from Bea that isn’t a complaint. 

She hops down from her stool behind the cash register and follows Bea’s voice, toward the ‘K-L’ stacks.

“What’s up?” Honey asks, rounding the corner.

Bea holds up a deep blue paperback book, its cover illustrated with holographic and shimmering lines that reveal a few images: twins, a centaur shooting a bow and arrow, a scorpion, a jar pouring out water. She shakes it and the images twinkle at Honey.

“That’s gorgeous,” Honey says, reaching out to take the book. 

Bea snatches it back. “Aht,” she corrects, smacking Honey’s hand with the cover. “Not for you.” She takes a circular orange sticker and applies it to the spine, marking the book as Non-Fiction.

Honey makes a face. “Then why did you call me over here?”

“I just thought it was pretty,” Bea explains, her voice pitching upward. She shrugs one of her shoulders and shakes her head, her eyes widening then returning to normal size. 

Honey knows all of Bea’s tells by now.

“What else?” Honey sighs, rubbing a hand over her face. Bea can never hide when she’s up to trouble. 

Bea shelves the book, standing up on her tippy-toes to do so. She brushes her hands against each other when she finishes, turning to face Honey.

“I was talking to someone last night and he’s looking for a book,” Bea introduces, her voice slow. She tilts her head down with an eyebrow raised and Honey steps back, unimpressed. She sets her jaw.

“And I’m a little busy tonight, so I can’t bring the book over myself.” Bea pulls her lips back in a wary smile. “But I told him that you could bring it over instead.”

Honey doesn’t react. She’s reminded of Edward Tronick’s still-face experiment and hopes that Bea will become just as uncomfortable as those babies did when their mothers didn’t react to their behavior.

Bea is unperturbed.

“Anyway, I thought that would be the perfect book for him. Can you bring it over after we close?”

“Why can’t you?” Honey asks, voice devoid of any emotion. “What’s your big plan?”

“Well, Quinn is concerned that I slept with Trevor.” Bea clasps her hands together like a cheerleader. “And I didn’t, nor do I have any interest in doing so… so I’m making Quinn dinner.”

“Are you dating yet?” Honey asks, meaning for her insult to come out as less of an actual question, but she fails.

Bea shakes her head, her ponytail flopping around behind her. “Mm-mm. We’re having fun. I actually have to tell him that I’m going to take his brother out for a ride this weekend.” 

“Why the sudden switch-up?” Honey asks, grabbing another new book from Bea’s stack and marking it with a yellow sticker– YA Fiction. 

“No reason, I’ve just been spending a lot of time with Quinn and I need to make moves,” Bea expresses, taking the book from Honey and shelving it. They do the same thing with the next book, and the next, working in tandem. “I have to fuck all the guys and we’re, like, a fifth of the way through the summer and I’ve only fucked one. It’s time to move along.”

“But you like Quinn,” Honey argues, not understanding. “If you like him, why not just stick with him?”

“Of course I like Quinn, he’s perfect,” Bea replies. “But I made a goal for the summer and I revealed it to him and Jack. It’s out now. I don’t expect Jack to keep his mouth shut. I’d look like a chump if I only fucked Quinn after setting my sights so high.”

“Maybe Quinn would just look like a really good lay,” Honey says. 

“Ugh, and he is,” Bea sighs dreamily, like she’s reminiscing. She presses a hand over her heart and smiles, then pats her chest to bring her out of her thoughts. “Which is why I’m cooking him dinner tonight.”

Honey rolls her eyes and shakes her head. 

Bea smiles, smug and sweet, then picks up her box of books. She only has about twenty more to shelve, but they’re all in different rows. “So?” She prompts.

“So, what?”

“Can you take that book to Trevor?” Bea looks at Honey expectantly. 

“I can.” Honey puts emphasis on the word like a teacher trying to correct her students’ grammar. “I don’t want to, but technically, I am able to.”

“Good!” Bea exclaims. “That’s a relief. I was worried I’d have to send it back with Quinn.” She starts to walk off, briskly.

“Wait a second, why don’t you send it back with Quinn?” Honey demands, stomping after Bea.

“He’s very angry with Trevor at the moment,” Bea says lightly, choosing her words carefully. “There’s a chance he’ll hurl the book at Trevor’s head and then burn it while Trevor watches.” She reaches up and itches the tip of her nose. After another pause, she speaks. “They’re at a point of contention right now.”

Honey stares at Bea, perplexed and disbelieving. She blinks slowly, taking in the words. “I didn’t realize we were going to have the most dramatic summer of our lives when they drove into town.”

Bea clicks her tongue, nodding with pursed lips. “They’re very dramatic.”

The girls stand in silence for a moment longer and Bea presses her lips together awkwardly. 

“Well, thanks for bringing the book over.” She winks at Honey. “I think it’ll be nice. It’s by Kerod, by the way.”

Honey shakes her head and fixes Bea with a glare, retreating to the stack to find the book with the gorgeous cover. Bea giggles a little as she walks away and Honey resents her for it.

She hasn’t told Bea about what went down on Tuesday, but the memory pops into her mind and brings a furious red blush with it at least four times a day. She has been avoiding the back room like it’s the origin point of the apocalypse, just because she can’t stand how easily Trevor saw through her. She ran away then, and she still wants to run away now. If she’s lucky, Jack will answer the door and she can hand him the book and stalk away. Trevor will be none the wiser.

Honey traces her finger over the blue spine, feeling the silver lines swirl underneath her fingers. She pulls the book out and reads the title: ‘Tales of the Night Sky: Revealing the Mythologies and Folklore Behind Constellations.’

Oh, hell, Trevor’s going to love it.

Honey dreads seeing him. but she can’t imagine allowing anyone else to see the grand smile that’s going to overtake his face at the sight of the book. He’s going to be so excited and Honey doesn’t want Bea to be the one to receive that smile. No, it’s hers. She’s the only one who can make Trevor smile like that.

What? No, she’s not.

Honey cringes at the thought, shivering in disgust at her own imagination. She meant what she said the other day: Trevor couldn’t be more wrong for her.

He’s a West Coast boy, even if he’s from New York originally. He’s a traveler, an athlete. He’s got an attitude like he’s hot shit and he knows it, and even if she’s seen softer moments from him, she knows in her gut that he’s the kind to ditch a girl after getting in her pants. 

So what if he matches her wit? So what if he is blatantly obvious about his flirting? So what if he says he’s never wanted anyone as much as he wants Honey?

He could be lying. He’s a boy in his twenties. He’s just thinking with his dick, looking to say anything right to get Honey into his bed. She’s not going to fall for it, even if he’s pretty and passionate about the things that he likes. He even cares deeply for his friends, especially when they annoy him. 

Honey runs her fingers over the illustration of the fish on the cover. She bites the inside of her cheek, then slaps the back cover of the book against her other hand in a satisfying clap. She returns to the counter and picks up her own book, removing her bookmark and assuming her post. 

There’s about an hour until The Reading Nook officially closes. Bea starts on their chores as soon as she finishes stocking the new books, leaving Honey to man the entire store in case someone walks in. They won’t, because they never do. 

Honey finishes her book with twenty minutes to go and decides that that’s not enough time to find another and take it home with her.

The cover of the constellations book tempts her.

She stares at it, and the silver illustrations stare back. Honey frowns at the book, annoyed at her own interest. How dare Trevor like something as interesting as astronomy.

Finally, Honey relents. She picks up the book and turns to the introduction, her eyes raking over the page. 

“When you go stargazing on a clear, dark night, the star-studded heavens form a vast, dark dome over your head. It is the same everywhere on Earth.”

Honey blinks and hums to herself, adjusting atop her stool. She might have to borrow this book after Trevor is done with it, if the rest of the writing is as captivating as the first two sentences. She buries herself back in the pages, getting all the way through the introductory scientific sections. 

When Bea comes out of the back carrying Honey’s bag and sweatshirt, Honey is almost upset that she couldn’t start the section about constellations and the Zodiac. She’s been meaning to learn more about astrology lately, and this book is just interesting enough that she nearly forgot it was Non-Fiction. 

The girls walk out together, making their way down the sidewalk as the sun finally fades behind the mountains in the distance. When they reach the point where they have to say goodbye, Bea reaches out and squeezes Honey’s hand.

“Thank you,” Bea says sincerely.

“You owe me,” Honey replies. She squeezes Bea’s hand back. “Enjoy your very late dinner.”

“I owe you so big,” Bea confirms, leaning in to plant a kiss on Honey’s cheek. 

Honey watches her go for an extra moment, seeing her approach a car in the dark. Under the streetlight, Quinn leans against the driver’s side door, a smile curving his lips as Bea skips over to him. He connects with Bea in a sweet hug, lifting his chin so it rests on the crown of her head. He lifts a hand to wave at Honey, letting it hover before it falls back on Bea’s shoulder.

Honey smiles, waving back in the same way. She takes the sight in for a second– her best friend bouncing over to a guy and wiggling her way into his space. Quinn’s a quiet, generally grumpy guy from what Honey has seen, but he’s soft and comfortable when he’s around Bea.

The smile fades into a slight frown after a moment, and Honey turns away. She’s forlorn suddenly, hit by the desire to have someone act like that with her. She wishes someone was waiting for her by the car, that someone was holding her like she’s something precious. Honey shakes her head, willing the feeling away.

She unlocks her car and climbs behind the wheel, pulling out of her spot and driving down the mountain, almost missing the boys’ driveway in the dark. She pulls up to the wooden front door, knocking on the surface a few times. 

Honey chews her bottom lip as she waits for someone to come answer the door. She taps nervously on the front cover of the book, listening for the approaching footsteps of someone on the other side. 

Please, don’t be Trevor.

Then, fuck. Please be Trevor.

It’s not Trevor when the door swings open, and Honey is ashamed to admit that she’s a little disappointed. She also feels a wave of relief wash over her at the sight of the other boy. She catches a glimpse of dark hair and sighs, thinking it’s Jack.

At a second look, Honey blinks to make sure she’s seeing things right. There’s the foyer, all covered in wood and terribly designed. There’s the chandelier of antlers, hanging above his head. 

The man, however, Honey has never seen in her entire life.

He’s got a square face. Honey’s eyes are drawn to his jaw immediately, the curve of it sharp and flat, further embellished by the dusting of dark stubble on his face. His hair flops over his forehead in dark waves, parted messily just off-center. She can’t tell the color of his eyes, but his dark eyebrows are just as strong as his jaw and his mouth tilts down a little bit, even though he’s plastering a polite smile on his face. He’s wearing a plain gray sweatshirt with the hood above his head, and one of the strings is longer than the other.

Honey feels a bit like she’s forgotten to breathe. Who the fuck is this guy?

“Hi,” Honey breathes out, caught off guard. 

“How can I help you?” The man asks.

His voice is higher than she expected, but it’s cute. He’s cute.

“I’m, uh, dropping a book off for Z,” Honey says, her voice higher than normal. She clears her throat and forces a smile on her face to rectify her stunned, probably obviously stupid, expression. She used Trevor’s nickname. Why is she so much unsteadier than normal?

She blames it on Quinn and Bea.

The man looks Honey up and down and his smile turns sweeter. She damn near blushes. “You’re here for Z?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Honey shakes her head. “Not really, just… dropping off the book.” She fumbles with the paperback. She shoves it into the man’s hands, pausing when his fingers brush over hers. He holds them there for a second longer, just long enough for Honey to look down at the point of contact, smiling knowingly when she looks back up at him.

“I’ll give it to him.” He nods at her, his eyes soft and genuine. “Have a good night.”

“You, too,” Honey replies, standing there for a moment. The boy starts to close the door and gives her a little look when she doesn’t step away. They make eye contact and Honey opens her mouth to say something, but she’s cut off by another voice, one that’s growing closer with each syllable.

“Jim, who was it?” Trevor calls.

Honey’s eyes widen and she turns to her car, practically jumping in the vehicle and speeding away. 

Nope. No Trevor for her tonight.

If she’s acting awestruck by some pretty boy she’s never seen before, she doesn’t even want to know how she’d act around the infuriating boy who “has never wanted anyone as much as he wants her.” She just can’t do it.

19:90 – TREVOR

Things are looking up. The reasons are threefold. One, that Trevor’s best friend is in town, staying in the house with him and his other best friends. Two, that Quinn had dinner with Bea last night and no longer wants to kill Trevor. Three, that he has a new book to read and it’s cool. 

It’s a short book, something that would take him less than a day if he had all the time in the world, but between workouts and hanging out with his friends, it’ll probably take him a week or so to finish it. He’s eager to read more, having finished the introduction last night. The book is clear without dumbing down any of the information and Trevor feels like a real astronomer. 

He wants to cancel their plans tonight and just sit on his balcony and search for each constellation he reads about, but he’s looking forward to tonight. He hasn’t seen Honey since Tuesday, three full days, and he can’t wait to introduce her to Jamie. 

He’s been debating telling Jamie the whole deal about Honey– about how Trevor had to go back and talk to her after he met her, about how she terrorized him on the pool table and overjoyed the goons by making him do a Zulu Run, how she decimated Jack in one breath, how she and Trevor have this indescribable, insurmountable tension between them, and how much he likes her…

…but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so. 

Instead, when Quinn left the night before, Jack launched into planner mode. He stole Trevor’s phone and texted Bea about coming over for beer night and bringing Honey with her. Jamie had asked about the girls and Jack assured him that he would meet them soon enough and not to worry about it.

Trevor understands why Jamie gets quiet around Jack when the boy says dismissive replies like that.

After Jack’s impromptu planning session, Jamie had gone to bed, and Trevor had lost his chance.

Then, this morning, he and Jamie had played a little roller-hockey in the rink, and they were having too much fun laughing to talk about Honey at all. 

Then, Jamie had gone upstairs for a shower and a nap and Trevor read his book.

Other than that, they haven’t really been alone. Someone is always in the room with them, whether it be Quinn making himself a sandwich for lunch, Cole and Luke running a game of ping pong in the basement, or Jack recruiting Trevor to run to the store with him to buy more liquor and “beer night supplies.”

Trevor suspects that Jack might have an ulterior motive for the evening.

Now, it’s past dinnertime, and Jack’s only just putting a frozen pizza in the oven. He’s got a big, fluffy oven mitt on his hand, and Luke can’t stop taking pictures to send to their Mom. Jack’s hair is back in a baseball cap and he’s shirtless. He claims he was out back tanning before Trevor came downstairs, but Trevor doesn’t believe him.

No, Jack is shirtless so that he can draw Bea’s eyes when she walks through the door. What a slut.

Jack, that is, not Bea. 

The girls are a few minutes away, as per Bea’s text on Trevor’s phone, when Jamie patters down the stairs. He’s wearing an old Flyers t-shirt, something he probably got from a teammate when he was traded there. 

Jamie approaches Trevor in the kitchen, sliding onto the stool next to him, and Trevor goes to wipe the logo off of his shirt. The attempts are futile, obviously, but Jamie gets the message.

“Hey, the girls coming tonight,” Jamie begins. “Are they the same girls you guys were talking about?”

Trevor shrugs. “Yeah, we don’t really know anyone else in town. I’m not even sure there’s anyone else our age in town.”

Jamie nods, a thoughtful look on his face. “Is one of them the girl that dropped off your book last night?”

Trevor laughs. “Yeah, that was Bea. She’s the one who’s hooking up with all the guys.”

Surprise causes Jamie’s lips to part, blinking like he’s taken aback. “Her?” He furrows his eyebrows. “I thought Quinn was going to meet Bea last night.”

“Oh, yeah,” Trevor remembers. “He was.”

Trevor pauses, his features knitted in confusion. Bea wouldn’t have had the time to drive all the way down to the house, especially since Quinn had left to go into town right as her shift ended. She was cooking him dinner and, Trevor had assumed, talking to him about the hookup situation. It wouldn’t have made sense for Bea to drop off the book and then go all the way back to her place with Quinn.

“I guess Honey must have dropped the book off last night,” Trevor realizes quietly, speaking more to think aloud to himself rather than to explain the event to Jamie. Honey was here and he didn’t even realize?

“Honey,” Jamie repeats, feeling the name out.

Trevor nods. “Yeah, I meant to tell you about her. She’s a townie and she’s really great. I think I’m going to–”

He’s cut off by the sound of the front door banging open and Bea tumbling through it. Honey follows behind her, swinging her keys around her finger and giggling when Bea trips over her own foot.

“Bambi,” Honey chides, looping her arm around Bea’s and walking with her to the kitchen. “Still can’t walk after last night?”

“I missed a step,” Bea complains. She turns to the boys in the kitchen. “I swear.”

“Whatever you say, Bambi,” Trevor replies, teasing the girl. 

“Hey,” Honey says, her voice soft. 

Trevor’s back straightens and his eyes light up, turning to face his girl and greet her, but when he looks at her, Honey is already looking at Jamie.

“Hey,” Jamie parrots back. He holds eye contact with Honey for a second too long and Trevor starts to frown. Then, his eyes turn toward Bea and Jamie sticks his hand out. “I’m Jamie.”

Bea takes his hand and shakes it, surveying him. “I’m Bea.” She wets her lips. “This is Honey.”

“We met,” Jamie replies, looking over to Honey again. 

Trevor doesn’t like how he takes her in from head to toe. He especially doesn’t like how Honey bites back a smile and looks away from the dark-haired boy. Her eyes meet Trevor’s for a second and they grow wide before she drops her gaze completely.

Trevor’s seen that look before– it’s the same deer in headlights look that Jack adopted when Quinn walked in on him talking to Cole about Bea this morning.

Honey turns to Bea and nods. “Yeah, Jamie answered the door when I dropped that book off last night.”

There’s the confirmation that Trevor needed– so it was Honey at the door last night. He wishes he could go back in time and hop up from the couch before Jamie did so that he could answer the door himself. 

“The rest of the guys are downstairs,” Trevor says, changing the subject and hopping up from his stool. He starts to gesture towards the stairs, his hand hovering above Honey’s side but not quite touching her. “Jack planned a spectacular party for you girls.”

“Oh, God,” Bea laughs, taking a step towards the steps. “Here I was, thinking this was just another beer night at the boys’ house. I would’ve dressed up if I knew it was a party.”

Honey presses her lips together for a split second, then grins at Bea. Her tone is playful and teasing, but still biting. “I don’t think it matters what you wear, Bea.”

Bea pulls back with an inquisitive quirk of her eyebrows. “Why not? I’m allowed to look nice.”

“It all looks the same on the floor, wouldn’t you agree?”

Trevor’s jaw drops open and he laughs, catching himself off guard with the sound. “Holy fuck, Honey.”

Honey shrugs. “It’s true.”

“You can’t just say shit like that–”

“I mean, she’s right,” Bea agrees, interrupting Trevor and grinning like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “It all ends in a pile anyway.”

Jamie snickers, standing partially behind Trevor. 

Trevor loathes the way Honey looks past him to smile at the quiet boy. He presses his fingertips into the small of Honey’s back, guiding her towards the basement. Ha. Suck on that, Jamie. I’m touching Honey and you’re not.

Honey pulls away from his touch and shoots him a sharp look. She shakes her head minutely, making a face at Trevor. It stuns him, and when she bounds down the stairs after Bea, Jamie bumps into the stationary boy with an “oof.”

“Dude,” Jamie complains.

“What happened last night?” Trevor asks. “When you answered the door and picked up my book?”

“Nothing.” Jamie shrugs. “Honey and I talked for like two seconds, I took the book from her, and then you came to check on me, and she left.”

“Huh,” Trevor replies. Why didn’t she want to see me?

“She’s cute,” Jamie says, sounding far away.

Trevor whirls around to face him. Jamie’s got this distant smile on his face, eyes looking down the stairs where the girls disappeared. 

“I know,” Trevor states. He stares at Jamie, frowning a little. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees. He meets Trevor’s eyes and grins. “Wanna go party?”

Trevor relaxes a little. It’s hard to be suspicious of Jamie, since the kid is so happy all the time. It’s fine if he thinks Honey is cute. Trevor and Honey already have something going on and that isn’t just going to change because Jamie is here. Trevor’s going to continue flirting with the girl, going to keep trying to win her over. Jamie’s presence is a comfort to him, not a threat to his flirtationship with Honey.

Right.

With a deep breath, Trevor and Jamie make their way down the stairs. Jamie heads to the couch, striking up a conversation with Luke about the movie on the big TV. Cole is tossing a football up and down, laying on the loveseat with his feet dangling over the edge. Jack and Quinn are playing pool, and Honey and Bea are sitting on the stools giggling with each other. 

Trevor wanders over and catches the tail end of what Bea’s saying, a snide remark about one of the shots that Quinn took. 

“I’d like to see you do better,” Quinn replies, looking unimpressed. He holds the cue out towards Bea, but she waves him off.

“I’m okay watching, actually.” 

Trevor leans on the windowsill behind Honey, one of his arms resting on the edge of her stool. “Why don’t you show him how it’s done?” He asks, tilting his chin up at Honey in a little nod.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “I’m okay.”

Trevor shrugs in assent, not pressing the matter. “How was your day?”

Honey pauses and shares a glance with Bea. “It was good. How was yours?”

“Better now that I’m seeing you,” Trevor bites back with his most charming grin.

Honey raises her eyebrows in surprise and chuckles out of the side of her mouth. She opens her mouth to say something, cut back with a snarky remark like she always does, but it never comes.

Jack sinks the 8-ball with an interrupting clink and cheers, whooping in a circle around Quinn. 

Quinn glares at him, reracking his stick. He snatches the stick out of Jack’s hand and adds it to the line of cues. 

“Sore loser,” Jack teases, playing with fire.

“Sore winner,” Quinn replies, his face dark. 

“Oh, cut it out,” Luke groans from the couch. “No one wants to hear another fight between you two. Quinn, c’mere, we’re going to play Mario.”

With one last threatening glance at Jack, Quinn joins his brother on the couch and grabs a controller. They’re starting up the game now, picking characters, and Trevor turns to Honey. 

“Do you want to play?” He asks. “I’d love to see you kick some ass in Mario.”

He sees Bea roll her eyes out of his peripheral vision, clearly unimpressed by his compliment. Jack sidles up next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his hand on her hip. “Wanna do a shot with me?”

Bea hops up and nods. “Sure.”

Trevor looks at Honey expectantly, waiting for her to answer.

“I think I’m just going to stick with Bea, but thank you for the compliment, Trevor.” Honey reaches up and pats Trevor’s cheek, a little harder than he thinks is necessary. “Why don’t you go play for the both of us?”

“Will you cheer for me when I win?” Trevor smiles, trying not to feel hurt by the rejection.

Honey snorts out a laugh. “Sure, Trev. I’ll cheer for you when you win.”

“Cool,” Trevor says. “Keep an eye on me, yeah?”

Honey fixes him with a look. “It’s very hard to take my eyes off of you, Trevor.”

Even though she says it sarcastically, Trevor grins like she meant it. His chest warms like she meant it. At least she admits to looking at him, even if she’s teasing him when she does. He’s worried about nothing– Honey is getting comfortable and Trevor isn’t doing anything to push her away. She’ll be his girl in no time.

Trevor nods and taps her knee in farewell, turning to hop over the couch and settle in next to Jamie.

The boys are racing with the screen split into four. Jamie’s playing as Luigi, Luke is Yoshi, Cole is Bowser, and Quinn is a Shy Guy. They’re playing some castle circuit, and the game quickly gets heated.

Cole, as a testament to how peculiar he is, wins each game. He can’t play pool for shit, but he can dominate in Mario Kart. It’s his one calling card and he never stops bragging when they play. 

Eventually, they finish the circuit. Trevor had kept an ear out for Honey and Bea in the area behind him, laughing and giggling. Occasionally, they’ll clink tiny shot glasses together with Jack and down them, and Bea winces every time. 

Quinn looks over his shoulder with each cough that leaves Bea’s mouth, but bites his cheeks instead of wandering up to her when Jack rubs her shoulders soothingly. 

Honestly? Trevor admires his restraint. He’s taking Bea’s ‘Slut Summer’ very well, now that it seems to be in full swing. 

Trevor doesn’t notice Jamie grow quieter and quieter with each time one of the boys yells over him. He had procured Cole’s controller when he left to take a leak and a few shots with the other three “partygoers,” so Trevor’s focus is his kart and Peach’s position on the leaderboard. 

They’re in the middle of Rainbow Road when Cole comes back and demands to take the final lap. He snatches his controller back from Trevor, since Trevor was in second and “it was his controller first!” 

Trevor blanches and complains, and Jamie silently passes over his own controller. Fifth place isn’t bad, but Trevor can do better. He thanks Jamie for the controller, remembering why Jamie’s his best buddy, and Jamie sinks into the couch. He sets his feet up on the coffee table and stretches his arms out over the back of the couch. Trevor leans forward, focusing.

“Trevy-baby,” Bea’s voice calls from behind him. Trevor bites his lip as he takes a turn on the difficult course, managing to swipe an item box while drifting. “Will you come here a minute?”

“Kind of in the middle of something, Bea,” Trevor replies. 

Quinn makes a noise of disapproval, but his eyes stay focused on the screen and he throws out a red shell, hitting Luke’s kart.

“Okay, well, we need another person,” Bea bites back, sounding a little annoyed. 

Trevor nudges Jamie with his elbow. “Can you go see what they’re talking about?” Trevor has just climbed into second place, and he has eyes on the back of Cole’s kart.

“Yeah, bud, no problem,” Jamie agrees easily, standing from the couch and disappearing from Trevor’s eyeline. 

Trevor refocuses on the game, eying an item box that will hopefully afford him a blue shell, giving him the chance to knock Cole out of the running and win, so he can listen to Honey cheer for him. 

Just as Trevor gets the box and triumphantly shouts out a “Yes!”, Luke strikes them all with lightning from fourth place and ruins Trevor’s chances. Luke even speeds up and beats Trevor out for second place, but it wasn’t as tight as it was for Cole.

“You know that was my fucking controller, dude,” Trevor grumbles at the other boy. “I was in second, I could’ve won. You’re an impatient fuck.”

He tosses his controller on the table in front of him and crosses his arms over his chest. He wanted Honey to cheer for him, wanted her attention on him again. 

I guess I can see what Bea wanted now.

Trevor turns, looking over the back of the couch towards the girls and Jack and Jamie. “What did you need from me, Bea?” He asks, voice still pouty from his loss.

He’s met with the sight of Honey and Bea sitting on the edge of the pool table and his jaw slackens. They’ve both lost their shirts, left in bras and shorts. Trevor’s eyes fix on Honey’s chest and he can already feel his mind turning. Her skin looks soft and smooth and the curves of her cleavage are visible in the bra, but not bulging up like a corset. She looks like she would if she were lazing around in Trevor’s bathroom while he takes a shower, getting ready for the day. He can imagine talking to her over the spray of the shower, begging her to come wash his hair even though she’s already said no three times.

Trevor notices the shot glass resting between her breasts, balancing against the band of her bra. She’s looking down, fixing it and trying not to spill a drop. She has no idea that Trevor is practically salivating at the sight of her.

There’s a lime between her lips, facing outward. 

Oh, fuck.

Jamie licks the back of his hand, sprinkling some salt on the patch of wetness. Jack does the same thing, standing between Bea’s parted legs, and Trevor’s head whips toward Quinn.

The older boy’s expression is nonchalant, barely passing over Bea and Honey before returning to the television. The only sign that he could be bothered is the clench of his jaw and the hard stare of his eyes, but Trevor receives that look every day, so he quickly realizes that he’s not going to find any shared outrage from Quinn.

Trevor frowns. He feels like he’s turning sour, rotting from the inside out as Honey brushes her hair back and looks up at Jamie, the edges of her mouth turned up in a smile. The lime wobbles between her lips, but doesn’t fall. 

“Cole,” Bea calls, distracted. She pushes her boobs together and Jack plops the shot glass securely in her cleavage, letting his hand linger there. “Can you count us down, please?”

“No problem,” Cole replies, not even looking at the scene in front of them. “From three? Or do you want, like, a ten count?”

When Trevor looks around, he realizes that he’s the only one staring at the four people. Quinn’s facing forward, debating a new circuit with Luke. Cole is tossing a piece of popcorn up in the air and trying to catch it. 

“Three’s fine,” Bea replies, bringing a lime up to her own lips.

“Whenever you’re ready, Coley,” Jack adds, fitting his hand into the curve of Bea’s waist. He stares down at her and she stares right back, the air between them heated. 

Trevor looks back at Honey and Jamie, at the way Jamie is slightly bent over so that his eyes are even with Honey’s. She carefully reaches her arm up and removes his ball cap, turning it backwards atop her own head. She smiles at Jamie when she does so, and Trevor’s vision turns red at the edges. 

That’s his smile. Honey is his girl, not Jamie’s.

Cole starts to count down from three, and Trevor can’t look away. When Cole says “go!”, Jack licks the salt off of his hand and lunges forward to retrieve the shot glass from Bea’s cleavage, throwing his head back and downing the liquor without using his hands. Bea reaches up to remove the glass from his mouth, then his teeth bite into her lime. He spits it out after the citrus bursts over his tongue and it lands with a plop on the floor, but neither of them care. Bea’s eyes are wide when Jack’s lips close over her own and his tongue slips into her mouth, but they quickly flutter shut and she pulls him close.

Quinn is not looking. If he was, Trevor thinks he might rip Jack’s hair out.

Jamie is much more delicate with his body shot, taking his time. Trevor grinds his teeth, watching how Honey’s eyes sparkle as they take in the dark-haired boy in front of her. She inches forward a little when Jamie laps at the salt on his hand, then she pushes her chest out so he can take the glass from her body with ease. Jamie brings his hand to his mouth to take the glass out, setting it neatly on the edge of the table beside Honey, and leans in, plucking the lime from Honey’s mouth. He pulls away from her, giving her a goofy lime-rind-covered smile and Honey matches it.

Trevor is aghast– his mouth is wide open and he’s staring at the big hand that’s palming Honey’s thigh. He wants to rip Jamie’s hand off of her skin and replace it with his own, lean in and kiss her the way that Jack is kissing Bea.

Fuck, why didn’t he listen when Bea called his name? Why did he send Jamie over to see what they needed? That could’ve been him between Honey’s legs.

He’s never playing Mario Kart again.

The moment is over in under a minute, but Trevor feels like he’s been watching it for years on end. He can feel the muscles on his face clenching, his eyebrows narrowing at the sight of his ex-best friend and his girl so close together. 

In an instant, Honey is looking at him, and Trevor just knows that she’s startled by the anger she sees written all over his face. She looks at Trevor, then to Jamie, then back to Trevor. Her lips part and her chest heaves, but Trevor refuses to let his eyes fall. No, he’s keeping his gaze locked on Honey’s until she starts to squirm, feeling behind her for her shirt and pulling it on.

She looks at Trevor again when she’s finished covering herself up, and Trevor nods. 

Then he stands and goes upstairs, locking himself in his bedroom and punching his pillow until he feels better (and until the pillow stops bearing a striking resemblance to Jamie’s face).

20:90 – HONEY

Honey wakes in an unfamiliar bed, groaning at the soreness of her muscles. It’s a twin sized bed, smaller than the one she has at home, and she feels squished. It was this or the couch, and Honey didn’t want to sleep on the couch, so Jamie took that instead. 

She was too drunk to drive home last night, even though it’s less than ten minutes on the road and she knows this mountain by heart. She slept at the boys’ house, in the spare room. Jamie had found a big shirt for her to wear and helped her pull it over her head. He had messily braided her hair out of her face, then wished her goodnight, and left the room.

That was it. 

Honey’s stunned by how gentlemanly it all was, even now, hours later.

She didn’t dream the night before– she never does when she goes to bed drunk. 

She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and sways with dizziness, blinking hard to clear the spots of darkness from her vision. The sun seems to be just peeking over the mountains, bright and harsh against her eyes, even when they’re closed. 

“Ugh,” she mutters, knowing that now that she’s awake, there’s no way she can fall back asleep. Her stomach growls, loud and embarrassing even though she’s the only person in the room. She clutches at her middle, rubbing over the skin to soothe it. 

Honey stands, taking a moment to gather her bearings. The hangover is hitting her hard, even though she didn’t drink that much. 

Well.

After Trevor stormed upstairs, Honey was upset and annoyed. She let Jack mix her drinks until Bea dragged him upstairs, and then she employed Cole as her personal bartender. 

Together, they learned that Cole is a terrible mixologist, but he is able to juggle. He and Honey tossed a lime back and forth for almost an hour without dropping it, all the while giggling and chatting. When Honey finally dropped the lime, Cole grabbed three and threw them up in the air, laughing until he figured out how to stagger the limes properly. 

She had almost fallen asleep on the couch, tucked into Luke’s side. She had crawled up to him and tousled his curls with a pout on her face before turning and facing the TV to watch the movie he had thrown on. She also remembers Quinn snorting with laughter after Honey laid her head on Luke’s shoulder, to which she had slurred: “What are you laughing at?”

Before she could slur out something embarrassing and mean about Bea hooking up with Jack instead of Quinn, Jamie had appeared in front of her and helped her up, saying that it was late and she looked ready for bed. 

Everything else comes to her in little flashes and there are gaps missing. Honey’s not too concerned. She’s never been an embarrassing drunk.

Plus, after three weeks, she might actually consider these guys to be her friends.

Honey wanders upstairs to the kitchen, finding a pot of fresh coffee in the maker and pouring herself a mug. She finds milk in the fridge and cereal in the cabinets, pouring herself a bowl. With her cereal in one hand and her coffee in the other, Honey approaches the sliding glass door to the balcony. 

She makes it to the door and frowns to herself, trying to find a way to open the door without putting down one of her items. 

As she’s tucking her mug into her elbow, burning herself a little bit on the ceramic, Jamie appears on the other side of the door.

He jumps back a little, just like Honey does. They both let out a laugh at their mirrored actions, and Jamie reaches out to slide the glass door open. 

“Coming to join me?” He asks.

“What are you doing up?” Honey asks at the same time.

They laugh again. 

“I did a quick workout this morning,” Jamie explains. “I missed my practice yesterday, so I wanted to get up and get some extra work in.”

“Cool,” Honey muses, setting her cereal bowl on the armrest of one of the rocking chairs. “I didn’t realize anyone else would be up.”

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Jamie says. “You were pretty out of it last night.”

Honey crinkles her nose. “Was I?”

“It’s not every day that Luke has a pretty girl trying to figure out his curl pattern from touch alone.” Jamie smiles, lines appearing on his cheeks, but not dimpling like Cole’s. 

“Well, if that’s the worst thing, at least I remember it,” Honey replies. She eats a spoonful of her cereal, waving her spoon towards Jamie. A splash of milk flies at him, but he brushes it off with a wave of his hand. “You were really quiet last night,” Honey notices. “Why is that?”

“These guys aren’t, like… my guys,” Jamie explains, shrugging and making a face. “Trevor knows that I’m not the best with this crowd, but he said he needed an ally. So, I came as fast as I could.” 

“Why don’t you like the guys?” Honey asks, furrowing her brow.

Jamie shrugs again. “Jack doesn’t like how quiet I am, Cole and Luke like Jack more than me ‘cause they've known him longer, so that makes sense, and Quinn just doesn’t really like to stray from his normal group of friends.” 

“Well, what about Trevor?”

“We’re close because we were on the same team in California. We became fast friends when I was drafted to the Ducks, but I’m not childhood friends with Trevor like the other guys are. Now, I’m in Philly, so Z and I aren’t even together all the time anymore.”

“Does he prioritize Jack over you?”

“Jack’s needier than me,” Jamie explains, shaking his head. “Trevor tends to him more. It’s really important to keep Jack happy.”

“I’ve noticed that he can be a little… full of himself,” Honey agrees.

“Yeah.” Jamie cracks a smile. “I’m a little easier to get along with, I think.”

Easier.

It triggers something in her. Honey straightens up like an electric current ran through her. 

“Do you want to go on a hike, Jamie? With me?” She asks, the idea clicking in her head half-formed.

The easiest way to get over someone is to get under someone else, Bea says. 

They can talk and get to know each other. It’ll be like another workout for Jamie, making up for the missed practice even more. Plus, Honey wants something easy. She wants to be as happy as Quinn and Bea. Jamie’s sweet and they clicked last night, and she wants to learn more things about him. He’s not as volatile as Trevor and Honey doesn’t think that he would upset her as much as Trevor does, all the time.

“Just the two of you?” comes the voice from behind Honey, the creak of a floorboard signaling the arrival of another person.

Honey spins around in her chair, looking at the sliding door. Of course, it’s Trevor. Just when she thinks about him, he appears, and of course he heard her invitation. His tone is a little judgmental, a little sad, and a little hopeful. 

“Just the two of us,” Honey doubles down, pummeling all hope Trevor had of joining them.

Jamie smiles at Honey, grateful that she’s willing to prioritize him over everyone else in the house and willing to invite him out. “That would be awesome, thanks, Honey. I’ll go pack some waters and make some sandwiches.”

He stands from his chair, then reaches down and clasps Honey’s hand, giving it a squeeze before walking back into the house. 

Trevor watches Jamie walk past him through the balcony door, then turns back to Honey. 

“You can’t go out with him,” Trevor says.

“Why not?” Honey asks, affronted. 

“Because he’s not me,” Trevor replies.

“I know. That’s why I should go out with him. He wasn’t afraid to full-send a body shot, unlike you. He also helped me to bed when I was drunk last night, and you locked yourself in your bedroom because you were pouting,” Honey bites back, still stewing about the way Trevor had ignored Bea's wave over. 

She really had wanted Trevor to take the body shot off her, wanting to test their chemistry again after the whipped cream incident. She had expected him to want to do the same. She was wrong, again, and she hates being wrong. 

“Jamie isn’t very wishy-washy about his intentions, Trevor.”

“Do you want to know my intentions?” Trevor demands. “I intend to get you to go out with me. I intend to make you like me. I’m not going to ruin that by rushing into this too fast. I saw how you looked the other night.”

Honey blanches at Trevor’s words. “Don’t bring that shit up.”

“Honey, you ran out of the house and took Bea with you. You looked horrified,” Trevor presses.

“Does it look like I’m reacting the same way now?” Honey replies, incredulous. “Clearly, things have changed and you need to accept that. I’ve decided I want something different, Trevor.”

“Like Jamie.”

Trevor’s voice is chilling. His volume is low and definite. He glares at Honey, crossing his arms over his chest. He bites his tongue and taps his foot. 

Honey looks him up and down, a little nervous at the sudden change up. Did she go too far?

No, she decides. She hasn’t gone too far. Trevor won't let her run away from this right now, and she has to get him to let her go. She hasn’t gone far enough.

“Yes, like Jamie,” Honey confirms. She crosses her own arms over her chest. 

Trevor glares at Honey a moment longer, and his anger flashes, but Honey catches a glimpse of resignation.

“Fine,” Trevor spits out, shaking his head. “Do what you want. Don’t let me or my feelings fucking stop you.”

Honey opens her mouth to retort, but he’s already closing the balcony door behind him.

She doesn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

Honey returns to the kitchen and dumps her cereal down the sink, turning on the garbage disposal. Jamie asks if she wants anything particular on her sandwich, and she says no. She walks to Jack’s room, remembering where it was from Cole’s tour, and knocks quietly. 

There’s no movement inside, so Honey cracks the door open. She sees Bea stir and blink an eye open, becoming more alert when she spots Honey in the doorway. Jack lays fast asleep, his arm over Bea’s stomach.

“I’m going hiking with Jamie,” Honey whispers. 

“Okay,” Bea mouths. She side-eyes Jack, then widens her eyes at Honey.

“How was it?” Honey says, voice still low. She’s wary, knowing that look.

“So. Fast.” Bea rolls her eyes back and sticks her tongue out, pretending to be dead. “I need to go to Quinn’s room.”

Honey snickers behind her fingers, a loud snort escaping her.

Bea opens her mouth in a silent scream, her shoulders shaking with laughter. She has to squeeze her eyes shut and mouth “Go away!” to Honey so that she doesn’t wake up the sleeping boy beside her. 

Honey slips from the room and meets Jamie down by the front door, a backpack on his shoulders full of water and their lunch. He tells her that he even packed a blanket for when they stop to eat, so they don’t have to sit on the ground. 

She spots Trevor over his shoulder, the back of his head unmoving, but Honey can tell that he’s still seething. She feels a pull to him, wanting to brush a kiss behind his ear and tell him that she’ll be back soon, but the feeling is overtaken by guilt and she almost gags. 

That’s right– she’s still hungover. 

“We’ll just have to stop by my place really fast so I can get into some hiking clothes,” Honey tells Jamie, sliding her shoes on and grabbing her keys from the table next to the door. 

Trevor releases a breath and seems to shake his head, listening in on them. Honey wobbles a little bit at the noise, frowning deeply. She grasps the door handle and allows Jamie to lead the way out of the house, relishing in the fact that she can slam the heavy door behind her and show Trevor that he’s not bothering her. 

Jamie talks a little bit on the drive and offers to wait in the vehicle while Honey changes inside. She comes back in athletic shorts and an old wrinkled practice jersey from Bea’s volleyball days. It’s supposed to be a hot day, otherwise Honey would be wearing one of her favorite ratty tees and her best leggings. The jersey falls like a muscle tee and she knows Jamie can see her black sports bra when she walks, but it’s no different than when Trevor felt over the lace around her ribs last Friday.

They go to Honey’s favorite spot, twenty minutes up the road. A few years ago, she got really into running and used to run this trail all the time. It’s two and a half miles up to the outlook from the parking lot, so she figures that she and Jamie can hike up and stop for lunch at the top.

“I have a proposal for you,” Honey says. 

“What’s up?” Jamie asks, hooking his backpack over his shoulders and making sure his shoes are tied. 

“Tell me about you on the way up and I’ll tell you about me on the way down.” Honey presents the idea with a big smile, shrugging enticingly at Jamie. 

“Like what?” 

They start to make their way toward the mouth of the trail, and Jamie motions for Honey to go first.

“I don’t know. Where’d you grow up? What’s your family like? What’s the deal with you guys and hockey? Stuff like that,” Honey says, looking ahead of her but calling over her shoulder. “I’ll lead the way up and listen, and then you can lead the way down and ask me whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Jamie agrees. “I grew up in Toronto, moved to California when I was drafted, lived with Z for a while. That was fun. I was traded to Philly this past year and I’ll be playing there for a while, I guess.”

“What do you like most about Toronto?” Honey asks.

Jamie responds and they trek on, filling the trail with the sounds of soft steps and chatter. They reach the peak in a little under an hour and a half, making great time. Jamie sets out the blanket for them facing the rest of the mountains, and Honey sits cross-legged on the edge of the fabric. She toes her shoes off and leaves them off to the side, giving her feet a rest. 

Jamie hands her a sandwich and a water, which they eat in silence. After finishing the first half of his sandwich, Jamie pauses, leaning back on his hands. He looks out over the horizon, squinting at the brightness of the sun. He adjusts his white ballcap on his head, trying to shade himself from the light a bit.

“It’s really pretty,” Jamie says. “I get why you would want to live here.”

“It’s the best place in the world,” Honey says simply, following his gaze. She breathes in, feeling the fresh, crisp, mountain air fill her lungs. 

She looks over at Jamie and he meets her there, smiling softly. His eyes glint in the sun and Honey notices his freckles, sprinkled all across his nose and the apples of his cheeks. They break eye contact simultaneously, looking back out. Honey adjusts so she’s sitting the same way Jamie is, leaning back on her hands. 

“You can see so far,” Jamie observes.

Honey nods. “Yeah. My dad used to say that if you could count ten rows back, then you could see all the way to Tennessee. That was at my house, so maybe it’s eight here.”

They pause and Jamie raises a hand, pointing at each layer and counting quietly. He points to a faded, barely visible row to the right of Honey’s vision. “Nine,” he says confidently. “We’re practically in the central time zone already.”

His hand drops, next to Honey’s. His pinky covers hers, splayed out on the blanket. 

Honey’s stomach flips a little bit and she feels the tips of her ears grow hot. She bites back a grin and looks down at her lap, then reaches for her bottle of water and takes a sip.

“Can I start asking you questions yet?” Jamie teases, knocking his shoulder against hers, tilting his head down to catch Honey’s eye. “Or do we have to wait until we’re actually walking down the mountain?”

“Whatever you want, Jam,” Honey says. 

Jamie teases her, forming an ‘o’ with his mouth and wiggling his eyebrows. “Whatever I want.” He grins.

“You sound like Bea.” Honey rolls her eyes and lengthens her neck from side to side, hoping to crack it.

“Let’s start there,” Jamie suggests. “How did you guys become friends?”

“We met in preschool. She had a pack of pink markers and a boy named Will stole mine because he was a dick and Bea shared hers.” Honey smiles fondly at the memory. “We’ve been friends ever since.”

“You still have beef with this Will kid?”

“Absolutely, he sucks.”

“Was that here? In Litchton?”

Honey’s smile fades. She pauses, then shakes her head. “No, we grew up in Charlotte. Litchton was my dad’s vacation home when he was a kid and he wanted me to have a similar experience as him.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Are you and your dad close?”

Honey grimaces. Jamie doesn’t know. He’s just asking about Honey’s past, the same way Honey asked about his on the walk up here. He doesn’t mean any harm.

“Um… we used to be,” Honey replies. She looks back out at the mountains. “When Bea and I chose to move up here, I bought the house from my dad for a cheaper price– I spent every paycheck for like a year on the place, plus all the money I had saved up from my high school job, and most of Bea’s paycheck since she was living with me. We stayed in touch until I handed him the last check.”

Jamie hums, listening intently. It’s a neutral sound, non-judgmental. Honey’s lips quirk up and she continues.

“My parents didn’t love when I decided to move up here and decline my college acceptances. I wasn’t willing to budge and neither were they, so we… lost touch.” Honey trails off, taking a deep breath.

“Do you miss them?” Jamie asks, thoughtful. “Do you miss Charlotte?”

“I miss them on, like, my birthday.” Honey shrugs. She extends her legs and crosses her ankles. Her fingers twitch under Jamie’s. “Their anniversary, and whatnot. As for Charlotte, I don’t miss that place at all.”

“Not a city girl?”

“Not at all. Charlotte was too rigid for me. People are busybodies there and they have great jobs and drive nice cars and go to good schools… I just wanted to live somewhere where I could relax and no one would bat an eye.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees, nodding. He frowns, jutting his bottom lip out in thought. “I get it.”

They sit in silence a little longer and Jamie moves his hand so it completely covers Honey’s. She smiles and turns her head to the right, away from Jamie. She bites her tongue between her teeth and takes a deep breath. Her stomach is flopping all over the place.

God, does Bea feel like this all the fucking time? It’s miserable.

“Here’s a lighter question,” Jamie chuckles, shuffling closer to Honey. “What curl pattern did you decide on for Luke?”

Honey throws her head back laughing, pulling her hand out from under Jamie’s and reaching for her shoes. “I think it’s time we head back down,” she says. “Since you’re starting to ask me questions that I can’t answer.”

“Do you mind if I take my shirt off? It’s hot out here,” Jamie complains, removing his hat from his head with a dazzling grin and placing it on Honey’s head. “Hold that for me, will you?”

“I don’t mind,” Honey replies, fixing the hat on her head. She grins over at Jamie, then reaches down to tie her shoelaces again.

Jamie pulls his shirt over the back of his head, stuffing it into his backpack. He takes Honey’s trash and his own, pushing them into the side pocket of his bag, then sliding his water bottle on top of them. 

Honey helps him pack up the blanket and they head down the mountain. Jamie peppers her with questions, both easy and funny and hard and deep. He makes her laugh, he makes her think, and they have fun. 

They make a good pace and Jamie does a good job of leading the way. He stops with half a mile to go, and Honey bumps into him, trying to watch her step.

“What?” Honey asks, peering around him to see if there’s something blocking the way. 

Jamie turns to face her and Honey gets an eyeful of pale torso due to their proximity. She looks up at Jamie, stepping back. She stumbles back, tripping over a root, and Jamie catches her waist, steadying her.

He opens his mouth in question, then closes it. He looks down at Honey’s lips and she feels her mouth go dry. His eyes are wide, clear, and light and they’re regarding Honey, swirling with an unidentifiable emotion. 

Honey takes in a breath. 

“New question,” Jamie murmurs.

Honey nods, and Jamie’s other hand sweeps her hair off her shoulder, thumbing the side of her neck.

“I really want to kiss you.”

“That’s not a question,” Honey comments, voice hushed.

Jamie licks his lips, breathing out a laugh. “Can I kiss you?” he corrects.

Honey gulps, her heart stuttering in her chest. Her hand makes its way to Jamie’s traps, his muscle hard beneath her palm. His skin is pinking a little bit, affected by the sun and the heat, and Honey tilts her head. It’s peculiar. She just feels… like she’s an inch out of place.

She looks into his eyes and he’s gazing at her so patiently that Honey can’t help but lean up and slot her bottom lip between his. 

There’s relief washing over her, taking all the tension from her shoulders. She loses herself in the kiss, overwhelmed by how good it feels to be doing this.

It’s not because of Jamie, Honey realizes. It’s because she’s finally ready to do this sort of thing again. Maybe she is looking for this, searching hard.

He swipes his tongue across Honey’s bottom lip and she opens for him. Honey brings her hand from his traps up into his hair, raking through the strands. He smiles against her lips and Honey repeats the motion.

And then it hits her again– she’s just an inch too far to the left. This isn’t right. 

There’s nothing wrong, Honey reassures herself, using Jamie’s hair as a crutch to keep her in place. It fails, because the strands are too short and too thin and too straight, and it all clicks.

Honey pulls away.

Aw, hell.

“Jamie,” Honey sighs, closing her eyes. She bites her lip and covers her eyes with one of her hands. 

“Nope, it’s okay,” Jamie replies, surprisingly upbeat. He plucks his hat off Honey’s head, hiding his own hair underneath it. He wraps his arms around Honey’s shoulders and drops a kiss on her head. “I know that tone.”

Honey groans, frustrated. She presses her face into Jamie’s pec, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“I have my next question for you,” Jamie teases, poking her arm when he pulls away.

“What?” Honey snaps, miserably.

“How long have you been fucking Trevor?”

“Fuck off,” Honey mewls, sagging like the weight of the world just fell on her shoulders. 

“Nah, I saw that look between you two.” Jamie grabs Honey’s hand and starts to lead her along the trail again.

She follows, rolling her eyes and shaky on her legs. “I’m not fucking Trevor.”

“Why not?”

Honey opens her mouth, then stumbles when she realizes she has no answer for him. She thinks, searching her mind, and she misses the smirk that grows on Jamie’s face with each minute of passing silence. 

Honey still doesn’t have an answer when they make it back to the mouth of the trailhead, parking lot visible. 

“I don’t know,” she whispers when Jamie comes to a stop, swinging his backpack around to his front and digging for Honey’s keys. 

He looks up at her through his lashes, pausing. Then, his lips pinch like he’s trying not to laugh. “Maybe you should,” he suggests.

Honey pauses, her brain feeling fried. “Yeah,” she agrees, the word forming slowly in her mouth. 

Jamie fishes the keys out and unlocks the car. He pulls his shirt out of the bag, then hesitates. “It would kill him if I drove us back to the house shirtless,” Jamie considers. He looks up at Honey, waiting.

Honey feels a smile start to take over her face. “Don’t fucking wear that shirt back.”

Jamie breaks out in laughter and opens the passenger door for Honey, helping her into her own vehicle. He rounds the car and starts it up, dropping a hand on Honey’s knee. He gives her joint a squeeze and flashes a dazzling smile. “He’s cooked.”

Honey laughs and rolls the window down, feeling the wind dance over her face as Jamie starts to drive down the mountain. 

When they pull into the driveway, the boys are skating along the patio. Cole’s trying to do a backwards one-legged glide, and keeps wobbling off the concrete. Jamie comes to a stop a good ten feet from the boys, leaning over Honey to open her door from the inside of the vehicle. As Honey steps out, he unbuckles and rounds the vehicle, pressing the keys into her hand. He wraps an arm around her neck in a hug and pulls her forehead to his lips, pecking it quickly. 

“Make sure you give me a wave on the way out,” Jamie conspires in a whisper, then pulls away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Bring Bea.” He walks backwards away from her, pointing in farewell.

Honey goes to the driver’s side of the vehicle and climbs in. Quinn skates up next to the car, tapping for her to roll down the window. 

“What’s up?” She asks.

Quinn just nods for a few seconds before he answers, pressing his lips together. “Bring Bea tomorrow,” he repeats. 

Honey snorts out a laugh. “Okay.”

“Tell her I found the stopwatch she wanted.”

Honey laughs aloud at that, looking over to Jack. Quinn’s follows her gaze and snickers. 

“Figures,” he says.

“Bye, Quinn,” Honey bids, and shifts the car into drive. 

He waves and skates away, and she inches forward. 

The rest of the boys part the driveway for her. Cole waves goodbye enthusiastically, and Jack, Luke, and Trevor just stand there. Honey looks back and finds Jamie, raising her hand with a smile. As she pulls away, her eyes slide over Trevor and she can’t hide the smug grin that overtakes her face at the sight of him.

He has no idea what’s coming.

21:90 – TREVOR

Trevor hasn’t talked to Jamie since before he left for his hike yesterday. He’s wallowing, admittedly, and the boys are getting a kick out of it. Trevor was consoled by the fact that no one else saw the body shot last night except Jack, but Jack had to preach his tale of triumph to the crowd. 

Over brunch, after walking Bea to the door– Quinn was waiting in the car to drive her home– Jack launched into a dramatic recreation of the event, using Cole as his mannequin. He didn’t do an actual shot, nor did he touch Cole’s body the way he did Bea’s. Cole even puckered up, pretending to hold a lime in his mouth, but Jack didn’t kiss him.

Cole feigned disappointment until Trevor laughed, then he just hopped off the counter and kept eating his food. 

After brunch, Cole and Luke filled Trevor and Jack in on what they missed after they disappeared upstairs the previous night: Cole learned how to juggle, Luke and Quinn watched a movie, and Jamie took Honey to bed when she cuddled up into Luke’s side and pushed her fingers through his hair, slurring about curl patterns.

“‘Righ’now you’re a 2C, but we can make your hair pretty like a 3B if y’use the right products an’ procedures,’” Cole mocked, making sure to slur his words and hiccup over the longer syllables. 

Trevor had tried not to smile at their caricature of Honey, but the thought of the girl slurring and falling over herself and still using words like ‘procedures’ made Trevor feel warm inside. 

Luke just blushed and shook his head at the mockery, grinning to himself and rubbing the back of his head. 

Shortly after, Quinn had joined them again and proposed that they skate around a bit. They weren’t playing road hockey or anything, so the skating became a game of driveway tag until Cole got mad that he couldn’t catch anyone and quit. He started trying to do figure-skating tricks instead, and the rest of the boys just hung out.

Trevor had felt fine until Jamie pulled up in Honey’s car, behind the wheel and shirtless. Honey had looked a little dazed and pink in the cheeks, but Trevor blamed it on the heat. Who hikes in this weather? 

He had bit his tongue when Jamie opened the door for Honey, leaning over her. He had clenched his jaw when Jamie gave Honey a hug and a kiss on the forehead, and scowled when Honey waved goodbye to Jamie, and only Jamie. Then, she had had the audacity to smirk at Trevor when she drove away.

So, suffice to say, Trevor wasn’t all that interested in what happened on the hike. He wasn’t excited that Jamie was in town anymore, he wasn’t in the mood to congratulate Jack on bagging Bea– although he did notice the smirk that Quinn tried to hide when Jack brought it up again, and he was not looking forward to the next time Honey and Bea hang out with them.

Which, apparently, is today.

Jamie had invited Honey over for a fun, lazy Sunday at the house and he had told her to bring Bea along. 

Quinn was the one who revealed the plan to Trevor when he came up to Trevor around noon and asked him very quietly if he would text Bea on Quinn’s behalf.

In the end, the message said “Quinn wants to know what time you’re coming over? He says he has your stopwatch. Also, GIVE HIM YOUR NUMBER ALREADY SO I DON’T HAVE TO BE YOUR MESSENGER PIGEON!”

Bea texted him back within minutes and said: “Just got out of church u ratty bitch don’t tell me how to live my life” and “H and I are coming over at like 3 we need to debrief the Jack thing from last night first.”

“Why do you have to debrief? Was he bad”

“he wasn’t BAD”

“... He came early didn’t he”

“No comment. Leave me alone this is why I can’t give anyone else my number… bc you’re BLOWING UP MY DAMN PHONE!!!!!”

Trevor didn’t dignify Bea with a response then, but it’s almost four o’clock in the afternoon now, and the girls still haven’t shown up. Trevor is getting impatient and the other boys are getting antsy, tired of waiting for the girls to show. Cole has started pacing, mumbling about how they could’ve done something in the time they’ve spent waiting. He blames Trevor for it and bothers him until he puts down his book, which is still very good, and texts Bea again.

“Tick tock Bea”

Bea laughs at the message, but doesn’t give Trevor a real response until he asks if they want Quinn to cook dinner for them: “yes we’re leaving now”

Trevor passes the message along and Quinn adds two burgers to the grill. Trevor reopens his book and dives back into the world of astronomy. 

Quinn’s burgers are done and plated in fifteen minutes, ready for the boys to descend on the platter and assemble their burgers. 

The girls arrive just as Trevor sits at the dining room table with Luke and Cole. They wave into the dining room as they pass it and Trevor notices that Bea is still wearing her sundress from church, while Honey is wearing some red gingham shorts and a tiny little tank top. There’s a little sliver of her lower back showing as she walks away and Trevor swoons. 

He covers it up by biting into his burger and starting at one divot on the wooden table. 

Quinn joins them soon after and sits at the head of the table. He starts eating silently, ignoring the other boys. Bea and Jack walk into the room together and sit down at the only two seats next to each other that are left open– the one next to Quinn and the empty one next to it. 

Bea sits between the brothers and Trevor smirks into his burger, chewing the meat and eying the girl. She catches his gaze and glares at him, a deathly look that doesn’t bother Trevor in the slightest. Bea can’t do any harm to him– all of her looks are just empty threats. Maybe if Trevor were hooking up with her, he’d be a little more afraid, but that will never happen.

When Jamie and Honey enter the room, giggling quietly between the two of them, Bea turns Trevor’s smirk against him and sticks her tongue out before taking a sip of her water. 

Luck is on Trevor’s side, because the only two remaining chairs aren’t next to each other. There’s one on his left and one at the other head of the table between Luke and Cole. Jamie gestures for Honey to take her pick of the seats and, to Trevor’s disappointment, she walks toward the head of the table.

Jamie takes his seat next to Trevor and bumps into him good-naturedly, giving him a smile. Trevor side-eyes him and glares, taking another bite of his burger. 

They eat in silence for a little while, until Luke finishes his burger and throws his napkin atop his empty plate. 

“This is miserable,” Luke complains. “Can we do something?”

“Yeah, we’ve been doing nothing all day and Trevor is getting on my nerves,” Cole agrees. 

Trevor places his burger on his plate and slams his hands down on the table. “Why me? I haven’t even done anything to annoy you.”

“You haven’t talked to me all day,” Jamie mumbles off-handedly, fixing the bun of his burger so it stops sliding away.

Honey coughs, then clears her throat. “You haven’t talked to Jamie all day?” She asks, frowning at Trevor.

Cole looks up to the ceiling and claps his hands together like he’s praying, his cheeks dimpling as he mouths a “thank you” towards the sky.

Trevor flashes a threatening finger at Cole and swallows the bite he’d been chewing. 

“No, I haven’t,” Trevor answers simply. He swallows again and intertwines his fingers, pushing his plate away. He lifts the corners of his mouth, but his eyes stay disinterested and annoyed, the same way he’s been feeling about Jamie since his hand found his way to Honey’s thigh on Friday night.

Honey’s lip curls and her nose crinkles, visibly ruffled. “What’s your problem?”

“Honey,” Bea interrupts, shaking her head with a pointed look. 

Jack throws his arm over the back of Bea’s chair. “No, I want to see this. Give it to him, Honey.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow at Bea when Jack’s fingers brush her shoulder. Trevor notices his arm moving under the table, flexing like he’s reaching for Bea’s leg. Bea shrugs Jack off, pouting at Quinn. Quinn nods at the girl, then brings both his hands to his burger and lifts it to his mouth. He looks up at Honey, chewing. 

“Don’t jump in on this, Jack. It doesn’t involve you,” Honey snaps. “Quickshot.”

Cole’s jaw drops, then he claps both hands over his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut and his shoulders shake with silent laughter. 

“Oh, do you think this is funny?” Honey asks, rounding on Cole. “Do you really believe that your little honky ass is innocent? Should I bring up all the ways you’ve pissed me off these past few weeks?”

Cole freezes, paling.

Trevor knows that he’s only escaping Honey’s wrath temporarily, but it’s still a treat to see. Cole had been on Honey’s nerves since he thought up the whipped cream dare the week before, and Trevor is a little turned on seeing Honey gives Cole his comeuppance. 

“The only people in this house that haven’t pissed me off are Luke and Jamie, and you’re on thin fucking ice because you don’t talk to Jamie either,” Honey continues, pointing a finger at Luke.

He leans back, away from Honey’s finger, looking stunned. 

“Still feeling miserable, Luke?” Honey demands. “Or are things starting to look up for you?”

“Honey,” Bea repeats, harsher this time. She clears her throat, coughing loudly to mask the “enough” that slips from her lips.

Honey glares at Bea.

Now that’s a murderous look that Trevor never wants to receive.

Honey sits back in her chair and bites into her burger, chewing angrily as she places the burger back on her plate. She crosses her arms over her chest, then gestures at Trevor. 

“Jamie has spent more time trying to get to know me, and Bea, in the past two days than any of y’all have in three weeks,” Honey declares. 

Quinn opens his mouth to retort, but Honey holds a finger up to silence him and Bea rests a hand on his. He closes his mouth and goes back to his burger.

“Where am I from, Trevor?” Honey asks, calm and pointed. 

Trevor blinks, taken aback. “Here,” he replies, shrugging obviously. “You’re from Litchton. You’re a townie.”

“No. I’m not.” Honey merely states. She returns to her burger and eats it in silence.

Trevor stares at her, following her movements. His mouth is slightly open and his throat feels sort of dry. 

She’s right, Trevor thinks. I don’t actually know all that much about her.

Honey sneaks a peak at Jamie and smiles at him, then returns to her food.

Trevor pushes his plate even further away, not feeling hungry anymore. Luke grabs it and stacks his plate underneath Trevor’s, doing the same with Cole’s empty dish. He stands and takes their plates to the kitchen, scraping the leftover pieces into the trash and then starting to wash the dishes. 

“You know what we never did,” Bea says, breaking the silence and putting a positive spin on her words. She turns to Jack. “We never played Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“I could be down for Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Honey says, her voice a bit muffled as she tries to dig food out from between her teeth with her tongue.

“I’ll play too,” Jamie agrees, wiping his lips with a napkin and winking at Honey.

“That’s a really good idea,” Jack says, humming to himself. “I like how you think.”

Trevor doesn’t miss the way Bea glances at Quinn and holds a smile at bay. “Thanks, Jacky.”

Cole claps and stands, pushing his chair back. “I’ll get a bottle.”

“There’s an empty one downstairs,” Honey tells him. “We polished it off during the body shots.”

It’s like she’s trying to rile Trevor up on purpose. She’s sharing looks with Jamie, which makes Trevor want to act out to get her attention. She’s shooting retorts at each of the boys, which is making Trevor a little stiff in his shorts. She’s outspoken, finally coming out of her shell, and it’s affecting him.

But it’s also pissing him off because Trevor doesn’t enjoy being spoken to this way. He doesn’t like being reminded that he’s not doing as much as he could– the fact that he didn’t even know that Honey’s not originally from Litchton is a travesty. What’s next? She has a twin that he doesn’t know about?

And worse, Jamie is putting in the effort. He’s reaping the rewards, too, the rewards that Trevor should receive because he’s the one who flirted with Honey first. He knows that she’s attracted to him. He knows that she wants him. 

Trevor is fuming because she’s pushing her feelings away. Maybe she does think that Jamie is hot, but she’s throwing it back in Trevor’s face and flourishing it in a way that makes Trevor want to tear his hair out. She wanted Trevor first. Why is Jamie making it further than Trevor has? 

Why did Honey invite Jamie on a date instead of Trevor?

A date that Jamie didn’t even tell Trevor about. Trevor might not be talking to Jamie because he went on a date with Honey, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want Jamie to tell him what happened on the date.

If he plays Seven Minutes in Heaven, there’s a 15% chance that he’ll get Honey alone, and then he can ask her. And he’ll have Honey alone for seven minutes. 

Trevor’s chubbing up at the thought of it.

“I’ll play,” Trevor adds, belated. Cole already has a foot out of the room and Honey is polishing off her burger. 

She flicks the crumbs off her fingers, in Trevor’s direction. “Joy,” she replies, sarcastic and biting. 

Trevor scowls when she smiles wide at Quinn and he returns the look.

Honey, Bea, Jack, and Quinn head downstairs to the basement to join Cole. Trevor and Jamie help Luke with the rest of the dishes. Luke grabs a beer from the fridge when they’re done and shuffles down the stairs himself, leaving Trevor and Jamie to grab the rest of the drinks.

They fill their arms and Jamie kicks the refrigerator door shut behind them. 

“Hey, man,” Jamie calls.

Trevor stops and turns to him at the top of the stairs. “Yeah?”

“You’ve gotta stop freezing me out. Honey hates it.”

Trevor grinds his teeth. “I don’t like how close you are with her.”

“Dude, I’m only here for a week. You have the whole summer. Me and Honey becoming friends is not the end of the world,” Jamie says, nodding at Trevor. He pushes past Trevor and descends into the basement, leaving Trevor to follow after him.

The crew rearranged the sitting area while the boys did the dishes upstairs. They pushed the coffee table up against the wall and moved the couches back so there’s plenty of room for everyone to sit on the floor. Jack and Cole are missing from the circle.

“Did you start without us?” Trevor asks.

Jamie passes drinks to Honey, Bea, and Quinn, sitting cross-legged in the circle next to Honey. 

Trevor takes the spot next to Luke, almost perfectly across from Honey. 

Bea nods. “Jack and Cole are in the closet.”

As if on cue, Jack storms out of the closet and Cole follows. 

“The whole thing about Seven Minutes in Heaven is that we have seven minutes to do whatever we want in the closet,” Cole carps, trailing just a step behind Jack. “I want to see if you manscaped before you hooked up with Bea!”

“I don’t want to show you my dick,” Jack retorts, plopping down in the circle and taking a beer from Trevor. He twists the cap off and takes a swig.

“Cole, if you spin and get me, I’ll tell you all about it,” Bea promises. “It’s not your turn, though. Jamie, go.”

“You’re so bossy, Bea,” Jamie teases. He spins the bottle in front of him and it nearly lands on the girl he just addressed, but it points to Quinn instead. Good-naturedly, Jamie continues. “Alright, Quinn. Let’s do this thing.”

“Go ahead and start that timer for me, sweet Bea,” Quinn murmurs, pressing a kiss to her cheek before shuffling to his feet. 

Bea glows a little at the contact and Trevor chortles when he sees the little necklace Bea’s wearing. It’s the same kind that Jim uses when he helps the boys train in Michigan. Trevor is not surprised that Quinn had an extra of the same kind lying around, one that he’s now giving to Bea. 

Honey watches the boys walk away, leaning back on one of her hands and taking a sip of her drink. “Do you think they’ll talk at all in there?” She asks, bottom lip still pressed against the mouth of the bottle in her hand.

“No way,” Cole jumps in. “They’re both so quiet.”

“I think they’ll both be very happy to sit in silence,” Bea agrees, sounding fond. “It’ll be a nice break for them.”

“Are you calling us annoying?” Jack teases, grinning at Bea.

“Well…” She trails off, coy.

“You, Cole, and Trevor at least,” Honey finishes, smiling so big that her tongue pokes between her teeth.

“Ha-ha,” Luke laughs, beaming a little.

Jack pouts.

Bea reaches out and pinches Luke’s cheek, which makes him blush and push her away. “Yeah, how could this sweet face be annoying?”

“Alright, cut it out,” Luke groans, but he’s still glowing at the compliment.

Seven minutes passes in a flash and before Trevor knows it, Jamie is putting his arm around Honey and pulling her into his side. She makes herself comfortable there and Trevor clenches his jaw, feeling like he could growl at the sight.

“Who wants to go next?” Jamie asks, looking around the circle.

“I’ll go,” Luke offers, reaching out to spin the bottle.

Mercifully, the neck of the bottle points at Honey and she has to pull away from Jamie. She stands and smooths out her shorts. They’re puffy and Honey can’t fix that, but Trevor loves that they reveal Honey’s long, smooth legs. He wishes that he were the only one in the room with her, selfishly, so that no one else would be able to get any ideas.

Jamie’s staring up at her too, biting his bottom lip and admiring the girl standing above him, and the only thing keeping Trevor from lunging at him is the fact that Luke is entering the closet with Honey instead of Jamie.

Honey holds her hand out for Luke to take. She pulls him to his feet and he stands, the inches he has on Honey seeming to dwarf her. 

“Jesus, you’re tall,” Honey notices, then leads Luke into the closet and shuts the door behind them. 

“Does Honey actually know anything about haircare?” Cole asks Bea, slighting the absent girl.

“She moonlights as a hairdresser,” Bea replies, playing along. “She used to cut my hair when we lived together.”

“You guys used to live together?” Trevor asks, genuinely curious. He can’t imagine that– Honey is independent and quiet, a lover of alone time. Bea is loud and cuddly and just as annoying as Cole, Jack, and Trevor are in her own eyes. 

On second thought, maybe they worked as roommates. Quinn is quiet and independent like Honey, but he’s taken with Bea. Even if she’s hooking up with other guys, it’s clear that she and Quinn have a special relationship.

“Yeah, we slept in the same bed for about a year,” Bea confirms, waving Jack off when his face brightens. “She hogs the covers.”

Bea reminisces for a couple of minutes about the year they spent in Honey’s house. Her stories are broken up by Jack and Cole’s probing questions. The timer goes off as she assures them that yes, she and Honey would make a beautiful pair, but neither of them are interested in each other like that. She calls for Honey and Luke and holds a finger to her lips when Jack goes to rag on the other girl, seeking more details.

“Quit,” Bea tells him. “Or I’m kicking you out of the game.”

Jack clamps his mouth shut and pouts, whining a little.

“I’m going next,” Bea decides, crawling forward to spin the bottle.

Trevor rolls his eyes, not seeing that Honey does the exact same when she sits down. Jack’s mouth quirks in a smirk as he eyes Bea’s chest, missing Quinn’s hand slide up the back of Bea’s thigh and rest just under the hemline of her dress.

Despite the scenarios that are no doubt running through both Hugheses’ minds, the bottle lands on neither of them. 

The mouth of the bottle stares at Cole, who lets a smile creep over his face. He stands and walks over to the closet, swinging the door open and holding it for Bea. “Ma’am,” he teases, sweeping an arm out to further emphasize the doorway.

“Loser,” Bea jibes, but she’s laughing when she hops up and pulls the hem of her dress a little lower. She curtsies when she makes it to Cole, then loops her hand over the collar of his shirt and pulls him into the closet, effectively closing the door behind them. 

Jack grumbles, eying the bottle in front of him. “I feel like that’s pointed more at me than it was at Cole,” he complains.

“Get a grip, dude,” Quinn says. “She’s sleeping with everyone, remember?”

Trevor and Luke laugh out loud, delighted in Quinn’s use of Jack’s own words against him.

Jack is stewing on the spot, clenching his fists and glaring at his older brother. Quinn is smirking and Luke reaches forward, pulling the bottle towards himself and out of the middle of the circle. Jack’s eyes flicker over to Luke, his gaze grim.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Go ahead.”

Jack reaches forward and snags Quinn’s shirt, whereas Quinn traps Jack in a headlock. They squabble and Honey scoots away from the two of them, burrowing into Jamie’s side. Trevor sees red when he wraps his arm around Honey’s waist and lifts her over his lap, setting her on his other side. Honey shrieks a little when she leaves the ground, her eyes wide with surprise when she stares up at Jamie.

Oh, he’s not special, Trevor could shout. I can do that easily!

“Do they do this often?” Honey asks when Luke reaches over and pulls his brothers apart. 

“They’re only allowed to fight if they haven’t gotten over their problem for three or more days,” Luke explains. “Mom didn’t want us to fight at all, but Dad said the forced hugs weren’t cutting it. This is only, like, the fourth time they’ve fought. The fight has a five-minute time limit.”

Quinn snickers, thumbing over his bottom lip and grinning devilishly at Jack. 

Jack is still grumbling, but his attention suddenly catches on the closet door. Bea is stumbling on her feet, holding a hand on the doorknob while her other is looped over Cole’s shoulders.

With all eyes on them, Cole just grins.

“We’re gonna go upstairs for a sec,” Bea says, a bit starry-eyed as she explains herself. Her cheeks are pink and one of her sleeves is slipping down, revealing her bra strap. 

No one speaks, but Cole sticks his tongue out at Jack and wiggles it. He tosses his head back with a laugh, then takes Bea’s hand and pulls her toward the stairs.

“We’ll be back!” Bea calls, allowing herself to be pulled up the stairs and out of sight.

For a moment, the air is still.

Then, Honey starts to giggle. She covers her mouth, but it does very little to muffle the endearing noises she’s omitting. “Didn’t see that coming, huh?” She asks Jack between laughs. “But you don’t see much coming, do you?”

“There’s a reason his nickname is The Cock,” Trevor adds, relishing in Jack’s annoyance. 

Honey’s eyes make their way to Trevor and she’s still giggling. Trevor shares a smile with her, then winks. The moment fades when she buries her face in Jamie’s shirt and Trevor remembers that they’re not the only two in the room.

“Are you calling me stupid?” Jack asks Honey, frowning.

Luke places the bottle back in the middle of the circle.

“No.” Honey shakes her head, blinking innocently at Trevor. “I would never call you stupid.”

Trevor’s breath seems to stop when Honey leans forward and spins the bottle. It spins quick, rattling on the ground before it comes to a stop. 

Honey frowns. “Well, that’s no fun,” she complains. “I don’t want to go in the closet alone.”

Jamie rubs her back. “Spin it again, who gives a shit?” He asks, looking around the circle. “Do any of you care if Honey gets another turn?”

“Why, you hoping it points at you?” Trevor hears himself reply, reaching up to itch his nose. He drops his hand back to his lap and tilts his head at Jamie.

“I should be so lucky,” Jamie replies easily, laying his head atop Honey’s for a moment. “She’s excellent company.”

There’s something about the way he says it. Trevor furrows his eyebrows, looking between Honey and the dark-haired boy. They’re too comfortable together. In an instant, it all clicks. Something happened between them on the hike yesterday.

Honey is already reaching forward to spin the bottle again, but Trevor’s gaze is fixed on Jamie’s. 

The look in Jamie’s eyes is pure arrogance. He’s bragging without saying a word and Trevor can practically hear Jamie’s voice in his head. I know something you don’t.

“Trevor.”

Honey’s soft voice snaps him out of it and her sweet smile causes all his suspicion and anger to fade away. Honey nods toward the bottle.

It’s pointed squarely at Trevor. There’s no question about it. The bottle doesn’t even consider Jack or Luke on either of Trevor’s sides– and Trevor mentally thanks whatever divine being controlled the spin of the bottle.

“This is gonna be funny,” Jack mutters to Jamie, who is now sitting next to him in Cole’s absence. “They’ve been beefing for weeks.”

“Yeah, we hate each other,” Honey agrees, climbing to her feet. “We’re going to pull a Hughes and scuffle for seven minutes.”

“Let us know who wins,” Quinn chirps, grabbing Honey’s hand as she passes him. He tugs her down and she bends at the waist, putting her ear next to his mouth. Trevor climbs to his own feet and catches the word “ankle” as it leaves Quinn’s lips.

Trevor shakes his head, smiling to himself. Honey’s a firecracker, sure, but she’d never actually beat him up.

He pauses, approaching the closet door. Wait.

Maybe she would.

Trevor looks at Honey and finds only sweetness in her eyes. He watches as she casts a look back at Jamie, then taking in the nod from the boy. 

And wouldn’t you know it, he’s mad again. Trevor enters the closet regardless, already feeling a little claustrophobic.

Honey closes the door behind them and plunges them into darkness.

It takes a minute for Trevor’s eyes to adjust. He blinks a few times, then Honey’s figure comes into view. She’s leaning against the back of the door, her arms crossed, and her head is tilted to the side. 

“Are you thinking about the best way to take me down?” Trevor asks. “You look like there’s something on your mind.”

“I’m thinking about what I’m going to do with you,” Honey replies. “You’re being so mean to Jamie. He misses you.”

“I’m not being mean to him,” Trevor argues.

“But you’re not talking to him, either,” Honey says. “He said you asked for him to be here, but now that he’s here, you’re acting like Jack.”

Trevor feels a flash of guilt run through his system and he slouches a bit. She’s right– he hasn’t really protected Jamie from Jack’s ire, but things didn’t seem so bad. Jamie is still hanging out with them. He’s just a quiet guy. He doesn’t really speak unless spoken to, and Trevor is normally the one who speaks to him, but he’s been so mad about Jamie and Honey. Trevor rubs his arm, feeling goosebumps prickle over his skin. 

“Why are you treating him like this?” Honey asks.

Because of you.

Trevor’s mouth opens immediately like he wants to tell his thought to Honey, but he knows it’s not a good enough explanation for the girl. She’ll resent it, even, that Trevor is treating his best friend poorly because of her.

“He got to touch you,” Trevor says.

Honey makes a face and a disapproving noise.

“He got to touch you the way I want to,” Trevor tries again. “He got to spend time alone with you.”

“Oh,” Honey breathes out, straightening up from the door. 

“Honey, I want that.” Trevor steps forward. He searches her face for discomfort, any sign that he’s going too far. “If you really want Jamie,” he says, forcing his words out. His throat feels like it’s closing up. “Then I want you to have him. I would be a bad friend if I got between you and him. Honey, I just–”

Trevor cuts himself off with a shake of his head. He looks down and runs his fingers through his hair, grinding his teeth.

“You what?” Honey asks, so quiet that Trevor can barely hear her. Her eyebrows are curved in concern and there’s dislike tugging at the corner of her lips. 

Trevor’s hands fall helplessly to his sides. He wishes he could touch Honey, that he could intertwine their fingers to ground himself.

“I thought you wanted me,” Trevor mutters, feeling his cheeks turn red at the admission. He cringes, squeezing his eyes shut. “I thought you lied the other day and that you were just holding back, but now you’re all close with Jamie and I guess I was wrong. I was wrong to assume there was something between us.”

“Trevor,” Honey laments. His eyes shoot open when the pads of her fingers come into contact with his hand and he’s surprised by how close she is. She looks sad, so sad, and Trevor mistakes her look for pity.

“I’m sorry about… all this,” Trevor says, looking away from Honey. He can’t meet her eyes like this. 

“Don’t be,” Honey says. She runs her thumb over his and the movement makes Trevor shiver. 

He pulls away. “But I was wrong, and more wrong to act the way I’ve been acting.” Trevor looks up to the ceiling, biting his tongue in hopes that the sharp pain will distract him from how foolish he feels.

Honey’s hands find him again, curving over his waist. They’re warm as they run down towards his hips and it makes Trevor squirm.

“You weren’t wrong,” Honey whispers. She shakes her head. 

Trevor’s eyes snap to hers. 

“You weren’t wrong,” She repeats now that she has his attention. 

Trevor feels her hands move again, her fingers inching into his waistband just like they did over a week ago. They’re just as delicate and careful, the pressure light enough that Trevor wants to beg her for more, but his voice is caught in his chest. He looks down, losing his breath at the sight of her fingers hooking over his shorts, tugging at them.

Honey drops to her knees effortlessly and Trevor gasps like he’s been shocked by an AED. 

Maybe he is being shocked by an AED. Maybe he died and they’re trying to bring him back to life. 

Honey tugs at Trevor’s shorts, inching them lower. 

He’s motionless, absolutely powerless when it comes to Honey. He can’t move. He’s frozen in place.

“What are you doing?” Trevor chokes out. One of his hands finds the shelf of board games next to him, scrambling for something to ground himself.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” Honey says. She blinks up at Trevor through her eyelashes.

Trevor can see down her tank top. The space between her tits is like a void and Trevor is tumbling deeper and deeper into it. There’s no saving him. He might permanently warp the wood of the shelf with how hard he’s gripping it.

“You–” Trevor’s voice is high. He coughs. “I–”

“Have you thought about it?” Honey asks, tilting her head and licking her lips. “Did you think about this after Cole’s dare?”

Trevor can only nod. He didn’t think about this, but he thought about Honey. He dreamt about her. He yearned to feel her hands on him again, her tongue on his skin or in his mouth, but he never thought it would go down like this.

“We should thank him, really,” Honey says like an afterthought, her eyes raking down Trevor’s body until they fix on the tent in his shorts. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to do this that night.”

She leans closer, brushing her lips in an almost non-existent kiss over the front of Trevor’s shorts.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Honey continues. One of her hands inches toward Trevor’s bulge and he lets out an involuntary whimper, biting hard on his lower lip. Honey looks up at Trevor again and he wishes the lights were on so he could see her better. Her eyes are bright in the darkness, shining with desire, and Trevor might die. “Are you going to let me blow you, Trevor?”

Trevor keens, nodding. “Yes,” he gasps out. 

A smile creeps onto Honey’s face and she stares up at him for a second. She almost looks evil, drinking him in like a succubus.

But then her attention turns back to Trevor’s cock, so hard that he’s leaking from the tip and certainly moistening the fabric of his underwear. Honey drags his shorts down to his ankles, capturing the head of his cock in her mouth as soon as she frees him from the confines of his clothes.

Trevor groans, his mouth dropping open at the feeling of Honey’s warm, wet mouth closing around him. He almost weeps when she pulls away.

“You have to be quiet, Trevor,” Honey chastises. “The boys are just on the other side of the door.”

Trevor nods helplessly, unable to deny Honey. He wants this so bad. He’s needed her since the second he bumped into her at the fruit stand, scrolling on his phone and not paying attention. He’d do anything for her to take his cock in her mouth again.

Her hand finds his base, squeezing his shaft and pumping it in an easy rhythm. She traces the head of his cock over her bottom lip, rubbing it back and forth, and a little precum blurts out of his slit. She spreads the precum along her lips like a coat of lipgloss, then Honey’s tongue pokes out and licks the salty liquid away, closing her eyes and moaning lowly at the taste.

Trevor’s knees shake a little. If he wasn’t holding himself up, he’d collapse right on top of her.

“Tastes good,” Honey murmurs. For a second, Trevor feels like he’s impeding, like he wasn’t supposed to hear that, like he’s not supposed to be here– because this can’t be real.

All of those feelings fade away when Honey takes him in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and sucking him in. Trevor’s other hand lurches forward like a marionette and he gathers Honey’s hair into a makeshift ponytail. He needs to see her face. He needs to see her eyes.

As if Honey knows what he’s thinking, her irises find his face. Trevor is stunned by how blown out her pupils are. They’re dark and wide and swirling with lust. Trevor loses himself, feeling his hips stutter forward.

Honey takes as much of him as she can, gagging on the length in her throat. Her gag squeezes Trevor and he whimpers, pulling on her hair. He’s close, he’s so close even though it’s been only a minute or two since Honey attached herself to his cock.

“Honey, fuck, I’m going to come,” Trevor whines, struggling to stay still and let her control the pace.

Honey pulls off, a line of saliva tying her mouth to Trevor’s dripping length. It breaks as she continues to pump him, thumbing over the tip of his cock. “Isn’t that the point?” She asks. She plants a chaste kiss over his slit, kitten-licking the opening with little flicks of the tip of her tongue.

Trevor groans, trying to keep his voice low like she wanted, but he’s not doing the best job. He brings his hand to his mouth and bites his knuckle, just as Honey lowers her head back down. She bobs on his length, sucking harshly and swirling her tongue in all the right ways to make Trevor unravel. As she lays her other hand on Trevor’s thigh, Trevor loses his breath. He pitches forward, shaking underneath her touch as he comes. Her thumb on his thigh is his anchor, keeping him from passing away then and there.

Marvelously, just when Trevor thinks that things can’t get any better, Honey swallows his come like she’d been starving. 

Trevor is speechless, unable to look away from Honey. He’s never come like that before, never been so completely overtaken by an orgasm that he can’t speak. 

Honey smirks and licks her lips, wiping her thumb on the sides of her mouth to clean up any stray fluids.

Trevor’s eyes are fixed on her mouth, her beautiful, beautiful mouth.

He sinks to his knees like he’s melting and plants his hands on her body, one on her waist and one cupping her jaw. He kisses her with everything he has, licking into her mouth and tasting himself until he’s breathless and lightheaded and has to pull away. Stars dance across his vision, framing Honey’s face. 

She’s dazzling. Trevor can barely remember that there was a time when he didn’t know she existed. He can’t imagine a time after her. He’s stuck in the current moment, where Honey is absolutely everything, and he leans in to kiss her again.

Honey presses a hand to his mouth, keeping him in place. 

Trevor’s lips are pursed in a kiss against her fingers and he frowns. 

“You need to pull your pants up before they open the door,” Honey tells him.

It’s like whiplash. Trevor feels slapped across the face by how quickly she recovered after that blowjob. He’s still moving slowly, like he’s not in control of all of his muscles because they’re so relaxed, but Honey is making her way to her feet. 

Trevor scrambles to meet her, rising to his normal height and bringing his bottoms with him. He tucks himself away and straightens his clothing. He watches Honey flick her hair out of her face and pull the strap of her tank top back into place. Trevor follows her hand, daring to look a little lower. He nearly drools at the sight of Honey’s hard nipples poking against the fabric of her top. 

Honey snaps her fingers in front of Trevor’s face. He’s dazed, but meets her eyes.

“This never happened,” Honey tells him, voice hard. She tilts her head down, prompting Trevor. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Trevor nods, feeling far away. Whatever Honey wants.

“Trevor,” Honey groans, reaching up to fix his hair. “I’m serious. You can’t tell the boys.”

“I won’t,” Trevor agrees, leaning into her touch. He’ll do anything Honey asks, just as long as he gets to kiss her again. He’d chop his hand off right now if that’s what she wanted, just so he could get another taste of her sweetness. He stares at her lips, truly stares, leaning forward again. He’s a breath away from her mouth when she pulls back, stepping away.

Trevor actually whines like a child at the loss of her. His hands feel empty without her skin underneath his palms and he’s running cold as her warmth steps away.

Honey shows him a little mercy with a slight smile and a breath of a laugh. “Pull yourself together, Trevor,” she says, a playful lilt in her tone. “You’re a mess.”

Jamie calls for Honey on the other side of the door and she opens it, the light stunning Trevor. It snaps him back into reality and the gravity of the situation dawns on him as he takes in the fluorescent light. He just came down Honey’s throat in a dark closet and kissed her so hard that his lips might be bruised and swollen. 

Then he agreed not to tell anyone, because he was so drunk on Honey that he lost control of himself.

Honey’s fine, seamlessly fitting back into the group and telling Quinn that she was the obvious winner of her and Trevor’s scuffle. She doesn’t give Trevor a second look.

He’s so fucked.

[hyunnows]

A LOVE SO BEAUTIFUL | YJI

In which Jeongin watches you chase after Seungmin over and over, waiting for his turn to have your heart.

PAIRING(S) | Jeongin x reader, Seungmin x reader

THEMES | angst, fluff, unrequited love (two of them), best friends to lovers, high school!au, best friend!Jeongin, lots of background characters, based on a love so beautiful (inspired by both versions), embarrassing and slightly humiliating scenes, crying, heartbreak

WORD COUNT | 10k+

RATING | pg

NOTE | I’ve been working on this for so long, I don’t even know why it’s taken so long. Literally like a third of Sugar Sugar written in 10x the amount of time. Anyway, I love the dramas this fic is based on (especially the k ver bc the main lead was more likable imo) and I really hope I did this au justice. Alos, its not meant to be a direct copy of the drama, more like inspired by a few episodes/scenes (you'll be able to tell which ones if you've seen either version of the drama). Anyway, I would like to thank my beta reader @that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick, thank you so much for your help, I really did find all your feedback useful <33333 i hope you all enjoy this! Love you all, ty for all the support <3 have a great day/night!!

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“Hey, Seungmin~!” you call in a singsong voice, cheeks tinted pink as the tall, quiet boy stares at you nervously. 

“Hey [Y/N]…”

Shuffling closer to his ear, you gesture for him to lean down so the other surrounding students wouldn't hear. When he does, you cup a hand around your mouth and whisper. "I like you,” you giggle softly as you back away from him. 

Seungmin scratches his neck awkwardly. "No offense, but I don't like you…sorry.” His face drops as he rejects you in the kindest, bluntest way. 

“O-oh,” you rub your arms as you giggle again. "It's fine!” This time, your bright smile dims, and nobody notices how it doesn't reach your eyes. 

Nobody other than Jeongin, that is. 

Jeongin can see how there's no crinkle beside your eyes or nose as you play your confession off, laughing with Seungmin in an oddly offbeat way. He notices how your shoulders are slumping more now than when he'd encouraged you to confess, and how your head hangs as you shuffle back over to him. 

“So…?”

You frown, biting your lip to hold back your tears. Jeongin doesn't need any more confirmation than that to pull you into a tight hug. He caresses your head as you blink away your tears, an artificial smile on your lips. "It’s fine, I just have to win him over!” 

He frowns but bites his tongue. You can’t help who you love…

And neither can he.

He sighs, "Okay then, but don't be upset when it doesn't work out,” eliciting a shove from you that makes you smile softly as the light fades back into your eyes. 

——

“…and one teaspoon of pure vanilla extract,” Jeongin finishes reading to you, swinging his legs lazily back and forth as they dangle off the counter. He watches you with adoring eyes as you rush to find the vanilla extract, hastily measuring it and mixing it into the cake batter with big eyes. He pretends you’re his girlfriend, scrambling to make him a treat for a date—but as the tangy citrus scent fills his nostrils, it's hard to stay in his trance. He doesn’t like oranges that much, but Seungmin does—and that’s who the orange upside-down cake is for. 

You spoon the batter in dollops onto the oranges in the cake pan, doing your best to evenly cover them without disturbing their positions too much. And once you’ve smoothed the top—as Jeongin had directed you—you’re baking the cake, pulling it out fifteen minutes later to check its consistency and rotate the pan, fully concentrated on your self-assigned task. 

Jeongin continues his loving gaze, taking in your messy flour-covered bun and shirt, butterflies filling his stomach at the view. Something about the dim, warm lights and your adorably focused pout was making his stomach do flips—although it always did that when he was with you. 

When the first cake burns, he offers to help, smiling dumbly to himself every time your hands accidentally graze each other’s and mixing badly on purpose so you’ll come and help him. It’s a wonder how you manage to miss the endless flat-out doting grins he gives you.

“If you keep putting the icing on my nose, we're going to run out of it for the cake,” you giggle every three words as you swipe it off.

He flashes you his braces, leaning closer to you as he dots another glob onto your nose. "Oops, I did it again,” he teases, not minding what he’s sure is a prominent blush on his cheeks every time you playfully push his chest. 

It's only when you're handing the cake to Seungmin that he wishes the whole scenario had never happened, because you two are blushing, and everyone around you is cooing (although he takes the wish back quickly because it was one of his favorite memories)...before being disappointed when he kindly rejects the cake after a quick spoonful, claiming to be full. 

“I know he just didn't want to embarrass me because I'm a horrible baker, but it still hurts,” you mumble against Jeongin’s shoulder, your thumb tracing the outline of the cake box you'd bought earlier. “It must taste awful…”

Jeongin takes the box from your hands gently, pulling a fork from his pocket—don't ask—and stuffing a large bite into his mouth. Truthfully, it wasn't the worst cake he’s ever tasted, and knowing you made it with your own two hands during that wonderful afternoon with him that ended in cuddling on the couch and watching baking shows… oh, he’s prepared to scarf the whole thing down. 

“It's not bad [Y/N], look,” he says, taking another bite and wiping a bit of the caramel onto your nose fondly like he'd done that afternoon, “If he doesn’t want it, it's his loss.”

You flush as he asks to have the entire cake, and of course, you say yes. Honestly, if Jeongin liked it, that was enough. At least it wasn't going to waste. 

“Hey! Stop putting the cake on my nose!”

——

Your tongue peeks out your mouth as you put all your attention on the beads and clear string in your fingers. “Innie, can you help me pick the bead colors?”

“Sure, but doesn't that take away from you making it?” he says bluntly as he taps his cheek and stares at the different hues of beads organized neatly in Hyunjin’s jewelry-making box. “Red and orange.” His newly freed pearly whites sparkle at you in the natural sunlight. 

You scrunch your nose. “I was thinking of a color palette with more purple tones, y’know, because Min likes purple,” you mumble, unaware of his downturned lips at the mention of the older boy's nickname. 

Nevertheless, he's your best friend, so he thinks hard on what would look good with purple, picking out a dull blue and a brighter one, along with a glittery and a glossy purple, deciding it's all worth it to see your dazzling smile. He carefully picks them out in even groups, holding your hand in his as he pours the beads with his other hand, noticing how your breathing gets caught in your throat for a second when your palms connect. 

“Thanks.”

“Anything for you,” he whispers, not daring to say it loud enough for you to hear. His eyes disappear in his gleeful expression, his mind in a delightful daze at the thought that maybe he had some effect on you. You wonder if he can see the blush in your cheeks, but shake the thought away when you realize his attention redirected to cutting his own piece of string, picking out pink, blue, and white beads that he laces quickly and strategically. By the time you've managed to thread barely half of your—Seungmin’s—bracelet, Jeongin’s already tying the knot on his. He stretches it gently to check durability, then tugs at your wrist gently to slip it on, a small sun charm dangling from it. 

In reality, he's just not the type to say such things and do such actions at the same time—he’d much rather tease you—so he puts on a fake serious face and shrugs. “It's nothing, I just didn't want you to pick something ugly.”

Your cheeks warm, smacking him as you whine for a moment. You bring your arm to your eyes to admire the pattern, smiling and hugging his neck happily. "You're the best friend I could ask for,” and he grins back, satisfied with the position. 

“You're the best,” he whispers under his breath, quickly making a matching necklace for you to wear. As he pulls the craft onto you, his cheeks warm at the feeling of your neck just grazing his fingertips. 

With a teasing smirk, you eye him happily. “Did you just say something nice to me willingly?” A giggle interrupting you with every other word as his cheeks tint brightly. 

“And it's never happening again.” His face in his hands as he tries to tame the blush on his face. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, before you both burst into laughter, you're hopping over to pull at his face-fat teasingly. “You're secretly a sweetheart, aren't you, Yang Jeongin? You probably say nice things in your head all the time,” drawing embarrassed groans and weak attempts at pushing off of him whilst he laughs, blissfully. 

He groans, “I don’t,” trying to sound serious while you pinch at his cheeks.

Your hair perfectly frames your face as it tickles his, an almost halo effect outlining your figure. He doesn't know if it's just him, but all he can see is you, everything else dimmed out into the background as his eyes rest on only you. 

Then you pull away, laughing, with a look he has grown tired of seeing in your eyes when you look at him.

Friendship.

——

You’re bright and bubbly when you slip your gift into Seungmin’s desk, excited to see him sport a [Y/N]-original accessory and hopefully fall for you. 

Unfortunately, fate had another plan.

“Sorry [Y/N], I’m not really a jewelry guy…” Seungmin trails off, handing you back the box you’d given him earlier that day, all the bracelets inside and bundled. He tries to ignore his friend’s snickers, rubbing his neck nervously whilst handing you the small cardboard box, cheeks red in embarrassment.

You take it with two hands, barely gripping it at all with your shaky hands and blurry vision. They were laughing at you, and he didn’t like the bracelets. A quiet, "Oh, o-okay,” is all you manage to get out, biting your lip harshly as you tuck your hard work away. "Sorry.”

Seungmin gives you a guilty smile, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs, giving you an awkward wave, and running back to his group, who tease him loudly about you. He cringes at their jokes, hiding his face from you and walking away.

You think you should be crying by now, seeing as he rejected you, but you’re more ashamed because not only was Seungmin embarrassed by being around you, but his friends seemed to think you were a joke as well. How mortifying.

You hear a shuffling pair of feet approach you before you’re wrapped in the long, strong arms you call home. “They teased him and laughed. Laughed, Jeongin…” your voice shrinking in sadness. You turn to him, eyes watering. "Am I that unlikable?”

Of course, Jeongin tells you no. "You’re the most likable person I know,” in a reassuring, uncharacteristically sweet whisper. You sigh, causing him to hold you tighter to his chest. "They just… they need glasses,” evoking a light snort from you.

Turning into his chest, you wrap your arms around his waist, drawing an “Ew,” from Jeongin, although he had been the one to initiate the hug in the first place. You mutter a shut up at his faux disgust. After a tight squeeze, you release him, pulling out the now squished cardboard and handing it to him, a light tint in your cheeks as your hands brush against each other’s. “What’s this?”

“He, um, isn’t into jewelry, so I thought you could have them. They’re too big for my wrist, and I’d hate to waste Hyunjin’s nice beads,” beaming hopefully at him. You open the box, pulling out your favorite and sliding it on Jeongin’s wrist, blind to the pure puppy-love expression the brunet was giving you. Cringing slightly, you frown at the fact that you hadn’t even asked him if he wanted the bracelets. "You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to—”

Before you can pull it off him, he yanks his hand back, holding around the bracelet tightly. There was no way he wasn’t going to wear a bracelet you gave him. Granted, you’d made it with the intention of Seungmin wearing it, but he’d take what he could get. "I-um, I’ll wear it. It’s a neat bracelet,” awkwardly releasing his wrist and dropping it to his side. 

“Neat?”

“Leave me alone. This is why I’m not nice to you,” he mutters, face flushed red.

You feel your heart flutter, but you assume it’s out of general happiness and not the fact that Jeongin wanted what you’d made. It wasn’t as if you wanted Jeongin’s approval or anything—you cared about Seungmin’s because you like him, and you definitely didn’t like Jeongin. 

Then why aren’t you able to stop the way your heart quickens around him these days?

——

Jeongin isn’t the most talkative, especially when it comes to girls. Despite that, here he is, spilling everything he feels about you to Chan and Hyunjin. He’d explained the bracelet when they’d originally asked, and somehow he’d ended up in a rant about how lucky Seungmin was to be the target of all your affection.

“Why don’t you just tell her?” Chan asks, confused. Crushes couldn’t be that difficult, it should be even easier when you’re their best friend, right?

Hyunjin stares at Chan dramatically, causing the elder to lift his hands in a sort of confused surrender. "Are you serious? You don’t just tell your best friend of four years—who’s already in love with someone you agreed to help them win over—that you’re in love with them!I swear, it’s like you’ve never read a book.” 

Shrugging in uncertainty, he elaborates his former opinion. "It’s just, this all seems way too serious for a high school crush. And anyway, don’t you tease [Y/N] all the time?” Making Hyunjin roll his eyes.

“It’s his first love, it’s very serious!” Hyunjin argues, sweeping his luscious blond locks to the side. "And he teases her because he likes her! Plus, it’s not like he can stop, and it wouldn’t be weird, he’s always teased her. I’m ninety-eight percent sure she likes it.”

“Okay, since Love Expert Hyunjin seems to have all your answers, I don’t think I’m needed for this anymore,” the shortest sighs, standing from his seat on the bleachers and onto the field for some soccer. Chan may love Jeongin like a brother, but he’s not the best option when it comes to love advice.

Jeongin stares at the field, watching you as you cheered for Seungmin in the street-style free for all soccer game, wishing you were half as enthusiastic when he was participating. “I don’t want to try to win her over or anything, being her friend is enough… I just wish she’d dedicate herself to someone who cares for her at least as much as she does for them. I bet Seungmin doesn’t even know her favorite color…”

Jutting out his bottom lip in a pity-filled pout, Hyunjin soothes his hand on Jeongin’s back, nodding in understanding. "Y’know, she’s really lucky to have someone like you to always be there for her,” and he genuinely means it. He’s seen how gentle Jeongin was with you, even if he used a teasing front because no matter what, Jeongin’s always at your beck and call. You two could have just argued, and Jeongin would be the first to apologize and make sure you were okay, not expecting anything in return. His love was admirable and pure, and you got it all. “I’m sure she’ll come around.”

Jeongin nods, frowning as you hug Seungmin, making the boy cringe and gently shove you off. He wonders how Seungmin could so easily brush off your love, jealous and wishing you would hug him like that. He might jokingly shout “Yuck!” but he knows he’d hug you back even tighter.

——

“[Y/N], I don’t like you back.” Seungmin didn’t mean to sound so mean, but you’d once again smothered him in front of everyone, flustering him for the last time. Even as you began to tremble and tear up in front of him and everyone else, he stood his ground, keeping a stern face. "I tried really hard to let you down gently, but you seem to have missed the hints. Please stop giving me gifts and hugs and asking me out. I don’t see you that way.”

Blinking back your tears, you nod, hiding your beet red cheeks behind your hair and staring at the ground. Taking back the scarf you’d crocheted with your own two hands, you hug it to your chest, pressing it against your thumping heart in the hopes it would calm down the erratic beating. When that fails, you try to block out the murmurs from bystanders, and run for your home, your safe place.

While your best friend was never keen on you trying to make someone love you back—not when he was waiting patiently in line—he’s never wished you listened to him more than he does now

Jeongin’s surprised to see you outside his door, knowing Seungmin had baseball practice today, and because it was beginning to sprinkle. Regardless of your damp attire, he pulls you inside, hurriedly running to get you a towel. "What are you doing here? It’s starting to rain, and it’s cold as heck out there!” His concern raw, too lazy to try to mask it with a joke. "Are you crying?”

You throw your arms around his neck, cheek pressing against his strong yet soft chest as you nod, your tears dripping into his shirt. “He… he rejected me in front of everyone. He said he didn’t like me that way, and then asked if I would leave him alone. I made a fool of myself,” your words becoming incoherent as you squeak through your snivels. 

He clenches his fist tighter with each weep, and he’s sure that if you weren’t holding him so tightly, Seungmin would be six feet under by now. But since comforting you is more important than whooping some scholar-soccer player—not that he could do much damage, the boy’s six centimeters taller than him and he plays sports—he cradles your head as gently as he can with one hand and pets your hair with the other. “He’s an idiot.”

“No, he’s not, I am. I don’t know why I thought I had a chance…” You sniffle, shaking your head against him.

Jeongin tilts your face up to look at him, frowning at your glistening cheeks and shushing the voice in his head that’s going on about how you somehow managed to look beautiful even though you’re heartbroken. “Don’t say that, you’re amazing,” uncaring about how he’s probably the color of that ugly sweater Seungmin’s older brother somehow managed to rock.

You can’t bring yourself to believe his words completely, but the fondness in his eyes makes you want to because you knew Jeongin wasn’t the type to throw words like that around. Still, you nod, hoping you could one day be worthy of those words. 

——

Jeongin jumps when you slam the papers on his desk in front of him, a bright smile on your lips as you eagerly wait for him to ask you what you’re so excited about. He raises a brow, and you point frantically at the papers. “The school play? What about it?”

“I want to sign up for auditions!” You cheer, making jazz hands at the announcement. “They’ll be doing a romance play based on a student’s submission. I heard it’s really good.” Your best friend gives you a concerned look, forehead creased and mouth pursed. Well, that’s not the reaction you were hoping for when you told him. “Why are you making that face?”

Sighing, the black-haired boy stares up at you. “It’s just… are you sure you want to audition?” When you nod happily, he has no choice but to play the role of supportive best friend. “Okay, I’ll cheer you on.”

Your teacher comes in before you have the chance to elaborate on your idea, scolding you for not being ready for his class and eliciting a bit of laughter from your classmates—minus Jeongin, of course. 

Your teacher seems to be on the same page as you, though, pulling out one of the fliers. “Today we’re holding auditions in the auditorium during lunch, drama period, and after school, as well as staff signups. Anyone who participates in the school play’s production gets extra credit. If you have any questions, see me or the drama teacher after class.”

You shoot Jeongin a knowing look that he returns with a confused pout. He doesn’t know what’s up your sleeve, but he’s sure it’ll end badly somehow. 

Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong. You definitely had a scheme up your sleeve, and this wasn’t the desired outcome of your plan, but Jeongin wouldn’t necessarily file it as a ‘fail’. 

Originally, you planned on auditioning for the lead female part, while Seungmin would take the lead male, a part that everyone wanted him to play. You two would play as lovers, and eventually Seungmin would fall for you too and everything would be sunshine and rainbows. That was the plan. 

You knew that you needed someone to audition with, since they were allowing pairs to audition, and you already knew Seungmin would most likely refuse to audition with you. That’s why you brought Jeongin along. You hoped they’d see your star talent and recruit you to the cast while telling Jeongin he just didn’t make the cut—which he’d be fine with, once he understood your plan. That’s how everything was supposed to go down. 

And somehow, everything is going according to plan. 

You auditioned with complete confidence, and you did well. Acting’s one of your talents—not that you had an abundance of them, you just had a knack for pretending to be different people and characters—at least, you thought so.

Mr. Kim—the drama teacher—reads the casting aloud, so far, Seungmin got the lead male, Jeongin was cast as a random villager, and now it was your turn. “[Y/N]... you’ll play villager three and be in charge of the music…”

He continues to read out everyone else’s parts, but you can’t hear him. You didn’t get the part? But you did so well, right? Why didn’t they pick you?

Jeongin watches your crestfallen face, sighing inwardly because he knows nothing would be worse for you than watching Seungmin pretend to be utterly in love with another girl. He knows why you didn’t get the part, but he also knows that you put your all into that audition because you wanted to be Seungmin’s partner, so he feels bad. After all, his feelings for you only made him wish for you to be happy, and being the lead would’ve made you happy. Still, he can’t help the tiny bit of relief he feels because you won’t be playing the part of Seungmin’s lover. 

Someone hands you a recorder, you don't know who, as well as a sheet with different sound effects and songs for you to gather listed. Great. Not only do you play an unimportant side character, you're also in charge of putting together the romantic soundtrack and sound effects. Why did these things always happen to you?

“Don't worry [Y/N], we can have fun getting the songs and music together.” Jeongin smiles comfortingly, just enough to ease your stress, but you’re still upset at today’s outcome. Sensing the irritation in your stature—the way you furrow your brows and chew your nails are dead giveaways—the boy sighs, pulli by you along with him to collect a script. “Besides, it’s not the end of the world, there will be another play in a few months anyway.”

You nod, but honestly, you’re too bummed to pay him any real attention right now. Jeongin, sighing inaudibly, picks up your backpacks and pulls your sulking figure along towards the school’s exit. 

Pouting, you lean your head on his shoulder. “I thought I did so well…” 

The brunet ruffles your hair affectionately, giving you a small smile. “You did, it’s their loss they didn’t pick you.” His words make your lips quirk up. 

Turning to face him, you lift a brow at him. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Carry your own bag,” he mumbles, handing over your backpack with an amused grin dancing in his lips. 

You pout again, only this time there’s joy in your eyes instead of disappointment. 

Something about that smile makes you feel better.

——

“You must tread into the woods, find your true love, and ask for her hand. She’s who you belong with, your hearts destined to become one. Now forget about that other miller’s daughter and begin the journey!” You read, trying to put some sort of passion into your voice, but you can’t. The only lines you have pertain to Seungmin finding his love and marrying her, while forgetting about the poor second lead who you couldn’t help but relate to. And just to rub salt in your wound, you have the golden line. “Kiss her, and make her your wife. You have my blessing, to have a long, lovely marriage and life.”

Jeongin claps for you from your bed, his long limbs sprawled across the mattress. He doesn’t have any lines other than quiet repetitions of your words—for dramatic effect, but he doesn’t care too much for them anyway. Extra credit is extra credit, right? “That was great [Y/N], but you really should start recording the sounds and music. They’re going to want them for rehearsals.”

You slump, nodding. You needed to recreate horseshoes hitting the ground, birds chirping, water running and the crumpling of leaves, and then download the songs the production team had already chosen. How fun. 

“Jeongin, grab those rocks and that rug for me please.” He nods, reaching for the two large stones as you start muttering, upset. “Why do I have to bless their union though? Out of every part I could’ve gotten, I had to get the part where I encouraged Seungmin to marry another girl…” You groan more, shutting up only to record the rocks hitting the rug in an offbeat pattern to mimic horse hooves. 

Jeongin rolls his eyes, because you only have to encourage Seungmin’s character, while he has to support you every time you scheme to get the older boy to fall for you. It shouldn’t be a competition, but he can’t help but feel that his situation is a tad worse.

——

“[Y/N], where’s the audio recording? We need it now!” Hana, the girl in charge of putting the music and sound over the play, calls urgently. The play’s about to start, and because of your constant sulking, you only just finished recording everything. 

Luckily you still have about ten minutes before the play begins, so you’re safe from being scolded. “Sorry, here it is.”

She takes it from you happily, readying it in a way you don’t exactly understand—hence why you aren’t one of the techs—and sending you off to get into your costume. 

The play’s going smoothly, everything’s in order and running perfectly. You’ve said your lines, Jeongin’s said his and Seungmin is absolutely killing his role. And then your voice booms through the speakers. 

“Why do I have to bless their union though? Out of every part I could’ve gotten, I had to get the part where I encouraged Seungmin to marry another girl…” 

The familiar statement falls upon the crowds shocked ears, and you feel all color drain from your face. That…that recorded…?

Your drama teacher glares at you, murder bright in their eyes. You can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. 

The crowd erupts into laughter and boos when the echoes of your words finally fade from the auditorium. All the staff and students behind the curtains are staring at you, some pitying, others angry and some disappointed. But that isn’t the worst of it. 

Someone in the audience spots you hiding behind the curtain on the east wing, “Hey! [Y/N] that was you, wasn’t it? You must really be in love with Seungmin, huh?”

You loudly shush him, hoping he’ll stop and the play will continue peacefully, but the odds aren’t in your favor. Someone behind you shoves you onto the stage, and you’re suddenly in the spotlight, frozen in front of dozens of people laughing. Your friends and teachers stifflong their giggles at your pathetically embarrassed state. 

You want to stand up for yourself, tell them to shut up and put their pointing hands away but you’re too mortified to do anything as a stray tear escapes your eye and your lip trembles. You’re hardly able to scramble off stage, muttering dozens of apologies to everyone watching. 

It’s hard to even be upset when all your mind can think of is Seungmin’s face of embarrassment—shame, because of you. 

It’s not long after the fiasco Jeongin finds you crying in a storage closet, and he shoos off some students who are teasing you far too much for his liking. 

“[Y/N]? Are you okay?” He asks gently, kneeling in front of you to see your face that’s hidden in your knees. You nod, burying it further and wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. He can’t help but think you look adorable so small, but he’s more focused on comforting you. 

Pulling off his jacket—he remembers how much you always say you love his clothes—and taps you with it. You don’t notice at first, but after he pushes it against your shoulder a few more times, you slowly peel yourself out of your [Y/N]-cocoon. Your face instantly lights up, just a bit when you catch sight of his jacket and you don’t hesitate to wrap yourself in it and scoot over for him to seat himself beside you on the step stool. 

He takes the spot, and you immediately lean on his shoulder as his large, lanky arm wraps around you in a comforting embrace. “You wanna talk or just stay here quietly a bit longer?”

“Just stay quiet for a bit…” your shaky voice mutters, heavy eyelids struggling to stay open. 

The storage closet opens again, only this time Seungmin stands in the doorway, face blank and eyes void of anything other than disappointment. 

He lets out a deep sigh before mumbling quietly. “Why do you ruin everything? Couldn’t you put your feelings aside for once and get your job done once? You embarrassed us both, all because you have a stupid crush on me. I told you I’m not interested, get over it, please.”

Jeongin’s about to open his mouth, fed up with Seungmin’s ass of an attitude toward you when you kick the door closed, shoving Seungmin out so you can sob into the younger boy’s sleeves in peace. You don’t want to see him, not now. You don’t really want to see anyone.

Except Jeongin.

——

“You need to apologize to her,” the shorter male demands, feet making squishy sounds with every step from the wet grass he chased Seungmin through. Jeongin may not always be the most affectionate or sweet friend, but he’s your best friend for a reason and he’s determined to keep you happy at all costs. Which includes making Seungmin apologize for his harsh words after the play. 

The older boy rolls his eyes. “Why should I? I was giving honest, helpful criticism. Plus, she’ll get over me faster if she hates me.”

Jeongin has no clue why you like him so much. 

Seungmin seems just about done with this conversation, turning to walk away, when he hears Jeongin huff under his breath. “And here [Y/N] said she liked you for your kindness. I don’t know where she got that idea from, you’re obviously a jerk…”

Seungmin doesn’t care about people’s opinions of him, but something about Jeongin’s word choice (specifically the word jerk) strikes a chord in him. . 

Which is how he finds himself in front of your door, Jeongin beside him with a semi-smug look as the older boy knocks on your door. 

“Who—Seungmin…? What-what’re you doing here…?” You shrink slowly, not in the mood for more insults. Not to mention that you’re just a bit traumatized from last week’s fiasco and that you’ve been skipping school to avoid the mental and emotional torment you’re sure is to come. 

He feels genuinely bad when he notices the tremble in your lip whilst you slide the door closed just a bit more to hide behind it. Handing you an envelope, he bows. “I’m sorry about what I said [Y/N]. I didn’t mean to be so rude and insensitive. There’s a longer apology in the envelope, feel free to read it or throw it away. Have a good night and come back to school soon. All of your classmates miss you.”

You doubt that last statement a bit. As far as you know, the whole school hates you, but you appreciate the idea that someone missed your presence. You give Seungmin a small bow and mouthed thank you just before he leaves. For the first time, you think he genuinely smiles at you. It's small, but real.

Rushing Jeongin inside, you melt against the door, clutching the envelope to your chest. “Did Kim Seungmin just… apologize to me…?”

In all the years you’ve known Seungmin, he’s never been one to apologize. He’s usually not in the wrong, so most of the time there’s no need for him to. Still, on the rare occasion he is on the wrong side, he almost never takes the initiative to own up to his mistakes. He’d much rather let time do its thing and wait for the incident to blow over and be forgotten. 

So you can’t help but feel both shocked and even a bit special to have a written apology from the brown eyed golden boy. 

Jeongin nods triumphantly. “Yep.” He wants to tell you that he’s the reason behind this, but he can’t ruin the way you must be feeling. If thinking Seungmin apologized completely of his own accord made you happy, then he’d allow you to believe that. 

As long as you’re happy, Jeongin doesn’t really care about anything else. 

However there are times when he wishes he could put his own feelings first.  

Slowly since the play, Seungmin had accidentally begun to sneak into your friend group. Suddenly he hangs out with you and Jeongin during lunch. He’s in the library with the two of you, making sure you’re actually studying. He’s even invited the two of you out to eat and hang out a few times over the past three months. It should be odd—the way he wormed into your group, but it happened so gradually that by the time either of you had noticed, he’d become part of your duo-now-trio. 

So it’s only natural that when your annual trip to Chan’s lake house rolls around, you invite him. 

While Jeongin’s fine with Seungmin—there are times where they seem to have been best friends since birth—he can’t help but feel almost possessive of the time he’s supposed to have with you. As much as he hates it, he knows Seungmin will effortlessly steal that time from him. 

“So you’ll come?” You giddily ask the taller boy, bouncing on the heels of your feet. 

Please say no. Please, please, please say no. For once, Jeongin wants Seungmin to reject you, wholeheartedly too. You do it all the time, don’t make this different!

The older boy thinks for a moment, typing something into his phone a moment before it lights up again, and nods silently with a small, almost unnoticeable grin. Flashing his screen, Jeongin realizes he’d been asking permission—which unfortunately, he was given. 

Fantastic. 

Don’t be fooled, since the incident, Jeongin has come to find that Seungmin is actually a great guy and wonderful company that he thoroughly enjoys on most occasions. They’ve completely warmed up to each other. But he knows that you’re still utterly in love with Seungmin, maybe even more than before, and he doesn’t think he can stand being around you two in a casual setting for more than a few hours. 

Still, he bites his tongue. If you’re happy, he’s happy. 

At least that’s what he tells himself during the car ride whilst you stare in awe at the older boy for most of the ride, trying and managing to convince him to let you sleep on his broad shoulder. He repeats this in his head over and over during the board games you all play where you beg Seungmin to let you be in his team—which he grants you after a bit of friendly teasing. By dinner time Jeongin has a headache from the mantra, almost disgusted by just watching you feed the sophomore by spoonfuls. He’s ready for bed before nine-thirty. 

However, his plans for sleeping—and evading Seungmin and you—are halted when Minho—a mischievous friend of Chan’s—decides to play some party games. You all play twenty questions, an age-appropriate few rounds of never have I ever (Chan and Hyunjin would have your heads if you or Jeongin were exposed to any sort of adult materia) and now you’re playing a game of secrets. 

Everyone gets a strip of paper and a pencil for them to write their secret on. Once everyone’s done, the strips are put in a bowl, mixed around, and picked out at random. You can’t tell anyone what you wrote or picked from the bowl, regardless if it's your own secret. 

Somehow it’s simultaneously harmless and filled with potential drama. You give props to Jisung (Minho and Hyunjin’s friend) for bringing up the game, so long as you pick Seungmin’s secret. 

Though it’s not exactly a secret, you haven’t confessed to Seungmin since before the incident, and you think you’ve been subtle about your feelings since then, so you pick that as your secret. In your tidy handwriting, you spell out “I’m in love with Kim Seungmin.”

Beside you, Jeongin contemplates what he wants to write for a moment longer than you do. He can reveal anything he’d like. That he’s jealous of Hyunjin’s height, that he actually looks up to Changbin more than he’d like to admit, that he failed his last English quiz, or that…

He likes you as something way more than friends. 

He’s sure about half of his friends already know, and that Seungmin is probably suspicious of it, so it wouldn’t be much of a surprise. And plus, they’re anonymous… So what's the harm?

He ponders his decision a bit more, before essentially saying fuck it and professing his feelings for you with a short, “I have a crush on [Y/N].”

After about another minute or so, all the paper strips are stuffed into a glass bowl Jeongin thinks looks an awful lot like a fishbowl, and mixed around violently by Han. Then, everyone reaches in and pulls out one strip each. 

You can’t contain your curiosity, immediately unfolding the strip and reading its contents. Your eyes widen and you struggle to hold in your gasp of disbelief. 

Your cheeks burn as you reread the sentence. “I have a crush on [Y/N].” 

Too focused on the secret you picked, you fail to see how Jeongin’s soft smile of excitement falters into a slight frown. Your handwriting spells out: “I’m in love with Kim Seungmin '' on the slip of paper in his hand.

After he’s done reading his strip, Hyunjin reminds you of the rules. “Okay, nobody can say anything about the secret they got, okay?”

You all nod, but your eyes gravitate to Seungmin, who seems oddly calm compared to the rest of you. You don’t blame him, he probably got something boring—or your confession. The only reason you’re so excited is that you’re pretty sure you got his proclamation of love. 

Yet, in the back of your mind, I can't help but think that the handwriting doesn’t look like Seungmin’s.

——

“I got my own,” Seungmin pulls out the piece of paper from his backpack, handing it over to you with a shrug. “Why?”

As you read “I’m tired of school” in Seungmin’s handwriting, your brain strains to find an explanation as to why you just convinced Seungmin to break the game’s rules and show you his secret. I thought… “Oh, I was just curious!”

As always, he shrugs it off. 

If it wasn’t Seungmin… then who was it? It couldn’t be Chan, he’s too brotherly, and Hyunjin is always talking about who he’s in love with that week, you would know if it was him. Which leaves you with only one person you can think of. 

Jeongin. 

To be honest, you wouldn’t be mad if Jeongin had a crush on you. But if he did, you couldn’t return his feelings.

Right?

You think back to all those times your eyes have locked with his, when you’ve ignored the pounding in your heart at the slightest graze of his touch. You can’t deny he’s the one who can always make you feel better, no matter what. That you would rather sit and argue with him then go have fun with someone else. 

To be honest, you can’t exactly say you’re not in the same boat.

But, he’s your best friend, he couldn’t have a crush on you. You flush as you try to reason with yourself. There’s just no way. Plus he likes—

You stop. Come to think of it, you’ve never known Jeongin to have a crush on anyone. He’s never once confided in you about girls. “Maybe he just doesn’t like anyone…” you mumble, thinking of reasons why he can’t possibly have a crush on you. 

“Who doesn’t like anyone?”

You jump at the sound of Jeongin’s voice. “N-nobody!” you internally slap yourself at your stuttering. 

He doesn’t seem convinced, but opts for being concerned more than curious, “Why are you so jumpy?”

“I-I’m not,” you protest, trying to sound calmer. It seems to fail though, since he quirks his brow in confusion at you. 

With a shrug, he continues walking beside you towards your house. “You’re weird.”

“And you’re mean,” you scoff, immediately forgetting why you had–in fact–been so jumpy only moments before. However, it's not too long before you are reminded of your tiny predicament when his eyes sparkle in amusement and your heart stops momentarily. “Hey Jeongin, what secret did you pick from the game the other day?”

You notice him slump over a bit, “I got yours. Unless someone else in our group has a crush on Seungmin,” the glint in his eye diminishes. “Why?”

“It's just… I think I got your secret…” He freezes up besides you, a tinge of pink in his cheeks you fail to see as you stair at your toes. “Do you have a crush on me, Jeongin?”

Clenching his jaw a few times, he panics. Think brain, think. He stands there awkwardly for a moment. “I-”

Cutting him off, you start apologizing, “You don’t have to answer that, actually. I’m sorry for putting you on the spot–I get it if you’re mad at me too, since you know I like Seungmin–” Some quiet chuckles leave his lips, making you stop in the middle of your words, confused. “Why are you laughing?”

He ruffles your hair, pushing you playfully. “You think I would write a real secret there? No way. I just thought it would be funny if Hyunjin were to get that one and start some rumor or crazy quest to find out which one of us had a crush on you.” 

Your shoulders drop from their tensed position as you relax, beginning to giggle a bit at the thought of the gossiping teen losing his head in order to find out just who had a crush on you/ Even if you didn’t know him well, everyone knew Hyunjin was a huge drama queen who always needed to know everything about everyone. “Oh that makes so much more sense!”

Ignoring the pain in his chest that your apparent relief brings him, he keeps his small smile displayed for you. “So that's why you were all anxious. You’re so odd, [Y/N].”

You glare at him, pushing his shoulders jokingly. “You really are mean, you know that?” Eliciting a gentle laugh from the boy. He shrugs, continuing his path beside you to what he assumes is your home. 

He can’t help but wish he had written something different on that paper, though. Maybe then, his chest wouldn’t ache so much. 

And secretly, you wish it was a real secret. Maybe then, you wouldn’t feel like you’d been tricked.

—-

Jeongin finds it hard not to notice the way you’ve started retreating from Seungmin these days. As your best friend, the one who was always there to help you in your plans to win over the upperclassmen, it's impossible to not realize how you haven’t asked for his aid in such schemes. It's almost concerning at this point, the way you haven’t attempted in a month or so to woo the older boy in any way. 

He doesn’t mind though, not at all. In fact, he’s enjoying watching you spend your time on your hobbies and making new friends rather than pining over the boy who had broken your heart so many times.

“Hey, can you help me take these papers to Mr. Young’s classroom?” Seungmin stops at your desk, staring at you. 

Since finding out the paper wasn’t Seungmin’s, your feelings for him have slowly dimmed. Over the last few weeks, everything you felt for him just dissipated. He doesn’t like you back, and now, for some reason, you don’t seem to care too much about who or what he likes anymore. 

However, that doesn’t mean your attention hasn’t shifted somewhere else.

“I’ll help.” 

Your head shoots up to look at Jeongin, who’s already standing up and grabbing half the stack of papers, bringing the rest of Seugnmin’s face into view. “Can you watch my food for me?”

You nod at him as he walks out of the cafeteria with Seungmin. The silence between them is awkward, but not too awkward. They enjoy each other’s company enough to get along. However, with your odd behavior towards Seungmin, the two haven’t hung out much. 

The walk is quiet for a while, until Seungmin says, “Why did you stop [Y/N] from answering me?”

Jeongin shrugs, “She didn’t look like she wanted to. Why? Do you like her now?” he says less than playfully, failing to hide his disapproval if Seungmin did indeed like you now.

“No, I don’t like her like that. I was just wondering if you were trying to keep her away from me since you like her,” the older boy tells him nonchalantly. 

Jeongin almost drops his stack of papers at that, “What?”

With a slight eye roll, Seungmin continues. “You like [Y/N], don't you? Even if you say no, or don’t answer, I know you do. It's obvious. It is kind of weird you helped her ask me out so many times though.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Right,” the older boy sighs, “We’re here.”

After dropping off the papers, the two have a silent walk back, both of them uncomfortable with the energy in the hall. Jeongin couldn’t stand the thought of Seungmin playing with your heart, not again. 

Before the two reenter the cafeteria, Seungmin places a hand on Jeongin’s shoulder, holding him to a stop. With a sigh, Seungmin starts, “I consider us friends, and as a friend, I’m rooting for you. [Y/N] was never right for me, and I was never right for her, but I think you two would be right for each other.”

The older boy releases him, pushing through the metal doors and joining your small circle, leaving Jeongin with his thoughts.

And his thoughts agree with Seungmin.

—-

“Did you hear? The school chose another romance novel to base the play off of!” You cheer in excitement as you set your school bag under your seat. “Maybe I can get the lead this time, I think I’ve improved a lot since last time.”

Jeongin looks at you as if you’ve grown a third head, plopping down into his own desk. “Why do you want the lead? Do you think Seungmin is going to play the male interest?”

He ignores the little green monster that rages at the thought. 

“What? No, I just want to be the lead, maybe redeem myself since last time I messed up so bad,” you flush. “Hey, you should audition too! It would be cool if we were both in the play!”

“I don’t think so, I’m not really into acting.”

You pout at him, shaking his arm as you plead, “Please Jeongin, please please please–”

“Fine! Stop whining like that,” he huffs, pulling his arm away from you. You gleam at him, making him roll his eyes with a gentle smile. “What a dork.”

You stop smiling at that, launching towards him, “You jerk!”

Just then, Ms. Lee walks in, a scowl on her face at your figure lurched over Jeongin’s desk. “[Y/N]! Sit down right now young lady!”

You hear your classmates–including Jeongin–snicker at you. He makes an L with his fingers under the desk at you, making you glare at him. Silently, you mouth, I’ll get you back for this.

He mouths back, Sure you will, like the menace he is.

Once again, reading your mind, your teacher begins the class announcements with the play. “We’re holding auditions later today in the gym during your lunch period and after school. Please feel free to audition, those who do will be exempt from the next pop quiz.”

Jeongin watches from the corner of his eye as you hunch over your desk, scribbling something down, then pop up again. Snapping, you get him to look over at you and see the message written messily on your notebook. “You could really use an exemption from a pop quiz…”

He sighs, grabbing a sticky note from his notepad, and writing back, “I already said yes, stop bugging me.” (He doesn’t actually want you to stop, he would prefer if you never stopped bugging him, actually.)

You stick your tongue out at him with a grin, turning back to face the teacher.

It's not long after that lunch time rolls around, meaning you’re dragging Jeongin away from his friends.

 “Where are you two going?” Hyunjin asks, a far too devious smile playing on his lips.

“We’re auditioning for the play!” You smile, to which the older boy’s eyes sparkle. 

“I wanna watch!”

Jeongin groans at the three voices, he really doesn’t need Hyunjin, Chan, and Changbin all watch him embarrass himself. “Too bad. If you guys come I won’t audition.” At that, they all groan, sitting back down on the lunch bench with frowns on their faces. 

——

“Jeongin, I got the part~!” You all but sing, looking at your lines highlighted in the script. “How about you?”

He purses his lips, ears slightly red. “They gave me the lead.”

You stop in your place, staring at him wide eyed. “You mean, we’re going to play lovers?” He nods. “Oh…”

“I can take back my audition if you want–”

“No!” You stop him, a bit too quickly even, “It's fine! It's just acting,” your face as red as his at the thought of playing his love interest. You’re just friends–best friends–and it's just a play, it shouldn’t be that weird. Right?

Wrong. So wrong.

You both can’t help but feel so stiff around each other as you rehearse your lines. Chan, Changbin, Seungmin, and Hyunjin can’t help but be oh so entertained by your awkwardness. Seeing the two of you bright red as you stumble over your lines to each other is just gold.

“Stop recording us!” You frown with red cheeks at Hyunjin, who’s phone is pretty much inches from your face. “Hyunjin c’mon.”

“No can do, you two are so cute,” he wipes a fake tear, putting a dramatic hand on his chest, “They grow up so fast.”

You all stare at him like a madman. Then, Changbin counts down backwards, yelling action for you and Jeongin to start the scene from where you messed up.

“I can be fun, if you want… pensive, uh, smart, superstitious, brave, and uh, I could be light on my feet,” he pauses, staring at you intensely, a nervous–but sweet–smile dancing on his lips, “I could be whatever you want. You just tell me what you want and I’ll be that for you.”

Jeongin tries not to think about how true that is.

With a lightly contemplative look on your face, you recite the next line. “You’re dumb.”

His smile grows as he nods, “I can be that.”

You mirror his expression as you turn around, skipping away and pretending to get into a car as he calls behind you. “C’mon, one date, what’s it gonna hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” you tease in an almost sing-song tone.

His smile falls a bit, as he stands there looking disappointed, “Well what can I do to change your mind?”

“Guess you’ll figure something out,” you grin, silence filling your ears for a moment before Changbin loudly yells cut!

They all praise you two’s acting skills, Seungmin included–though his praise is much less enthusiastic than that of the others. However, you don’t pay any of them much attention, your gaze fixed on Jeongin as your mind replays the way he’d looked at you just moments before.

You almost wished this wasn’t a play, but try not to think about it too much as you ready for the next scene.

——

You know your best friend is good looking–everyone does, it seems. Every rehearsal, there are students hiding in the back row of the school’s theater trying to catch a glimpse of his acting. You’re thankful for Hyunjin, who dramatically shoos them out of the room whenever he catches them. 

It's not that you don’t want people watching the rehearsal, it's just… 

Why are there so many girls with crushes on Jeongin?

It shouldn’t bother you, really. He’s just your best friend but even he is starting to feel the energy shift whenever someone comes up to talk to him. He doesn’t want to get any ideas, but he doesn’t deprive himself of enjoying your attention. 

He watches as you shuffle over to Hyunjin in exhaustion after thirty minutes of the same scene, laughing as the boy fawns over you theatrically, giving you water and a pillow to get comfortable with. It's comedic the way you two have grown closer recently, Hyunjin seeming to take the role of your mother almost. 

Needing to get away from the dark room and hot stage lights, Jeongin sees himself out, getting a drink from the water fountain. Straightening up, he leans against a post, silently reading over his favorite scene–not that he would ever admit that he had a favorite scene. He can’t help but imagine you telling him what you want in your home, saying you wanted to be a part of his life like that.

Doing this play, it's not good for his heart.

He heads back in for rehearsal not too much later, finding it too easy to get into character. 

Maybe it's the way you look into his eyes as you practice your lines, or how cute you look flustered saying these romantic words to him of all people. Whatever it is, it's really, really not good for his heart.

Or yours.

——

“Hey [Y/N]!” Jeongin calls after you, his jog slowing to a walk as you turn the corner too quickly for him to reach you. It seems this is how you two are now–Jeongin tries to talk to you, you run away from him before he can.

He wonders if it's because of the play–specifically, because of the kiss scenes he’s sure you're dreading. 

He didn’t think you would be so worked up about it–it wouldn’t be your first kiss, or your second, or even third for that matter. But you’ve been avoiding him like the plague since the last time you rehearsed the scene, the two of you staring at each other intently rather than kissing since it was just rehearsal.

Maybe doing this play was a mistake, he thinks, frowning to himself. A few moments later, a large, thin hand rests on his shoulder, and he meets the eyes of his personal cupid, “What do you want?”

“Well that's not how you should greet your big brother,” Hyunjin whines with a pout. He chooses to dismiss the younger boy’s you’re not my big brother, instead opting to talk about the real reason he sprinted after Jeongin. “So, how are you feeling? The play is next week, when you’ll finally kiss your true love.”

The shorter teen chokes on air at Hyunjin’s words, filled with embarrassment. “Be quiet!”

“Sorry! But really, how are you guys? I’ve noticed [Y/N] dodging you like she dodges her vegetables.”

Jeongin shrugs, “I don’t know. I think auditioning was a mistake, it's probably too weird for her, especially since she doesn’t like me like that.” He completely misses the look on Hyunjin’s face, continuing, “I’ll have to apologize after the play I guess.”

The taller boy facepalms, stepping in front of the freshman, “Don’t apologize–it's not your fault. Plus, that’s weird.”

Jeongin wants to argue, but decides against it ultimately, nodding in agreement with Hyunjin’s words. 

——

“What do you want?” Jeongin stares at you intensely, leaning against the cardboard car behind him. “What d’you want?”

You shake your head vigorously, tears in your eyes, “It's not that simple!”

He interrupts you, his voice more stern than the last time he uttered these words to you, “What. Do you. Want?” Lip quivering, you watch him ask you once more. “Damn it, what do you want?”

Eyes filled with emotions and tears, you finally get out a weak, “I have to go.”

The set workers are quick to cover the stage as they change the set to show you talking to your character’s fiance as Jeongin hides off in the wing, watching your incredible performance. He doesn’t know how, but you really did develop a talent for acting since the last play the school put on.

Soon enough, you’re by Jeongin’s side, the two of you watching as the teachers playing the older versions of your character play out their scenes beautifully, bringing everyone–especially Hyunjin–to tears with their performance.

“You did a great job, really,” Jeongin mutters, almost too quietly for you to hear him, but you do.

You grin at him, “Has nice Jeongin finally made a reappearance?” 

“Nevermind, this is why I don’t say nice things to people,” he scowls, turning away from you, only to be stopped by you turning him back to you. “What?”

“Do you want to get something to eat with me after this?”

He’s confused, flustered, and excited if he’s being honest. But he keeps up his nonchalant attitude and nods. “Sure,” fighting the tender expression ghosting his face at your happiness.

After a few minutes of watching the final scenes, everyone emerges from the stage wings, taking their places beside one another, Jeongin and you in the center as the leads. Joining hands, you all bow, taking in the praises from your parents, classmates, and anyone else who watched the play. Then you’re dragging him to your bikes, the two of you freshly out of costume, still sweating from the under-conditioned theater you had just stood in for hours.

 “Do you even know what you want to eat?”

You nod, beginning to pedal down the street towards the small food stand that always lingers by your school–a student favorite. You’ve already ordered two corn dogs, waiting by the stand as Jeongin pulls up. “What are you? Some secret speed cyclist?”

“Maybe,” you hand him his corn dog, “Can we go sit over there?”

He follows your finger to look at a lonely bench underneath a tree that's only a few meters away, a small, dim lightbulb just barely illuminating the area. “Are you sure? What if there are spiders?”

“Stop trying to scare me and move your butt,” you command, strutting forward to the bench. He follows with a sigh, dragging his feet and bike behind you. 

As the two of you eat in silence, Jeongin finds that he doesn’t agree with Hyunjin’s advice once again, speaking up awkwardly. “I’m really sorry if the kissing scenes were weird for you, I tried not to put a lot of pressure or anything into them, if that makes you feel better.”

You cough, laughing at his awkward apology. “It's fine. Don’t worry about it,” your words are muffled by the food in your mouth and your laughter–which triggers some sort of embarrassment in your best friend.

“Why are you laughing at me? I’m obviously nervous and apologizing because I thought that’s why you were avoiding me, and you’re laughing,” he can’t hide the bit of irritation in his voice, or the pink hue covering his face as your laughter grows, “And you’re still laughing. Why are you laughing at me?”

Taking a few deep breaths, you turn to him, “It's just, I was avoiding you because of the kiss scene, but that’s not the only reason why,” a weird grin on your face, “I spent so long, ranting to you about one guy who kept rejecting me, and there I was, unable to face you because we had to kiss for a play. And you’re apologizing for it, even though you didn’t even know if that was why. It’s just really funny seeing how this all turned out?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you in a second, if you tell me something first,” you lean towards him, a strange glint in your eye, “Yang Jeongin, do you have a crush on me?”

He starts genuinely tweaking at that, choking on his food, chunks flying out of his mouth from the sheer and utter shock of your question. “What? Why are you asking me that?” He coughs again, his face becoming a shade of red that rivals that of a strawberry, “What the fuck why can’t I stop coughing?”

“I’m sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t think you would start dying if I asked you!” You apologize, rubbing his back and offering the half-drank bottle of water in your bag. “I just needed an answer!”

“Why?”

“Answer and I’ll tell you why!”

“Why do you need to know? You’re so weird sometimes!”

“Jeongin,” you pause, hands on his shoulders as you look him directly in the eye, “Do you like me?”

He avoids your gaze, closing his eyes and mumbling an inaudible yes.

“I can’t hear you~!” He mumbles it slightly louder.

“I still can’t hear you,” you tease, your hands still on his shoulders as you push them back so he has to look at you.

“I’m not doing this. You heard me and you still didn’t tell me,” he groans with a pout in his voice, “And you say I’m the jerk.”

You laugh at his aggravation, finding it hard to take him seriously when he looks like a red crayon threw up on his face. He gets up from the space beside you, sitting on his bike and getting ready to ride home when you come up beside him.

“Hey,” you say quietly, making him look at you. You hold in the urge to laugh at his annoyed expression. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s obviously fed up with being embarrassed for one night. With all your courage, you whisper, 

“I like you too.”

"I like your eyes, you look away when you pretend not to care  I like the dimples on the corners of the smile that you wear I like you more, the world may know but don't be scared  ‘Cause I'm falling deeper, baby be prepared" ― Translation from Ysabelle's English Cover of "I Like You So Much, You'll Know It"

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[itsabouttimex2]

Hello! I read your Lmk fics and they're awesome! 💗💗💗 If the request are open can I ask one of Yan Macaque wanting Reader as is apprentice or be their mentor but Reader doesn't want to and every time they deny his offer so he tries to convince them? (being the manipulator he is can offer them more power or strength) Thank you so much! 💖

Tough Love

Yandere Mentor Macaque

You know he’s outside. If it isn’t him, it’s one of his shadow clones. Either way, he’s keeping you up again, scratching at the walls and windows of your house. Today is the fourteenth day of this hell, desperately trying to sleep while Macaque tries to force you to come outside and confront him.

There’s a brief lull in the scratching, and right when you think he’s given up, he begins to pound on your window, rattling the frame as he does. You roll over and stuff your face into your pillow, hoping to block out the thunderous noise. In response, it only grows louder and louder. You bear with it for a few minutes, and eventually… it stops entirely.

Then your bed begins to shake.

You jump to your feet as fast as possible, reaching for something to defend yourself with. Instead, you find Macaque’s shadow clones snatching up everything in reach and pulling them away from you, leaving you completely unarmed and off-guard.

Something taps your shoulder, but you don’t turn around. You already know who it is, after all.

“Hey kiddo,” he starts, his voice surprisingly soft and calm. It doesn’t stay that way for long. “Here I was, starting to think you might be ignoring me, or something.” There’s a definite edge to his voice as he finishes, like he’s daring you to confirm his words. Instead, you just stay quiet. It feels like there’s no right words for this situation, nothing you can say to improve your lot.

“Remember when you said you’d think on my offer, bud? I’m still waiting for an answer. Kinda starting to lose my patience, here.”

He taps your shoulder again. An unspoken command is conveyed through that simple motion. Turn around.

You slowly turn on your heel, revealing your weary eyes and tired face to the demon. He clicks his tongue and huffs. “You really don’t know when to give up, huh? I could make you stronger than you ever imagined. I could teach you to protect yourself.”

You take a step forward, ready to protest and argue, to drive in for the final time that you don’t want or need his help.

But he beats you to the punch.

“Can I ask you something, kid? Why do you even bother to say no? Are you scared? Of what? You’ve got no one left, kiddo. I mean, if you did… they’d be here helping you, right? But no. You’re dealing with the big bad demon all alone. And you still won’t give in. So stubborn! You kinda remind me of an old friend of mine, actually. Difference is…”

“He has people who care about him.”

Everything freezes in place, all the color draining from your face as the world goes quiet. You have no retort, no reply, no defense. His expression grows smug, knowing he’s hit a weak spot. He takes a step forward, looming over you to really drive in how powerless you are right now.

“That’s what I can give you, kid. A place to belong. Someone to look out for you. Strength to stand on your own two feet. Why not let me help you? It’s not like anyone else is trying.”

Your throat tightens painfully, and tears prick your eyes. You try to take a few deep breaths, but your dry lips are stuck together. Every time he had made this offer previously, you had argued him to a standstill, countering each of his points with ease. Now, you can’t even breathe right. You can’t even speak.

He chuckles, and reaches out to pat your shoulder. “All alone, huh. Pretty rough feeling, isn’t it? But you don’t have to be alone. Neither of us do. Let me make you something better.” While you’re still unable to resist, he loops his fingers around one of your wrists and drags you outside with him. The shadows roil and writhe with each step he takes. You stumble along after him, only stopping to take a look back at your house.

Somehow, you feel like you won’t be seeing it for a while.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

everyone's favorite girlfailure

✔ danced with your crush (who is technically your soulmate) ❌ avoided getting punched by your crush's gf (who is technically their soulmate?)

Replies/reblogs are greatly appreciated, I read every comment! :3 Check under the read-more for progress shots (outline, base color, and the version without lighting), as well as a couple notes on details.

The tie is the same color as the MC's shirt

The crown up top has three jewels, two are the same color as the MC's earring, the third is the same as the tie (aka MC's shirt). There is also a point at the top of the crown that has the same yellow I've used to represent Miranda in previous works.

Flowers/Plants and their symbolism is as follows: Amaranth (Immortality), Bog Rosemary (Bound by fate), Aloe leaves (grief, religious superstition), and Adder's Tongue (deceit)

The concept behind this is an alternate version of the final scene in my fic Liminal, where the MC asks Mia to dance (in Bela's route). Instead of there being some stabbing and people thrown off of balconies, Mia gets to dance with the MC, she just gets absolutely decked by Bela (who hits like a truck, as we all know).

Her necklace is supposed to be reminiscent of a crow/raven skull, 50% because I've made jokes about Mia being mortal enemies with Cornelius and 50% because I think she'd wear it to make Miranda mad.

[insomniumstella]

spite her, spite me (7) | bucky x avenger!reader

summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky, smut MDI

word count: 8,485

author's note: i cannot believe we reached the end — thank you for all of the comments and the love you've showed this series, it truly means the world! also, i don't know how the nsfw section stretched to be over 2k words and now i'm rethinking every smutty fic i've ever written

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“The dress is a bit much,” the sergeant’s eyes raked over her gown. 

The intricately beaded dress was black, and sensual, and outrageous, with a deep slit, which exposed most of y/n’s upper thigh. She might’ve seemed like an angel in devil’s clothing to those of unsuspecting eyes, but James understood better. The woman was a fallen saint, and as he committed the image to memory, he had decided that she was placed on this earth solely to tempt him in every way she could. Their story was never destined to be comforting, and easy, no, the story of James and y/n would always be difficult, complex, and shamefully sinful. 

“It seems Maui had been harsh on you, James,” she spoke, “otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” 

The cool touch of his metal arm brushed against y/n’s skin when he took a step forward, coming to stand beside her. It was bothersome, the closeness of his body as they observed the gala’s guests unsuspectingly dancing, drinking, or conversing about matters they had deemed important.

There was only a single matter on her mind y/n considered meaningful, and she had not seen him for the entirety of the night. Steve had been a nimble shadow, shaking hands with the leaders and first ladies of the world. 

“Perhaps, I was wrong,” the word felt foreign on his tongue, “and HYDRA ceased to exist.”

She angled her face to read his expression, but it was aggravatingly blank, “how’d you figure that out, Sherlock?” 

James noticed the sarcasm in her tone and nearly chose to ignore it, “reviewed some files, checked a couple databases,” possibly hacked into Sam’s iCloud to read the texts between you two. "Have any more theories you’d like to share?” 

She chuckled, then chuckled again from the bewilderment before breaking into a boisterous laugh; it couldn’t have been more disingenuous if she tried. “Why should I if the Winter Soldier will only trample on my ideas?” 

Though the dimly lit ballroom overflowed with chatter and soft sounds of jazz, a tense stillness settled between them. The looming threat of Steve’s assassination was not a time for games and stubbornness, and James was frustrated at the spy’s thorny attitude. 

“The Winter Soldier was blinded by bloodlust, but he’s ready to hear out his partner,” Bucky replied with a deep sigh, hoping she’d crack.

“Oh, we’re partners now?” The clench of his jaw didn’t go unnoticed, and she begrudgingly dropped the act. “Back when we attended Elijah’s yacht party, Mark was wary of you hence the fish tend to be vigilant around James comment. I might forget a name, but I always remember a face.” This time, she angled her entire body to face him. “Mark attended a gala in Germany a couple years prior, Steve had me monitoring the security cameras for hours then, and nothing was particularly interesting except for Mark and Wilfred Nagel’s unlikely friendship.” 

“Shit,” his flesh arm clasped around her forearm, “ Nagel’s the doctor CIA had recruited before he seemingly disappeared into thin air.” 

“Bingo,” she replied with a popping sound. “The accusations against Elijah, Mark’s presence on the boat, and the conversation between him and Wilfred months before Wilfred’s disappearance had me conceptualizing a theory of Mark and Elijah working alongside Nagel to produce super-soldiers.” A server boy approached the couple, and she promptly replaced her empty champagne flute with a fresh glass. “I’d assume Captain America would ruin those plans." 

“The theory’s still blurry,” James released the grip on her arm, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles of his black suit. “If they’re plotting to execute Steve, why wouldn’t they assassinate me as well?”

She drank him in — the sergeant’s black suit was made of satin, alike the dress shirt, matching her onyx gown. Perhaps he had willingly chosen to abstain from a tie, or perhaps, he had been too headstrong to admit she had been correct about HYDRA, subjecting James to a lack of time for elaborate preparations. She decided it must’ve been the latter, for Bucky had worn the outfit to a party Natasha had organized after the court had pardoned his crimes. 

“They could,” she agreed, “but they wouldn’t because you’ve been forgiven and have since retired, remember? The Winter Soldier enjoys a peaceful life away from criminals, Avengers, and fights.” 

“The sucker has a wife too,” James gawked into y/n’s eyes, and she tittered at his attempt at a joke. “She looks good tonight.” 

The glimmer in his expression she couldn’t understand.

She took a swig of champagne, peering at James over the flute for a single awkward moment too long, “was that a compliment?” 

“It should’ve been,” he pursed his lips together. 

James was allowed to feel frustrated, angry, and disappointed about y/n’s actions, he had decided after she had packed up and hastily abandoned the honeymoon. The woman had betrayed him by hiding significant information and biting her tongue on theories of HYDRA and its remains. Worse, she had fled Maui without as much as a goodbye, leaving James to sleep in the bed, angrily alone. Though his appetite had been ruined, he had chosen to order room service and watch terrible TV shows she had recommended to Wanda in the prior months. The sheets had been tainted with the scent of y/n’s perfume and lotion, a delicious blend of strawberry and vanilla. The Lovers’ Suite had been scattered with traces of her, and when he had ditched the room at last, deep into the night, even the beach had seemed to remind James of the bizarre yet pleasant memories they had shared. He wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but he had begun missing y/n’s presence, prickly remarks, and the pointless arguments over the smallest of things. 

“Steve’s backstage," Sam’s voice was a muffled sound through the earpiece. 

She took a step forward, using Bucky’s body to shield herself from possibly prying eyes. “What about Mark Basso?” 

James paled at the closeness of their bodies, but remained professional, examining the ballroom of feasible threats. 

“I can’t find him, the dude’s been a ghost for the entire night, but,” there was a pause in his speech, “Elijah Williamson is backstage,” she could hear Sam drum his fingers on a metal surface, “they’ve been conversing for a good while.” A second passed before his words reached y/n’s ears once more. “Are you certain Mark’s appearance at the party is enough to incarcerate him?”

The woman recognized she should inform Sam of the situation without excluding certain details, and yet she couldn’t. If Sam understood the gravity of Elijah’s gala plans, he’d abandon monitoring the security cameras and would certainly place himself in danger to save the Captain. She needed the footage of the events that were to occur backstage, for she had already deceived James, allowing the soldier to believe HYDRA continued to exist. 

The eight months they had spent together, unraveling Elijah’s life, had been honest, on y/n’s part, but the last five days had not. James had pursued false leads and theories, and she had let him. Sam might punish her with a harsh lecture, move to live on Natasha’s floor or stop coming to Friday’s Tequila Nights at Barry’s if he discovered y/n’s incomplete truths, but it’d be worth it, for he’d be in the security room in case Mark had planned to delete the footage. James deserved peace, and she craved to ease his mind two criminals at a time. A former HYDRA officer and a corrupt politician behind bars was a good start to rid of the nasty organization and its remains. 

“The man’s a HYDRA operative,” she reminded, clutching James’ hand to lead him through the crowd of guests, “who just happens to be identified as deceased,” y/n maneuvered around people, dodging staff members and unsuspecting bystanders, “imagine the headlines and the public’s fear when it’ll get revealed the US government missed a dead man walking after the program to incarcerate security threats was implemented.” A corrupt program for a corrupt country. “President Ross would imprison Mark just to save face.”

The pair soon found themselves backstage. The stage was narrow much like the hallways, and though the space had plenty of overhead LED lights, it was painted a pitch-black color, and the confusing maze of corridors, entrances, and clothing racks seemed rather murky. She hauled James into the women’s bathroom and hurriedly locked the door. The soldier had seen women dragging men into bathrooms at clubs and parties. He was old, but he wasn’t dead — James understood what a couple would do in a bathroom together hence his confusion and reddened cheeks. 

She raked her eyes over his face, “we’re not having sex, Barnes.” 

“Is it because Steve needs saving or,” the smallest of smirks danced on his lips as James observed y/n step on the toilet to open a vent, “is it because you want our first time to be special?” Amusement colored his tone. 

She threw a miffed glare toward him before continuing to rummage in the outlet, “do you actually believe I burn with lust for you?” 

“Yes,” Bucky caught a pale yellow gym bag after she tossed it at him, “surely did during the honeymoon.” 

“We’ll always have Maui,” she smiled with faux sweetness, stepping off the toilet and on the sparkling white tiles. 

The smirk dropped from his lips at the comment because he had been open, honest then, and she just teased him about it. If time allowed for it, she might’ve apologized, guilt beginning to claw at her heart, but she ignored the strange emotion. 

“Sam,” she pressed a finger on the earpiece before squatting down to search in the sack, “James is with me,” y/n found an additional earpiece, standing up and taking a step forward to gently attach the gadget onto the soldier, “do you have eyes on Steve?” 

“Yes,” the Falcon murmured, audibly upset by Bucky’s presence. “James, hi,” he spoke through the intercom, “y/n, didn’t you say you'd leave the tin-man in Hawaii?”

“Obviously, I failed,” she replied, earning a soft smack from James on the shoulder, “when does the charity auction start?” 

“It should begin in fifteen minutes,” Sam spoke, inspecting the view on the monitors, “an incredible date with Amelie Barnes, a gorgeous New York City socialite, is fifth on the list to be auctioned, seven offers before the old-fashioned date with the handsome Captain America.”

She glanced up at James, studying his bewildered expression. “There might be a few things you’ve missed,” y/n grinned in faux innocence before promptly clarifying, "we needed access to the backstage areas. Do you have a gun?” 

“No,” James begrudgingly admitted, ashamed to have missed a crucial detail in his attire. 

The pair stood in front of each other without a sliver of space in between. She didn’t give herself a minute to think the action through, resting her hands on his chest as she hastily lowered into a squatting position to reach the bag. James sucked in a breath as y/n’s hands slid across the length of his body. She rested a single palm on his upper thigh for balance while she retrieved a set of pistols, but just before his mind had enough time to register the sudden stimulation, she arose, clutching his flesh bicep to steady herself. 

“Tuck it into the waistba—“

“Alright,” James interrupted her, “I’ve done this before.” 

She let go of his shoulder, taking a step backward. “There’s no need to be rude,” y/n shrugged. 

“I’m not being rude,” he rebuffed the comment, “just worried about where you’re planning to hide the gun.” 

A slight smile waltzed on her lips as she pushed the bottom of her gown aside, faintly exposing lacy onyx panties and a holster. James choked, once, at the obscenity of her response. 

“I’ve done this before,” she teased him, “sergeant.”

The charity auction had been a distant thought until she was standing on the stage with dozens of eyes upon her. She could hear the voice of the auction's host, describing the date she’d be forced to attend and the chatter of middle-aged men, hoping to secure the evening with Amelie Barnes, but y/n could only focus on searching for Mark in the crowd.

Nancy wouldn’t have lied to someone about Elijah and Mark’s wicked plans because the lawyer had zero motives to deceive a person she trusted. At least the woman hoped Nancy trusted whoever it had been on the other side of the phone because her whole plan revolved around Mark’s appearance at the gala. She’d never wish for Steve’s untimely death, but she did wish for the HYDRA operative and the politician to be caught on camera as they attempted to eliminate him.

“Let’s start the bidding at a thousand dollars,” the host announced, and she swallowed the lump of nerves in her throat.

A man on the left side of the ballroom raised his bid paddle. He seemed utterly too old to take y/n out on a date, and she shivered at the possibility.

The host beside y/n smiled, peeking at her. “We have a thousand, can we get more?”

“Two thousand!”

“Three thousand!”

“Five thousand dollars!”

She could barely register the number of voices, each interrupting the next to outbid the other.

A woman, close enough to the stage that she could see her face, raised the paddle. “Ten thousand dollars!”

“Ten thousand dollars for the woman in a green gown,” the presenter spoke cheerfully. “Amelie loves art galleries and tennis at The River Club of New York!” He encouraged the guests to aim higher. “The woman’s a real good company."

What the fuck did Sam tell them?

If she had ever thought that time spent in James Buchanan Barnes’ proximity must have been the worst thing the world could possibly offer, which she often would, she had been wrong. She was a spy, she had undoubtedly used her appearance to obtain certain information or opportunities on missions before, but the auction caused goosebumps to waltz on her skin — to be suppressed into an object, the perfect accessory for a date night, was one of the worst emotions she had ever experienced. 

James stood in the back, observing her panic-riddled expression. She had forgotten Tony’s credit card in Maui on accident, and though Tony would skin him alive if he spent as much as a dime on it, Tony and James had never been close buddies, so what further damage could his impending action legitimately cause if the damage of the two’s past had already been irreversible.

“Fifteen thousand dollars,” James raised the bidding paddle, grinning at y/n.

She stood on the stage perplexed at the sound of Bucky’s voice, frantically searching for his face in the sea of people.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we just got our highest bid of the night! Fifteen thousand dollars for the man in the back going in one, two, th-“

“Thirty grand for the man in blue.” A deep voice reverberated through the room.

She abandoned her search for James, locking her gaze on Mark. The spy had inspected the crowd once, then had inspected it for a second time, and the agent had not been comfortably sitting at a nearby table, peering at her through the top of his champagne flute. Mark must have sneaked in, which signified that either Steve was already dead or Elijah was waiting for Mark backstage, conversing with Captain America before commencing the plan of a brutal murder.

“Forty,” James challenged, studying in which direction y/n’s disgusted glance pointed.

“Fifty thousand,” Mark announced before the host had a chance to say anything, continuing to scrutinize her. The agent’s smile was cocky, overconfident, almost as if she was the victim and he was the hunter; as if he had discovered y/n’s deepest and darkest of secrets.

“Fifty thousand going in one, two—“

“A hundred thousand dollars,” James yelled, interrupting the ghost, and maneuvered to stand by the stage.

Silence settled upon the room at the sheer absurdity of his proposed bid. The truth was, the sergeant had spoken before he could think because the world, at that moment, had not existed outside the gala. She was standing on the platform, the glitter in her special lotion, as she’d describe it, glimmering underneath the fiery spotlight. She was clad in an opulent gown, dripping in pearlescent onyx beads and intricate patterns. She was reduced to nothing but an object in the auction, a good company auction's participants could purchase. 

She, the woman who’d never become a friend, for he’d always crave to be her lover. 

The spy averted her piercing gaze away from Mark and glanced at James. Concern was visibly displayed in his eyes, yet his grin, sweet and playful to steady her nerves, remained. A corner of her mouth quirked up, and she mouthed a silent thank you. James was attempting to outbid every person in the room to save y/n from a terrible date, and he was willing to do it in understanding that Tony would lecture, if not evict, him. 

The moment shattered as she returned her eyes to Mark, and her expression turned deadly. The spy might have played the role of an obedient, pleasant wife and woman on Elijah’s boat, but it was apparent he had acquired some kind of insight into who she verily was. It was useless to pretend she desired to be friends with Mark, a positively unsuspicious Elijah’s friend, who just happened to surprisingly specialize in foreign weaponry. 

“This is shockingly incredible,” the host trumpeted in amazement, pausing for a second, “a hundred thousand dollars for the man in the satin suit going in one, two, three.” Mark basked in the daggers she sent toward him, sipping on his second glass of champagne as James glided onto the stage, clasping y/n’s fingers in his gloved hand, and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “The date with Amelie Barnes has just been sold to the guy in a lovely suit,” James and y/n exchanged amused looks at the host’s comment, “but don’t abandon your seats just yet ladies and gentlemen, because up next we have a cooking lesson at Daniel with the beautiful chef Olivia Stroud.”

“Thank you,” she softly acknowledged his sacrifice at the auction, "for what you did back there."

The pair hid behind heavy velvet curtains, a hairsbreadth away from each other, occasionally peaking through the crack to inspect the limited backstage area for Mark or Elijah. It slightly resembled a room suited for rehearsals, mimicking the layout of the ballroom and the stage on a lesser scale. The space was cluttered and messy, with tangles of cords littering the floor and racks of clothing lining the walls.

A date with Steve was the last to be auctioned before the break, establishing the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard and without innocent eyes around to witness the gory sight of Captain America’s murder.

James smiled, shyly almost. “I couldn’t allow myself to watch and do nothing while creepy old men fought over a chance to spend time with Amelie,” he teased, adjusting a fallen strap of y/n’s gown, “my hatred for you doesn’t stretch that deep.”

Heat crawled up her neck and onto her cheeks. “Bucky, you are an old man,” the woman teased, “perhaps not creepy, but weird? Absolutely.” 

“I’m not weird,” he argued, suppressing a smile, “you eat ice cream with pickles for toppings.” 

False shock stained the edges of y/n’s expression, “it was one time, and I only tried it because Pepper affirmed it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten.”

“Pepper was pregnant,” he reminded playfully, earning a light smack on the shoulder.

The two Avengers swiftly switched into vigilant agents at the sudden squeak of the door. It was Mark, who entered the room first, scanning over the area for unwanted people. Steve appeared in the room seconds later, an arm resting on Elijah’s shoulders as he vehemently laughed at something the politician had mentioned.

It would’ve taken a fool to miss the obvious problem at hand. 

Steve was seldom intoxicated. She’d know, for she had spent too many gatherings attempting to outdrink the man without real success. Thor’s Asgardian mead was deadly to mortals but pleasantly kind to gods and super-soldiers alike. Earthly alcohol, contrariwise, was harsh on him; the taste delectable, the effects on Steve’s modified human body meager. 

It abruptly struck y/n — guns signified blood, plenty of it, and an operative smart enough to fabricate files of his supposed status as deceased wouldn’t be reckless and leave a plash of evidence in the backstage area of a charity gala’s ballroom. 

“Good news,” Sam’s voice echoed in the pair’s ears, “I have eyes on Steve,” he paused briefly, “bad news, Mark Basso and Elijah Williamson are plaguing the Captain.”

James opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him by placing a tender finger on his lips. “Sam, how closely were you monitoring the security cameras?”

It was a simple question she hoped the Falcon wouldn’t take offense to. 

He did. 

“I was observing the monitors like a hawk, y/n.” 

She refrained against an unnecessary comment and focused on the task, “and the video has audio?” 

“Yes.”

She took a step forward, closing the barely existent gap between them, “Elijah and Mark must’ve spiked his drink,” y/n hushedly whispered, circling a hand around James’ waist to touch the handgun she had provided. 

The pistol was securely tucked into the waistband of his trousers, and the sergeant cocked his head to the side. I’ve been on missions before, the glimmer in his eyes stated, and she could sense the early stages of his frustration, I didn’t accidentally drop it or nothin’. 

“At any point, did you notice Steve drinking a whiskey he had not ordered himself?” 

“Alright,” Sam clicked his tongue, “so I might not have an answer to that particular question, but I can say that Steve went into the bathroom twenty minutes ago, and his face seemed quite pale.” 

James placed a finger on the gadget, “did anyone accompany him?” 

“Yes, a line of beautiful ladies,” the Falcon responded, and James could nearly visualize Sam rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

The two men bickered some more, but she had tuned out the conversation, studying the scene onward. Everyone has a tell, y/n recalled. Though Steve’s words regarded lies and treacheries, the advice had not yet lost its meaning. It had been New Year’s Eve when she had gotten a nasty infection and had forgone Thor’s mead due to antibiotics. The compound’s residents had partaken in a friendly drinking competition then, and Steve had sworn the alcohol couldn’t exhilarate him, except his eyes had been droopy, and he had clutched James’ biceps for balance. 

Steve leaned on Mark, his laugh far less joyous than it had been before, so perhaps Nancy had been wrong, and they had not planned to eliminate him at the gala, but rather drug the Captain, sneakily transporting his unconscious body to a place, devoid of prying glances and curious endeavors. She wondered whether Elijah would linger in the room until the poison took its course. It’d be easier to carry dead weight, for Steve might fight against the operation.

The plan was meticulously calculated except for a single nuance. Why would the two men bring Steve into the backstage area in the first place if they could’ve used the narrow hallways and hidden exits to sneak out?

“We should slaughter Wilfred.” Mark spoke as if answering y/n’s concerns. “I specifically told Nagel he cannot be late.”

“It’s a slight blunder,” Elijah replied, oblivious to the surroundings, and the woman behind the velvet material, around him. Steve was barely awake. “We have Rogers and a bit of time before he’s supposed to appear on stage.” 

It was impossible to ignore James’ piercing eyes, and she hastily peeped at him. “Do we wait?” 

And she craved to have the correct response to his question, but, despite her usual confidence during missions, she didn’t have an answer. James had allowed her to lead, and she felt as if she was disappointing him, lingering behind a curtain as the Captain, a friend, clutched the very enemies they wished to incarcerate. The only thing y/n understood in great certainty was that Steve’s body couldn’t leave the premises of the establishment. 

“Did you see Mark or Elijah on the phone at any point in the night?” 

“Mark was a ghost,” Sam’s voice crawled through her earpiece, “but I distinctly remember Elijah in a heated conversation. The man arrived at the gala with his wife, presumably, and scuttled away into a lonely corner soon after, which I found interesting.” 

The former HYDRA operative’s phone dinged, and she lowered her hands to reach for the gun strapped to her thigh. Steve’s dormant body nearly hit the ground as he lost consciousness, and Elijah slithered his hands under Steve’s armpits to support the Captain’s weight. The woman’s heart clenched at the sight, of her confidante resting against Elijah’s chest like a heavy sack of potatoes, entirely unresponsive to the situation.

“Let’s move,” Mark clasped his ankles, and the unlikely allies hoisted Steve’s figure, “Wilfred messaged he’s awaiting outside.”

She could only comprehend Elijah's high-pitched shriek that rang in her ears, silencing the laughs, chatter, and footsteps sneaking into the space from the ballroom. James was the first to abandon the secure hiding spot behind the curtain, pointing his gun at the man, a stern expression on his face. A couple seconds passed before she trailed after him, shoving a pistol into Mark’s back as a threat. Steve’s body caused a harsh crash sound when it hit the ground, but she could only concentrate on Sam and the amount of time it’d take him to reach the ballroom backstage from the van parked outside.

“On your knees,” y/n instructed, firmly thrusting the gun against his skin.

The operative lazily raised his arms, making no effort to do as she had requested. “Amelie Barnes,” he chuckled, “what a stupid alias,” the situation didn’t afford contemplations on how he could’ve realized she was more than a homemaker, “though I must admit, I almost fell for the lovebirds' act by the way you two basked in each other on the boat.” Mark’s tone was tainted with smugness. 

Elijah landed a painful punch on James’ jawline, and he staggered back at the surprise of the action before he straightened up and kneed him in the stomach. 

She drew in a breath, “you’re wrong.”

The operative ignored the politician and the fight he seemed to be losing, “am I?”

She jabbed the pistol into his muscled back once more, hands quivering at the unspoken confession; it swallowed the room, knocking the air out of her lungs. “Get down on your knees,” she spat the warning.  

“A dozen names,” he snickered, “and not a single true. Mindy Phillips, Tara Marvin, Katherine Bailey just to identify a few.” 

“This is the last time I’ll repeat myself, get down on your fucking knees.”

“C’mon, y/n,” he spoke, lowering his arms a bit, “we can come to an agreement that’d satisfy both of us.”

She froze at the mention. The curiosity almost lured her into the biggest mistake she could make — playing along. “Elijah and HYDRA’s golden agent behind bars is the only agreement I’d be delighted about.” 

Mark suddenly turned around, grasping one of y/n’s wrists, and she clobbered him across the head with the hand that was clutching the gun. He wobbled, momentarily, before he tackled her to the ground, thighs resting on either side of her own, and gripped y/n’s wrist once more. The gun landed by her, and she writhed in his hold to reach it, but it was useless. Mark harshly pinned her arms above her hand, leaning in so close she could feel his disgustingly hot breath upon the skin of her neck.

He snickered, grazing the top of her ear with his lips, “we could’ve worked together,” Mark lightly nipped at the sensitive spot, “could’ve been a real good team.”

She found his eyes, amused and eerily hungry, and spat in his face, “fuck you.”

Mark laughed, but before he could sputter another comment, James was pouncing on the agent, resting his entire weight on him just as Mark had done to y/n, mercilessly pummeling the flesh of his upper body.

She averted her gaze from the bloody sight, searching for Elijah. The politician was sprawled out on the cement floor, by Steve’s feet, unconscious. A huge gash tainted his bottom lip, and purple had begun tinting his cheekbones. She glimpsed at James and the small cuts that adorned his handsome face; Elijah must’ve stricken a few great hits before the sergeant had stunned him cold.

Sam barged through the door. Besides the Falcon, she was the only person in the room without visible injuries, though her joints ached from the pressure Mark had used to clutch them.

“I called reinforcement,” he spoke, kicking her gun to a corner Mark couldn’t reach.

“Care to help?” Bucky’s teasing comment amidst a fight was almost comforting.

Sam rolled his eyes, joining James in the scuffle with the agent. She focused on Steve, crawling to his dormant body. Though it was dreadfully faint, his heartbeat remained. It was difficult to raise the top half of his weight, yet y/n succeeded, supporting his neck and shoulders as she inspected the back of his head for damage. She gasped silently, noticing that the blonde of his hair had been stained red. The split in his skin wasn’t deep enough to be profoundly alarming, but it'd require stitches. Speedily, she checked the time on his watch, creating a mental note, and lowered his figure to rummage in his pockets for a cell phone. The Captain’s head she placed upon her folded legs.

The woman’s fingers trembled as she typed in the emergency number. In the years they had worked together, never had Steve fallen unconscious, nor had he obtained a gaping gash in the back of his scalp. Elijah and Mark must've given him an alarmingly high dose of tranquilizer to knock the super-soldier out entirely, and she was scared.

The two Avengers had handcuffed Mark when the call between y/n and the local emergency service had ended. The operator’s voice has been soothing and calm, and she had turned the iPhone off feeling far more composed than she had been when she made it.

“An ambulance should be here in a few minutes.”

“That was quite dramatic,” Mark noted, a weak chuckle slipping past his lips, “Steve ingested sedatives, not poison.”

James placed a gun to his temple, and Sam planted a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder, “don’t engage him,” the Falcon advised, turning to y/n, “did you know?” 

She recognized Sam’s true question was did you know they planned to kill Steve?

“Yes,” she averted her gaze to observe Steve, “I’m sorry.” The spy was genuinely apologetic for hiding certain information. 

Sam drew in a deep breath, pursing his lips together, “why wouldn’t you tell me?” 

“I needed you to monitor the security cameras,” she answered truthfully, “I needed someone to transfer the footage into our database,” the explanation was honest once more, “I was afraid Mark or Elijah would attempt to tamper with it.”

“She was right, we had a whole plan 'n' everything,” Mark chimed in, and James pushed him down to his knees.

He sighed in frustration, the pistol lingering in its position against Mark’s skin, “stay fucking quiet, asshole.”

The Falcon ignored the commotion in the background, his expression strained as he continued to stare at her, “you should’ve told us.”

The statement disintegrated into thin air, the weight of it still heavy on her shoulders. She stayed silent, brushing away the sweaty pieces of hair that had stuck to Steve’s forehead. His face was eerily peaceful as he rested, unconscious, on the cement floor, head propped on y/n’s thighs. The gown Sam had chosen for the evening was sprinkled with blood in various spots, albeit the dark color disguised it. It was gorgeous and elegant, she’d admit, but it was destined to burn after the events that had unfolded during the gala.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice drained of emotion.

“The two of you should return to the hotel,” Sam suggested when a group of FBI officers spilled into the room, “shower, eat, rest. I have zero doubts it’s been an exhausting week,” he half-heartedly joked, referring to the faux honeymoon, “I’ll stay with Steve.” 

“Sam,” she spoke, “we want t—“

“Go,” the Falcon interrupted her, “please,” one of the officers firmly hoisted Mark, and James swiftly reached y/n’s kneeling figure, “I got this.” The tone of his voice had whispers of irritation at its edges. 

“Alright,” she agreed, helping a paramedic transfer Steve’s body onto a stretcher, “I trust you.” 

Sam glanced at James, shoving his hands into his pockets, and returned his eyes to y/n. “Good.” The look they exchanged was strangely comforting, the kind of look that conveyed Sam wasn’t angry, per se, but rather vanquished, and disappointment she could deal with. 

She offered him a weak smile, “I should shower.”

The Falcon chuckled, mouthing a silent go, and turned his focus to James, both of you. 

James stood in the hotel room’s doorway.

She was fidgeting with lavish jewels, her patience stretching thin as the necklace’s clasp remained closed despite y/n’s nimble fingers attempting to work it open. She glanced at him, once, before regaining focus. “Why are you here?”

The sergeant shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. “I forgot to book a hotel room.”

She ceased her movements, observing his awkwardness-laden body language. James’ long-forgotten suit jacket dangled over his bent arm, the other hand shoved into the pocket of his satin trousers.

“May I suggest driving back to the compound?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a small grin at y/n’s thorny response, “we’re in the middle of Manhattan, and the compound is a three-hour drive away.” James closed the heavy wooden door, locking it behind him. “Can I stay with you?”

“It seems you’ve answered the question before I had the chance,” she referenced the action, staring at him in forged disbelief.

The atmosphere stilled in a pregnant pause. It wouldn’t be harmless for the couple to sleep in the same bed. They had done it in Maui, and neither her skin had broken out in a rash nor had she perished. On the contrary, it was peaceful to relish in the warmth of his skin.

James dumped the jacket on an empty chair, slowly coming to stand in front of the woman. She could almost hear the thumping of his heart, his body a hairbreadth away. Sirens echoed outside the sealed window, saturating the silence in crimson sounds. New York City contrasted with the lush green of upstate New York. The living quarters at the compound were usually deprived of clamor, protected against harsh winds and white noise by thick cement walls. 

“Let me help you,” James cooed, sliding his hands across the skin of her arms upward. The soft pads of his fingers caressed her collarbone before he grasped the necklace’s clasp and easily worked it open. “We could be great together,” he spoke, turning to gently place the diamond choker on a glass desk, “great partners,” her fingers ghosted over the spots James had touched, “great lovers,” he toyed with the idea. 

The sergeant returned to his previous place and, “great lovers,” she teased, “you think we could fit together?” 

“Mmmh,” he concurred, “but we always extinguish the flame before it truly burns.”

She brushed her hands across the smooth fabric of his dress shirt, savoring the firmness of his muscled chest beneath the textile. We always extinguish the flame before it truly burns. Perhaps James was correct — she had been opposing a traitorous fire within the deepest pits of her heart, and body, long before Wanda had a terrible idea to send the two on a faux honeymoon. 

“Kiss me,” she spoke in an honest confession of lust. 

“What?” James’ voice was breathless as he gawked at the woman in foreign excitement and disbelief. 

Oh, the way he hoped she’d realize that the line between love and hatred stood thin, and they had surely blurred it in Maui, but never did James think she genuinely would. The fault was his, partially. It had been easy to fabricate false narratives for the compound’s residents, convince himself he loathed the woman despite the countless nights of wandering hands and shameful memories of her body. James had designed a malicious persona, but oh, the way he hoped she’d see through it. 

“Kiss me,” she repeated, “because just once, I need to get you out of my system,” her hands slithered to his biceps, “kiss me, so the next time I’ll touch myself at night, it won’t be your face I’ll be seeing.” 

James cupped the back of y/n’s neck, crashing their lips together. The world in the background ceased to exist at the moment. He swiped his tongue against her bottom lip, asking for permission, and she surrendered to the request, tangling her fingers in his copper locks. She gingerly pulled at the root, earning a muffled whimper from James, and he slid his metal arm down to y/n’s waist to bring the woman closer, to erase the barely existent gap between their bodies. She burned with arousal, and Bucky was equally as famished. It was only the lack of oxygen that pulled the couple apart, and James drew in a deep breath, capturing y/n’s lips once more seconds later.

It was a dangerous promise, the kiss. A wildfire that spread through the entirety of her body, stimulating every nerve ending until she was moaning into his mouth as a plead for more, tongues fighting for dominance. It knocked the air out of her lungs, and when she retreated, James didn’t meld their lips, opting to focus on y/n’s neck. He kissed, licked, and sucked the sensitive skin like a man deprived of the only thing he’s ever desired. She was a drug, and god, was James addicted to her scent and her silky skin, and her hands, sloppily untucking his dress shirt, to slide under the fabric and explore his taut muscles. Everywhere she touched scorched, and he messily searched for the zipper of her gown, discarding the dress to the ground as soon as the piece of metal relented.

She was the most beautiful sight James had ever seen as she stood in front of him in just a pair of lacy panties. Art, created by the world’s most talented of artists, an angel bestowed to him by the gods themselves. 

The sergeant brushed his flesh thumb across her lower lip, blending their lips together. His metal hand, the one she had always disgracefully thought was outrageously attractive, slithered between her plush thighs, and James moaned into her mouth upon discovering that she was soaked and aching for him. He shifted the undergarment to the side for access, dragging his fingers through her silken folds. 

Cool metal thumb pressed into her clit, and she broke the kiss, “inside,” she spoke, the tone of her voice laced with desperation, “I want you inside of me.” 

“Sweet girl,” James chuckled, inserting a single digit into her slick heat, “you need to be stretched first.” 

He thrusted his finger a few times before adding a second digit. She clenched around him, messily unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the carpeted floors. The pace of his thrusts remained steady and agonizingly slow as James basked in her pleasure-riddled expression. 

The woman clutched the waistband of his trousers, messing with the belt, her fingers trembling as James continued to stroke the sensitive spot inside her with two of his fingers. “Please,” she muttered, “faster.” 

A sly smirk waltzed on his lips at the request, but, instead of obeying y/n’s wishes, he halted the activity, removing his hand, and placed the metal in his mouth, sucking it clean, “such a sweet thing you are.” 

Warmth crept up her neck and onto her cheekbones. He hastily removed the trousers, placing his hands on the back of y/n’s upper thighs, hoisting the woman, and gently tossed her onto the spongy bed. She stared at him through curious eyes, lowering her gaze to observe the bulge in his boxers, and swallowed the lump in her throat. Judging by the outline in his underwear, James was huge, far bigger than the men she had fooled around with in the past. 

“I want to taste you,” she confessed, propping herself up on her elbows.

James shook his head no, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her onyx panties to tear them off, “next time, doll.” 

She wasn’t certain whether there would be a next time, for James had discovered a side to her, she had long buried. An alter ego, who was submissive, and pliable, and starved for the touch of a man she described as her enemy. 

James nestled between her legs, arms on either side of her waist, and placed chaste kisses on y/n’s mouth and jawline. His head dipped lower as he assailed her neck and chest, popping a nipple in his mouth. The sergeant sucked the sensitive bud before nipping on it, massaging her other breast with his hand and rolling the right nipple between his fingers. 

She writhed under him, eyes shut from the waves of pleasure racing through her. James didn’t linger over the area, choosing to concentrate on kissing the length of y/n’s body as he crawled to situate himself betwixt her thighs. Goosebumps painted the path of his eager kisses, and she grasped a handful of his hair when James gave her clit a kitten lick to test the response. 

“James,” she purred as he repeated the action and slithered two digits back into her dripping heat. 

“Use your words,” he grazed his tongue over the bud again, applying a little bit more pressure, “tell daddy what you want.” 

The woman’s eyes shot open at the term but then he was thrusting his fingers into her wetness, repeatedly hitting the delicious spot that made her toes curl, the insult toward James forgotten. 

“Mouth,” she mumbled, too lost in the delectation to form a coherent sentence. 

James snickered at her vague response, wrapping a pair of soft lips around y/n’s clit. The thrusting of his fingers persisted as he stimulated the area. James was spelling out his full name on her sex, she realized by the time he had started tracing a b for Buchanan, yet she abstained from further reflections, coming undone by his mouth and fingers seconds before James could complete tracing the s in Barnes.  

“Good girl,” he praised, helping y/n ride out her orgasm.

James withdrew his fingers, sucking them clean of y/n’s stickiness before he removed the metal with a pop, and peeled off his boxers, flinging the garment across the space.

The room was modern and opulent, with floor-to-ceiling windows exposing the ever-awake skyline of New York City, its sky-high buildings, impressive bridges, and countless lights. It was situated on the fortieth floor of the hotel, creating a perfect opportunity to indulge in a bit of a rush and leave the curtains wide open without a true risk of innocent bystanders witnessing the scene.

James kneeled on the bed. The usual glimmer of annoyance toward her in his eyes had been replaced by a feral kind of hunger, and, as she stared at him like a pray would observe its hunter, y/n decided that, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the first or the last time she’d let James treasure her body. 

She loosely draped her forearms over his neck when he slanted to capture her nipple in his mouth, “I know you consistently ignore my wishes,” she whimpered, “but for the love of god, sergeant, I need you.” 

He chuckled, showing attention to the other bud by pinching it, “my sweet girl wants to get filled, huh?” 

James’ throbbing weight rested heavily against the skin of her thighs, and she reached down to palm it. “Yes.” 

The woman’s nimble fingers caressed the reddened tip, spreading his precum on the surface before she dipped her hand a tad lower to gently fondle his balls. A moan escaped past his lips at her eager endeavor. 

“I like it when you’re needy,” James pulled back and she groaned at the loss of him in her hands, “and dripping,” his fingers ghosted over the velvety folds before he was manhandling the spy to rest on her knees and forearms, “willing to let daddy take care of you.” 

She ignored the name yet again but stored it within her memories to use for blackmail in the future. “Is he?” She questioned when Bucky clutched her hips and pushed his hand down on her back for a deeper arch. “Is daddy gonna fuck me, or is he just going to talk all night?” 

James understood she only used the term to mock him, but shit, did it stir his already aching cock. He palmed himself twice before dragging his length along her slick folds, the metal hand abandoning her hips to circle her waist and gently rub y/n’s clit from behind. She clenched around emptiness, pressing into his pelvis for friction, and Bucky ceased his movements, removing the fingers from her bud to harshly grip the flesh of y/n’s hips once more. James continued the torture, lazily teasing her entrance, and she painfully sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. 

“What do we say when we want something?” He taunted the woman, utterly enjoying her anguish. 

“James,” she mumbled into the crisp sheets. 

The soldier found amusement in the warning but showed mercy, sinking into her sodden heat. He’d fuck the brat out of her on a different day.

A strained whimper escaped past her lips at the delicious stretch of his cock, matching Bucky’s hiss at the way the spy’s walls drunk him in. James thrusted into her a few times, experimenting with speed and rhythm. A particularly rough roll of his hips seemed to rip a piercing moan from y/n’s throat, and he grinned, abandoning the hold on her hips to massage her clit again.

The room was saturated in vulgar noises of skin slapping against skin, moans, and desperate whines as James mercilessly pounded into her. She sobbed into a pillow as he led her to the edge for the second time, refusing to burst the bubble and let the flame consume her, thick fingers retreating just before the orgasm could ignite her body, over and over again.

James consumed every shallow breath and every wail, deciding that it would not be the last time he’d listen to the melody — she was a sin he’d gratefully burn in hell for, and an angel he’d break down heaven’s gates to attain. The soldier suddenly removed himself from her, already missing y/n’s silken walls squeezing around him, and shifted the woman, so that she rested on her back. He captured her ankles, draping them over his shoulders before he roughly thrusted back in. She wept at the overstimulation when he bottomed out, balls slapping against the skin of her ass. The new angle allowed James to reach far deeper. 

He groaned, “you’re so tight,” thumb brushing against her plush lips, “my sweet, sweet girl,” he cooed, “wanna worship this pussy all night.” 

And in his head, the statement stood true, but it was his body that opposed it, his arousal steadily creeping over the edge of an orgasm. 

She shut her eyes, expression drenched with pleasure, “I’ma cum,” she moaned. 

“I know, doll.” James wiped off the tear threatening to roll down her cheek and captured y/n’s lips in a messy kiss. 

“It feels good—,” she hiccuped when he pulled away, “—so good.” 

The world stilled. It was only James’ ragged breath and the heavenly orgasm she could focus on, washing over her body in syrupy waves and causing her toes to curl into the mattress below. She raked her nails over the skin of his back, leaving scorching marks in her wake. 

“Shit,” James cursed as his own peak approached, his strokes sloppy. 

It was a few thrusts later when he climaxed, painting her velvety walls white with a loud moan. He licked a sensitive spot on y/n’s neck, propping himself up on his forearms when the thunderous arousal began to quiet.

She brushed the hair that had gotten stuck to his sweaty forehead aside, “we don’t have evidence to convict Nancy,” she spoke when her heartbeat steadied.  

James sighed amusedly, pulling out his softened length and maneuvering to lay beside her. “This is what you say after we just had sex for the first time?” 

“Yes,” she deflected, refusing to admit she had fallen for the soldier and that it would not be the only time they’d get tangled in the sheets. 

“Alright,” he abandoned the bed with a laugh and gathered y/n’s exhausted body in his arms to locate the bathroom, “but let’s shower before we talk shop.” 

James observed the skyline of New York City. It was the place they had first encountered one another, back when he had brutally stabbed the woman. She rested on his bare chest now, peacefully asleep, soft snores falling from her lips. Times have changed, James realized with a heavy heart because change was uncertain and scary. It was worth it, though, if it meant the sergeant could love her up close and without barriers between them. It’d surely take a while to erase the tainted memories of the past, but they had been at war for five years, and he’d happily spend another five falling in love. 

An iPhone James had recently purchased dinged with a text. 

CAPTAIN AMERICA: guess Wanda and I won’t have to sleep with our eyes open after all:)

His mouth curved into a smile, elated Steve had not only woken up but was cracking jokes over the situation he had forced Bucky into. 

WHITE WOLF: debatable. 

It was not debatable — Steve and Wanda sending the couple on a honeymoon in Maui was the best decision they could’ve made, for the moon found his sun at last. 

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