#i was waiting on something tonight and one lady was like what’s wrong :( and I’m like bestie that’s just my face I always look a little sad

[theorphicangel]

“𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬?” | 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: you have a valentine’s date tomorrow and you’re somewhat excited for it. but there’s just one thing you’re unsure about…thankfully your trusted roommate can help. right?

tags: roommate au! (Here we go again), smut, 18+, male masturbation, mutual pining, these mfs are in DENIAL smh, angsty ishhhh

taglist: @ghost-lantern @mreowmoreww @maomaimao @ahano

PART TWO. (click here for part one.)

“I think you’re lying to me.”

Miguel glances up at you from the dining table that he’s sitting at, currently eating a bowl of cereal. You’re standing opposite him, buttering a seemingly burnt piece of toast.

“Hmm?”

“I think you’re lying to me about not having a valentine’s date.”

Miguel’s eyes move back down to stare at his bowl, spoon mindlessly poking at the cereal but he’s not eating. He pauses for a few seconds, thinking over your words.

“What makes you think that?”

“You?” You point at him with your butter knife. “The Miguel O’Hara, the well-known ladies’ man has not one date tonight? Not a single one out of the countless ladies that he’s been with? Suspicious.”

“Looks like it.” he mumbles. You notice that his tone is dry. Refusing to play along with your teasing.

“See, I don’t believe it. Something’s up, you’re acting…weird.”

It’s ironic you say that. You have no right to judge him on his behavior. After all, you did suck him off on the couch last night. This morning, neither of you had made an attempt to discuss what had happened last night. You acted as if nothing had happened between the two of you, as if you had just gone to bed for an early night.

As for Miguel, it was a whole different story. Unbeknownst to you, he didn’t get any sleep that night. Tossing and turning, his cock aching at the thought of you. Each and every time that he tried to close his eyes, all he could picture was you between his thighs.

It was that look. That look you had in your eye, it was full of hunger and desire. It was a look that proudly told him that all you had wanted to do was to make him feel good.

Reminiscing on this, guilt ran through his bloodstream like poison, questions running through his mind.

Why didn’t he ask you to be his valentine’s sooner? Why didn’t he confess there and then? Why did he have to wait so long to make a move? Do you feel the same as him? Do you feel as if your soul is eating you from the inside out, tempting you to confess how you really feel? If he did confess, would you have canceled all your plans for him? Or would you act like how you’re acting now, pretending that nothing happened?

“I’m not being weird. I’m tired.” He mumbles, still poking at his cereal. In his mind he can already hear the voice of his mother berating him for it.

“Right.” you say, unable to think of anything more to say. Normally, it’s easier than this to start off playful banter between the two of you but you can sense Miguel’s energy was off.

This was almost reminiscent of your earlier days after moving in. How you both exchanged awkwardness and empty conversations that resulted from who's turn it was to take out the trash and the weather forecast.

You figure that perhaps Valentine's Day wasn't the best day for him, assuming that his behavior is the result of something else that happened. You decide to keep your pondering questions to yourself, instead finishing your breakfast in silence. You scroll mindlessly on your phone, seeing multiple posts of friends already waking up to cute valentine gifts and what not.

Audibly, you let out a sigh, wondering if your date – whom you may come across at work– has anything planned for you this morning.

You glance over at Miguel who continues to stare down at his bowl, the obnoxious sound of milk falling off his spoon fills the silence.

Anxiety builds up in your stomach about last night. Was it wrong to ask him to help you? Perhaps he regrets what happened, suddenly wishing he’d never agree to it. Your negative thoughts continue to build up inside you, suddenly taking away your appetite.

You thought last night was…good. Great, even. It had given you confidence for tonight.

if anything was to happen tonight.

Was last night helpful? Most definitely.

Did it spark something in you that you’ve tried to keep buried since the very moment you moved into the apartment? Sure.

Did you want to do it again? Hell yes.

But the question is, does he feel the same?

You take in his demeanor, his low mood and refusal to look up at you. Maybe he hates you so much that he can’t bear to stand you after last night. This brutal assumption was all you needed to get yourself to snap back into reality.

Before disappearing to get changed for work, you take one last glance at Miguel, who continues to ignore you. By the time you step out of your room to leave the apartment for work you find the kitchen empty.

You find a single bowl of cereal on the table that remains unfinished.

/

Exhausted, miguel steps into the apartment. He thinks it’s nearing 6pm by the time he arrives, taking a little longer than usual to return.

As soon as he shuts the door behind him he can hear your voice calling for him; a personal singsong just for him bouncing off the walls. After locking the door, he turns to hang up his coat before bending down to remove his shoes.

By the time he looks up again, you’re suddenly standing in front of him and for a second it feels like his breath is knocked out of his lungs.

And there you were. Stood in front of him with a cheesy smile across your lips, wearing a dress he’s never seen before. You tilt your head to one side, awkwardly fiddling with your hands as Miguel stares you down.

“Do you think it’s a little too much?”

You move your body a little, providing different angles of the dress. Immediately Miguel’s eyes are drawn to the way that your curves hug at the dress. His eyes are latched onto you, unblinking. As he stands in silence your mind turns into panic, taking it as a negative reaction. Maybe it’s not the right dress.

Your disappointment is more than obvious as you start to turn, heading back to your bedroom where a pile of clothes await your return. “You’re right, I think I should–”

“Perfect.”

Finally, the words leave his throat.

If the words ‘Will you be my Valentine?’ won’t fall from his lips then he makes sure that you’re able to hear this at least.

“It’s perfect.” He repeats, a little louder now. His body forces himself to blink now, eyes stinging at the image of you.

“Are you sure?” Your tone is apprehensive, unable to see the positive correlation between his reaction with his words. “Because I think I have a better dress–”

“No.” Miguel swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I like this one, it looks good. Perfect.”

He likes it.

Relief crashes over you, all doubt washed away. His external validation was the only thing you needed.

“Really?”

Miguel’s patience was wearing thin at your disbelief, it took everything in him not to run up to you and mark you as his. It took everything in him not to run his hands all over your body, to ingest every feature, to worship it, to make love to it and provide you everything you had ever wanted.

God, he wanted nothing more but to prove to you that, yes, you looked fucking gorgeous, stunning even. If there was a moment where he wanted to kick himself in the balls for not asking you out sooner, the moment would be now.

“Really. Don’t change.”

He can’t tell whether this final validation was all you needed or whether his tone was finally believable to you but either way he’s satisfied that he has finally gotten through to you as a smile reaches for your lips.

“Thanks mig’. ” you mutter quickly, turning from him as fast as you could to hide the heat that now spread rapidly across your face. You say nothing more, disappearing as quickly as you had appeared, leaving him in a wondrous state.

/

“Think you’ll be okay?”

You don’t look up at him, too busy replying back to a message. He watches as your thumbs move across the small screen at lighting speed. “Yeah, yeah, he’s nearly here.” you mumble quietly. Unfortunately, you’re too preoccupied to notice the look of apprehension on Miguel’s face.

There’s something that gnaws at him completely. From the inside, just begging to be let out. He doesn’t know whether it’s a confession, his jealousy or anger at himself. He assumes that this feeling is a mix of all three.

He can tell that you're nervous, teeth softly biting down on your bottom lip, heels tapping the floor with impatience. If you weren’t holding your phone with two hands, he’d bet that you’d be biting at your nails. It takes everything in him not to grab you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him and take a few deep breaths.

Soon enough, a ding is heard from your phone and he watches how your face lights up. All he can do is stand awkwardly as you tell him your date is here to pick you up. Miguel watches you as you make your way to the door, double checking your purse for anything that you may have forgotten.

A wish of ‘good luck’ dies in Miguel’s throat as you slip through the door, leaving him with nothing more than an echoed goodbye.

The second he hears the door lock behind you, a sigh seems to leave his lips. He can smell the lingering scent of a perfume that he had bought for you as a christmas present, a new favorite that you only wore on special occasions.

Silence now begins to torment him, his mind is jumping to conclusions. What if this one date will lead to a second date and then a third and then a tenth? Until eventually the day comes, when you announce that you’ll be moving out.

He’ll be left on his own, again.

And all that follows are bland text messages from you every now and again, checking up on him as a friend whilst he falls back into the shadows, forever stuck with the label of ‘roommate’.

The deafening silence continues to torture him, thoughts emerging to the idea of your date becoming the love of your life. It's completely stupid and useless to jump to this assumption but he can’t help it. He can’t help but tyrannize himself, his insecurity eating away his insides like vermin.

“Fuckin’ hell, you need to get yourself together.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, making his way over to the couch. He collapses with exhaustion, a groan leaving his body as he does so.

It takes him more than a few minutes to realize that he’s sitting in the same spot as last night. The only difference being is that there’s no pretty girl sitting between his thighs, eyes glowing at him with lust and desire. This single thought is enough to make him hard.

A curse or two is muttered under his breath as an uncontrollable bulge begins to grow in his pants. He really shouldn’t. But he does.

His fingertips run over his crotch as he reminisces about last night: the innocent look on your face, your shock at how big his cock was, your attempt to take him whole, desperately trying to fit him into that pretty little mouth of yours, and by god, it took everything in him not to keep you down there.

But that look, that glow almost dared him to. Your eyes silently expressed that this was all for him. Miguel lets out a groan, finally giving in to his needs, a hand slipping into his pants to free his aching cock from his boxers.

He gives slow, long strokes imitating what you had done yesterday. A quiet whimper leaves his throat, his thumb wiping away at the pre-cum at the crown of his length. He remembers the way his body shudders as you left tantalizing little circles at the tip of his cock, practically torturing him.

His thoughts drastically change from imagining your mouth teasing his cock to how he would tease your dripping cunt. He imagines how soaked you would be for him and wonders whether you were like this yesterday, when you were sucking him off, completely soaked through your panties.

Miguel lets out a groan at the mere thought, his hand now increasing the pace of his strokes. You’d be so tight, he thinks, so tight that your eyes would tear up at your cunt trying to take him whole. His cock would stuff every inch of you, your cunt clenching around him, your little whines persuading him to go deeper, trying to prove that you can take it all.

He wraps a tight fist around himself, pumping himself a little faster now, his breath hitched. His free hand grips at a pillow beside him, imagining that he was taking handfuls of your ass as he buried himself deeper into you. He’d start off slow, let you get adjusted to his size before building up a merciless pace.

Miguel imagines your body writhing beneath him, fingertips scratching at his back as he pleases you. Miguel begins to feel heat in his lower abdomen, his eyes are closed and brows are furrowed as he tries to focus on pornographic images of you in his mind. He imagines your whimpers, babbling to him about how good it feels. That’s all he wanted to do. Make you feel good.

“Please, please, please– fuck, don’t stop.”

Miguel’s thighs begin to tense, hips jerking slightly as he fists his cock. It feels too good to stop. It’s wrong but he can’t stop your name from escaping from his lips. He surrenders to the feelings of pleasure and complete euphoria. He feels the cord in his lower abdomen begin to snap away, desperate pleads echo off the walls as he cums, his seed spilling across his hand and lower abdomen.

Coming down from his climax, the realization of what he’s done crashes over him like a wave and suddenly he finds himself violently drowning. Drowning in a sea of his thoughts and his mistakes. Cruelly, he reminds himself that he can’t be saved and that he deserves to be alone. After all…

he has no one to blame but himself.

click here for part 3

[wokelander]

L’AMOUR LOOKS SOMETHING LIKE YOU !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. dad-daughter incest, dad/daddy kink, groping, emotional incest i hope, dub-con

note. comm for @slovakbabe sorry this took so fucking long omg. I hope this is worth the wait 😭 writers block is hell so if anything is clunky.. omg. I changed the storyline like 7 times and landed on this so I hope it’s good!!! edited but ignore any mistakes or I’ll kms.. not fond of this so um 😓

Tonight is a big night.

Tonight you’re going to break a month-long dry spell.

Tonight you’re going to have a three-way, a four-way, a five-way and get fucked every which way.

Tonight you will not let dad’s stupid face weigh you down. Every time you look at him you feel guilty. Like you’re obligated to take on the task of towel-drying dishes while he washes them just like mom did, like you’re supposed to make his eggs how he likes them, like you’re supposed to massage his back and feet after work, suck his dick—

You book a table at a rooftop bar. You’re looking for guys with wallets fatter than their dicks, you’re looking to drain someone’s balls and their life savings, you are looking for someone a little older.

Older, like, old-as-your-dad older. You don’t have any problems with your dad, no issues or qualms, he takes care of you so well, and that’s exactly why you need someone in his age range.

You joined a hiking club in hopes of finding one, you were reading obituaries to find widowers, you started getting friendly with ugly men, you know how desperate they are—But it had to come to an end, you can’t price yourself that low.

Dad has always told you what you’re worth, and you’re deserving of someone who treats you right. No more splitting the bill, you don’t want to carry any shopping bags, and no fucking way are you paying for your own drinks tonight.

“Where are you going, young lady?” Leon hasn’t seen you all day, you grace him with your (always welcomed) presence at 9PM on the dot.

“Uh, out?” You place a hand on your hip, giving him a pointed look.

Huh. Okay. He has to go about this carefully; you’re like a powder keg. Maybe you told him about this but he wasn’t listening. Leon is only ever half-listening.

“What is that?” He lowers his reading glasses. “A headband?”

“It’s a miniskirt, dad?” You supply, raising your brow - you’re challenging him, that means, but Leon isn’t up for it.

“Yeah, no, I can see that.” He can see quite a few things a dad shouldn’t really ever be able to see on his daughter. “You got any, uh, regular skirts?”

“What counts as a regular skirt?” You take a step forward, the skirt shifts upwards, your everything is flashing everyone everywhere.

Okay, okay.

He can stand up for himself—Giving in the only option, he decides a mere second later.

“Listen, pumpkin, I’m not up for all that smart talk today.” Leon holds his hands up in surrender. You’re like your mom, deliberate and ballsy and everything that he isn’t. You could argue with your echo, Leon not so much. He lets you win when you’re right and when you’re wrong.

“Then stop, like, policing me, dad, I’m not a baby.” You’re his baby though, and that’s what really matters. It’s hard for Leon to see you like this. Since when did dolls turn into dildos? Barbie pink turned into what? Like, pussy pink? God, he doesn’t know—You’re just so big now and you’re getting away from him, out of reach.

One half of Leon wants to say ‘since when did you start shadowing a hooker’ and ‘I sent you to college, not the strip club’ but instead, he very patiently says, “I’m not trying to police you, baby, okay?”

All because he knows you haven’t been doing so hot lately—Also that’s just not a nice thing to say to a girl, and if Leon does say so himself he’s a pretty nice guy, he aims to be one at least. “You win, alright, sweetheart? It’s none of my business what you do, you go out and have a good time.”

“Thanks, daddy.” You beam and reward him with a kiss on the cheek. It’s the sort of kiss that reminds him to stay in his lane if he wants anymore.

You’re spoiled, but he’s made his bed so he’ll die in it.

He sees you out, trying his best to keep his eyes off your ass which as a father should be a very easy task, but it’s all in his fucking face.

“When are you coming home?” Leon asks, sounding more like an insecure housewife than he is a dad.

“Later, dad, don’t forget your meds,” you tell him simply, stepping over the threshold and into the dark, click-clacking in your gogo boots after blowing him a kiss.

“Later, sweetheart…” He says into the breeze.

It’s not fair. Whatever’s wrong with him is not fair. It might be that your mother, his wife, is faint in his head, nothing more than a poorly projected film.

And you’re right there.

So much older, tougher, prettier—You have an ass now, and god it’s a good ass. That’s not a bad thing to say about your daughter. Leon is appreciating what he gave you. You have a nice ass - it’s factual. Not wrong. Not sick. Not twisted or fucked up. Or any other thing, it’s just something he noticed. A change he picked up on as any good dad would, and Leon is a very good dad.

He attended every ballet rehearsal, he spent his days packing your lunch and learning how to style hair and he stepped away from the fucking President to be your father. He is a good dad, a great dad goddamnit.

Ass or no ass, Leon would love you no matter what—See, he’s a good fucking dad. He is.

God, if he really was a good dad he wouldn’t be spending his time with his back pressed to the front door, head bowed as he thinks about your ass.

You're more than your ass, you are, Leon’s proud of you—You’re the only thing he’s got to be proud of, he never went to college, but you do. And Leon’s never gotten through a novel, but you have. Truly, despite it all, you’re a good kid and you don’t deserve any of it - Leon’s moping ever since your mother passed.

He’s supposed to hold it together, but he's so tender he falls right off the bone, and you’re tough.

Didn’t cry when it happened, didn’t cry at her wake, you didn’t even cry when the two of you came home to silence. No dinner on the table, no sitcom playing on the TV, no black pumps kicked off by the door. You cried when you went to bed that night, and Leon heard it through the walls, and he is such a fucking pussy. He didn’t get up to hold you, he just sat there and listened and thought ‘I wish I could help.’

He brushes his teeth while mulling this all over - the possibility that he might be attracted to you. His wife. Those cheetah print panties on the floor, an inch away from the laundry basket.

(It wouldn’t be the first pair he's taken. Ever since your mother died her underwear drawer has become yours unbeknownst to you.)

Leon goes to bed early and he thinks about you—Not your ass this time, well, maybe just a little, that only takes up a fraction of his thoughts—More than a fraction ‘cause it’s a lot bigger than a fraction, and he wouldn’t insult you by insinuating your ass is only worth a fraction of his time, it’s worth a lot more than that—

He thinks about how you used to have gaps in your smile, and the dollhouse that’s gathering dust in the cellar, and your less-than-impressed face when he says anything ever. God, Leon could step on the wrong floorboard and you’d blow up at him, and he likes that part of you.

You’re so much like your mother and thank god you are, if you got anymore of Leon, he thinks he’d be a little less fond of you. When he looks in the mirror he only seems to like whatever he passed onto you. Whether it be your nose or your smile or something as little as a mole - Leon finds himself liking it more.

By the time you get home, Leon is sound asleep, your ass finds its home in your dreams among other things. The distant hum of an engine has him stirring, muscles relaxed but mind always alert, as if on a hair-trigger. Leon’s breath slows until it’s near silence, listening out for the slightest noise, anticipating a threat that hasn’t yet materialised.

The thump of your heels kicked off near the stairs for him to trip over, your heavy footsteps, your nails skittering over the wooden bannister as you try to get a hold on this inanimate and completely still object. He thinks you stumble halfway up the stairs, but you make it there safely, your bed creaks and Leon closes his eyes.

“Afternoon,” Leon greets when you press into him from behind, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his shoulder softly. It’s intimate, but he can’t really call it that.

“Please, it’s barely twelve, dad.” You kiss his shoulder again, it means nothing, but his heart feels light. “Did you take your meds?”

“Stop calling them that.” He shakes you off gently, gentle being the only manner he can handle you in. “Makes me sound insane.”

“Okay, well,” you start with patience that is far too mechanical to be human, “they’re important, and I don’t really want to pay for any hospital bills, daddy, we’ve had enough of those.”

Jesus. Daddy. Don’t call him that. That’s not fair.

When he’s not facing you, Leon’s resolve takes a little longer to crumble, it sort of cracks and wobbles and threatens its own stability, then he makes eye contact and it all comes crashing down.

He stays with his back to you, but you float around the dining table and pull out a chair. Bare-faced and older. Pretty, he finds you pretty. You’re not so cute anymore, not a harmless little girl or a sweaty-palmed teenager, you’re pretty the same way his wife was.

“I’ll take them, give me a minute.” He gives you a once over. “You look, uh, good.”

“What?”

“Like, for—You got home later, you don’t look tired.” Your complexion doesn’t look so bad either, no bloating, no puffy under eyes.

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t drink that much.” You smile down at the table absentmindedly, like you’re thinking about something, about someone—Leon doesn’t want to know.

He wants to die.

He gets up to take his medication. Anything to get him away from this conversation that wasn’t really happening, it wasn’t going anywhere, but he’s smart enough to pick up on implications—He did not like those implications, he doesn’t like where his thoughts are taking him.

“Hey, dad, by the way, are you free today?” You call from the kitchen over the whizzing of the blender.

“Yeah.” It’s not loud enough to be heard over the blender, he does that on purpose because he’s feeling especially petty.

“What?”

“Yes! I said yes, turn that thing off when I’m talking!”

“God, okay, sorry, I was just asking.” You’re pouting when he returns - medicated and very pissed off, but the pout softens him right up. He’d like to kiss it away, but Leon settles for patting your head.

“Why, you need to go somewhere?” Leon cups your face, it feels different from all the other times. This isn’t being fond—It’s something worse, something so sinister it makes his balls shrivel.

“Mhm, I wanna go shopping.” You nod, batting your lashes at him, it’s something he would’ve taken as cute before, but now that’s—That’s hot.

He drops his hands before they drift downwards, grab at something he's not supposed to grab. Leon is not normal, nothing about this is right, but he is who he is.

“Get ready then,” Leon says, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but your face, “I’ll be waiting here, okay?”

“‘Kay!”

Dad is looking a little pale these days. He hasn’t looked so worn out since mom died - that shirt does good things to his biceps though. You hope he catches some eligible widow’s eye, it’s what he deserves.

You feel a little guilty for forcing him to drive you around, to carry your shopping bags, but that’s what dads are for, and it’s not like he’s ever minded. Dad literally lives and breathes to spoil you.

“You can go get food or something, daddy, but can you give me your card?” You grasp at his arm, and there’s a faraway look in his eyes.

You wait for him to say yes like usual, but he doesn’t.

He shrugs and says, “I’ll come with you, sweetheart.”

Fuck. You should’ve just taken his card and got an Uber. “I need to buy, like, girl stuff dad.”

“Okay, sweetheart, I bought you your training bras, didn’t I?” Dad’s not backing down for once, and it’s the one time you desperately need him to back down.

“Yeah… Doesn't mean you need to come with me.” You don’t want him knowing what panties you buy, or what cup size you are - none of that concerns him.

“What, you just used me for a ride?” Leon’s good at making that face, the dejected face, the face the dogs at the shelter make when they know they’re going to be put down and you walk right past them to a cuter, fluffier pup.

“Pretty much.” You shrug, and he pinches your cheek softly. That’s as stern as he gets with you.

“It’s only a big deal if you make it one sweetheart,” he says, and then Leon does something he never does—Not in public at least. He takes your hand in his like he does when the two of you cross a street - it’s an instinct for him and embarrassing for you.

“Dad?” You say quietly, but he looks on ahead like this is normal between the two of you. Once upon a time it was, but not now. Not when you’re grown, you have a job, you don’t need your daddy to hold your hand. It does feel nice though, his hand is slightly bigger and it’s soft considering all those years of hard work. You give it a squeeze and the corners of his lips twitch.

What is up with him?

“Forty dollars for a pack of seven, what a joke.” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth after that long, silent and slightly tortuous walk. “We could always go somewhere else, sweetheart.”

(Victoria’s Secret happens to be on the top floor and farthest from the entrance dad decided to park in. Did he want to hold your hand for longer?)

A girl lingers on that same pack of seven, her eyes are on your dad and she flushes a nice shade of pink when he looks her way as most girls are prone to doing. You wonder if you could find a bra in that colour.

While Leon frets over prices, you find a nice selection of bras and panties and head off into the dressing rooms. You’ve always hated the lighting in the fitting rooms, it makes everything seem so much darker, and you can never pick up on the undertones. Like, you’re looking for baby pink not rose gold or mauve.

“Your girlfriend went through here, sir.” You pay no mind to the voice of an employee.

Shoes scuff against the ground outside, the squeak of leather as someone takes a seat outside the fitting rooms. “Thanks,” says a man who sounds exactly like your father. It is your dad. That’s your fucking dad, and he just let someone call you his girlfriend without even correcting them.

What is going on? The handholding and now this?

Maybe he didn’t hear her, Leon never listens to you, so why would he listen to some random girl? You still feel weird. Like you’re coated in a layer of something sticky.

You hold your breath when you hear footsteps, and then the curtain is pulled open. Why do fitting rooms have curtains? What is so wrong with having a sturdy wooden door?

“Dad!” You gasp and cover your chest when he steps inside, backing you into the mirror when he closes the curtain behind you.

“Relax.”

“What? Dad—Get out, what are you doing? Do you want me to scream? I will scream, dad, I’m not joking.” The air is too thick to breathe in and your anger is spreading like a wildfire.

“I picked you some out,” Dad says so casually, like his eyes are not zeroed in on your tits. He holds up a selection of frilly bras and scanty panties and what is—Is this fucking real?

You’ve got to be having an awful, awful nightmare. Then he has the gall to touch you, and it’s really like dousing a hornets nest in gasoline—Oh, that’s real. This is real. He just touched you and you felt it.

“Sweetheart, don’t be angry.” Leon cups your face, his brows are pinched together in worry, the lines in his forehead are getting worse. Dad’s getting older by the second.

“They’re not… They're not even my size.” You’re paralysed by the absurdity of it all, you’re so upset you went numb, anger cauterised by that stupid fucking face of his. God, you’re whipped for dad the same way he is for you. He could give you a look and you’d just melt. You want to take care of him, you want to be there for him now that mom isn’t. Shit. What the fuck?

“Yeah, well, if you let me have a little feel, I bet I could guess.” Leon smiles his perfect white smile like there is nothing strange afoot—Like this is an everyday activity. A father-daughter pastime the two of you partake in often.

“Dad, what..?” Time itself seems to forget how to move as you stand there staring at him - with your tits out by the way.

“I… Sweetheart, don’t be mad at me.” Dad presses his forehead to yours, and his eyes are so gentle you find yourself trembling. How could you ever be mad at someone for giving you the world?

“I’m… Dad, I’m confused, I don’t understand where—You’re scaring me daddy.” And you know you sound like a little girl ‘cause his face changes and he takes you into his arms like you’re still the tiny pink bundle the midwife dropped on his chest so many years ago.

“Oh, baby,” Leon sighs into your neck, “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Yeah…” You tremble in his grasp, this is the smallest you’ve ever felt in your life. “…Dad?”

“Yeah, pumpkin?” His hands smooth up and down your back, it doesn’t feel like it usually does.

“It was you wasn’t it?” Bras don’t go missing that fucking easy—Socks, sure, but underwear? Jesus Christ, you thought there was a pervert in your walls—There's a pervert in your house, and it’s you father.

“What… What was?” Leon’s face says one thing, but his eyes carry a muted suggestion. The verdict is? Guilty as fucking—Guilty as a a dude who’s committed vehicular manslaughter.

“My stuff, I thought—I seriously thought I was going crazy, or the washing machine was eating everything, but it was you, wasn’t it?” You ask him quietly, voice void of the anger you initially held. God, you feel bad for him.

“…Yeah, pumpkin.” Is all Dad says. “I’m sorry… I think we need to have—To have a family meeting.”

“Dad that’s… It’s just the two of us? That’s just a conversation.” You can’t help but laugh, Jesus, what is going on right now?

“Yeah—I just, fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You can’t be mad at him, no matter how you behave, the tantrums you throw—You can’t be mad at him. You know dad could leave you behind in your annoyance, but he stays behind to placate you, and he always does that. Fuck. Holy fuck. Are you seriously forgiving a fucking panty thieving pervert ‘cause he’s your sad old dad?

“Yeah?” Dad asks, breathless and he’s looking at you so reverently—Can you look at someone like that? If you can, that’s how dad’s looking at you. Like you’re something to behold. Something pretty and worth it and he’s made you feel like this since you were little.

“Yeah.” You give a curt nod, and when he pulls back, Leon’s hands come to squeeze your hips, gliding up your sides to toy with the lace hem of a bra you’ve been wearing a beat too long—It’s all sweaty, you’ll have to buy it. Slowly, but surely, he takes your tits into his hands. “Happy?”

You can’t help but be amused by his pleased hum, and fuck—His dick is pressing into you, you didn’t need to know that your dad is hung like a fucking witch.

“You should buy this one, fits well.” Dad nods appreciatively, like he’s a bra expert and not a pervert.

“Oh, yeah?” You huff out a laugh, you can never help yourself around him. You’re just as weak as he is when it comes down to it.

You stop by the bathrooms after a trip to the food court where you treat dad to Shake Shack courtesy of his card, he waits for you outside, standing taller and brighter and happier. Was that all it took? God. This is weird. You wonder if by the time the two of you get home, Leon’s going to pretend this never happened and the two of you will have to live in knowing silence.

“Did you see him? The guy in Victoria’s Secret? The one near me?” You hear two girls conversing while you’re in the stall, staring down at the wet patch on your panties. “He was, like, fucking cute.”

“Didn’t he have a girlfriend?”

“So? She could’ve been his daughter, he was, like, old, but hot old.”

“They were way too close for that to be his daughter.”

You step out of the stall wondering if you’re going to be his girlfriend or his daughter, you weigh up the options as you wash your hands, you’re still thinking about it as you hold the door open for the two girls.

Your hands are still wet, but Leon doesn’t seem to mind as he takes them in his. Their eyes are on you, and this little, jealous nagging part of you says go for it. Do it. So you stand on your tip-toes and kiss him. It’s barely a kiss by your standards, more of a peck than anything, but dad is fucking lovestruck. “I’m ready to go now, dad.”

[teenytinyjimin]

i miss you, i’m sorry (j. jungkook)

nothing happened in the way i wanted

every corner of this house is haunted

and i know you said that we’re not talking

but i miss you, i’m sorry.

summary: the first time seeing each other after the breakup is always the hardest. but seeing each other when you're still in love? an absolute nightmare

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2k

tags: angst, smoker!jk, brokenhearted!jk, equally as brokenhearted!reader, why did they even break up in the first place?, featuring reader’s bestfriend!jimin, also jimin is sexually ambiguous let's keep it that way please

warnings: none, alcohol/nic use but nothing too intense, kinda sad but it's a happy ending i promise

author’s note: idk why i keep making my fic names and stuff inspired by songs, i guess it just helps me beat writers block.

also i wrote this in second person, lmk if you guys prefer that over third. i personally find third person fics easier to write, but i'm sure second person is easier to read for some of you. enjoy my angels!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Bars weren't really your thing.

If you were going to be honest, they were miles better than nightclubs, but still not your thing. It was something about the air that just rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps it was all the creepy old men that turned you off of them, or just the fact that there's not much to do besides sit, drink, sit some more, maybe play some pool and... sit.

Jimin, on the other hand, loved bars. He loved being able to sit there, look pretty, and watch as absolutely anyone and everyone flocked over to him to start a conversation. It admittedly fueled his ego, and he loved the feeling of being the center of attention. However, he didn't love being at bars alone. Being so drop-dead gorgeous meant that about twenty times the amount of creeps bothered him than the average bar patron. Many of them figured that a pretty boy like him was sitting there waiting to be swooped up by a sugar daddy. Let's get one thing straight – that wasn't him. He had plenty of money. He just wanted to have a little conversation, give a little kiss here and there maybe, and dip at the end of the night with his bar companion by his side.

Unfortunately for you, that bar companion was usually you. It was certainly a compliment for Jimin to want to bring you along with him instead of any of his other gazillions of friends and other social connections, but it was quite exhausting for you to be in a bar pretty much every day of every weekend. He liked the attention, but you didn't. If it were an empty room with nothing but you and a bottle of rum, you'd have a blast. But what bar in Itaewon was going to be like that?

Alas, here you were, sat at the end of a bar with your friend sitting next to you. Something about the light in the building made him look extra beautiful tonight, his skin shimmering like the most precious of diamonds and his eyes deep and full of allure. At the moment he was making small talk with a lady on the other side of him, one who was definitely at least twenty years his senior but didn't look a day past thirty. Sighing, you drop your head down to look at your drink, a half-full martini glass that held a rather disappointing cosmopolitan (you weren't a vodka fan anyway, it wasn't the bartender's fault).

You wanted to be home. That was the only place you ever wanted to be these days. At home, cuddling your darling kitty in bed, and sleeping your days away. Maybe a year ago you would have loved being out and about, but now it feels more like a burden than a fun activity. And you know that Jimin doesn't mean any harm in doing what he does, but seeing him talk with so many people over the course of the night and being so happy is almost a bit gut-wrenching for you because you can't be as happy as him.

You began to feel the blood rush to your ears and your face get warm. Something was wrong, you could sense it. Everyone has those gut instincts when something isn't quite right, and this wasn't just an instinct, it was like a neon sign. A neon sign that read DANGER. Perhaps it was just you feeling rather anxious and overwhelmed, but either way you were craving the comfort of your home.

"Hey, 'Minnie, can we-" Just as you turned to Jimin to softly ask him if you could go home or at the very least switch bars, you felt a presence behind you. It wasn't just an I'm here to order a drink presence, but rather an I'm here for you one. Realizing that Jimin wasn't even listening anyway, you froze, waiting to see what would happen. And that's when you heard a familiar voice that you thought you'd never hear again.

"Hey."

You didn't want to turn around. You tried to stay as still as a statuette for as long as possible, however the more you thought about the man behind you the more you felt the urge to turn around and take a bite of the forbidden fruit. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turned until you were face-to-face with your ex, Jungkook.

"Want to talk outside?" Not yet looking at him directly, you hesitantly nodded before quickly looking back to Jimin and then standing up. You left your purse there, figuring that your friend would grab it if he changed locations, and began trailing after the tall tattooed figure that navigated his way toward the door.

As the two of you stepped out into the cool autumn air, you crossed your arms and leaned against the building. Your heart was between your ears at this point, buzzing at what felt like 200 beats a minute. It was stupid for you to have even left Jimin's side, you thought, because now you were alone with your ex of all people and God knows what this boy has up his sleeve.

"You look good," Jungkook said gently as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. "And I know what you're going to say, you're so full of it Kook, but I mean it."

"Since when have you started smoking?" You asked, ignoring his previous two statements and gesturing toward the pack in his hand. He shrugged. "Couple weeks after I last saw you maybe? Not a big deal."

"You know that stuff's bad for you."

"I don't think sitting here third-wheeling with Jimin and his beau of the night is any better."

"You don't know Jimin, don't act like you do," You said, completely taken aback and offended by the words coming out of his mouth. "And I'm having a good time, thank you very much."

"Doesn't seem like it. Weren't you about to ask him if you guys could leave?"

"I was having- What?- Is there a reason you asked to talk to me out here?" You were struggling to form a complete sentence. This man always knew how to leave you speechless, but now it was just irritating. You watched as Jungkook leaned back onto the building with you and shook his head, giving you a toothy grin before lighting the cigarette in his mouth. "Nah. Just figured you'd have more fun out here talking to me and getting a break from it all."

"You know he's waiting for me, right? I should go back inside." You stand back up straight and begin walking back into the bar, however you feel a warm hand wrap gently around your wrist and tug you back. "Hey hey hey," Jungkook called. "He'll survive a few minutes without you. Just chill with me. I'm not asking you for anything, just a second of your time."

You turned to face your ex-lover, your eyes finally meeting his for the first time that night. Even after all this time of being apart, those beautiful doe eyes still yearned for you, and yours for him. With a shaky sigh, you brush his hand away and return to where you were standing. "Exes don't hang out like this, Jungkook."

"Woah, you're pulling out the full government name on me now?" The boy teased, puffing a cloud of smoke from his mouth. "Should I be offended?"

"I'm setting boundaries," You crossed your arms and kicked at the ground beneath you. "Nicknames are for friends or more than friends, which we aren't."

"We aren't strangers either though."

"That doesn't matter. Not friends."

"Alright, fine," Giving up, Jungkook looked down at his hand and flexed it awkwardly. "Just trying to be friendly."

"Friendly?!" You said frantically, finally having enough of his antics. "You don't need to be friendly. We broke up and that's the end of it. Exes aren't friends. They go their separate ways and when they see each other again – if they see each other – they ignore each other. I don't get why you're doing this psychological warfare bullshit on me."

"Exes can be friends," He breathed out in protest. "Can you even tell me why we broke up in the first place?"

You remained silent. The truth was that you didn't know why you broke up either. It had been almost a year since the whole ordeal went down, and you were still confused more than anything else, even more than you were hurt. All you can remember is that you guys went through some bullshit ‘mutual breakup’ that apparently neither of you wanted in the first place. The only reason you even agreed to it is because somewhere within you, you felt like perhaps you weren’t deserving of such a wonderful relationship. And the only reason Jungkook agreed to it is because he thought that it’s what you wanted.

"No, seriously. What went wrong? What did I do? I just want some closure..." His voice became increasingly softer as he kept speaking, which only meant one thing. You stared at the ground intensely, refusing to look up and see his teary eyes.

You felt his hand gently wrap around yours and tug on it as a plea for your attention. Jungkook was your weakness, the only person you'd willingly do anything for, and he really loved to take advantage of that without even realizing he was.

You peered up at him hesitantly, worried that you'd find yourself in tears the second you saw the ones pouring from his eyes. Sure enough, when the eye contact began, you were driving yourself forward into his strong arms and dampening his shirt with your tears.

Jungkook's embrace felt the same as it did the last time you felt it. It was still so warm, so inviting, so loving. Never once did you feel unsafe in his arms and this moment was not an exception. As you sobbed into his shirt you felt his hand move from around your waist to the top of your head, stroking your hair gently.

The two of you stood there for what seemed like hours, simply letting all emotion out while enjoying the company of one another. While Jungkook has been exceptionally transparent in expressing the fact that he's heartbroken about the situation between the two of you, it's safe to say that you feel equally as devastated. This man was once the love of your life and the only one you ever needed, but now everything about him except for his embrace feels foreign. This was someone you once saw yourself building a life with, but now it's shattering to think that he has a life after you.

You pulled away after a while, refusing to make eye contact as you wiped the tears from your eyes. This all felt entirely pointless. It was obvious that nothing went wrong in the relationship yet here you were, no longer in one. You couldn't begin to imagine what Jungkook had been going through since you guys broke up considering the fact that for you, your entire world turned upside down.

"I'm sorry," You managed to choke out before you felt Jungkook's hand gently guide your face up to look at his. You watched him stare at you for a moment, taking in your features, before his lips began to curl into a soft smile. "Mmm. Yeah. You're way too pretty to let slip through my fingers."

Feeling your face turn hot as a blush crept to your cheeks, you let out a soft giggle before you were cut off by a familiar pair of lips meeting yours.

"JUNGKOOK?" You heard a voice call out. The two of you pulled apart, eyes wide. Shit. You forgot about Jimin.

[holylulusworld]

Darkness and Sunshine

Summary: Bucky hurts you deeply.

@buckybarnesevents „Hot Bucky Summer 2024”: Week 10 “Shhhhhhhhh…”

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader

Warnings: angst, Bucky being a douche, unrequited feelings, BBF trope, unwanted touching (not Bucky), fluff

A/N: The story to this random thot & this poll.

Bucky's POV

She does it again. A quick glance at me, and back to her girly drink. I know she’s interested in being more than my friend’s sister to me, but this can never be.

Just like her drink, she’s too sweet for me.

You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait Until that day I think I'll take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me You're too sweet for me

I’m the whiskey-neat kind of guy. Bitter and dark. Rough and violently. My soul is black, just like the coffee I drink.

She’s the sunshine, but I am the darkness. A beautiful but vulnerable flower like her could never grow in my shadow. She would wither away and die before she got the chance to bloom.

I don’t know when, or how I changed her mind about me. I was only ever the dangerous guy her brother met to get drunk, and punch people. How often she scolded her brother for being friends with me, I don’t know.

But somehow, over the years she changed her mind. Now she looks at me like a lovesick puppy, and I cannot bear it. Not because I do not wish for her to be mine. It’s the opposite. I cannot let her in. If I do, I’d paint a target on her back.

Damnit, she bites her sweet lips while stealing another glance at me. I sigh deeply and sip at my drink. Tonight, I must show her that a goody in two shoes can never be the woman by my side. As much as it pains me, it has to be done.

“Buck, what’s wrong with you?” Her brother asks, clueless as ever. He’s not the smartest when it comes to acknowledging love, or other people’s feelings. “Something wrong?”

It has to be done. I tell myself, repeating the words like a mantra. Steve, my best friend since childhood worriedly looks at her brother. He knows about Y/N’s feelings for me, and that I must extinguish the flame I ignited in her heart.

Sadly, this can only be done by crushing her heart.

“Bucky, maybe there’s another way?” Steve gets up when I do. He wraps his hand around my wrist, stopping me for a second. “You should reconsider your decision. Peggy is sweet too. Just give it a try.”

I think I'll take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me You're too sweet for me

“No—” I harshly free my metal wrist from Steve’s grasp. He means well, I know he does, but I cannot allow Y/N to fall for me even more. I’m a dangerous man, deadly even. I won’t steal her light nor let anyone hurt her even if I have to be the one breaking her heart.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

So, I turn away from my friend and his disappointed look. Away from her brother. Away from the future fate held for me to protect what could’ve been mine.

I nod at the girls I hired for tonight, and they immediately take my offered arms. I breathe in and out before walking in Y/N’s direction.

The girls begin to chat, and as I’m about to walk past Y/N I say, "Luckily I found you ladies. All the girls at this place are so plain and boring.” I look directly at Y/N and scrunch my nose up in disgust. “Some are only allowed at my club because their big brother begged me to let them come.”

My heart chatters as a pained wail leaves Y/N’s lips. Her eyes water and her lips tremble. Those soft lips I yearned to kiss for so long. Forsaken to me now.

Still, there’s something in her eyes. A sliver of hope I must kill.

“I can’t believe a wallflower like her believes she can be anything but a pity fuck to me. If it was up to me, I’d make sure she stays away from me,” I hate myself the moment she drops the glass in her hands to run out of my club. I shattered her world and broke her heart.

I watch the door slam shut, telling myself it’s for the best.

Your POV

You run, as fast as you can. It doesn’t matter that your brother drove you to the club, or that you forgot your jacket.

Bucky just confirmed your worst fear. He hates everything about you. From your plain outfit to your character. All the things he said, are true. You’re not like the girls hanging on his arms tonight.

All you had was a glimmer of hope that maybe, he sees more in a woman but a pretty face and good looks.

Your whole world got shattered when he said all those awful things.

You know now that James Buchanan Barnes is just like every other guy.

It’s almost two months later that Bucky sees you again. That day, you glance his way. Your eyes sadden and you immediately walk the other way. The flowers you wanted to buy long forgotten you almost run away from Bucky to not feel the hurting all over again.

His eyes follow you until you’re only a tiny dot in the distance. Bucky shakes his head and sighs deeply. This is not what he intended to do.

He not only lost a good friend that night but hurt you so deeply that you’re scared to even look his way.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath when Steve steps out of the flower shop. He carries a huge bouquet of roses for Peggy.

“What’s wrong, Buck?” Steve follows his friend’s eyes, frowning. “What happened?”

“She ran away.” He shrugs, shoulders slumping. “I didn’t want her to be scared of me, Steve. Only to make sure she looks for someone better.”

Hiding in your bedroom you ignore your ringing phone once again. You assume it’s your brother, or maybe your friend Tasha trying to get you to go out.

No way you will go out there, facing the world ever again. Bucky embarrassed you in public, in front of your brother and all his friends. You’ll never recover from this.

Rolling to your side you grab your phone from the nightstand to silence it. For today, you will shut yourself out from the world.

Another month later Bucky is fuming. Not because of you, and your presence at his club. No, not at all. Your sweet smile, and the cute sundress you’re wearing make his heart flutter.

The person making his blood boil is your date. John Walker - the man trying to get under Bucky's skin for years. That bastard brought you here for a date. A date at Bucky’s club.

Walker did this on purpose. Bucky is sure about it. He doesn’t know how his concurrent found out that he likes you, but he did. Now you’re sitting at a table with Walker, looking at the untouched drink in your hands.

Vodka. Bucky knows you hate vodka when it’s neat. You like the sweet drinks, the girly drinks he laughs about.

“What’s wrong?” Steve regrets his question the moment John Walker dares to put his hand on your thigh.

You tense, and uncomfortable shift in your seat. Maybe this date wasn’t the best idea. You agreed to go out with John, and even willingly entered Bucky’s club to show the very man that you moved on. (At least you like to tell yourself so.)

“Relax, and smile for me,” John’s voice hardens. This is his chance to get back at Bucky Barnes, and he won’t miss it. “You look like you’re at a funeral. Smile, you’re having the honor to be my date.”

Biting your tongue, you look anywhere but at John. He’s not as nice as you believed he was. Tonight, he showed his true face.

His hand creeps higher and under your dress. You’re about to stop his hand from slipping between your legs when he’s suddenly gone.

John makes a gurgling noise because Bucky dragged him off his chair from behind. He struggles against Bucky’s iron grip. Bucky has his metal arm wrapped around John’s throat, choking your date.

“You don’t touch her ever again,” Bucky growls in John’s ear. “And she doesn’t drink vodka, you piece of shit.”

“Buck—” Steve laughs watching John tug at Bucky’s metal arm. “I see you’ve got it handled.” He holds out his hand for you, murmuring your name. “Come with me, Y/N. This is not for you to see.”

“She’s having a strawberry daiquiri and get her some chicken parmesan. I bet that bastard didn’t order food for her,” Bucky grunts while keeping John in a chokehold.

Your heart flutters. Bucky remembered your favorite drink and food. But wait. He hurt you and broke your heart. Why would he attack your date?

“I should go home,” you slip off the chair and grab your purse. “Never call me again John.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but John gives you an angry look.

“You’ll regret fucking with me, missy.”

“You wish she’d fuck with you, but she won’t,” Bucky slams John’s head onto the table, making you shriek. Steve brings you into his arms and presses your face into his chest.

“Let’s get you to the VIP area, Y/N. You don’t want to see what happens next…”

The moment you follow Steve, Bucky smirks. He leans over John, whispering in his ear.

““Shhhhhhhhh…, don't make a scene, Walker," Bucky snarls. "If you even look her way ever again, I’ll break every bone in your body. And then, I’ll put you back together only to break them again.”

“Why am I here?” You nervously glance at Bucky. He sits next to you, pointing at the food Steve got for you. “I should head home.”

“Doll.” You whimper at the pet name. “I’m sorry…for tonight and the other night,” he grabs your hand, holding it tightly. “I tried to protect you from myself. You’re too sweet for me. A ray of sunshine and I’m…”

“A big grump,” you giggle. “I know you’re a grump.”

Bucky chuckles. You still don’t understand that he���s not a good man. He killed people, and his profession is far from legal. “Doll, you don’t understand. I got a gun and…”

Your eyes drop to his crotch. Bucky’s eyes widen when you lean closer to get a better look at his lap. “Why do you call your cock a gun?”

He laughs. Bucky wholeheartedly laughs for the first time in years.

“What I tried to tell you is that I’m a criminal with a gun. You’re a sweet girl, and too good for me. I wanted to keep you away from me, and said all those things.”

“So, you hurt me to make me leave?” You sniffle. “Why? If you don’t even like me.”

“I like you too much, doll,” he whispers in your ear, hot breath fanning over your skin. “That’s the problem.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Bucky laughs. Not even the toughest criminals dared to call James Buchanan Barnes an idiot. “You’ve got balls, Y/N. No one ever called me an idiot.”

“You deserve that much,” you pull away and cross your arms over your chest. “What kind of man does things like that? How could you do this to me? I didn’t leave my place for weeks, hiding in my bedroom.”

“I wanted to keep you safe, only for you to walk right into John Walker’s trap.” He huffs. “I guess to keep you safe, I must keep you around from now on…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[thehighladywrites]

The Airhead Chronicles

…and the date

-> pairing: cassian x bimbo/ditzy reader

-> summary: finally the day is here, you’re going on a date with cassian!! now you just have to prepare and get ready for it. Cassian is prepared to finally ask you some questions and the mention of your secret friend rubs him the wrong way. But how does the date go, and who on earth opens the door at Cassian’s friends house?…

-> warnings: suggestive themes, nsfw, smut, super fluff, light angst, public sex, yeah, none of you care about getting caught fucking in a restaurant, oral (m.receiving) , bargain tattoos, almost oral (f.receiving), wing play, daddy kink

-> amara’s note: I think this is one of my fav things to write, I really love ditzy reader, she's so fun and cute.

part 1 part 2

Startled by a sudden knock, you quickly stood up, intrigued by the unexpected visitor. Opening the door, you were met with a smiling man.

“Hi there pretty lady, are you Y/n?” he asked. After exchanging pleasantries, he handed you a paper and a pen, insisting you sign.

Curious, you replied, “Oh, what’s this for, I’m pretty sure I didn’t order anything, or did I?” Sensing your confusion, the man stepped closer and pointed a finger at a dotted line. “Just sign here, baby. How about I come in and show you?”

Normally, you'd agree to some help because you didn’t really like reading long and confusing papers, but with your date approaching, you looked at him apologetic and declined.

“Sorry, maybe next time. I'm getting ready for a date with this really hot guy, and I have a lot of things to do. But why am I signing this?”

His face turned sour, and he threw a bouquet of flowers at you, muttering something about a special delivery before you signed. He left without saying goodbye, and you tilted your head, wondering if you said something to upset him.

The confusion quickly left your mind when you looked down, eyes wide, and heart beating faster as a huge smile spread on your lips. The bouquet was wrapped around white and pink baby breaths and peonies. You let out a shriek of happiness as you spun around and smelled the fresh, fragrant flowers. They were unlike anything else, handled with care and professionalism.

Scurrying to the kitchen, you pulled out a vase from your cabinets as you filled it with water to put your flowers in. While you fiddled with the petals, you saw a note attached as you opened it.

Reading the note, your eyes lit up with excitement. You twirled around, a broad grin on displayed, absorbing the message:

“Can’t wait to see you tonight, beautiful. I will pick you up, just be ready by 8. - Cassian.”

You halted your twirl, taking a deep breath.

Fucking Gods, you had to look absolutely stunnig, like drop-dead gorgeous. The sexiest dress was a non-negotiable, paired with a cute bag. Your hair needed to be freshly styled, and ohhh, a fresh set of nails was a must, even though it hadn't been a week since your last set.

Let’s be real, you knew you were pretty and didn’t need someone to tell you that, but it was nice to hear nonetheless, especially from Cassian. It was weird, you had known him for just over a week and already you felt a connection to him.

With your plans set, you dove into the whirlwind of preparation. The closet became a battleground of choices as you sifted through dresses, searching for the one that screamed "fuck me right now, please." The chosen outfit hung proudly on the door, awaiting its moment. A stunning sheer black dress with a v-neck, a thigh-high slit, and the best part - it sparkled.

Your hair received the full treatment of preparation and care, making you wonder how you’d display it tonight—curls, an updo, low bun or straight? The decision was as crucial as the dress itself, because what if you wanted to blow him? A ponytail would be ideal, but if you were gonna be fucked missionairy then a ponytail would be super uncomfy. Maybe just some curls then? Yes, you definitely wanted some bouncy curls resulting in you pulling out your hair rollers and pins. It was such a pain to put them on because your arms hurt from keeping them up but you didn’t care. Finally, a cute little bag accompanied the ensemble, adding that perfect touch paired with some simple heels.

The urgency for flawlessness led you to contemplate a fresh set of nails. Despite the recent pampering, the allure of perfection beckoned, and you found yourself on the way to the nail salon. After all, a week felt like an eternity when it came to looking drop-dead gorgeous.

As the appointment at the nail salon progressed, you debated between daring and classic shades. The manicurist, familiar to your frequent visits, skillfully crafted a fresh set that made you smile so hard, your face started hurting, letting out an excited sound.

With your nails perfected, you rushed home to continue the transformation, hair and makeup being the last step. Your dress clung to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve. Your reflection in the mirror confirmed your pursuit of drop-dead hotness. Smiling at yourself you adjusted your hair before putting on your jewelry, marveling at the final result. You really hoped Cassian would compliment you otherwise you’d die. His attention was so addicting and you wanted to be around him every single second for some reason.

Glancing at the clock, you realized the incoming arrival of Cassian. The butterflies in your stomach intensified as you added the finishing touches, ready to open the door to a night filled with excitement and allure.

“Hi Cassie!!” Your smile subdued a bit as you shifted nervously when he just stared at you not saying anything. Should you have worn something different? Maybe gone with the pink you wanted? Maybe he didn’t like your hair…

Cassian stood at the door, his eyes widening as he took in your stunning transformation. His brain seemed to short-circuit, and he simply stared at you with his jaw open, momentarily lost for words in the face of your breathtaking appearance. The snug fabric around your frame made blood rush to his cock, a reaction that almost tempted him to slap his own face. "Am I some kind of teenager or something, gods," he thought to himself, caught in the unexpected whirlwind of emotions your presence stirred.

“Hi sweetheart, fuck, you look absolutely breathtaking,” he managed to exclaim, a genuine smile lighting up his face. He spun you around, getting a good luck at you as your perfume filled his nose. Blushing at the compliment, you replied with a happy smile. “Thank you, Cassie. I'm so excited for tonight! Where are we going?”

He offered his arm, and you linked yours with his as you both stepped into the night, ready for the date that awaited. “Don’t worry your pretty, little head about it, it’s a surprise, sweet girl.”

Thank fuck he held you, because you could barely stand with the way your knees wobbled. The urge to just shove him in an alley and give him some life-changing head was just too strong. Cassian looked soooo freaking hot, dressed in a well-fitted suit.His hair had been put in a half bun, arms looking soooo massive, and an inexplicable desire to bite them tugged at your thoughts.

Caught in the spell of his side profile , the world around you seemed to fade into the background. Cassian’s voice became a distant hum as your eyes glued to him.

Your mind went hazy as you found yourself daydreaming about him, captivated by the allure of the moment.

Cassian halted mid-sentence in his talk about the restaurant when he noticed your silence. Curiosity painted his expression as he looked down at you, only to find you hazily looking up at him. Your plump lips were slightly parted, and your eyes were wide and sparkly, lost in a momentary enchantment.

Cassian was going to treat himself to some of Rhysands expensive liquor, it was truly something magical about his restraint. The way you looked up to him made his cock painfully hard. There was something submissive and desperate in your gaze. Before he cancelled the night and took you to his room to fuck you senseless, he broke the silence, chuckling, “I must be boring you with all this restaurant talk. What’s on your mind?”

You blinked, snapping out of the enchantment, and mumbled while feeling warm. “Um, no, not at all, Cassie. I was just… appreciating the view.”

His eyebrows lifted in playful surprise, “The view? Of me?”

You nodded with a secretive grin, “Guilty… I mean I can’t help it. You look so handsome. Now tell me about the restaurant.” The conversation resumed, but the sparkle of that moment lingered, adding an extra layer of magic to the evening.

Your brows furrowed as you read the menu. What on earth was an entrecôte? Foie gras? Was that some sort of joke? It was infuriating and you just wanted some food. Looking up at Cassian, you noticed he had already decided and was looking through the wine list. Feeling helpless, you whispered to him, “Um Cassie, I don’t know what this means. If any of this means mushrooms and cilantro, then let me know, they’re super yucky.”

He took your menu and brought your hand up to place a kiss on it, “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’ll take care of it. How does chicken sound?” You nodded, grateful for the escape from the decision-making. Ugh, was being pretty and living too hard? You just wanted to exist without thinking about annoying things.

Cassian certainly eased it for you.

“Uh-huh, yes please,” you replied. He tilted his head, a playful smile playing on his lips. “My, what good manners you have. A good girl indeed.”

The echo of Cassian calling you a good girl sent a shiver down your spine, nearly sending you into a dreamy state. Resisting the magnetic pull of his warmth became a challenge.

Would it really hurt though? Cassian had rented out an entire section of the restaurant for your date, the only other person you’d see during the whole night was a waiter who kept away unless he was serving you food.

Unable to resist any longer, you inched toward him, lifting yourself. Cassian, sitting manspread, welcomed you onto one of his thighs. As you settled, his arm snaked behind your back, keeping you securely in place as you slung your arm over his shoulder while the other traced circles and shapes on his chest. The world outside this private bubble faded, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared warmth and intimacy.

The waiter discreetly approached, and Cassian smoothly placed the order, his attention never wavering from you. The world outside this secluded moment ceased to exist. He was so content he almost forgot one of the reasons he had been so desperate to see you again. Placing a sweet kiss on your cheek and neck, he asked.

“ I’ve been wondering,” he began, his eyes holding a mixture of curiosity and concern, “ There’s not a lot a know about you, and i’d like to change that. I mean have you always lived in Velaris?” You hummed and answered cheerfully, “ No, I used to live in the Hewn City but a friend helped me move here. My family still live there but they think I live in the Day Court, since Velaris is a secret city and all.”

He observed you carefully, wondering what possible friend could’ve gotten you into Velaris without him or the inner circle knowing? Velaris wasn’t some place one just moved to, it was a secret and protected city, warded against anyone who wasn’t welcome. Your answer only made him more curious.

“Yeah, your friend helped you? Do they live here?” You giggled as you looked at him with a “duh” look.

“Of course my friend still lives here, what a silly question! We meet once a month to catch up and he sometimes brings the family to our get-togethers.”

“ How fun, sweet girl. You’ll have to introduce me to your friend, yeah?” you leaned in as his arm became a comforting weight around your waist.

“Yay, that would be so much fun! He’s like this super old guy that I work for but I promise he’s really funny and his wife is such a sweetheart, I love her.” His heart thundred at the excitement you unknowingly pushed through the bond, making him crack a huge smile. Heavens, your were so adorable, he wanted to see you smile forever. “Is he a good boss then? What is it you do for him?” Flashing him a secret smile, you leaned in conspiratorially as you started playing with the buttons of his crisp white shirt.

“I wish I could tell you Cassie, but it’s tip-top secret and I’m bound to never, ever in a million years tell a single soul. I even have this cool tattoo for it.” You whispered as if afraid anyone would hear you before pulling down the strap of your dress and showing him the bargain tattoo.

Cassian's expression froze, his mind racing to fathom the deal you might have struck. Did you grasp the consequences of Night Court's bargain tattoos? The kind of searing fucking pain that awaited anyone attempting to breach its secrecy? The instincts that come with a mating bond made him feel murdereous at the thought of anyone striking a dangerous deal with his mate.

He didn’t want you experiencing the pain of accidentally telling him about the bargain, so he dropped the subject completely, picking up new things to talk about. While waiting for the meal, you tried to attentively listen as Cassian, the general and commander of the Night Court as he had told you, told you the tales of his thrilling adventures and loving family. But he sometimes used big words that made you tilt your head in confusion, he had however noticed it early on and switched to more simple terms, ensuring your understanding of the topic.

Of all of your years living, you had never felt so safe and cared for as you did here with Cassian. Sure your parents never laid hands on you but they certainly didn’t like you very much, calling you incapable and downright stupid. It hurt you, it really did because you tried but it simply wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Cassian, this gorgeous man, noticed you didn’t understand but he didn’t outright dumb it down for you.

He… just used another word with the same meaning he explained and it really made you happy. Because for some reason, his approval and attention was necessary for you to function and you literally couldn’t imagine him ever being disappointed in you.

After dessert was served, Cassian told the waiter and the chef that you were done eating and paid the bill, leaving a generous tip. They left you all alone in your section and the seclusion made you more bold. You certainly didn’t care if anyone saw you blowing him or anything but… it felt more intimate doing in just for him. You were still sat on his thigh as he spoon fed you the delicious chocolate cake.

Chills ran down your arms upon locking eyes with Cassian, and from your position, you explored his face, fingertips tracing a scar along his eyebrow. Your hand moved over his cheekbones, jaw, nose, and finally, his flawless lips. Drawing close, you both whispered intimately, “Can I kiss you, sweetheart?” he rasped, to which you replied in a hushed tone, “Yes, please, Cassie.”

With a tender murmur he said, “my perfect girl,” his soft lips met yours.

As the kiss unfolded, time seemed to slow, encapsulating you both in a world of shared warmth and intimacy. Cassian's lips, soft against yours, the room faded away, leaving only the electric energy between you two. You had kissed plenty people before, but nothing felt as addictive and pleasurable as this.

Cassian’s body shaped perfectly against yours as he pulled you on his lap, making you straddle his hips, legs on either side of him as your dress bunched. His hair was pulled out of his bun as you dragged your manicured nails across his scalp.

He out out a groan as his hands found your hips, his hold tightening as he ground upwards making you moan at the contact.

Breaking the kiss, Cassian's eyes held a newfound tenderness and hunger. “You're something else, you know that?” he whispered, his voice carrying a mix of admiration and affection. A shared smile lingered between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken emotions that had just passed between your lips.

A loud shatter was heard as you looked up panting, absolutely forgetting that you two may have a section rented out, but you were still out in public and if anyone wanted to stretch their legs, they certainly wouldn’t miss you grinding in Cassian’s lap, lips puffy and hair tousled.

Cassian couldn’t have cared less even of he tried to. Being the lord of bloodshed, the general leading the armies of the night court, and one of the greatest warriors in the history of Prythian granted Cassian liberties in his eyes. Unlike ordinary fae males, he wasn't restricted from openly displaying affection for his mate at any time or place. There wasn’t a person on earth that could tell him what to do with you.

Fucking in public didn’t scare him or make him feel embarrassed. No, Cassian fucking loved the thrill of being caught. Loved the little voice in his head telling him that someone would be walking in on him pleasuring his mate, your face scrunched up in pleasure as someone catches you, your heartbeat quickening at the taboo scene.

But he’d never in his life put you in a position that made you uncomfortable, he’d rather chop his cock off. So he looked at your face, searching for any fear.

“You okay? Wanna stop, baby?” The thought of you getting off his lap and feeling shame or embarrasement was enough to make him feel nauseous. But that all quickly left when you looked down at him with blushy cheeks, a wide grin on your face as you laughed. “Wow, that sounded really close. Guess you better fuck me quickly Cassie, we wouldn’t want someone to catch us, now would we? I mean that would be soooo bad and we’d be kicked out, right?”

Cassian easily detected the false concern written all over your face. There was a blend of amusement, warmth, and hunger in your expression. You playfully pouted, furrowing your brows in mock thinking as you tilted your head.

Looking up darkly at you he flashed you a feral grin, furrowing his brow in mock thinking. “Of course. It would be very, very bad if someone caught me with my head between your legs, I mean whatever would we do?”

You stood up, hopping up on the table in front of him, propped up like a post-dessert treat with your legs spread infront of his hungry gaze.

“ Let’s find out. I think you missed some of your dessert, baby. Come eat me up, Cassie…” He put his hands around your ankles as he removed your heels, then hissed when he felt your stocking-clad foot rub against his strained cock. Your eyes caught his wings ruffling as curiosity prompted your question.

“Cassie, why are your wings so big? Can I touch them or would it hurt?”

His wings rustled, then tightened in instinct. Illyrian wings were absolutely not to be touched by anyone without invitation, they were to be protected at any cost. His people had been taught to never let anyone get close enough to them, often punching first and then asking questions if someone ever touched them.

“No, sweet girl, they wouldn’t hurt if you touched them. It’s just a sacred part of me that I as an Illyrian protect with my life.” You observed the intricate patterns on his wings, fascinated by the interplay of light and shadow, gold and read hues swirling.

Cassian, sensing your curiosity, continued, “Touching them is a privilege reserved for the one I’ll one day trust deeply, a gesture of profound connection between two mates.” His gaze held a promise, hinting at a deeper connection yet to unfold. You slumped slighty as you realized that you probably weren’t his mate and quickly lowered you rising hand.

“Oh, okay then. They seem really cool anyways, your future mate is quite lucky huh?” Your eyes met his own filled with longing and hope.

Growing up in The Hewn City, the stories of mates filled your imagination, creating a yearning for a connection forged by The Mother Herself. However, your parents swiftly dismissed any ideas of such fantasies, emphasizing a more practical approach to your future. The concept of a deep, equal partnership and lover was a cherished daydream, overshadowed by the reality your parents presented.

Amidst gossip with friends about the mysterious idea of mates, your parents insisted on abandoning these fairytales. Their focus remained fixed on preparing you for a marriage that would secure wealth and influence, mirroring the traditions of countless pairs in the city. The prospect of bringing shame to the family loomed as an unthinkable consequence, one that could lead to disownment or in some cases death.

You were incredibly fortunate to have made a friend that helped you out, otherwise you’d probably be some unhappy bride whose only task would be baby-making and keeping quiet.

Your eyes filled with tears as you started thinking about the male infront of you. If the bond hadn’t snapped for you yet, then you probably weren’t mates and it made you sick thinking that there was someone else out there who’d snatch Cassian up. A hand brushing up your calf brought you back to reality as you were met with eyes filled with worries.

“No, hey, what's going on, sweetheart? Why are you crying, hm?” Cassian asked, concern etched across his face. Overwhelmed by sadness, you slumped forward, letting out deep sobs.

"Don't think m’your mate, Cassie. I really, really wanna be with you forever, but you'll probably choose your mate if they ever come along. Also, I probably have a mate somewhere, and I feel like we shouldn't keep going because I'm falling for you, like really hard, and I really don't think I'd survive it if we ended things before they even really started.”

Your wrecked sobs made him sick with guilt. The realization that he was the cause of your tears hit hard. His hands found their way to your back, gently caressing it as he tried to provide comfort. Unable to bear it any longer, he blurted out the words before more sobs could escape,

“ I’m your mate. I felt the bond snap the first time we met, baby. I didn’t want to you to feel like you had to accept the bond or feel pressured to discover it. I wished for you to find out on your own, at your own pace. And I’m truly sorry for the pain i’ve caused you. If I had known this was something you really wanted, I would’ve told you straight away, sweet girl. I was wrong to assume and I’m deeply sorry. Please forgive me?”

Cassian’s words hung in the air, a revelation that shifted the atmosphere between you. Stunned, you looked up, eyes searching his for any sign of anger or irritation at your sudden breakdown or any deception. His gaze, however, held a sincerity that echoed in the depths of your shared connection, held a mix of pain, guilt and sadness paired with hope.

“You’re really mine? My mate?” the question was carried by your whispering voice. Cassian nodded and confirmed,

“Yes, i’m yours as you are mine.” The words triggered that golden bond, snapping the thread of life and love deep in your chest. Holding a hand to your chest, you looked at him breathing deeply.

“Mate. You’re my mate!” you shrieked and kissed all over his face, ending with a big kiss on his lips, making him laugh.

“Um, so can i now touch ‘em?” you questioned as you nodded your head in the direction of his massive wings. His back straightened and he explained,

“My wings have never been out during intimate encounters with females. It makes me feel vulnerable and I don’t like it. But for you… for you I’d pluck the stars from the night sky if you asked me. Go ahead, sweetheart but be careful they can be quite-”

He didn’t even finish his sentence when he felt your warm hands caressing the ridge of his leathery wings. Cassian twisted in his seat when you went over a certain spot. His whole body flashed with warmth, leaving a trail of goosepumps as his stomch flipped.

His face revealed delight, accompanied by low groans as your nails traced over the delicate wing. Intrigued, you inquired about the sensation. He leaned in, softly blowing air near your ear, eliciting goosebumps and a slight arch in your body.

He knew he’d come undone if you kept touching him so he picked you up, swept everything away from the table and put you on your back. Perhaps he should’ve been more quiet because when the waiter hurriedly came to check on the broken dishes, he received a savage snarl, so unlike the usually levelheaded male.

“ Get. Out.” Your mate gritted towards the poor fae. He’d make sure to leave another huge tip, but he didn’t have time to think of it now that the bond was so fresh and there was a male staring down his half naked mate. Cassian finally turned his attention to you when you grabbed his cock through his slacks.

“ c’mon mate, need you so bad, please.” you grabbed the back of his head, smashing his lips against yours as you whined and mumbled about needing his cock inside you. Any sort of foreplay was out of the question, you’d play later. You felt like you might literally die if you didn’t feel him closer to you right now.

You were consumed by an overwhelming desperation, feeling as if you'd burst out of your skin without his immediate presence. The ache for more of him intensified, a desperate longing for his touch to ravage you entirely. Tears welled in your eyes as you begged, desperate to be fucked right there, yearning to be claimed by your mate.

The desperation in your voice spurred cassian on as his hands skillfully removed his belt, pulling out his hard cock as he slid in and out, again and again and again. Rocking the table as he thrust into you hard, filling you up deliciously. Your mouths found each other in a deep kiss as you pulled his hair, earning a deep groan.

“You’re so fucking beautiful all spread out for me. My precious mate,” he mumbled against you. 

 “mmh, harder please- fucking me soo gooddd” You moaned. The pleasure was building up in your belly making you squirm against him “Please, daddy, let me cum.”

He halted all his movements, pulling you out of your bubble of pleasure. Why did he stop? You felt your high fizzle down as you felt tears in your eyes. “Cassie, why did you stop? I almost finished… s’not fair” you whined, crossing you arms as you looked away, feigning disbelief and anger.

You seriously hadn’t noticed what you called him? Were you fucked out already? Well, whatever. Cassian’s ego boosted immensely at the fact that you had mindlessly called him daddy.

“You’re so good for me, such a beautiful, beautiful girl. My mate makes me proud.”

His praise made you simultaneously melt against his body yet tighten around his cock as a new rush of slick gushed out of you. Bringing his one hand to your nipple while the other played with your clit, Cassian was determined to make you cum then take you home. It had to be your house because he really couldn’t promise he wouldn’t attack Rhys or Azriel if they laid their eyes on you, let alone saw your vulnerable, fucked out state.

The simultaneous pleasure made your head spin as you grabbed his arm to steady youself.

“feels..” you swallow the glob of saliva pooling on your tongue. “f-feels s’good, daddy. m’gonna cum…” His thrusts didn’t slow down as he was met by your relaxed expression - your eyes had crossed as your tongue lolled out a bit, making you drool. A few more pumps and he felt his knees wobble with intensity. You screams of pleasure were muffled by his hand as you came.

“gotta be quiet baby, lest someone catches us” groaning out the last part, Cassian pumps once, twice and finishes deep inside with as he slumps forward, head nuzzled against your neck, breathing in your intoxicating scent.

Driven by the fresh mating bond, he succumbed to a primal urge, covering your naked and relaxed form. Desperation fueled his actions, and protective instincts surged as he struggled with the dilemma of getting you home without causing harm, his every move tinged with the urgency of preserving your safety.

Wanting more, you pull him closer and wrap your legs around him. “daddy, i want more. please let’s go home because the table is kinda uncomfy n i wanna be on my bed instead.” Hands slither around you, pulling you up with as you clung to him. He drops a stack of money on the table to cover what he destroyed plus an appreciation for leaving him alone, gods know he would’ve shown no restraint if that waiter had been a little more bold.

“ s’okay cas i got this,” the whole restaurant fades into black before a cozy porch is replaced with the murmur of the restaurant. You’d winnowed home but not inside, leaving you right outside the door.

“ Sweetie, is your house warded or are you capable of winnowing inside too?” you shook your head and giggly responded,

“ mm, no, my house is protected from bad guys and only people i want can get inside. My friend fixed it for me, he’s super nice and you should totally meet him sometime.” The mention of another guy leaving your lips was enough for Cassian to make his eyes twitch but you looked so happy so he just nodded in agreement.

Opening the door, you welcomed Cassian into your cozy house. As he stepped in, his widened as his eyes roamed across the spacious hallway featuring a body-length mirror, perfect for a quick self-check before heading out, you told him. The hall led to a spacious living room with high ceilings exuding luxury, and the massive kitchen boasted pink appliances, a charming detail that seemed to define your style, he noticed.

His smile widened as he took in the cutesy and predominantly pink decor scattered throughout the house. It was a unique touch that resonated with your personality. As you guided him up the stairs, he marveled at the size of the home, realizing it was quite spacious for a single person.

Passing by several empty rooms, you finally opened the grand bedroom. The king-sized bed with frilly white sheets and an array of pink pillows dominated the space, surrounded by what seemed like an army of stuffed animals, a table adorned with the flowers he sent you this morning. Turning to the left he say your huge closet with clothes littered over the floor. You ran and closed the door behind you, leaning against it as you let out a nervous laugh, “ oh, that’s just my closet. it’s a bit messy so let’s just not look there.”

You bit your lips as your eyes squinted in the dim light. He looked so delicious and you wanted more. wanted your mate, closer. Despite being mere feet apart, an insatiable need for closeness overcame you. Closing the gap, you kissed him, reigniting the connection that began at the restaurant, determined to continue it throughout the night.

The night with your mate unfolded in a series of intimate moments, he put you in new positions and taught you pleasures you never imagined. His expertise left you in a constant state of bliss, with every moment dedicated to mutual satisfaction. You had slept for about an hour or two before going at it again when he stood up and stretched, the sight enough for you to tackle him and ride him right there on your fluffy carpet.

As dawn approached, you marveled at the fact that you had enough restraint to let him slip away and prepare breakfast. The lingering sensations and shared experiences had created a bond that extended beyond the physical, making the morning after feel like a continuation of the enchanting night. Now you laid in the protective arms of you lover, looking at him while biting your lips to keep from pouncing in him.

“If you keep staring at me like that, we won't leave the house ever,” you looked away from his gaze, blushing furiously.

“Maybe I don't wanna leave the house. I wanna be with you forever and ever, cassie” you whispered, nestling closer and kissing his cheek, a familiar gesture of affection.

He chuckled warmly, deeply and kissed you back before your broke the kiss.

“Cas, you mentioned your friends live here. Can I meet them? You spoke about them like you really, really love them,”you inquired, sensing a shift in the air as his grip tightened around you.

“Another time, sweetheart. Right now, I need you alone. I can't even think about leaving you,” he confessed, his tone carrying a protective intensity.

“Do you know much about the mating bond?” you explained that you knew it was two people fated together in a perfect match but that was all your parents allowed you to know. He nodded and explained,

“A newly mated couple can be very... let's say, unstable. There have been many cool and collected males and females who lost their minds when someone laid their eyes on their mate for too long. Sane people have abandoned all critical thinking wherever their mate is involved. Their first and only thought is their mate’s safety and happiness. People have died for provoking newly-mated. So, please, give me a little time because there's a very likely chance I might kill someone for looking at you a bit too much." This…frenzy will cool down after a while but it’s very intense when it’s so new.”

The gravity in his words conveyed the depth of his commitment and the primal instincts that fueled it.

You were fucked in the head for sure because the realization that Cassian would fiercely protect you, even kill someone for you, sent a thrilling shiver down your spine, an unconventional yet undeniably arousing form of desire.

Without a word, you shuffled down, ready to express your gratitude and desire in a way that words could never fully convey, letting your mouth and hands express your love and gratitude.

—

For almost three weeks, you reveled in the cocoon of intimacy, exploring every inch of each other's souls and bodies within the confines of your shared space. Cassian's presence became a comforting constant, and there wasn't a single room in the house that he hadn’t fucked you in. Repeatedly.

However, the inevitable reality of his responsibilities tugged at Cassian's conscience. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkening slightly as he confessed,

“I hate to say this, baby, but I have to go back. My family is looking for me, and they're worried.”

A pout formed on your lips as the idea of him leaving weighed heavily on your heart.

“You really gotta go?” Your doe-eyes mirrored the sadness and pain of his departure, glossing over in tears at the thought of him not being by your side.

One look into your eyes and he knew there was no chance he could leave you.

“You know what, fuck that. There's no way I'm leaving you. So how would you feel about meeting my family?”

Cassian dropping the idea of meeting his family made you think. Would they like you? He always spoke highly of them, and it got you wondering if you'd measure up. You knew you weren't the brightest tool in the shed or however the saying went but you hoped they'd see something in you that's good enough for him. The old voices of your parents kept echoing in your head.

"You're only good if you keep your mouth shut."

"How did I end up with such a dumb daughter?"

"You’re prettier when you don't talk."

Cassian sensed your unease, and he gently took your hands, looking into your eyes with a reassuring smile.

“Hey, don't worry about a thing. My family will adore you as much as I do. You're more than enough, just the way you are.”

His words carried a sincerity that eased the knots in your stomach. You peppered kisses all over his face and mentally thanked him for the reassurance.

He laughed, kissing you and repeating those reassuring words until it was time to leave. Putting on a cute, blue summer dress, you skipped alongside him, blissfully unaware of the imposing aura he now exuded due to the fresh bond.

As the beautiful estate by the river came into view, you marveled at the picturesque landscape. Holding a homemade cake in one hand and Cassian's hand in the other, you both approached the door.

However, huge confusion struck as your eyes widened upon seeing who opened it.

🏷️ taglist: @justasillylittlegoofyguy

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hello! Could you write something about jealous VVD. You're out with the girls and they record you having fun, shaking ass and stuff. Obviously, he's not happy about it.

Thank you ☺️

reader’s not shaking her ass because i can’t shake my ass so i wouldn’t be able to relate but she’s having some real fun 🍾🍾

virgil van dijk x reader

‼️ big virgil is mad at us, sorry + him being a little possessive

as long as you’re mine

it was rare that you had time to meet up with your friends and have a fun night out. two of your best friends had kids so it was impossible for them to stay out over 9 pm and the others were much into their perfect wives role that they didn’t even had time for themselves.

but tonight, somehow, you managed to get them all together to have some real fun in a very special club downtown liverpool.

it felt like it’s been years since you last saw them and you couldn’t wait to gossip about anyone again.

virgil wasn’t really excited about the idea of you clubbing all night. not because he didn’t trust you, but because he didn’t trust the people around you. he knew how man could get when they see a pretty lady, the knew it very well.

so he tried to convince you to stay home but you refused and met up with your friends.

you had a nice dinner and then you all went to the heaven club, your favourite place in all the town. virgil didn’t like it so he never came with you but tonight you finally had the chance to have some real fun with your friends and you couldn’t wait for it.

one drink first, then a second one and a third one. one man offered you a glass of wine that you kindly refused so he offered it to one of your friends that accepted. you all were laughing and having fun when, all of sudden your phone started ringing.

virgil was calling you but you never picked up.

what you didn’t know was that someone was filming you and posting everything on twitter. you weren’t doing anything wrong, you were just laughing and chatting while some of your friends were dancing and shaking their asses but still, someone managed to get your pictures and videos out on twitter.

you never picked up your phone that night, not until the uber you all booked, left you at home around 4 am. you weren’t that drunk but you didn’t trust yourself to drive.

you removed your heels before entering your home, thinking that virgil was already fast asleep so you were kinda surprised when you saw him sitting on the couch watching the news on tv.

“virgil?” you called him and he turned around to look at you “what are you doing still awake? i told you not to wait for me…”

“i had to wait for you in case you never came back home…i don’t know, what if you fell asleep on some cheap couch in some cheap club?” he said standing up and looking at you.

“what? what are you talking about?”

“you know damn well what i’m talking about…” he was mad but you didn’t know why.

“i can see you are mad but i don’t know why…care to explain it?” you asked him a little confused.

“did you really have to do all of that? acting like you don’t have a husband waiting for you at home? if you wanted attention you just had to say it…”

“what the fuck are you talking about virgil!” you started to get mad as how he kept being so obnoxious.

he took two seconds to take his phone out of his pocket and show you everything that’s being going on twitter “this is what i’m talking about!” he showed you one of the videos where you were seen talking with a man - the man you refused the wine from but of course virgil didn’t know that. he showed you another video of you dancing with one of your friends, and it wasn’t the dancing itself to upset him, it was the fact that a man was making inappropriate comments about you.

“virgil…that man offered me wine and i said no, that’s why i was talking with him…and sorry, but it’s not my fault i wanted to have fun with my friends and men can’t keep their dicks in their pants…i’m not apologising for that” you calmed down after seeing the videos and why he reacted that way “but you gotta trust me virgil, and it hurts me knowing that you don’t trust me”

“i know it’s not your fault…i just, i hate seeing men talking about you like you would give them a chance…and i’m sorry for overreacting…i trust you, i love you, it’s the people around you that i don’t trust, it’s the people around that want to take advantage of you and if something has to happen…”

“virgil” you chuckled “nothing is gonna happen okay? i just had a few drinks and i’m capable of defending myself if something happens okay?”

“okay but”

“no buts…”

“but” he kept going “you are mine, my wife, my love, my woman, mine, got it?” he asked, his voice showing more authority.

“i’m yours virgil, as long as you are mine” you answered back.

his lips turned into a smirk, while his hands moved to your hips “i’m definitely yours, as i sad again, you’re mine…” he whispered into your ear and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or not but you were feeling butterflies all over your body “so now, you let me take care of you as a proper husband should do, got it?” he asked and you nodded.

you definitely wouldn’t have let him go so easily.

[spenceragnewfics]

AHHHHHH AHHHHH TAHT was amazing!!!!?

could we get a spencer where his partner gives him head under his pc while he’s in a discord chat

So I decided to do F!reader for this one and it's probably going to be my default unless asked otherwise because for some reason, this was easier for me to write.

UNDER THE DESK | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader | 18+ MINORS DNI

TW: Oral (m receiving)

Word Count: 1.4k

Description: Life can be very stressful. Especially when your boyfriend is always busy. When Y/N and Spencer finally get a night to themselves, work seems to never be done but Y/N is determined to give Spence some stress relief.

Spencer is a very busy guy. This is something Y/N has known since the two met years ago back when he was just an editor. Now, as the director of Smosh Games, he’s even busier than he used to be.

This has made couple time limited, but mainly it’s because Y/N doesn’t want to disturb Spencer from his work. She knows that if she told him how she’s felt lately he would drop everything and spend time with her. That’s why she doesn’t, he asks for so little and it feels wrong to her to ask for that.

That’s how she’s found herself in this situation. Spencer finally had a night off so the two decided to have a movie night at his place with their favorite take out and movies. The night started innocently, the two cuddled on the couch, shared sweet kisses, silly jokes, and playful touching.

It was innocent until she slipped her tongue in his mouth and it was the sign they both had been waiting for. Weeks of not being able to touch each other much, palpable tension, and little remarks had made this moment something they both needed. Stress of work and life in general had been taking their toll.

Spencer is laying on the couch while Y/N is straddling him. Their hips grinding against each other while his lips are working on her neck. Soft moans and sighs are coming from both of them before its interrupted by the shrill of Spencer’s phone.

“What the fuck? What could someone need now?” He groans, moving away from the girl. She pouts and tries to pull him back, “Babe, I’m sure it’s not important. Just stay here.” She practically begs while wrapping her arms around his neck. 

Spencer stops for a second, considering it until he sees who it is calling. “I can’t, Alé is calling. It must be important because she doesn’t call this late unless it is. I’m so sorry.” He apologizes before giving her a peck. She sighs while getting off his lap, “Hey, boss lady, what’s up?” He asks as he heads to his office. He turns and sends a kiss before he disappears down the hall.

Y/N sits on the couch with a pouty expression and arms crossed as she watches the movie in front of her. Her phone buzzes, signaling she got a text. Looking at the phone, she sighs when it shows that Spencer texted ‘Babe, I am so sorry! We have to do something for games tonight and it’s super important. I’m gonna be on discord for a while. I’m so sorry. I love you’ 

‘It’s okay, pretty boy. I love you too’ she replies before tossing her phone next to her on the couch. Frustrated, she lays on the couch and sighs. It seems like no matter what, she can never have a night of just her and Spencer.

Deciding to just pass time, she gets comfortable on the couch and watches the movie. It was a little over halfway through, so she’s hoping by the time the movie is over her boyfriend will be free and they can continue where they left off.

The movie goes by quickly and still no Spencer. Getting off the couch, she walks down the hallway towards his office to what is going on. The door is slightly open, making it easy for Y/N to see in the room. Her heart swells when she sees her boyfriend working on his computer.

“Alex, come on dude! How can this still be happening?” Spencer practically whines as he slumps in his chair. Y/N can’t hear what Alex says as he has his headset on but whatever it is makes her boyfriend even more upset.

Walking back to the kitchen, she gets some pizza then grabs him a drink. Walking back to his office, she knocks and walks in. He turns when he hears the noise and smiles when he sees Y/N. “Hey, love. I’m sorry this is taking so long.” He apologies, kissing her hand when she gets close enough.

“It’s okay, baby. You seem stressed so I got you some food.” Y/N sets the plate down along with the drink. Leaning down, she kisses the top of his head and wraps her arms around his shoulders. “You’re a lifesaver. I’m sorry our night turned into me doing work, again.” She hums and starts to rub his shoulders.

Spencer enjoys the feeling as he continues with the problem at hand and talking with the games crew to fix it. He gets so focused on it, he almost misses the fact of Y/N climbing under the desk. Taking off his headset, he looks at her confused. “Babe, the fuck are you doing?”

“Shh, just relax, Spence. Let me take care of you.” Y/N says, biting her lip as she rubs his thighs. Her hands slowly move up to the waistband of his sweats as he takes a deep breath, “Act like I’m not even here.” She whispers as she pulls down his sweats.

Spencer clears his throat as he puts his headset back on. He holds back a moan as her tongue licks a long stripe from the base to his tip. She smirks to herself as she continues to tease him. Open mouth kisses along it and kitten licks, the sound of his breath getting quicker keeps her motivated.

Her tongue swirls around the tip before she takes him into her mouth, the warm feeling envelopes Spencer which erupts a groan from him which he quickly covers with a cough. Her mouth goes up and down slowly, taking more and more into her mouth with each bob.

When she gets about half-way, she takes the rest of him in her mouth without warning. “Holy fuck.” He practically yells as a hand reaches out to be placed in her hair. “Sorry dude, I’m just…really frustrated right now.” He says with gritted teeth to Alex as the girl beneath him giggles which sends vibrations through him.

Spencer looks down, his blue eyes locking with Y/N’s eyes as she smirks at him with her mouth full. This is a photo he would love to take a savour but sadly his phone is out of reach.

Y/N taps his hand, signaling for him to guide her, which he is more than happy too. His hand finds a good amount of hair to hold onto before he moves her head up and down. Throwing his back, he basks in the feeling of her mouth on him, enjoying every second of his favorite person making him feel good. Something he has needed for a while with all the stress he’s been under.

Her hand reaches out and gently plays with his ball as he continues to guide her. He soon lets go and she takes her mouth off of him with a small pop. She giggles as she strokes it, covered by her saliva. “Babe, please. I’m almost done.” Spencer whines, his mic away from him.

“But I like being right here.” She says before putting her mouth back on him. “Y/N” He moans before moving his mic back. She sets a good pace moving her head up and down and stroking what she can’t fit in her mouth.

“Alex, can we-” Spencer starts but pauses to let out a shaky breath, “Can we finish this tomorrow? I think we did all we can..all we can at home.” Spencer asks, his voice shaky as he tries to get off the discord call. 

Increasing her speed, Y/N locks eyes with Spencer again before taking him fully in her mouth. “Okay, okay, fine, we can try one more thing.” He says begrudgingly as he slides his hand back into Y/N’s hair.

A twitch is felt in Y/N’s mouth as Spencer starts to buck his hip into her mouth. Letting him take the reins, she keeps eye contact as he throws his headset off and cums in her mouth. “Holy fuck, love, fuck!” He groans, his head thrown back as her mouth fills.

“Oh, love, I didn’t even ask-” He starts but she quickly shakes her head before swallowing. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” She says, giggling before leaning up to kiss him. “Now, finish up with whatever you’re doing and we can have some real fun.” Y/N crawls from under the table then kisses Spencer one more time before walking out of his office. Leaving him breathless as he grabs his headset once again.

[leviathanspain]

fucked my way up to the top

roman roy x reader

synopsis: the recent shroud of attention towards the roys lands a spotlight on you, causing you to question your marriage

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the public didn’t favor you as a roy wife. you were labeled a gold digger, virtually nobody, a poison, a cancer. it didn’t matter that your own family was rich and prosperous. not as public as the roy family was, but respected in their industry.

you had grown up with roman, for a few brief summers at least. neighboring his summer home with your grandfather’s, you’d find yourself sneaking away at odd hours to visit the sullen boy.

after losing touch, you had reconnected with the youngest roy son at a business conference that you had accompanied your father to. he was impossible to shake off after, and soon you found yourself walking down the aisle.

but your relationship behind closed doors was extremely unconventional. in the year you’ve been married to roman, you never had sex. you came close once, on your wedding night, but nothing else since. you understood him the most, and his issues with intimacy. you’d wait around for him as long as he needed, because you loved him.

you loved him more than anyone else in his life, and he didn’t know why.

roman was still roman, in the best way he knew how to be. he’ll make inappropriate comments at you in professional settings, defending it with “she’s my wife!”, or sticking his hands down your pants whenever he got cold. you never really understood his methods, but it was affection nonetheless.

although you had a history with corporate america, you wouldn’t deny that your marriage to roman had sped up your career. only because roman has insisted that you work alongside him. it was either that or not work at all.

so the media, in the raging shit storm that kendall had started, had picked you and your marriage as the weakest link, attacking you in many headlines. twitter had been worse, causing you a mild headache for weeks.

roman had assured you’d that it would all blow over, that as long as you both knew the truth, that nothing else mattered.

but it did. everything mattered.

“hey ro-“ he had answered your call before the second ring. he sounded breathless, but you could hear the bustling office environment over the phone. there was the sound of leather, assuming he moved to sit.

you looked at yourself in the mirror, giving yourself one last look before walking over to the door, “i just wanted to call and remind you that i’m going out.”

roman made a noise over the phone, “ughhhh- that’s tonight?” he looked at his watch, checking the time, “right. that’s fine, yeah.”

“ro?” you asked, a smile on your face as you heard him hum in response. “i wasn’t asking if it was fine. remember what we talked about?”

roman sighed, rolling his eyes slightly as he leaned back in his chair, “that you’re my wife, not my property…”

you laughed, “when you put it like that it sounds awful. whatever roy, i’ll see you later.” he could hear the clicking of the apartment lock, you were already leaving.

“okay, bye bye now sweetie!” he mocked an elderly lady with his tone before hanging up quickly.

on nights you’d go out with friends, roman wouldn’t go home. he would eventually find his way home around two or three am, but only because you’d call to let him know you were going home. there was no point of being home if you weren’t there.

he had done it once, but there had been a pit in his stomach the entire time. as if he was doing something wrong.

he had heard the apartment door click, and his head turned from the random late night news channel to the door. you were standing there, wavering slightly as you stepped forward.

“baby-“ you slurred, and immediately roman stood up. he walked towards you, and a sheet of concern washed over his face. “i’m sorry baby, i know how much you hate it when i drink.” you grabbed onto roman’s shoulder, hand clutching him as you tried to steady yourself.

roman scoffed, “when did i say that?” his tone turned defensive, but mainly confused.

you shrugged, “i know you do.” you let go of him and stepped towards the couch, “you get in that mood.” you had meant to sit down, but you found yourself on your back instead. you closed your eyes, swallowing thickly, “you pull away.” roman scoffed again, “y/n, im right here.” his hand grazed your face as he leaned over you. he rested on the couch’s edge, but you couldn’t keep your eyes on him.

“no- it’s not like that. everytime i want to,” you faltered, and roman inhaled sharply, “it’s like you shut down. and we’ve danced around it for almost a year and-“ your words slurred slightly but roman had understood you perfectly.

“what do you want me to say? hmm? that i don’t want to fuck you?” he got off the couch and stood up, “do you want a divorce? is that it? since we didn’t fuck you can probably get a good deal out of that, you should go fucking try it!” roman didn’t know where this anger was coming from, but he felt it come out like word vomit. and he couldn’t stop.

tears escaped your eyes and you sniffled, feeling your face heat up with embarrassment. “no- i don’t want a divorce, roman.” you shook your head as you cried, wishing the couch could swallow you up.

roman continued to spit more words at you, but you cried harder. “i just want my husband to touch me! i want to be desired- to be loved!” you shouted, words overtaking his.

“i want you every minute of every day. i wake up with you on my mind, even when you’re asleep next to me i want you. i fucking want you, so bad.” his voice dropped and he stared down at you.

you shifted your eyes over to him, and tried to stand up. roman noticed what you were doing and took your hand, pulling you up.

“have me, roman. have me and never let me go.” your arms draped around his neck, pulling him into you. you leaned into him, and kissed him roughly. roman felt himself hitch a breath before pulling away.

“i cant.” your hands dropped from his collar and you stared, speechless. “i want to, y/n. but i-“

you pushed past him, not letting him finish as you tried to stumble towards the door. “you’re a fucking coward.” you slurred, tears muddling your vision. you fumbled for the door handle, “i never want to see you again! you hear me! i hate you!” you stomped a foot as you struggled more for the door. “fuck!” you cried out, feeling defeat and heartbreak wash over you in an instant.

this feeling was crippling. closing your eyes as you slid down in defeat. you couldn’t fight anymore, you didn’t have it in you. your husband didn’t stay to linger, slipping away quietly.

the separation was taking its toll. it was starting to get noticeable to those around you. you had wished for space from roman, who had hesitated but obliged. his only request was that his family doesn’t know, and so far, they hadn’t.

but little things, questions regarding the other had raised a few flags. kendall had asked about you once, bringing up the question to roman on your whereabouts. roman had lied and said he had just seen you in your office, but kendall knew you weren’t even in the building. or when shiv had texted you to ask if you’d be joining the family to scotland, but you had to play off your absence with a separate work trip. when in reality you had no idea that roman would even leave the country.

shiv knew something was off. she was finding roman more intolerable by the day. he was more disheveled, prone to outbursts, constantly on the defensive, and it definitely had to do with you. you were his happy little pill.

as much as you wanted to keep the secret, roman made it difficult. he rarely ever saw you anymore, and he would often exclude you from meetings regarding family or work. you didn’t mind at first, until it started affecting your work. you’d have to talk to him about it, eventually.

logan had called for a meeting in his office. usually big meetings with all of the roys and close workers meant bad things. typically you’d stay out of these things and find out from roman. but you had no roman to come home to anymore, and you’d have to learn how to fight for yourself sooner rather than later.

you were the third one to arrive. kendall was already perched beside his father. you admired kendall for his ability to resurrect himself and crawl back under his father’s thumb. you respected him, but not lately. greg and tom were also in the room. their little duo was dangerous, you’ve warned roman to watch out for them.

“y/n!” tom stood up from his seat, awkwardly hugging you. you stiffened in his arms and pulled back with an awkward smile, “tom. didn’t know we did that!” your eyes slid to logan and kendall, who seemed as equally as surprised by your presence.

“sir.” you looked at your father-in-law, who’s eyes shone at you, “y/n. what a delightful surprise.” he kept his tone even, but you still smiled nonetheless.

kendall had his wits about him, for once. “what changed?” he squinted his eyes at you and you laughed slightly, “it’s nice to see you too, ken.”

just as you turned, you heard a whistle at the door, “where is everyone? you said at 11:30 right?” roman looked down at his watch before looking up, eyes settling on your face.

you hadn’t expected to see him so face to face, for the first time in weeks. he looked away slightly, cracking another irrelevant joke before walking over to a chair.

he didn’t even greet you, and that didn’t go unnoticed by everyone else. more and more flooded in, and you couldn’t stop the pounding feeling in your head even as the conversation began.

“roman!”

logan’s shout had broken you out of your daze. you blinked, eyes narrowing on the clock as you realized thirty minutes had passed. you had missed most of the meeting, and seemingly caught the end. but this wasn’t just any end, this was logan handing your husband his own ass.

you listened to roman get chewed out. you weren’t in the loop to roman’s work, and you felt lost.

logan’s insults turned into abuse. you felt your mouth go dry as you stood up, words spilling out of your mouth in roman’s defense.

you didn’t know what you had done until it was done. you were locked in a stare with logan, who was in disbelief at your outburst. you felt you face heat up and you inhaled sharply. logan didn’t say anything, but kendall had waved his hands, “alright. let’s just- end it here.” he shifted his gaze over to you but you didn’t meet his eyes.

roman stared at you, from across the room in his chair. you blinked, words faltering as you stared at him.

you didn’t bother apologizing as you excused yourself, practically running down the hall to shut yourself away.

there was a soft knock at your door. roman. it had to be roman. you felt your chest heavy with pressure as you stood up, walking over to your door. you unlocked it, but hesitated as you pulled it open.

“yes?” you peeked out, beads of sweat lining your forehead. your eyes met his and roman stared at you, “let me in.” he nodded to the door and you hitched a breath, opening the door as you stepped back.

“ro-“ without another word you threw yourself into his arms. he grabbed you tightly, reciprocating your need for affection.

“i’m so sorry.” you choked out, “i’m so fucking sorry.” you knew logan had a difficult relationship with his son, and this didn’t help any of it. logan must hate you now.

roman shook his head, “fuck that. fuck that old ass guy. it’s okay, you-“ he pulled back and you felt his lips on your cheek, “you know i would’ve done that for you.”

you hugged him tightly, and hoped this warmth would last.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hi there, I love your writing and I’m always amazed how you write so much every day!

Could I request a story where G!P Donna and Reader haven’t made love yet because Donna always makes excuses and seems very shy about it and Reader doesn’t want to pressure her, but it’s starting to make Reader feel a little insecure and she wonders if Donna doesn’t desire her in that way. Donna starts spending more time hiding away in her workshop and one day Reader enters and finds her masturbating there. Donna is embarrassed and admits that she’s worried she wouldn’t have enough stamina to please Reader during sex since it would be her first time, and admits she’s been disappearing to ‘take care of her needs’ multiple times a day to train herself to last a long time. Reader just reassures her it’ll be fine no matter what, pulls her to the bedroom and they finally make love, it’s very gentle with Reader slowly riding her, and they both enjoy it a lot.

Yess!!! Thank you for your kindness! Yes, it's a hard work, but I love doing it!!!! Thank you for your request too!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Please you

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff,

Word count: 7,507

Summary: You were trying to be loved, but she's alwasy so shy...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

The music sounded distant, as if that record wasn't really spinning, as if nothing around really existed, only her and you. Only you, a common village girl dancing with a lady in black, letting your hands caress each other, letting your bodies move.

In your life you always looked for an easy love, a girl from the village who would smile at you, who seemed kind, who would end up breaking your heart. Already plunged into the despair of having been born in the wrong place, at the wrong time, you stopped believing that there really was someone for you out there.

But by chance, you met the woman who was now your dance partner, the woman who caressed you, who pleased you with thousands of compliments, who kissed you, thanking you for your simple existence.

Donna Beneviento, the village Lord, servant of Mother Miranda, was nothing but a dark legend for your family, for the rest of the villagers like you. Meeting her was a coincidence, loving her was simply destiny.

She was… Everything you were looking for, everything you dreamed of after every failure, after every love disappointment. She was a sick woman, self-conscious about her appearance, about the cruel gifts the Black Gods had granted her. But she was… Simply Donna, simply something you could not categorize, an intelligent, shy woman, who blushed every time you reminded her how beautiful she was without that horrible black veil on.

Loving her was a reflex action, involuntary but desired. No matter how many problems, how many absurd fears, how many unfounded jealousies, you would never leave. You would never fulfill her greatest fear, the fear of fear itself, being left alone again.

And so, under the dim light of that mansion, under the diffuse sound of that romantic music, you danced in silence, with a smile, with nothing to say, with much to feel.

You sighed when the music stopped leaning on her chest, closing your eyes to feel the soft movements of a shy woman, that soft laugh that was always accompanied by a blush.

“I had a great time tonight, tesoro,” the lady whispered, moving you away so she could see that smile, the one she adored.

You nodded, sighing again, capturing her lips in a soft, tender kiss, one of those for which you would be capable of selling your soul even to Mother Miranda herself.

“Mm, well, it's been like any other night,” you joked in a soft voice, playing with her hands. Her gaze cooled and she frowned.

“What do you mean?” Donna asked in a more serious, worried tone.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. That she understood your jokes, your words with double meanings or a normal conversation between two people was something still needed to be improved.

“I mean... I have a good time with you every night, Donna,” you whispered in a playful way, creating with your words, a new dazzling smile on her face.

“Oh, good,” she said nervously, nodding embarrassed by her clumsiness.

“I love those romantic dinners you prepare for me...” you whispered in a much more affectionate, more direct tone, slowly approaching her ear. “I think I couldn't live without them.”

Donna laughed again, kissing you slowly, sailing on your lips again and gently grabbing your waist. You, sighing, hoping that, indeed, that night would not end like all the others, with a quick kiss and the bedroom light turned off, bit your lip.

“But... Maybe it's too soon to call it a night, don't you think?” you purred in her ear, unintentionally causing her to shudder, shyly moving away.

“Aren't you tired?” she asked innocently, blinking in confusion.

You, accustomed to this game of pretending that your advances had no effect on her, approached again, shaking your head and absentmindedly playing with the buttons of her dress.

“Not at all,” you said in a soft, suggestive tone, one that not even the most naive person in the world would be able to ignore. “Mmm, we could do something, you know.”

“Like what?” the lady asked, curious, with a nervous laugh.

“Well, I thought maybe… We could go down to the basement and…” you suggested, pretending that you weren't as direct as you seemed, that you weren't looking forward to taking a much-desired next step in your relationship, one that was taking too long to arrive.

“To, to the basement,” she repeated, with a more relaxed face, subtly fleeing from your caresses on her chest, from your glassy eyes that conveyed fierceness and lust.

“Yes, Donna, to the basement,” you said amused, not allowing the lady to escape again, grabbing her by the waist, closing your two hands on her back, keeping her close, very close. “I thought… Well, we could bring down some of that delicious wine and…”

“Oh, do you want to watch a movie?” she said in a different tone, less fearful. She always did the same.

She always was deflecting your attempts to seduce her in an almost masterful way. For some time now, you've been wondering if she really was that innocent, or if she was just playing with you.

“Um…” you whispered confused, releasing her from your grip and scratching the back of your neck at another of your failures.

Maybe your problem was subtlety, maybe it was just you, you didn't know, and you didn't want to think about it.

“I, I'd really like to watch a movie with you, (Y/N),” she said nervously, playing with her hands, as if that romantic atmosphere had been blurred by your attempt to dance under the sheets.

Well, a partially darkened room with the woman you loved by your side… It didn't sound like a bad idea.

“Okay, let's watch a movie,” you said with a slightly forced smile, with your head thinking of hundreds, thousands of strategies you could use to take advantage of the situation.

Donna nodded enthusiastically, kissing you quickly and taking your hand, walking with you to the elevator.

“What do you think of this one?” she asked, showing you a metal box while you sat on the small sofa, enjoying her movements, her discreet curses at the mess of the old office.

Without much effort, you looked up to read the title and nodded passively. Donna looked at you again, smiling as she did every time, as if, deep inside, she also had the horrible feeling that you were nothing but an illusion.

The white screen began to light up and, with a sigh, the lady in black sat next to you, putting her arm around your shoulders, leaning you against her body.

Imbued with her floral perfume, being caressed by her soft hands, by her fingers playing with your hair, you almost forgot what you wanted. Love, romance always came before your needs, Donna's love for you, your love for her.

A romantic movie wasn't the best of scenarios either. You were always too emotional.

“But why is he leaving? She loved him,” you said, watching for the umpteenth time the scene at the airport, the one that couldn't help but make you cry. Donna looked at you and kissed your head, snuggling you closer to her body.

“You always say the same thing in this scene,” she said, amused, wiping away one of your tears. “Don't cry, tesoro... It's just a movie.”

“I know but... Sometimes I imagine something else is going to happen, you know? But no, the idiot always leaves, leaves her with a broken heart. Hey, couldn't you make people hallucinate?”

Donna shifted, ashamed of the powers that turned her into a monster, according to her, that turned her into a warning, into a terrifying story to tell around the fire.

“I... I can,” she sighed, squeezing the hand that was tangled in your hair, nervous, without realizing she was starting to hurt you.

You, used to those little attacks, those that you almost always caused without wanting to, took your hand away from your hair, kissing it with affection and an understanding smile.

“I didn't want to make you nervous, I just, I just want to know if you could change the ending of that disgusting movie,” you said with an amused tone, thus driving away her demons. “I mean, you could make me watch it, right?”

“It doesn't work that way, (Y/N),” she said with a still nervous tone, but breathing slowly to calm down. “I don't know what could happen to you if I…”

“Okay, okay, it was just an idea…” you said, moving your hands to forget that awkward conversation. “Why don't we watch another one?” you asked, getting up from the sofa, recovering, after that disastrous ending, the desire to want to satisfy your desires.

“It's a bit late, isn't it?” she asked, amused, watching how, clumsily, you moved the boxes, searching.

“No,” you said amused, extending a new box towards the brunette, who looked at it, and then at you, with a knowing smile.

“It's okay,” she whispered, kissing you as she got up to carefully change the movie.

At least a comedy movie wouldn't interfere with your intentions.

You laughed, you hugged each other again. Time passed even faster, like a sinister countdown that prevented you from making your well-studied movements. Stopping paying attention to Chaplin, you moved a little closer to the lady in black, kissing her neck subtly.

Donna moved nervously, but she didn't say anything to you, she didn't even turn to look at you. Good...

Your kisses continued to be soft, subtle, your fingers caressing the visible parts of her skin. A shy smile formed on her lips as she hugged your body, bringing you closer, giving you more opportunities to attack.

Your hand turned her face, held it so your lips mercilessly launched themselves at hers. She didn't cut off your kisses, she returned them, trying to maintain that subtle fierceness, those soft gasps that unintentionally began to escape from her lips.

“(Y/N)” she said nervously, putting a hand on your chest so you would give her a break. You looked at her with a good girl face, blinking petulantly. “The, the movie.”

“Oh,” you said, looking at the screen, which was now simply illuminated, without displaying any image. “Oh, it's over,” you whispered, pretending to pout, kissing her again, crawling across the small sofa until you could push her so her back was leaning on it.

“Wait,” she said, trying to speak among deep kisses, controlling your hands, which traveled restlessly over her dress.

You, sighing, stopped, without moving away, cornering her on the sofa.

“We, we should go…To, to bed,” Lady Beneviento stammered, breathing heavily, her legs shaking from the caresses of your hands.

Your smile widened even more. Maybe you had finally gotten her to give in to giving you what you wanted. You were just being naive…

“It's true… It's much better there,” you whispered, standing up, grabbing her hand and pulling it. Donna didn't move and you stopped short. “Donna?”

“No, you didn't understand me… I… I'm, I'm sleepy,” she said, faking a loud yawn. You rolled your eyes, predicting another resounding failure. “I want to go to bed to, to sleep.”

“Sleep? Really?” you asked with frustration darkening the tone of your voice, the intonation of your words. Laughing nervously, you turned around, with your hands on your hips, kicking the floor impatiently.

Donna nodded nervously, unable to look you in the eyes. You remained thoughtful, seeing the desperate attitude of the brunette, observing her until you realized a small detail.

“Wow, what's that?” you joked, pointing shamelessly at the deformity of her dress, one that betrayed her own arousal.

The lady in black looked at the same spot, covering her noticeable erection with her hands, terribly embarrassed.

“I'm, I'm sorry,” she apologized, with her cheeks flushed, moving away from you so you would stop looking at her. “I…”

“Oh, please, Donna…” you purred again, trapping the brunette in your arms again. She moved nervously, with a shy look, her breathing even more agitated. “Come on, come here, I'll help you with that.”

“What? No… No… It's just that…” she said, playing with your hands so they wouldn't go down her dress, comically backing away while you slowly chased her, stalking her. “It, it was unintentional.”

“Unintentional,” you murmured, nodding reluctantly, arching your eyebrows to emphasize your lustful eyes, trapping poor Donna against a wall.

She nodded, maneuvering her way out of your arms, moving away from you as she played with her hands.

“Hey, come on, come here Donna,” you said with an impatient tone, chasing her again as she circled around the furniture to escape your lust. “What are you doing?”

“I can't, (Y/N),” she said shyly, when you managed to catch her again.

You, sighing defeated once more, looking into her bright, wet eye, nodded, relaxing your grip.

“Oh, okay…” you murmured in a sad voice, moving away from her, rolling your eyes. A strong hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

“I'm sorry, tesoro… But it's just…” she said with a pleading tone, caressing your cheek, searching for the words in her mind, the ones she couldn't seem to find. “I'm just… A, a bit tired.”

“You're always tired,” you whispered softly, reassuring yourself.

No, you couldn't insist, you promised her that you would wait, that you wouldn't pressure her.

Donna lowered her head, sobbing, embarrassed by her attitude, by having disappointed you once again.

“Hey, hey, come on…” you said softly, cupping her face in your hands, relaxing your expression and repressing your instincts. “I didn't mean to be like that, honey… I'm sorry.”

She nodded, letting you rest her forehead against yours while she grabbed your waist, while her sobs calmed down little by little.

“Donna, I'm sorry, okay?” you repeated with a more understanding voice, regretful for that stupid chase, for breaking your word of being patient and wait. “I didn't want to ruin this night.”

The lady in black nodded slowly, sighing, hugging you almost desperately, grabbing your clothes as she buried her head in your shoulder.

“Come on, come on…” you said, comforting her crying, her shame. “Nothing, is wrong…”

“I'm, I'm sorry, (Y/N), I…” she stammered, moving away. “I think, I think it'll be better if… I go to bed.”

“I'm going with you,” you said with a tender smile.

Donna shook her head.

“No, I, I want, I want to be alone, per favore…” she murmured.

If she wanted to be alone you had to let her be. Her mind was too hurt. Your actions always had consequences that you couldn't foresee. It was better to leave her alone.

“Donna…” you sighed, with the doll maker already leaving through the door, with the sound of heels walking quickly through the hallways.

Taking a breath, passing a hand over your forehead, you let yourself fall back on the sofa.

Another mistake, another failure.

Yes, you were not the typical girl who considered sex as an essential pillar of a relationship, that love was shown by how many times two bodies fused into one. No, you were not like that, you were romantic, understanding.

But little by little that desire to break the last barrier that remained between Donna and you became stronger and stronger. It was not just lust, desire, livid, no, it was love, it was the most intimate expression of it, the last step of mutual feelings, the last peak to climb.

Donna was shy, an isolated woman for much of her life. You could not blame her for being reluctant to make love, for being afraid of that moment. You knew how ashamed she was of the gift of the Gods. To find out what was hidden under that black dress took you quite a while.

You never cared. You only cared about her, only Donna was important to you, not those stupid and insignificant details.

Time passed, and that moment, that night of passion never came. Excuses, absurd rushes, non-existent commitments… Anything was good to make you stop insisting, to keep your claws and stop harassing Donna with your insinuations. You could have given up a long time ago, but you didn't want to. If you didn't do anything, that moment would never come.

Shyness, loneliness, shame… There were many things that could prevent Donna from making love to you, but, of all of them, there was one that really worried you.

She had never been with anyone, no one had ever loved her, kissed her, caressed her… All those sensations were new to the lady in black. Love was something she didn't know about. The more stupid and ridiculous her excuses were, the louder the thoughts that began to haunt your mind.

What if she really didn't love you?

What if she keeps you with her just so she won't be alone?

Does she love you?

Questions that led to a dangerous answer, to a no, to a denial of her feelings when it came to intimacy, to a lack of desire for you, to not wanting to dive into the depths of someone she didn't really love.

It seemed absurd. Her body reacted to your caresses, to your kisses. That was much worse. If Donna really didn't love you, she wasn't going to let her body take the initiative, she didn't believe in sex without love, she told you that several times.

The bedroom was lit, and a black shadow rested on the bed. The lady in black was crying, face down, against a pillow. You sighed.

“Hey, Donna,” -you whispered quietly, sitting on the bed and resting your hand on her shoulder. The lady was startled, revealing her face wet with tears.

“Leave me alone,” she whispered with a broken voice. You weren't going to listen to her, of course.

“Donna...” you sighed again, pulling her up, unable to reject your comforting touch. “Come on, calm down.”

“I'm, I'm calm,” she said in a serious tone, changing her wounded face to a cold one, to one that made a shiver run down your spine.

“It was my fault, really,” you said in a soft voice, rubbing her back, taking her shaking hand. “I promised I wouldn't pressure you and I did, forgive me.”

She shook her head, shifting on the spot and looking down, still holding your hand.

“Why is it so important to you?” she asked in a cold tone, her gaze lost. You sighed once more, searching for an answer you didn't have.

“It's not that important,” you said unsure of your own words. “I would just really like to make love to you, Donna.”

The lady in black nodded slowly, a familiar blush creeping across her cheeks.

“I'm sure you've made it with many people,” she whispered, playing with the sheet, threatening to tear it from the pressure of her hands.

You closed your eyes, taking a breath. It was a dangerous conversation.

“Well... With...” you started to say, interrupted by a hand covering your mouth along with an angry growl.

“Basta, I don't want to hear it,” she protested, squeezing her hand tightly.

You, with a gasp, pushed her away. You had to use a lot of strength. Again, she was very nervous.

“You’ve asked me,” you said taking a breath, keeping her hand in your lap, fighting against its trembling.

“I didn't ask you, it was a statement,” she hissed, removing her hand from yours with a nervous gasp. “You should learn to listen better.”

“Oh, okay,” you said with a surprised smile, your brow furrowed by that brusque tone of the brunette. “I don't listen, huh?”

“No, you don’t,” Donna whispered dryly, looking away again. “You never listen.”

“Great, now it’s my fault,” you said incredulously, pointing at yourself.

“It's the first thing you said when you arrived,” the lady defended herself, with an arrogant tone, defensive, as always when her fears danced uncontrolled in her mind.

“So you do listen?” you asked ironically.

“Yes, I do,” she answered, moving away a little more, crossing her arms.

You snorted, closing your eyes to calm yourself, to not let your pride eat up her problems, to not start another horrible argument.

“Listen to me Donna, I, I don't know what it is that scares you, but... I can tell you what scares me.”

She looked at you, calmer but with the same hateful gleam in her eyes.

“I'm afraid of... That... That you don't love me,” you sighed, letting out your own fears. You couldn't expect any other kind of reaction.

The lady in black got up from the bed, looking at you angrily.

“What? I don't love you? How can you say that?” she asked with a frown. You, tired of falling into her traps, shrugged your shoulders, looking at your nails with disinterest.

“I don't know, I don't feel... Desired,” you murmured, changing pity for a riskier, more dangerous strategy.

“Is love just feeling desired for you?” she asked furiously, with white knuckles due to the pressure of her closed fists.

“No, but it helps,” you said with a cocky tone.

“Stupida...” the lady growled, pacing back and forth in the room, nervous, terribly nervous.

“Oh, you insult me, great,” you said amused, pretending to enjoy that situation.

“You don't... You don't understand...” she said, stopping walking, turning around while running a hand through her hair. “You don't understand, (Y/N).”

You smiled subtly, getting up and grabbing her from behind gently by the waist. She struggled, but gave in, sighing sadly again.

“You're right. I don't understand...” you whispered in a calm voice, turning her around little by little. “That's why I want you to tell me what the problem is. Talk to me, Donna, please.”

“You wouldn't understand, you'll laugh at me,” she said, with a shy tone, showing again her true helplessness, one that sometimes you adored.

“I won't, I promise,” you whispered, caressing her face lovingly, giving her a kind of emotional support with your hand.

Donna seemed to want to say something, but after a few seconds, she changed her mind, walking away from you, sitting on the bed with a tired sigh.

“(Y/N)… Do you love me?” the lady asked in a low, almost inaudible voice. You frowned and walked next to her.

“Of course I love you,” you said with a smile, bending down and leaning on her knees, rubbing them affectionately.

The lady in black smiled back at you, a shy smile, almost imperceptible.

“Me too,” she whispered. “And I, I would really like to… You know, show it to you.”

“Fine,” you said, getting up and sitting next to her, comically pinching her cheek, giving your ears another of her shy laughs.

“I just… I need some time,” Donna said with a serious tone, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“It's okay, Donna, I'll give you all the time you need…” you finally said, kissing her lips, sealing that bitter discussion, accepting that, if you wanted to love her fully, you would have to wait.

After that day there weren't many changes. Love, kisses, caresses… Everything seemed to continue as always. That was a good sign, the sign that your own insecurities hadn't affected hers. You pretended to have forgotten, you stopped making suggestions, getting closer to her attraction, you let her go at her own pace.

Donna seemed much calmer with you, she didn't seem to fidget as much when your hand traveled over her chest. But, despite that positive change, that increase in confidence, her shy and embarrassed attitude was still very present.

Making dolls was always something that kept her isolated from the world, including you. Normally, she spent hours in her workshop, working almost obsessively. You were always the one who came down, the one who claimed her attention.

But lately, she told you that she was too busy to allow herself distractions. That didn't surprise you, but that kind of routine escape to the basement did, that time when the lady in black seemed to want to hide.

You had left her alone, she had nothing to fear, you weren't going to throw yourself at her neck. Even so, she always vanished for a while, many times, even without you realizing it. It wasn't a normal situation, but it wasn't something you weren't prepared for either. You just had to remember all those years of loneliness.

“Checkmate, silly,” Angie said, in one of your new and frequent chess games. Donna's absence made the doll's behavior much worse. Something that was also… Suspicious.

“You win again… Yay…” you said with false enthusiasm, knocking down your king.

“I'm the best,” she said proudly, laughing in a way that could scare even the bravest.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, something that alerted the doll.

“Do you have something to say, loser?” she mocked. You blinked cockily and leaned back on the couch.

“Yeah, where's Donna? It's almost two,” you asked, looking at the clock and frowning.

“In her workshop,” Angie answered, placing the pieces back on the board.

“I know. It was a rhetorical question,” you sighed, moving your legs impatiently. “Why aren't you with her?”

Angie shrugged comically.

“I don't know, she said she wanted to be alone,” Angie explained to you, with a surprisingly calmer tone.

“Um…” you said, arching your eyebrows.

“Let's play again,” the doll said, jumping on the floor. You, tired of that situation, shook your head, getting up with a sigh.

“Maybe later. I'm going to look for her, she might have fallen asleep,” you murmured, moving away from the doll, who suddenly turned around, tugging at your dress.

“Donna doesn't want you there, stupid,” Angie protested. You, with a mocking look, released the wooden hands from your clothes.

“Maybe she doesn’t, but I'm her girlfriend,” you said, walking towards the elevator. “I can bother her if I want.”

Sticking your tongue out at Angie, and enduring her angry insults, you went down to the basement. The place was sinister, but that silence... It wasn't normal.

You walked slowly towards the doors of the workshop, uncomfortable for disturbing her, for disobeying her request of not interrupt her work. But that day it was later than usual, and curiosity and suspicion ran through your veins.

“(Y/N)...” a broken whisper reached your ears behind the wooden doors.

You were about to open them, but upon hearing that panting voice, you stopped with a confused look.

Little by little, you opened the door, poking your head through it, with a perfectly rehearsed look of apology.

What you saw almost made you give yourself away.

The lady in black was sitting in front of her work table, with her head down, with her arm moving slowly between her legs. You opened your eyes wide and covered yourself so as not to laugh at that sight.

Her breathing was labored and her movements were calm, but quite obvious, you knew what she was doing perfectly well.

“Hey, Donna,” you said amused, entering the workshop when she seemed more focused, startling her, making her turn around with a terrified look. “Why didn't you wait for me?”

“What are you doing here?!” she shouted furiously, storing her erection in her dress, hiding something that you had already seen, and that it was too late to hide. “I told you not to disturb me! Cazzo! Go away, fuori! Go away!”

“But Donna, what were you doing?” you said, unmovable by the sudden pushes of the doll maker, who trembled with rage and shame.

“Silenzio! Shut up, go away, go away!” the lady shouted, pushing you desperately, not letting you look at her face.

“Hey, stop, you're hurting me,” you said, rubbing one of your shoulders. That was enough to make her stop growling nervously, returning to her table, not letting you see the blush on her cheeks.

“Go away…” she said, breathing deeply, pointing to the workshop door, turning her back on you.

“No, I'm not leaving,” you said sighing, walking slowly towards her, leaning over to see her face disoriented by your intrusion. “Donna…” you hummed. She pressed her lips together, but didn't look at you. “Were you touching yourself?”

“No,” she answered with a dangerous hiss, avoiding eye contact with you despite your movements to get it.

“Of course you were,” you said amused, with that image firmly fixed in your head, an image that, on the other hand, caused a tickling between your legs. “I caught you, honey.”

“So… So what if you caught me,” the doll maker whispered with a broken voice, with anger being a shield for her shame again. “I can do whatever I want. If I want to masturbate, I’ll masturbate.”

“Oh, sure, right…” you said nodding, letting yourself fall into a nearby chair, holding back your laughter at her attitude. “How selfish of you, you could have called me.”

Donna gasped ironically, shaking her head and closing her eye while she buried her head in her arms.

“Damn…” she murmured, pulling at her hair, not knowing how to deal with that situation.

“Come on, it's okay,” you said, calming your laughter and getting a little closer. “It's something natural. You have nothing to be ashamed of... You know what? The other day in the shower... I started thinking about you and...”

“Taci,” she interrupted you, raising her head and sighing in defeat. “You still don't understand anything, do you?”

“Do I have something to understand?” you asked curiously, seeing how the lady in black didn't seem to want to put up with your jokes.

“Do you think I do it just for fun?” she asked back, with a serious look, with your hand again controlling the trembling of hers. You nodded calmly, frowning.

“Well, people usually do it for fun,” you said softly, understandingly.

“I don't,” she said, removing your hand from hers, turning around so you couldn't see her.

“Oh, okay,” you sighed, resting an elbow on the table. Donna looked at you thoughtfully and tilted her head up, letting the air out of her lungs slowly.

“Maybe, maybe… Before I met you I… I did it from time to time, you know, my body asked for it.”

“Uh-huh,” you said understandingly, nodding, listening attentively. “It's a need.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “But when, when I met you… Everything, everything was so different, so… New to me…”

“I understand,” you whispered, tenderly touching her shoulder. She grabbed your hand, interlacing your fingers, lowering it to her lap.

“I've never made love to anyone, (Y/N). I, I guess you already knew that but, but I've never told you,” Donna confessed to you.

Yes, you already knew, but it was true that it was something you sensed, not that you knew for sure.

“I know, don't worry,” you said, keeping that smile that reassured her.

“Not, not even... You know, before, before... This,” she said, briefly pointing to her lap.

“Well, it doesn't have to be a bad thing,” you said, helping her express herself with soft caresses, with eyes that could only convey love.

“It is!” Donna shrieked abruptly, blinking erratically. “You still, you still don't understand it... I'm, I'm afraid of...”

“Of what, my love?” you asked, guiding her face to yours, a sad and embarrassed face, but equally beautiful.

“Of not satisfying you,” the lady finally said, lowering her head.

“What nonsense,” you joked incredulously, finally giving an explanation to that fear, to that reluctance, to that constant rejection.

“It must be nonsense to you. To me it's not,” she said with a slightly dark tone, annoyed by your words. “I don’t… I don’t know if I’ll be able to… You know, last long enough.”

You blinked, holding back your laughter again. Yes, it was an understandable, but a stupid concern for you.

“Donna,” you said, amused. “Is that why you didn’t want to…?”

“I can’t fail you, (Y/N), you, you’re the love of my life and I’m just… I’m just… Useless.”

“Don’t say that,” you whispered lovingly, turning her face back to look at you. She slowly pulled away, shaking her head. “You’re not useless.”

“I am,” she answered abruptly, controlling the desire she had to lose control of her emotions. “I've been, I've been trying for days… Trying, trying to… La, last a little longer…”

“Wait, days?” you asked amused, opening your eyes wide. “Are you telling me that every time you went down to the workshop it was to…?”

Donna just nodded nervously, hiding her embarrassment as best she could.

“Well, well, well…” you murmured, giving her a nudge. “I didn't expect that.”

“You're making fun of me,” the lady hissed, with a dark look, moving away.

“No, no, Donna,” you said hastily. “I'm not making fun of you, I'm just… I'm surprised.”

“Are you surprised because I masturbate to be able to please you?” she asked in an annoyed, offended manner. You nodded effusively.

“Yes, in fact I am,” you whispered, sighing romantically. “No one has ever done… Something like that for me.”

“Enough, stop laughing at me,” Donna said, furious, getting up from the chair, her breathing altered again. You got up too, waving your hands in a gesture of reassurance.

“Yes, I’m laughing at you,” you admitted cockily, crossing your arms. “Oh, Donna, don't worry. I'll enjoy it, I'm sure.”

“That's what you say now,” she growled, pushing away some wild hands that were pulling at her waist. “Then, you'll, you'll get tired and… You'll, you'll leave me.”

You, not wanting to continue another of her self-presenting monologues, silenced the brunette's fears with a quick, intense but short kiss, which made her blink in confusion.

“Donna… You're very sweet,” you whispered romantically, with an amused but sincere smile, returning the softness of her skin to your hands, caressing her cheek. “You don't have to do that for me, do you understand? I will always love you, I will always want you.”

“But, but…” the lady stammered, on the verge of tears.

“Shh,” you hissed, putting a finger on her lips, with a smile that slowly became seductive. “Do you know how to get rid of the fear of heights?”

Donna shook her head, nervous, but accepting your approach.

“Looking over a cliff…” you whispered in her ear, moving away slowly, taking her hand and leaving the workshop with her.

“Where are we going?” she asked confused, with her hand firmly in yours as your steps, increasingly slower, headed towards the bedroom.

“Let's get this over with,” you said in a velvety tone, opening the door, walking with a soft movement of your hips.

“(Y/N), I…” Donna hesitated, silenced again by one of your kisses.

“Come on, darling, look over the cliff. Donna, love me…” you whispered again, biting her earlobe, dragging her to the bed, on top of you, silencing her fears, her protests with hundreds of kisses, with hands that ran over her body.

Donna was unsure, hesitant and trembling, but, somehow, those caresses, those kisses that you never tired of giving her seemed to have their effect. She kissed you back, in a passionate way, following the rhythm marked by your incipient lust, the one that was stirred and altered by that vision in the workshop.

Your fingers took advantage of the distraction your kisses had on her, running down her dress until they found their prey, those buttons that remained her beautiful body hidden, depriving your eyes of a divine vision.

The brunette kissed you passionately, running over your body, fearful but determined to explore it, not to back down.

Her pale skin was exposed to you when you pushed aside that horrible black fabric, when the tips of your fingers felt the exquisiteness of her half-naked torso, forcing your lips to gasp on hers.

“Donna…” you whispered with a mischievous smile, making her look at you, her eye locking with yours as you guided her hand to the ties of your own dress, which, impatient and expectant, gave way to the skill of her slender fingers.

“Così bella…” she murmured, enthralled by your skin now free of clothing, by your bare shoulders serving as a prelude to the discovery of your body.

You laughed provocatively at those sweet words, those that always made you tremble, pulling down her dress, uncovering her shoulders, letting the fabric, also black, of her bra be your next victim.

“Don't stop kissing me, my love…” you murmured, capturing her lips again, sinking your hands into her soft black hair, drawing her body towards yours, your partially uncovered torsos rubbing together, your hips dancing slowly.

She complied with your request, not letting your lips rest, caressing her tongue with yours, wet, warm kisses, completely different from any other display of affection.

Your hands moved down her back, the clasp of her bra yielding to your fingers, eliciting a soft moan from Donna, one that made you writhe in pleasure. She moved to free herself from that annoying garment, letting your hands now travel to her almost perfect breasts, shiny, pale like her skin, beautiful like her.

The lady in black laughed at your curious touch, at some soft pinches on her nipples, daring to do the same, to mercilessly attack your bra and lower her kisses down your neck.

The panting became rhythmic, measured, matching the movements of your hands, your mouth, your fingers running over her skin, lowering the bottom of her dress little by little, and yours next to it.

“You have a beautiful body,” you commented, breathing after another round of tireless, inexhaustible, pleasurable kisses... She looked at you curiously, then looked at herself, shaking her head. “Well, I'm not surprised. You're a beautiful woman, Donna.”

“You're quite a nice talker,” she said, amused, running the palm of her hand over your breasts, studying every inch of your skin, sighing at the sensations her touch caused, how your flesh felt goosebumps with just the touch of her fingers.

“I'm being honest,” you joked, biting your lip, observing her face in love, a face curious about your body.

“Get, get naked, please,” she asked you in a softer, more pleading tone. You frowned but smiled mischievously, slowly pulling down the rest of your dress, playing with your underwear under her watchful gaze.

“What about you? Come on...” you joked, throwing your clothes in the air, running a hand over her hips, down her back, playing with your movements, noticing her arousal, one that you wanted to see free from its prison.

Donna hesitated again, embarrassed, but your soft kisses, your bright gaze seemed to convince her, moving aside those dark clothes to let you see the rest of her body, so you could admire her beauty, the one she tried so hard to hide.

“Not bad, huh?” you said, biting your lip, admiring her already released erection, the physical desire that showed how much Donna wanted to do that, how much not to feel capable of doing it hurt her. She shook her head, looking at herself and blushing.

“Don’t, don't look at it that way,” the brunette told you shyly, kissing you again so you would stop bothering her with your lascivious gaze.

“I like looking at it, it's nice,” you said in a seductive tone, savoring your words, those that you knew made her more nervous.

“No one had ever said something like that to me, it's embarrassing,” Donna said, laughing shyly.

 She positioned herself better, brushing your now discovered wetness, caressing your folds with curiosity, but strangely, skillfully, knowing what to touch, what to massage….

“Donna…” you moaned when her stimulation made you tremble, when the pleasure of her fingers brushed your clit, exploring your wetness, caressing it as if it were something fragile, beautiful. “That, that's… Great.”

She smiled pleased by your approval, but with a sad face. Yes, you should have known, she wasn't always like this, she knew what she had to do to your body to make it tremble with pleasure.

But you weren't the protagonist. You weren't the one who had to lose your fear. No, that was for Donna, only for Donna.

With a playful laugh, you reached between her legs, unexpectedly grabbing her shaft, stimulating it with gentle caresses, holding it with your fingers, gently moving up and down, positioning it at your entrance.

“Come on, baby, love me…” you whispered, moving your hips so her erection brushed against your wetness, so your entrance received those caresses. The brunette moaned at the contact, closing her eye at that newly discovered pleasure.

Donna nodded, moving to make her way into your body, slowly penetrating you, enjoying every moment of that sensation, the wet journey of her penis inside of you, the welcoming embrace of your wet walls, stretching slowly.

You moaned, surprised by the sensation, overwhelmed by that pleasure you desired and now had.

“Si… si sente così… Bene…” the doll maker stammered, moving very slowly, letting your body receive her, embrace her, experience the unparalleled pleasure of that first time. “Does… Does it hurt?”

You opened your eyes, getting used to that sensation, with the pleasure running through your body, sending electric currents through your nervous system.

“No, of course it doesn’t…” you said smiling, caressing her cheek, enjoying her erratic gaze, disoriented by the pleasure. “But it’s… Quite big…”

“Don't say that, per favore,” she said nervously, looking away, stopping moving, unsure of the shame your lascivious words caused her.

“Okay,” you said, calming the ferocity of your desire, moving your hands to her waist, moving her slowly to resume the pleasure of her body inside of yours. “Move, Donna.”

She nodded nervously, dancing slowly with her hips, moaning at each slow thrust, at how your body caressed her, surrounded her and squeezed her tightly, giving her even more pleasure.

“I, I would have liked to hurt you…” she murmured, now with a constant rhythm, making you stop moaning, opening your eyes with a frown. “So… I would know that… You are only mine…”

You knew she was letting herself get carried away by the pleasure, in fact, you found that brief burst of possessiveness quite erotic, forcing your hips to keep pace with hers, to move a bit faster, just a bit, without losing that warm and soft rhythm.

“Donna, keep going, keep going…” you moaned, losing control too, nervously shaking at her moans, at that shy voice that came out of her lips, at those words that you didn’t understand, but you knew that they only were worshiping your body.

“Wait, wait,” she said suddenly, slowly pulling out of you, shaking her head. You looked at her frustrated at the loss of the path to your release, thinking that, surely, hers was also embarrassingly close.

“Hey, baby, if you're going to cum, do it, it's okay. Don't hold back,” you said with a voice filled with lust, but with the softness that the situation required.

“No, it's not that, I... I want, I want you to... Turn around, please,” Donna asked you, embarrassed. You smiled, seeing that she had finally lost her fear. It would be better not to tell her that it always was your favorite position.

“Mm, okay,” you purred, kissing her quickly and turning yourself onto your stomach while she raised your hips, not wanting to waste time, entering you again, moving your body with her hands.

“Oh, yes... Just like that...” she moaned, thrusting into you in that same slow way, but now more intense, letting you feel her completely, letting her slide, stretching your walls from that different angle. “You are, you are mine, tesoro…”

“I’m yours,” you moaned, gripping the sheets, noticing how your body was shaking worse. Donna moaned again when she heard you, moving faster.

“I, I'm sorry…I, I can't hold it any longer… I'm… I'm going to…” she said nervously, unable to let your hips go, digging her nails into your skin.

“Please… Do it…” you moaned, with a sweet voice, broken by a familiar feeling, by those little tremors in your legs and the desire your muscles had to tense. “Donna… I'm going… I'm going to… Ah!”

You couldn't help it. Your back arched, your walls tightened around her as your orgasm ran through your body.

“Oh…” Donna moaned, overcome by that sensation, releasing herself almost at the same time, inside of you, filling you, claiming you, caressing you with a wet touch, with her warmth seed, stimulating your lust even more. “Cazzo…”

Silence reigned in the room only interrupted by a few nervous breaths, some that tried to recover the air that was missing.

“Donna, come,” you said in a whisper, turning around when she left you, pulling her hand to accompany you to the side of the bed, hugging her with your still trembling hands.

“I, I told you I wouldn't last enough…” she said in a sad voice, snuggling into your chest, embarrassed. You couldn't help but laugh. “(Y/N)…” she whispered annoyed.

“Nonsense Donna, it's been wonderful. You are wonderful.”

[nanaminsmoon]

hiiii, so sorry if this is a lil long but bare w me pls, i love ur writing btw <3

ok: reader & plug!ony broke up about a year ago bc of something ony did (something bad but not like 100% unforgivable) but the feelings never left. he’s been tryna get her back over the year but she wasn’t budging cus she hadn’t seen any growth. recently tho she’s noticed he’s growing & she misses him. then at a function, she sees him pop out w a new girl & all their friends are staring at her like waiting for a reaction and in a littleee moment of jealousy, she goes up to ony like “you’re mine for life right?” and he jumps away from the other girl so fast like he BEEN waiting on this news 😭😭

omg thank you!! i was about to write something just like this but this is so much better!! i hope you like it and i'm sorry it took so long i just wanted it to be okay😭

cw: kinda angsty, oral (f receiving), car sex, ony calls reader 'ma', n word usage, mentions of breeding.

wc: 3913

atonement is hardly ever easy, and ony knew that first-hand. closing the gap between you and the person you once held closest to you can, surprisingly, be very difficult. even if a year of ‘separation’ is spent showing up at your ex-lovers’ door, or workplace, nail tech, or hair lady’s house. sometimes getting back to where you once where is needlessly difficult. especially if your definitions of said place are vastly different.

from the outside looking in, you and ony’s relationship had been picture perfect. he loved you as much as you loved him, and he wasn’t shy about it. everyone knew not to even look at you wrong, because they knew that they would have ony to deal with—and no one fucked with ony’s girl. except for him. because that picture had been held by a fraudulent frame; purposely hung over the large dent in your relationship. that being, his occupation.

from small kickbacks, to rich white kids who want to snort rebellion off their house keys, everyone had one thing in common—ony. no party started until ony got there and, as happy as you were for him, that didn’t come without its burdens. ony was almost always out dealing, giving you very little quality time to hang out. on the few occasions you got his undivided attention for more than a few hours, your peace would be interrupted by the ear-splitting noise erupting from his stupid nokia burner phone.

of course, small huffs of disappointment would slip past your lips when he told you that he had to leave. but you were used to it now, and that’s what helped ony sleep at night; knowing that you had become inured to his disconcerting disappearances, and abrupt reappearances. you knew that other people needed him, even if it meant that your needs were temporarily pushed aside. one time you had asked him, why it always had to be him that they called, and his response had been:

”my shit is the best, ma.”, said through a chortle, as he put his shoes on by your front door.

”i get that, but what about me?”, your arms crossed, as you tilted your head at your man—ony’s weakness. once you did that, with that look in your eyes, he couldn’t say no to you. but tonight, his priorities were different.

just let me do what i gotta do, and i’ll come right back to you. then i’m yours for the whole night.”, he had reassured, kissing your temple.

”just for the night?”, you scoffed.

”for life. now stay here, and i’ll be back.”, and that would appease you for the evening. but there’s only so much cracking one heart can do, before no adhesive can keep it whole, and it shatters into a million pieces. that night, you stripped yourself of ony’s shirt you had been wearing, and threw it into the corner of your bedroom; it smelt too much like him, and you hated it.

harmless hatred became deep disdain on the evening of your birthday. you had organised a dinner for a few of your closest friends and family, and had vehemently stressed to ony that he had to be there on time. because, if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t just be wasting your time, but he’d be wasting that of those closest to you as well. and he had promised you that if there’s something that had to be handled during the time of your dinner, he’d get connie or eren to do it so he could be with you. but 15 minutes of waiting for him became 30. and 30 soon became an hour, and your friends grew reasonably irate due to hunger. so you said they could order, and you’d just call ony one more time. but in a time where all you wanted to hear was your boyfriend’s voice, all you were met with was rings on the other line. that sound resounded all over the side of your face. and that feeling grew once the realisation hit that had you been a client, he wouldn’t have let the phone ring for more than five seconds. and that gave you a lot to think about.

you didn’t know how long the dinner lasted because your focus had remained on keeping your tears from falling into your food. you hated how pitiful you looked, lifting your head up every time someone walked into the restaurant, and the crestfallen expression that landed on your face each time you saw it wasn’t ony. it made no sense to you how the man who swore he would do anything for you, the man who placed a band on your ring finger, promising you that one day he’d marry you. the man who swore he had never loved anyone more than you, refused to put you before something so fleeting.

ony finally did show up though…two hours after the dinner had ended. heartbroken cries in your bedroom, had constantly been interrupted by calls coming from ony’s contact. but every single one went unanswered; he needed to feel what you felt when he had embarrassed you in front of your loved ones. though mere missed calls could never compare to the taste of your celebratory dinner food meshing awkwardly with the swallowed cries in your throat, you had to make him feel a morsel of the anguish he had put you through.

if ony could’ve gone full 2000s rnb music video; shirtless, singing outside your window with his chain blowing in the windy rain, he would’ve done. he would’ve even started throwing pebbles if he could, but your apartment was too high on your building. so he just settled on incessantly pressing the button next to your door number. and, after the nth try, you opened the door for him and he ran inside—pressing the elevator button a thousand times once he got in. and, just as he was about to knock on the door, it opened. and you stood on the other side, utterly unimpressed; bonnet on, your own pyjamas (instead of one of his shirts), and eyes reddened by tears. the impact caused by his heart unceremoniously dropping to the pit of his stomach caused a soft sigh to leave his mouth. then his lips began moving to explain himself.

“look, i'm sorry. i lost track of ti—”, his explanations were waved off—your own thoughts outweighing whatever he had to say to you.

“we're done, ony.”, was all you said to him before closing the door, and ony’s brain turned off, then back on again because what the fuck did you just say??

“y/n, open the door”, he banged on the door. and, not wanting any noise complaints, you opened it.

“what?”, you scowled.

“the fuck you mean done? talk to me”, ony’s hand reached out to yours, but quickly retreated when you pulled back from him. you had never done that; even when you were mad at him, you at least gave him a chance to get back into your good books again.

“you missed my birthday dinner, ony”, your voice was small, tears about to fall yet again.

“i know, and i'm sor—”,

“two years in a row.”,

“like i said, i'm sor—”,

“and my graduation, the party we had when i finally got my drivers license, the lunch you promised me on my first day at my new job. and you were meant to be my date at my sisters wedding.”, every example was punctuated by your fingertip harshly poking at his chest, and the tears just started falling on their own.

“i'm sorry, y/n”, ony’s voice started cracking, as his hand embraced the hand you had been poking him with.

“sorry isn't good enough anymore, ony. i deserve someone who prioritises me”,

“but everything i do is for us.”, he kissed your hand, “imma use this money to buy you ever—”,

“do you not understand that i don't want your money or gifts? i want you, ony.”, your breathed out, exasperation deeply set in your voice, and in your slumping posture, “anyone could give me bags and shoes, ony. but only you could give me your time. but you won’t, and that's the problem”

“so what, this is it?”,

“until you figure yourself out, yeah.”, you slid your hand from him, “it pains me because i love you so much, but i can’t keep living like this. if you're not ready for a girlfriend then you should've never got with me”

“but i am ready”, he pleaded.

“then act like it.”. were the words that echoed in ony’s head every time he showed up to the places he saw you posting on your story—heart holding hopes that your paths would cross. you didn’t know how he did it, but ony became your shadow for nearly the whole year you spent separated. even when you told him to give it up, he refused; sending bouquets of flowers to your workplace every few days, talking to you through your friends and family, and even showing up to your job to make up for that lunch he promised you. it hurt you to turn him away when you could see in his eyes that he would give up the world to have you in his orbit again. but, when you would ask him about where he got the money to even buy you these flowers in the first place, his silence was very telling.

but word on the street was that ony was a changed man now. your sources told you that he wasn’t dealing as much, and he had gotten a job. those sources being his instagram story that you watched through a burner account. seeing him everywhere made it impossible for you to wash yourself of him completely, so desparate times called for desparate measures. you missed that man so much, it was driving you crazy. it pissed you off seeing him being the man you had asked him to be, but not having the chance to bask in his progress. your love for ony wouldn’t vanish overnight, but it sure as hell hadn’t faded in the year you had been separated either. you kept his shirts and hoodies, and the promise ring he bought you was still on your finger.

so elated didn’t even begin to explain the feeling in your chest when, upon arriving at some house party, one of your girls told you that ony was there too. you tried to not seem so eager, but you had no control over your heart beating rapidly at the idea that you might see him again. all you needed was for him to apologise one more time, and you’d be all his. that was until you came to find that there was a hole blocking your reunion—that hole being in the shape of some girl giggling in his face, as his arm sat around her waist. every fibre of your being urged you to stomp over there, and scream his ear off. but he wasn’t your man anymore so there was nothing you could do but kiss your teeth and glower that them.

no man, not even ony, could get in the way of you and your friends enjoying yourselves. so that’s exactly what you did. for an hour, or two, ony didn’t exist and you just laughed and danced with your friends. however, the end of that would be marked when you stood, talking some guy you had just met, and one of your friends nudged you and nodded in ony’s direction.

“that doesn't bother you?”, she asked, obviously asking about the girl sat on ony’s lap.

“why would it?”, you shrugged back.

“you ain't say you missed the nigga?”, your other friend chimed in.

“okay? that doesn't mean i want him back”, you lied through your teeth.

“so you’re just missing him as hobby?”, sasha laughed.

“leave me alone.”, you chided, and your friends dropped the whole thing. but you wished those saltine whispers of jealousy would leave your eyes, and let you at least pretend to enjoy yourself in peace.

and if it wasn’t them ruining your fun, it was the girl’s friends staring at you.

“why are her friends looking at me?”, you whispered to connie. he had come over to speak to you, and that had caught ony’s attention. mainly because he wondered why you were willing to speak to his friend, but not him.

“they’re gloating.”, connie put a comforting arm around you, and pulled you closer to himself.

“well, tell them to stop.”, as if you could feel ony’s eyes on you, you moved connie’s arm from you, and connie laughed before putting it back where it was.

“they won’t. in their mind, she stole ony from you.”, he explained, and you scoffed.

“pfft, i could get that nigga back anytime i wanted”, you retorted, earning some knowing looks from your friends, before unprecedented words fell from sasha’s mouth.

“then do it.”, she nudged you, “you keep saying you want him so bad, go get him. he’s your man. go collect him”, that didn’t sound like a suggestion, it sounded like a dare. and you were never one to back down from a dare.

“fuck it”.

you didn’t know where your strides were leading you until you were barging past ony’s friends to link your arm around his own. at first, his body went into fight or flight because he thought he was about to be robbed, then calm came in the sound of your voice,

“ony, baby, where did you go? i've been looking for you everywhere”, you made sure to stick yourself onto him, and he didn’t move from you because he was too busy comprehending what the fuck was going on.

“y/n?”,

“i thought you guys were done?”, miss.whatever-her-name-was, linked ony’s other arm with her own, and pulled him towards herself.

“yeah, so did i”, ony spoke under his breath, looking down at you in bewilderment as he thought to himself; ”how much did i fucking smoke?”.

“who’s done?”, you looked up at him, “you’re mine for life, right?”, you pouted up at him, and all those memories of that night he had promised you he wouldn’t be long, came flooding back—ony folded immediately.

“always.”, he grinned at you, simultaneously yanking his arm away from whatever her name was.

“ony?”, she complained—now it was your turn to gloat.

“what?”, he sneered at her.

“you told me you guys were done”, she whined, and he rolled his eyes at her.

“well then don’t believe everything a nigga tells you”, was his final rebuttal before he pulled you outside.

at first, you just sat in silence, taking in the cool summer breeze. but ony had questions and, more importantly, he wanted to hear your voice.

“you forgive me then?”, his elbow gently met your arm.

“who said that?”, you stared down at your feet, kicking into the ground beneath you.

“you don't forgive me but you wanna do all that shit back there?”, he laughed.

“she didn't look good for you”, you finally looked up at him, and ony just laughed at you.

“you don't know her”,

“i just got that vibe”, you feigned a shudder, eyes still on him.

“what'd you really want, y/n?”, his index finger lifted your chin.

“you.”, your frank demeanour, and sincere eye contact, blew ony’s eyes wide open.

“well, you got me.”, as much as ony had changed in that year, his love for you remained incorrigible, and he’d be dumb to try and convince you otherwise. so he wouldn’t; he’d been wanting you back for far too long, and he’d finally gotten what he wanted.

“that easy?”, you teased.

“even if you’re not mine, i’ll always be yours, y/n. you know that”, ony’s words directed themselves at your lips; brown irises stuck onto your shining gloss.

“well then…can i be yours again?”, you muttered apprehensively, and the pause after that comment was unreadable.

“y’don’t even have to ask, c’mere”, ony reached his hand out to you.

gentle fingers, interlocked with yours, led you out of the party, and down a road that would end at ony’s car—parked overlooking the local area. he wasted no time; unlocking it before opening the back door, and gesturing for you to get in.

"already? you don’t at least want to talk first?”, you laughed at how keen he was, and a lazy smirk graced his face.

”we’ll talk after. get in.”, any anger, or disappointment, built up over the time you were together, had been mollified with just one comment. missing ony was something you never wanted to do again, and seeing the person he had apparently become, meant that you probably never would. all memories of past arguments, and splits, dispersed in ony’s mind once his lips met yours in a fervent kiss. it was one of longing, and regret. the heat emanating off his body causing particles of his internal regret to fill the inside of the car. you could feel it bouncing off your skin, as his tongue met with yours, and his hands kneaded at your flesh through your clothes. ultimately moving south to help you shimmy your way out of your jeans and underwear. he wouldn’t take them off completely, just leave them by your ankles as he laid you on your back, his mouth already placing soft kisses on your upper thigh. that lasted all of five seconds before ony’s tongue was wrapping around your clit, sucking on it gently. for him, this was a meal that was long overdue, and you could feel it in the way he ate you out like a starved man. taking no breaks; wet noises and thirsty moans, omitted by the ever-moving mouth entertaining your core, pervaded the vehicle.

ony had always luxuriated in eating you out, so it wasn’t long until you came; a rivulet dousing his lower face, before he finally came up for air.

”you still taste as good as i remember”, he uttered lowly, moving to give you a taste of yourself as he pressed his lips against yours. his kisses were haste as his hands fumbled to pull down his jeans and boxers, to angle himself at your entrance. the way you took in that first inch of him had him incapacitated; his forehead dropped to meet yours, while deep groans left his mouth.

”fuck…”, ony had to pause to compose himself before he gently pushed the rest of his length inside you. once he did, he just stayed there; eyes locked with yours, thanks to the streetlights, and you could’ve sworn that this man was close to tears with the way his eyes were glossing over.

the way he was fucking you was ineffable; a year was nothing compared to the others ony had spent studying your body, and the things it reacted to. like the way you’d grow tighter around him at his hands pressing your legs against your chest, as he fucked into you. even in the confined space, head crouched down so he didn’t hit the ceiling, ony still fucked you like you were in the comfort of his bedroom—with all the space, and time, in the world. his ireful tip would caress that spongy spot inside of you, over and over again, making your head spin. all those years of learning your body had not been in vain, because a few minutes in that position, and you came around him. keening his name, as your back lifted off the leather seats. ony was planning on taking you back to his place, and making up for lost time properly. but, for now, he would just turn you around and fuck into you from the back—your hands immediately finding the steamy windows,

”don’t do that, ma. people will know what we’re doin’ in here”, he chuckled at you and you moaned out a distorted version of,

”and the moving car doesn’t make it obvious?”. somehow, ony understood you; he was just used to your fucked out rebuttals, and he scoffed at you before giving the moving flesh surrounding your hips two quick slaps. your hands grabbed at anything they could to gain balance, ultimately deciding on the arm rest on the door. and ony’s hands would follow suit, but as he went to intertwine your fingers, his hands were met with cold metal. it was pretty dark in there, so he couldn’t really make out what it was, but a fleeting headlight revealed the ring he had bought you.

“still got that ring on?”, he smiled to himself.

“you p-promised me…”, you stammered out.

“that i’d marry you.”, his eyes softened at the fact that you had been wearing that ring, despite not being together. all because of that lovestruck vow he had made you,

“and imma keep to that promise. imma marry you, then imma fuck some babies into you”, he spoke to you, “that okay with you?”, you moaned out in loud agreement, and that drove ony to fuck you harder.

“good.”, the thought of you being his wife, sat in your marital bed, with his child in your arms sent him over the edge, and ony came in you. deep hums, containing declarations of his love, spilt all over the back of your neck. but his hips didn’t still because he could feel you coming again.

once you both came down from your orgasms, ony laid you down on your side, before pulling his boxers and jeans up and leaving the car momentarily to turn the car on. he opened the windows slightly, before returning to the back of the car. his back would soon be attached to the back door, yours against his chest as your fingers intertwined. even though you hadn’t covered yourself yet, and his nut was leaking out of you onto the leather seats, everything just seemed perfect. in its own weird way; you in ony’s arms again, and his lips pressing loving kisses on your temple.

”y’know it would’ve taken just one more knock at my front door for me to forgive you?”, you looked up at him. and, once the initial shock subsided, he chuckled at you.

”but i kinda think it’s better this way.”, he shrugged.

”how?”, you sat up to face him properly.

”it felt good to finally be able to give you my attention when you asked it of me.”, he smiled, reaching out to stroke your cheek, ”no interruptions. just us.”, after all the emotional turmoil, it was nice hearing that word again; ”us”.

”for life.”, you kissed his knuckle.

”for life.”

© Rights owned by nanaminsmooninc. Do not repost without permission.

[so-fuck-what-im-dreaming]

Date Night | Damiano David

Pairing : Damiano David x Reader

Prompt : A post I saw a while ago where someone was talking about a speakeasy they had been to that also doubled as a tattoo parlour and I couldn't stop thinking about it...

Warnings: Poor Italian translations, bad tattooing process and aftercare, not proof-read

Word Count: 2527

“Are you ready to go Amore?” He asks, walking back into your shared bedroom and standing behind you as you looked in the mirror, slipping your earrings in. “Though I don’t really know why I’m asking, considering I have absolutely no Idea where you’re taking me,” He says with a soft laugh as he places his hands on your hips, pulling you into him.

“I promise you’ll love it,” You assure him as you lean back, resting your head on his chest.

“I’m sure I will,” He says as he starts to kiss your neck. The warm Rome air was flowing through the apartment, all the windows and doors open creating a nice breeze. This was your happy place, here with him. “Mmh…let's get going,” He teases, pulling away from you.

“You just don’t like surprises do you?” You ask him as you put your sandals on, buckling them at your ankle.

“You know I don’t” He says with a grin as He spritzes himself with his cologne. 

You left the apartment hand-in-hand as you walked towards the metro station, it was only a few stops away so you were quickly off again. You double checked the distance when you got out and it was only a five minute walk. You passed the Circo Massimo and you reminisced about when Damiano played there a few years ago. You had only been dating around a year when He begged you to come, guaranteeing you it would be the best night of your life and He had definitely not been lying. 

You had heard the band practising before, even having sat in on some recording sessions…but there was something different about seeing them perform, seeing Him perform. Damiano was almost a different person. He was raw, unapologetic and very fucking hot. Not that He wasn’t anyway but somehow it had been taken to a whole new level.

“It should be just here…” You say looking down at the map on your phone.

“Are you sure Amore? I think your map might be wrong…” He says looking around. You spot what you’re looking for. A dark wooden door with a golden ‘T’ and matching knocker.

“Follow me,” You say with a wide smile on your face as you pull Damiano with you. You knock on the door three times followed by saying the word ‘Sfizio’. A moment passes before you hear it unlocking and the door swinging open. 

“Benvenuti Signore e Signora,” The Doorman says, nodding in your direction as you walk past him. 

“Welcome to temptazione,” You say quietly to Damiano as you both take a moment to soak in the atmosphere. There’s a light haze of cigarette smoke and the smell of expensive cologne filling the air as you’re silently led to a booth in the corner.. 

“Wow…where did you find this place?” He asks, both of you sliding into the dark green leather lined booth.

“Friend of a friend is one of the owners…it opened up a few weeks ago and as soon as I heard about it I knew I had to bring you,” You say, not wanting to give up the biggest secret yet.

The lady who had sat you left a menu card and a small piece of paper. ‘you’ll be seen at 11’ 

“What's that?” He asks as you look at the paper.

“The second surprise of the night…but it looks like you’ll have to wait,” You tease him

“You just can’t help yourself can you?” He asks and you just shake your head. You had just over an hour to kill until it was your turn so Damiano offers to grab the first round of drinks. By half past you were two drinks in, Damiano’s arm wrapped around your shoulders as you alternated between slowly kissing and quietly talking. The next half an hour seemed to go pretty quickly and soon enough you were being escorted down a dark hallway, your boyfriends fingers laced into yours as you followed,

“Leo will be your artist tonight, godere,” She says before leaving you. You turn to Damiano and you can see all the pieces starting to click into place.

“Is this what I think it is?” He asks and you nod, a smile spreading across your face. You had gotten a few tattoos in the past, nowhere near as many as He had and you had been saying for years that you wanted to get them done together some day. “-and you want to?” He asks and you nod again. When he sees your reaction you're pulled into his chest, lips colliding with his. “You’re perfect” He whispers before you're interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway.

“11 O’Clock?” A guy asks as he comes into the room.

“Yes,” You answer and He pulls back a curtain revealing a large leather chair and a tattoo station.

“Do you know what you want?” He asks and you look over at Damiano. 

“I was wondering if we chose for each other,” You suggest, and Damiano’s wide smile was a good enough answer.

“Do you want to leave it as a surprise?” Leo asks, opening a drawer and pulling out a black silk blindfold. You were definitely not a stranger to a silk blindfold. “ I can wrap it up for you so you can wait until you get home to see it? Quite a few of our couples do,” He offers and you both like the sound of that.

You were always slightly nervous before a new tattoo and Damiano knew that. “Let me go first, Amore,” He says, kissing your forehead. “Where do you want it?” He asks.

“Where have you got space is probably a better question,” You reply with a smile and He starts to unbutton his shirt. He shrugs it off and hangs it up on the hook behind the door. As he looks at himself in the mirror trying to see where you could put it you can’t help but admire him. A soft smile rested upon your lips as you let your eyes roam over his body.

“Up here Amore,” He says, directing your gaze back up his chest. “Either the top of my ribcage or just above my waistband?” He suggests, pointing out the two areas.

“I think here should be perfect,” You say, brushing your hand over the top of his ribcage. Damiano heads over to the chair and lays down. 

“Do you know what you’d like Signora?” Leo asks.

“I do, can I have a pen and paper…wouldn’t want to give anything away,” You say smiling up at your boyfriend. He quickly hands them to you and you draw out your design. “If you can do it as close to that as you can, that would be amazing,” You say and he nods. Leo hands you the silk blindfold before leaving the room to make a template of your design.

You moved towards Damiano, walking around the chair so you were looking down at him. He sits his head up slightly so you could tie the blindfold around his eyes.

“Oh how the tables have turned,” You say quietly, moving to sit on the edge of the seat. You slowly run your hand over his chest, paying special attention where his new tattoo will be. You lean down to press your lips to the base of his neck, slowly kissing your way up towards his jawline.

“Per favore…Amore,” He says but you’re interrupted again. Leo pays no mind to the position he found you in as he showed you the template.

“It's perfect,” You say with a smile, getting up and moving to sit in the chair on the other side. Damiano turns onto his side so Leo can reach his ribcage. The tattoo takes about five minutes, maybe not even that. He moisturises the area and covers it up so it’s hidden from prying eyes.

“That means it’s your turn, Amore,” Damiano says, pulling the blindfold from his face and smiling at you.

“I guess it is…how do you want me Signore David?” You ask with a grin as He stands up and walks you over towards the mirror. 

“May I?” He asks and you nod, before taking the back zip of your dress in between his fingers and pulling it down slightly. The dress hung around your waist, revealing the laced bra you wore underneath it. He moved his hand onto your stomach, dragging one of his fingers along the area where your skin disappeared under the lace. “What about here?” He asks.

“I like it,” You say with a smile and He seems pleased with his decision. You look down and see Damiano pulling the black silk out of his pocket. 

“Your turn,” He says as he ties it around your eyes. You feel his fingers lace into yours as he leads you over towards the chair, you carefully sit down, making sure your dress doesn't fall any further.

“Signore? Your design?” Leo asks Dami, who asks to speak to him away from me. Leo leaves the room and I can feel Damiano coming back over to me.

“Leo’s just gone to make the template…he’ll be back in a moment,” He says quietly, only a few inches from my ear. “I think it’s going to look beautiful Amore,” He says, tracing the area again with his finger…then something else…you can feel his breath on your stomach so it must be his tongue. 

“Dami…” You moan softly but he stops…drying the area so nobody would know. 

“Later, I promise,” He says, gently squeezing your thigh as He sits up…Leo having come back into the room.

“Signora…do you mind taking off your bra…I think the fabric might get in the way,” He asks and you sit up, a guy's hands, who you know for a fact are Damiano’s wrap around you, unhooking the bra and moving it away. Your nipples peak at the sudden cold air, then an alcohol wipe to disinfect the area is gently brushed over the area before the design is transferred onto your skin.

“Just stay nice and still for us Amore,” Damiano says, relieving you of any worry or concern you had. 

“Signore…would you like to do it?” Leo asks and there's a moment of silence.

“That's not up to me…Amore?” He asks and you quickly agree.

“Yes, of course,” You say, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the thought of Damiano tattooing something that would be on your body forever. You could still hear the music from the bar as they concentrated, the only other sound being that of the tattoo gun. You didn’t find it particularly painful and before you knew it, it was done. Damiano followed the same routine that Leo did with the aftercare before wrapping it up.

“You did so good,” Damiano says as He kisses your forehead. The silk blindfold is untied, left to drop into your lap.

“I’ll leave you two to get dressed…the charge has been added to your bill. It was a pleasure working with you Signore e Signora,” Leo says with a smile before quickly leaving the room. You loosen your bra slightly so it doesn’t affect the dressing before you pull your dress back up, over your shoulders. Damiano had already buttoned up his shirt by the time his hands reached for the zipper again, gently tugging it up.

“That was amazing Amore, thank you so much,” He says, kissing your shoulder blade.

“Thank you for tattooing me,” You say with a slight laugh. Damiano would later tell you that Leo had been following him on social media so had seen that He had tattooed before, so the whole ‘would you like to’ was a farce.

It was nearing midnight by the time you got back to the bar, both of you deciding to finish your drinks before heading home. Damiano’s jacket was draped over your shoulders as the cool air settled in on your journey home. The metro was quiet and the streets near your apartment were even quieter.

You had decided that you would both wait a week till revealing your new tattoos, wanting to give them time to heal before seeing them for the first time.

..................

The next week flew by, Damiano back in the studio, You were back in the office. It was a pretty unremarkable week that was all counting down towards the day you would finally see your tattoo. Damiano had ordered your favourite food for delivery, you had eaten whilst watching a movie you both wanted to see, a very nice bottle of red wine had been cracked open but both of you knew what the other was waiting for.

“I think it’s time,” You say to him as the film finishes.

“I think so too,” He says, getting up from the couch and taking you by the hand. He led you into your bedroom and towards the mirror. He pulled your shirt off of you whilst you unbuttoned his. Dropping both onto the floor in a crumpled heap. You watched as He moved to his bedside table, pulling out a very familiar black silk blindfold. “I’m going to clean it up before you see it, ok?” He asks, tying the silk around your head for the second time. He takes your bra off and can feel him peeling away the adhesive dressing. He headed into the bathroom and grabbed a damp towel, gently brushing it over the tattoo making sure it was clean and healing properly.

He positioned you in front of the mirror.

“Ready,” He asks and you nod, he removes the blindfold and you look down at your left breast. The dark black inked words cupping it. ‘Il Ballo Della Vita’ Curved around, identical to his, but this time in his handwriting, done by his hand.

“I…I love it,” You say, slightly lost for words. “It’s perfect Dami,” You say, unable to take your eyes off of it. You finally managed to tear your eyes away from it to turn around, pulling him down into a long and drawn out kiss. “Thank you,” You whisper with a wide smile on your face.

The silk is wrapped around his eyes now, damp towel gently wiping at the tattoo before letting him see. You were very impressed at how much it looked like your handwriting…Leo had done a very good job. You untied the blindfold, throwing it behind you and onto the bed as Damiano’s eyes travelled down his own body, locking onto the written words. ‘Sarò ciò che respiri’ Your favourite line from the song He wrote about you.

“You are what I breathe…” You say quietly, now it was his turn to be unable to tear his eyes away. It was very rare that Damiano was speechless…his whole job was putting his emotions into words…but this had stumped him.

“I…” He tries to say but to no luck. You smile to yourself…you definitely won. “It's perfect…you’re perfect…fuck, I love you so much Amore,” He says pulling you into his arms. “How about we put that blindfold to another use?” He asks quietly against the shell of your ear.

finite

[sacharinee]

hey! so i’ve noticed all your office references and it’s one of my favourite shows ever <3 i was wondering if you’d write something where the reader and bf!peter are both obsessed with the show and quote it at any given moment, confusing (and probably annoying) everyone around them. i love your fics by the way!!

pairing: bf!peter parker x reader

w/c: 800 ish

a/n: dinnertime with the avengers edition! peter and reader being an annoying power duo. a crap ton of office references obviously. this is so weird and all over the place BUT it was so much fun writing. i tweaked ur request a teeny bit to them simply saying lines from the show, but everyone is just as confused and annoyed lmao i hope ur okay w that!! this is also my first time writing with the avengers so i tried my best on getting them right. thank u so much for requesting this!! i had an entire office marathon playing in the background while writing this 

“the food looks great, nat,” you take your seat at the dining table.

“yea, it’s amazing, thanks for cooking tonight,” peter chimes in.

you both are sat at the dinner table in the lavish dining room among the earth’s mightiest heroes, who also happen to be your colleagues. 

“wait, where did you learn to make all of this? i never pegged you as a cook,” tony questions.

“i’m not,” the redhead answers, “my fake mother used to make this dish all the time when i was younger,” 

“awe, that’s adorable,” thor replies.

“right before she and my fake father sold me and had me brainwashed.” 

the others freeze midchew and stare as scott drops his fork against his plate.

nat clears her throat, “so anyways, enjoy,” and takes her seat.

the rest of you begin placing heaps of food onto each other’s plates and digging into the meal in front of you.

“well, um,” tony sips his water, “how ‘bout you kids, get any good action tonight?”

peter raises his eyebrows at him, “us? oh yea, we got a good chase during patrol tonight,” 

“it was super fun,” you add.

“well what’d he have on him?” wanda asks.

“he was, uhh,” you purse your lips as you hesitate, playing with the food on your plate and quieted your voice, “a-uh, a wanted animal rapist.”

wanda shakes her head at you in repulsion, regretting having asked you.

“that is so disgusting!” the god announces, food spilling out of his mouth.

“thor, close your mouth, you look like a trout.” steve reprimands. 

he dismisses his comment and goes to steal the mashed potatoes, eating straight out of the bowl with no shame. 

“did he put up a good fight against you guys?” bucky questions.

“well he wasn’t exactly intimidated by me, i usually let y/n play bad cop while i just web them up,” peter admits.

you’re chewing your food while you watch bucky and your boyfriend converse, “see what i told you? you gotta take control, pete. ask yourself this: would you rather be feared or loved by your enemies?”

“easy,” he answers, “both. i want people to be afraid of how much they love me.”

nat pokes her tongue to her cheek and tilts her head in confusion. 

“oh, that reminds me,” you nervously chuckle and pull out the slip tucked into your back pocket, “i need you to pay for my speeding ticket, tony.” 

“again?! y/n that’s the second time this month!”

“that criminal guy was a surprisingly fast driver. besides, life is short. drive fast and leave a sexy corpse. it’s one of my mottos.”

“goddamnit, y/n” tony mutters and shakes his head in disappointment. 

steve interrupts, “you should listen to him, young lady. seriously, what would happen if you were in a speeding car crash? why do you think those laws are enforced? it’s to keep everyone safe. so you better straighten up the attitude before you get yourself k-”

“cap, you ignorant slut.” you’re tired of everyone treating you and peter like little kids, “you want to talk about being safe? are we forgetting about banner’s little experiment that went wrong the other day? he almost blew up the tower!-”

“wait, what did you just call me?” the soldier looks at you dumbfounded.

“what did i- … what’d i say?”

“you just called me a-”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about. i talk a lot so i learn to just tune myself out.” 

“you and me both,” strange clips. 

“wow,” you respond, feigning hurt, “sorry i annoyed you with my friendship.”

tony, having enough, intrudes, “you know, i think i have to put you and peter through some training again.” 

the boy skeptically squints towards the man and chews his food slowly, “...what type of training?”

“sensitivity training. all this trash talk is-”

“oh my god, not again,” your head falls back as you groan, “i’ve changed, tony. i’ve learned to keep my unmannerly thoughts to myself every time i see someone wearing black socks with white shoes.”

“uh that’s definitely not true,” bucky cuts in, “just yesterday you called me out for wearing sandals.” 

“exactly! sandals! who the hell still wears sandals, you look like you just got off the boat. i don't need to see your hairy toes,” you shudder in disgust.

“yea, mr. stark,” peter reverts his attention back to tony, “we don’t talk trash,” he shrugs.

“we talk smack,” you finish.

“okay… and how are those two any different,” the man challenges.

“well,” peter clears his throat, “trash talk is hypothetical. like, ‘your mom is so fat she can eat the internet.’” 

“totally,” you eagerly nod your head in agreement, “but smack talk is happening, like, right now. like, ‘you’re ugly and i know it for a fact ’cause i got the evidence right there,” your hand motions in a circle to the person in front of you.

“are you calling me ugly?” thor sniffles.

“i don’t know what the hell you just said, and i don’t even wanna know,” tony wipes his mouth with a napkin, “but it’s happening. nine am sharp, do not be late. it’ll be quick and easy, not that hard. you’ll be in and out without the attitude.”

you pout as you and peter give each other a dismay look.

“that’s what she said.”

[sjswrites]

Baby Gay

Summary: Working on set with your best friend was supposed to be fun, but something feels... off.

A/N: A bit of a long one, buuut I promise it's worth it.

Masterlist

“It’s pretty nice working with your best friend, huh?” I playfully threw my shoulder into Hailee’s arm as we walked off set.

“It’s alright, I guess.” She replied sarcastically before throwing her arm over me and my arm slide around her waist.

“Nice work, ladies.” The blonde brit approached as I greeted her with a smile. When Hailee didn’t give her usual, ‘thank you’, my eyes shot up to check on her. To my surprise, Hailee’s eyes were glued to Florence.

“Thanks, Pugh. I mean, you absolutely killed it out there!” I gushed as her eyes nervously fell to the floor.

“Not as good as you, darling. You’re so talented.” Her golden green eyes locked with mine.

I chuckled to myself. “Oh shut up.” I shoved her shoulder away.

“I’m serious!” She protested through giggles. “Do you two have plan for dinner tonight?” I visually checked in with Hailee who had yet to say anything.

“Yeah.” I answered for both of us. “My mom actually invited us over for dinner tonight.” My arm wrapped around hers and squeezed to bring her back to reality.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I forgot to mention that on the drive over.”

“I see.” Florence’s smile slightly dimmed. “Another time.”

“Forsure.” Hailee finally spoke to Florence.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her eyes bounced between ours before we walked away to the trailers.

I finished getting changed first as I knocked on Hailee’s trailer door. “Hey, Haiz.” My hand slowly pulled the door open as I entered. Hailee had her back to me with her baggy jeans and white tank on. Her hazel eyes looked at me over her shoulder. “Hey, babe.” She threw her leather jacket over her shoulders. “Ready?”

“No.” Hailee froze for a second before adjusting her jacket. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong?”

“What?!” She tried to push past me. “What are you talking about?”

My hand held her at bay. “Don’t bullshit me, Steinfeld.” I shoved her back. “You were in your head when we- Actually, when I was talking to Florence.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She tried to get past me again as her arm snuck around me and opened the door. “Come on. Let’s not keep your mom waiting.”

“Hailee,” My hand landed on hers as I closed the door. A new look grew on Hailee. One I had never seen before. She was mad. She was mad at me. “We’re not going to my mom’s.”

“What?! But you said- Why?!”

“I just said that because you didn’t seem like you were in a good headspace.” My hand peeled hers from the door.

She took a deep breath. I waited patiently for the flood gates, instead I got chuckles in my face. “It’s not that. It’s just- It’s stupid. Can we just for get about it please?”

She shook her head and started for the door again. I grabbed her chin and made her look me in the eyes. “Tell. Me.” The swirls of light brown and green now locked with mine. My safety net. My safehouse. My place. My home. Although something had shifted. Something on her face that I couldn’t quite read.

“I got nervous.” Her eyes danced between mine. “I… I have a crush.”

My eyebrows raised. “On Florence?”

“Yeaah.” Her voice fell unconfidently with shakiness in her single word. Nervousness? Embarrassment?

“Aww. Really?” My lip pouted out. “Aw, look at my baby gay with her first gay panic.” I pinched her cheek as she swatted my hand away. “Welcome to the Alphabet Mafia. I knew you’d join me eventually.” We shared at laugh as I opened the door. “We’re getting celebratory burgers! On me!” I skipped out as Hailee followed while shaking her head.

“Have you thought about telling your family?” I asked while driving Hailee home.

“Um, yeah. I think they’ll be fine with it.”

“Psh, yeah they will. They love you so much. I wouldn’t see why not. I’m just saying if you ever have any questions, you know you can talk to me right?” I took a flash look at her in the passenger seat. Her head looked out the window and her mind on someone else. My hand stretched over the console and onto her thigh. She slightly jumped at contact. “You really like this girl, huh?”

“I don’t know.” She mindlessly answered.

The car pulled into her driveway as I threw it park. “What else is bothering you?” My body leaned against the door.

“What? Nothing's bothering me.”

With my arms crossed over my chest, I gave her a look of really? “Hailee, I can read you like a children’s book. Stop holding back from me.”

“I actually- I don’t know.” She threw her head into the headrest. “What about coming out to the public? What if it’s just a phase or what if the press ruins the relationship or what if-?”

“Babe.” Her quick spew of words came to halt. “Fuck them. You only need to come out to the people you care about. If they truly care about you, then then will love you and Florence.” She bit her lip and looked out the window again. “Hey,” I squeezed her thigh. “You deserve to be happy. And if your happiness makes other people upset, then that’s on them. You’re not responsible for their emotions and feelings. Understand?” She nodded.

I got up and walked around the car. I opened her door and opened my arms. Her worried melted in my arms as I squeezed her tight. “Get some sleep. Don’t forget you’re picking me up tomorrow. I will see you the morning.” My hand slightly pushed on her waist as she peeled away. “The second one is the most important. Please don’t forget that one.” She giggled as we walked to her door. “There she is.” I sang as we stopped at her door. On my toes, I pecked a kiss on her cheek. “Goodnight, Haiz.”

“Goodnight. Text me when you get home.” She opened her door with the biggest smile.

“Will do.”

With coffee in hand and bag in the other, my feet trudged out to Hailee’s car. “Well good morning, sunshine.” Hailee said with her typical early bird smile.

“I will never understand how you’re so chipper this early in the morning. I seriously need a gallon of coffee to recover from the World War 3 going on between my body and my mind just to get out fo bed.” She laughed.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Well you chose me so what does that make you?”

“Hmm...crazy.” I shrugged as I took a sip of my coffee.

“You said it, not me.” Hailee reached her hand over onto my thigh as we drove off. This was one of the things I loved about my friendship. She understood how much of a cuddly person I am because she was one too. I’ve never had a friendship like this before. But Haiz wasn’t like my other friends. She knew me on a deeper level than most people. She was my rock and I was hers

Flashback to five years ago

“Hi, I’m Hailee.” The taller girl looked down at me with a sweet smile.

“Hi. I’m y/n.” I smiled back. “Sorry. I’m a little nervous. This is my first big movie like this.”

She simply smiled back. She didn’t make fun of me or belittle me. Instead, she playfully threw her shoulder into me. “You’re gonna do amazing. I can feel it.”

My back straightened up with confidence. “You know what? No. We are gonna do amazing.” I offered her my hand as she quickly took it and we walked onto set.

“I can’t believe you’re dating Niall Horan!” We only met a couple days ago, but it felt like we met a lifetime ago.

“I can’t believe you’re dating Dove-” My hand flew over her mouth.

“Shhh.” My head on a swivel as I looked around for any witnesses. “I’m not out yet.”

“What does that mean?”

“Out?” She nodded. “Like I haven’t told anyone that I’m…” I checked my surroundings again. “That I’m lesbian.” My head dropped. “To anyone really… I mean beside to Dove. Of course.” My head quickly snapped back up to her. “I guess that makes you the second person.”

“Well, I’m very honored to be the second.” Her face beaming with a prideful smile.

“You…” My confidence felt faulty as my eyes wandered off. “You don’t have to pretend. I get it if it makes you feel uncomfortable and you don’t wanna be my friend anymore.”

“No! No. No at all! I mean, you’re happy and in love. What more could you ask for?”

The glimmer of hope and love in my eyes could be seen from space. “Thank you…”

“For what?”

"For not leaving me.”

“You’re stuck with me forever now.”

“You know, you’re my favorite person in the whole world, right?” I took in her side profile as a little grin formed.

“Yeah.” She squeeze my thigh. “Of course, I love hearing you say it, though.”

“Can you promise me something?” She stopped at a red light and nodded for me to continue. “Promise me that no matter what happens, no matter who you end up with that you’ll still be my best friend.”

“I promise.” My hand squeezed the back of hers. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

My smile started to get too big as I bit my lip. “I didn’t know you could read minds.” My happiness now pouring out through the redness of my cheeks. “I know, I don’t say this nearly enough, but thank you. You do so much for me. You’ve always been there for me. Through all the highs and lows. Through thick and thin. I can’t imagine where I’d be without you.”

“And I would do it all over again. I quite literally would do anything for you.” Her attention went back to the road as the light changed.

“I’d do anything for you too. You know, I’d even third wheel with you so you can go after yet another blonde brit.” I chuckled to myself. “Although this one is a significant upgrade.” The car was silent as Hailee was focused on the road ahead. Whatever would get her closer to her newfound love interest. I let her mind wander as I pulled out my phone.

Hailee pulled into the parking lot as she threw her car in park. “Love,” Hailee said as I hopped out of the car. “I need to tell you something.”

My legs cautiously got back in the passenger seat with the door close behind me. “Well, that’s always a fun conversation starter.”

“Look, I just need you to listen to me. Just- just don’t say anything, okay?” I nodded as she took a deep breath. “I lied.” My eyebrows furrowed at her. “I don’t have a crush on Florence.” I tried to control my facial expressions as she continued. “Actually, I don’t have a crush on anyone.” She’s lost me now. So she doesn’t like women? “I’m actually in love.” I released my breath and pouted my lip. “With you.” I blinked a few times as my brain tried to process the last two words. With me? They spun around in my head as I started to get lightheaded. “I just saw Florence checking you out and complimenting you and, I don’t know, this like feeling in my stomach. I was angry and sad and hurt. It’s all confusing. Just thinking about you being with Florence made me sick. Maybe I’m just being possessive, but no one could ever love you like I could. I mean, if you’ll let me or even remotely feel the same. I’m scared I may be ruining this amazing friendship we have, but fuck it. I want to be happy and in love with you.” Hailee took a deep breath after the spiel.

“Can I speak now?” She nodded cautiously. “Hailee Steinfeld, can I please take you on a date tonight?”

She smiled. “I would love that more than anything.”

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | feb 29 address | words 1881

hi, so this one is so fucking long, i don’t even know how it happened. anyways, hope you’ll enjoy it :3

first part | previous part

Reg

So

Will you be there tonight?

James looked at the message he received almost half an hour ago and for the hundredth time deleted his response.

‘Of course I’ll be there’ sounded too eager. ‘Yeah’ was out of question with it being too dry. ‘I’ll try to make it’ was just mean, like when you have a big event at school and your parents say that exact line, and you just feel like shit. So he sat there, on his couch, contemplating how to answer the man he apparently fancies. He thought the crush went away with them going separate ways after school, but oh well. With just one dinner, all the feelings came back, making him feel like a teenager again.

He deleted another answer when Regulus texted him again.

Reg

You know I can see you typing then changing your mind over and over again, right?

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was his chance to keep this from getting any weirder.

James

yeah i know sorry about that

and answering the first question yes ill be there

:)

With that, he threw his phone as far away from himself as he could and went to have a crisis while taking a shower. And don’t get him wrong - he really wanted to be there, to see the art Regulus makes, but at the same time he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. He liked Reg, he wanted to get to know him again after all those years they haven’t talked. And yet, he was still afraid he would fuck it up somehow.

“No you won’t” he said to his reflection in the mirror. “You won’t, just pull yourself together. And don’t act weird, just… be who you are. If he doesn’t like it, back off.”

After that little motivational talk, James started to get ready properly. He did his skincare routine, tried to (and failed) tame the nest on his head, also known as hair, and went to the closet to find something suitable for the occasion. How does one even dress for opening?

Having no better option, James decided to do the most stupid thing he could do.

“What are you wearing tonight?” he asked without any greeting. On the other side he heard the most feral laughter ever and just groaned at it. “It’s not funny, I really don’t know!” the laughter became even more hysterical, so James just stood in the middle of his closet, waiting for Sirius to calm down.

“Oh god, this is too good” his best friend chuckled a little breathlessly. “Are you trying to impress my brother or what?”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone, I just… what should I wear? To not look like an idiot?” more giggles from Sirius.

“Yeah, well, me and Moony are going in our usual clothes, so maybe something in between?”

“You mean I should go as a slutty grandpa?” James grumbled. His bestie just barked another laugh at that.

“Yes, exactly! Hope I helped, gotta go, see you there” and the call ended.

It actually did help, to his surprise. He put on a maroon turtleneck, paired it with suit trousers and his favourite red converse. The entire outfit, although simple, seemed to emphasise his muscles, giving the exact result James was aiming for. He put three golden hoops in his ear and finally felt ready.

Grabbing the phone from the armchair it landed on, James check if Regulus sent any new messages - he did.

Reg

I’m glad.

Don’t overdress, it’s a casual event, nothing fancy.

Do you know where to go?

Should I send you the address?

?

Hello?

Are you alive?

James, it’s been more than an hour, are you alright?

James smiled at all of this, quickly replying with ‘yes everythings good the shower took longer than it should pls send the address’.

***

He arrived at a small local art gallery, where the opening took place. As soon as James got out of his car, Remus and Sirius spotted him, practically running in his direction. The shorter man, dressed in a silk shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and tight jeans (all black, of course), jumped into his arms, screaming excitedly, like he hasn’t seen him in a while (since yesterday). From behind, Sirius’ fiancé rolled his eyes, smirking at their antics.

“Fancy seeing you here, Prongs” Remus said cheekily, when the long-haired man came to his side. It was James’ turn to roll his eyes.

“Are we coming in or are we just gonna stand here and freeze?” Sirius asked, snuggling closer to Remus.

“You should’ve dressed accordingly to the weather. I’m feeling petty so - Moony, would you mind giving me a fag?” James chirped sweetly, batting his lashes at the taller man.

He didn’t give him the cigarette, what’s with his shivering partner, so they just walked in to the gallery.

James spotted Regulus immediately. He was wearing a dark green sweater with a white collar sticking out from under it, black trousers and low Docs. He looked innocent and hot at the same time. He could see the younger man noticing him, too, when his lips turned into a little smile.

“Hi, Little Star” Reg snorted at that, and that was all he had to do to get himself a wide grin from James.

“Hello, James. Thank you for coming” came the slightly amused answer. They scanned each other for a second. From up close Regulus looked even better, James thought.

“You look good, I mean, like, very good” Reg chuckled softly at that and the other man melted a little.

“You look good, too” younger man replied, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

Their moment was interrupted by Sirius barging in, saying how proud of his little brother he is, while ruffling Reg’s hair. Even though he didn’t like it, Regulus hasn’t voiced his displeasure. It was nice of him, really.

Not long after, some professor welcomed everyone from the middle of the room, talking about all the hard work his students put into this exhibition and how glad he was to see so many people coming to appreciate that work. Some ovations. Then they were free to admire the pieces. Most of them were paintings, but there were also sculptures and some photographs.

The theme of the exhibition was ‘love’, so the students presented how they perceived it - some in a cute way, whit elderly couples sitting on a bench or some places they loved, but there were also darker ones, presenting the topic as suffocating or painful. James felt sorry for all those people who suffered because of something that should have been beautiful.

When they finally reached Regulus’ pieces James felt something warm crawling inside his chest. He didn’t immediately understand them, since Reg created abstract art, but the longer he looked the more he could see. On the first one there were spots of paint that must’ve been two cuddled figures in the dark place, surrounded by a little light, just around them, like a halo. James thought it must represent how Regulus felt about his brother, what was confirmed as he spotted Sirius’ eyes glistening in the bright lights of the gallery.

The second one was brighter, like it was some kind of meadow maybe? There also were smudges of paint in different colours - some of them lighter others darker. Those probably were Regulus’ friends and James had an urge to comment on that one.

“That’s so cute. They must’ve loved it so much” he said, looking down at Regulus. “Where are they, by the way?”

“They will come later, when there’s not so many people so we can really discuss others works” the younger man replied simply. “We’ll probably just end up laughing at them, really” he added with a shrug.

At that James pretend to be outraged, gasping and putting a hand to his chest.

“Oh! Am I not worthy of laughing at other people’s art with you? Tell me how can I be granted this privilege, I’ll do anything!” He kept up his act, grabbing Regulus by the shoulders, bending his knees like a sufferer begging for water.

The younger of Black brother looked at him, trying real hard to not look amused, but his eyes were giving him away.

“You’re pathetic” he said, not even a little bite to it. To be honest he sounded a little like he was enjoying James’ antics.

“Yet, you like me so much you managed to rob your own brother of my number” James said it like he was plotting something. “And you wanted to rob me of my time, the audacity.”

“Please stop” the shorter man buried his face in his hands. “Don’t mention it ever again” he added, a little muffled by the hands. He had really nice hands, James noticed.

“Oh, I will not stop till the day I die.”

They moved to the third piece and- oh. James might not be the brightest person alive, but he knew what was on the last painting. It was similar to the other two they saw earlier, smudges of paint in different shades creating two figures. The figures were hugging, not like the first ones, but more like lovers trying to become one. One person was rather pale, contrasting with the other who looked tanned. Their hair was black and deep brown, respectively.

James looked at it with awe, felt the butterflies waking up in his stomach and flying freely all over his body. He looked at Regulus, but the other man hasn’t met his eyes, staring straight ahead at his work. James noticed he turned a pretty shade of reddish pink on every bit of his face. His own lips turned into a big fucking grin. He wanted to reach out, touch Regulus, hug him, anything really.

Unfortunately, from behind him came Sirius’ gasp and then excited “Oh my god, Reggie, you painted me and Moony? Oh, that is so lovely, can I have it later?”

James, Remus and Regulus looked at the man at the same time, each one with a deep frown, not believing how delusional Sirius is. As if they shared a brain cell, all three of them nodded in agreement to not lead him astray.

Regulus cleared his throat, and turning to his brother he said “Yes, that’s you and Remus, and no, you cannot take it.”

As the older turned to stare daggers at the younger, they just started bickering about who should have the painting, Remus and James looking at them with amusement.

After some time Regulus’ friends came and the three older man ushered to exit so the younger guys could have fun together. Just before they left, James approached Regulus one last time, cheeky smile on his lips.

“Sirius and Moony, huh?” it earned him an eye roll and a sheepish ‘shut up’. He just smiled wider and leaned down to whisper in Reg’s ear, feeling the black-haired man’s breath hitching “Text me when you get home.”

With that he walked backwards in the general direction of the exit, still looking at Regulus who looked positively stunned. James winked at him and Reg, after waking from the haze, flipped him off. James just chuckled at that loudly, turning to the door.

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | july 8 - july 14

note: we are halfway! this is 29.5k. i hope you all enjoy it. we are in the meat of it now! things are getting angsty, but i loooove love love these pairings more than anything and i hope you guys are enjoying this series just as much as El Capitan (Cappy) and I are <3

43:90 – TREVOR

do you smoke?

Trevor really likes Honey. He does. That's why he hasn't blocked Bea’s number yet. He never should have gone to see her at The Reading Nook in the first place. He could've won Honey on his own– and did– but Trevor has to deal with the nasty side effect of his own actions. The side effect is that Bea still texts him all the time, asking silly questions like this.

&! &! IF i brought weed to the house, would i be the victim of a murder?

You're going to be the victim of a murder right now if you don't stop texting me. Yes, we all smoke on occasion. You can come over if you bring Honey.

she’s not already there? ;)

Trevor narrows his eyes at his phone and doesn't reply. No, Honey isn’t already here, and Trevor wishes he could get her to stay over after they hook up. He’s stayed at her place twice now. He should be afforded the same luxury of having Honey in his bed rather than being the guest star in Honey’s bed. 

She needs to get used to sleeping in his bed anyway, since Scarlett has decided that they’re getting married. If the ladies know, then there’s a chance that everyone in Litchton knows. Trevor realizes that Sarah said the ladies loved Honey more than the chance to gossip– but you never know. All of their efforts to keep things secret could be in vain.

Even though it seems pointless, Trevor likes that Jack, Cole, and Luke are still in the dark. No matter how many times they tease him for being so down bad for Honey, Trevor won’t break. Each one of them ends their chirps with something about how Honey would never shack up with Trevor– even though Jack and Cole really want it to happen– and the knowledge that they’re wrong keeps Trevor strong.

Honey would shack up with him, actually, and regularly does so. When he sees her tonight, they’ll probably shack up again, especially if they’ve got some weed in their system. Trevor can’t wait to see what Honey’s like while she’s high– he’s only ever seen her drunk and she rarely ever loses her inhibitions.

Trevor hears the door open when the girls arrive. They never knock anymore. They haven’t since the first time they came over. They just walk right in because the boys always leave the doors unlocked during the day– it’s Litchton. There’s no crime in this town. The worst thing that happens in a day is that someone jaywalks from The Reading Nook to their car.

He hears the boys call to them from the basement and he hears them bounding down the stairs. He hears Bea present a bag of weed to the room and Cole’s loud cheer. He’s got time before they roll up the weed into something smokeable. While he waits, he changes into his sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, knowing that he’s going to get cold when he smokes. He’ll bring his sweatshirt downstairs later. Trevor tries to fix his hair in the mirror. It’s getting a little long.

He busies himself until he hears the loud crash of Cole climbing the steps, probably having been sent to summon Trevor to the basement. 

“Let’s go, dude,” Cole calls, rapping on the door. “Weed! Downstairs.”

“I know, I’m coming,” Trevor says. He crosses his room and opens the door. Cole is already grinning dopily, like he’s consumed his own joint within the past few minutes and he’s already halfway to high.

Cole scampers down the hallway ahead of Trevor, practically bouncing off the walls. It’s rare that they get the chance to smoke at any point during the year. Weed isn’t banned in the league, but the boys are tested pretty regularly. Executives tend to frown on people that smoke weed, but– shockingly– don’t have much to say when it comes to alcohol abuse.

Still, the boys are able to risk it today. They’ve got half a summer left, which is plenty of time for the drug to get out of their system before their preseason tests.

They used to smoke over the summers before they joined the league. Cole always preferred smoking over drinking, so the times that they get to roll up a blunt, he’s all over it. Bea has no idea what she’s started.

They head down to the basement, with Cole crashing onto the loveseat face-first. He turns over onto his back. His knees bend over the edge of the couch and he places a pillow under his neck. “Hurry up,” Cole whines.

Honey frowns at him, raising the paper roll to her lips. She licks over the edge of the paper and seals it down like an envelope. “God, your highness,” she scoffs. “Impatient much?”

“Weed, please,” Cole says. He’s smiling extra-wide and pinches his fingers at Honey until she hands the completed joint his way.

Honey starts to roll a new one. She’s kneeling beside the coffee table, using a plastic sandwich bag like a rolling board. Jack is leaning over her shoulder, hooking his chin over her exposed skin. 

Trevor would get angry at Jack being so close to the girl, but Honey pats the side of Jack’s face and tells him something that Trevor doesn’t catch, and the boy leans back. He’s the next one to receive a joint, which he’s quick to light and take a drag from before sharing with Luke.

“Bea, where’d you get this shit?” Trevor asks, finally drawing attention to himself.

Honey scoffs, snorting under her breath. 

“Don’t laugh!” Bea exclaims, reaching forward and tugging Honey’s hair, hard. “I got it from this guy named Griffin.”

Trevor immediately thinks of his brother, who shares a name with Bea’s dealer. He should probably call him soon. 

“How do you know Griffin?” Honey asks.

Bea glares at the girl out of the side of her eye. “We dated.”

“What’s Griffin’s job?” Honey continues.

Bea whines, pouting slightly. She looks at Quinn for a second, but the boy shakes his head and grins. “He’s Litchton’s deputy sheriff,” Bea growls.

Trevor laughs to himself. Sometimes he forgets that Bea and Honey are more like sisters than friends and Honey loves to embarrass Bea when she can. Bea’s not really the kind to be embarrassed, but occasionally Honey hits the nail on the head and milks it for all her jokes are worth.

Of course Bea dated the deputy sheriff and of course he still gives her confiscated evidence. It just makes sense.

Honey goes silent and smiles down at the third joint that she’s rolling. The group chats around her, but she’s all that Trevor can focus on. 

She looks gorgeous today. Her hair is loose around her shoulders and keeps falling into her eyes, a little wet and stringy from the rain. Honey is wearing a tank top that ties in the front in a cute little bow– the thin string is so flimsy that Trevor might “accidentally” pull it loose once they’re alone. Her fingers are deft as she assembles and rolls the paper into a neat little cylinder. 

When she finishes that roll, she hands the joint to Bea, who puts the joint between her lips and waits for Quinn to spark the lighter, holding it to the other end of the joint so she doesn’t have to.

Trevor understands why Honey was glaring at them so much yesterday. They’re gross.

Honey rolls up the rest of the weed into a couple more joints. Trevor is surprised that the deputy sheriff handed all of this evidence off to Bea, considering it produced a good crop of roll-ups. Surely this guy would’ve liked to smoke some of the weed. Maybe he gets tested way more often than Trevor and can’t smoke. Poor Griffin.

Cole offers his joint to Trevor, who takes it and inhales. It’s been a minute since he smoked anything, so the smoke feels grainy when it makes its way down his throat and into his lungs. It takes everything in him not to cough. He’ll be damned if he’s the first one to cough this evening. 

He’s saved by Luke, luckily. The boy has to shift on the couch and bury his face in a throw pillow. 

Bea, who seems to have claimed the recliner with Quinn as their designated, unassigned-assigned seat, leans forward to pat the boy’s back. “Aw, Lukey,” she coos. “Let it out. You know, the more you cough, the higher you get.”

“That’s not true,” Honey says with an eye roll. 

“Anything can be true if you believe,” Bea replies, still rubbing Luke’s back. She allows Quinn to steal the joint from between her fingers and he inhales deep. Trevor half expects him to cough it out and take Bea’s attention from his younger brother, but he just holds the smoke in his chest for a moment before exhaling a dim cloud.

Honey climbs onto the loveseat, lifting Cole’s pillow and head so that she can slide underneath. Trevor takes the final seat on the couch between the two younger Hughes brothers, returning Cole’s joint to him. Trevor is now part of Jack and Luke’s blunt rotation.

Bea throws on the same trashy reality show that she got Cole hooked on a few weeks ago and they watch that for a while. It’s refreshing to see drama unfold on a television screen rather than in their own lives– Trevor remembers for the first time in a while that they originally came to Litchton because a group of girls were so interested in hanging out with the boys that they committed a crime to do so. 

Trevor didn’t realize how much he valued his anonymity until he came to Litchton and rediscovered it. The only thing that people are talking about in town, at least in regards to Trevor, is his love life. That’s not even confirmed– it’s just a bunch of old ladies assuming the correct thing as a coincidence. Maybe Trevor and Honey should be more careful. 

Nah.

Over the next half hour, the room starts to fill with smoke, so much so that Bea slides off of Quinn to open the glass sliding door and ‘increase air flow.’ When she returns, she settles down on his lap like it’s her throne. 

Trevor wants to roll his eyes, but he can’t. He keeps an eye on them for one stubborn reason that’s being repeated over and over in the back of his mind– that should be him and Honey.

Honey is sharing a joint with Cole, petting her fingers through his hair in a way that has Cole drifting off to sleep. She’s taken control of the joint, holding it lazily between her index and middle fingers. Her palm faces the sky as her elbow rests on the arm of the couch, wrist bending daintily. When she inhales, she looks at the person in the group who’s talking. When she exhales, she rolls her head back and blows the smoke towards the ceiling. She usually closes her eyes in relief when she does. 

It’s the prettiest thing Trevor has ever seen. He wishes he could take a picture of Honey right now, just so that he could freeze this moment forever. She’s so pretty. She could ask Trevor to do anything right now and he would– no questions asked. “Get me a beer, Trevor?” He’d be on his feet and upstairs in an instant, grabbing her three beers so that she doesn’t run out. “Trevor, it’s hot in here. Turn the thermostat down.” Yes, ma’am. 68ºF, just for you. 

“Come over here and eat me out.” 

Trevor wishes she would say that. He would do it. He’d tune out the things that the other boys would inevitably say and bury himself between Honey’s legs until she’s satisfied and then, only then, he’d stop.

He realizes he’s staring and that’s how he knows that the high has started to set in. His eyes are growing a little dry and it’s getting harder to follow the conversation. Trevor feels like he’s moving through caramel. 

He stares at Honey for another moment, then looks around the room. No one is watching him. He’s sandwiched between them, but Luke and Jack are talking around Trevor and debating one of the couples on this show. Cole is practically asleep on Honey’s lap, although Honey is currently holding the joint to his lips and he’s breathing in. Bea and Quinn– well, Bea and Quinn seem to be entangled. 

As Trevor watches, a little horrified by just how much the two are touching, Quinn inhales and holds the smoke in his mouth until Bea ghosts her lips over his. It’s then that he exhales, letting the smoke fill Bea’s mouth. They’re shotgunning. Trevor crinkles his nose and frowns, appalled by the blatant show that they’re putting on.

At least he kept his musings to himself. Bea and Quinn have commenced some detailed, lavish, public foreplay journey. Trevor is disgusted.

And, if he is being honest, a little turned on. He wants to shotgun with Honey. How unfair is it that Bea and Quinn can just do all of this shit, and Trevor has to sit on an entirely separate couch than Honey in the interest of preserving the secrecy of their relationship? Bullshit.

Acting on an impulse, Trevor digs his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants and searches for Honey’s messages. He leans forward and turns his brightness down, tapping out an honest, blunt message and sending it. He pockets his phone and waits for Honey to check her messages. 

Wanna eat u out baby u look pretty today

She doesn’t react in a timely manner. Trevor frowns.

He tries again.

Maybe get my dick in u I know how much u like it when I fuck u

Still, nothing from Honey.

Trevor furrows his eyebrows and pulls his phone out for a third time. In his hazy mind, there’s some cloudy baseball metaphor floating about– if Honey doesn’t respond to this message, Trevor’s got his answer. Strike three. There it is– the metaphor makes it out of his high unscathed.

God, Trevor is lucky that everyone is caught up in their own thing. If the boys saw him smiling at his own joke while he types out a dirty message to a girl, they’d rag on him relentlessly. 

Will u sleep over tn?

“Honey, baby, your phone won’t stop buzzing and it’s annoying me,” Bea whines, tugging at the pocket of the sweatshirt she’s wearing until she produces Honey’s phone. “You’re distracting me from Quinn.”

“Text them back and tell them to stop annoying you,” Honey replies, nonchalant and laughing. She’s holding the joint just above Cole’s lips, but raising it out of reach each time he tries to capture it for another hit.

Trevor wants to interrupt and shout, “No! No, don’t!” but Bea is already tapping out Honey’s password. Even worse, Quinn adjusts the girl on his lap so that he can see Honey’s phone, too.

Trevor watches in petrified slow motion as Bea’s and Quinn’s eyes dance along the length of his messages. He watches as they, in sync, let their eyes double-check his name in Honey’s phone. Then, he watches a devilish and gleeful grin coat Bea’s face. Quinn’s smirk is much more predatory. When Quinn looks at Trevor, the look in his eye is just: “I know something you don’t want me to know. I’m going to milk the fuck out of this.”

Trevor presses his lips together in a grimace. He closes his eyes for just long enough to acknowledge the humiliation he’s experiencing now. He’s sure his face is brick-red. It might be the high, but he can feel the tips of his ears bristling with shame.

He sees Quinn fit his mouth next to Bea’s ear, whispering something that has her giggling and then squirming when he blows cool air over her neck.

“I think you’ll want to answer these,” Bea announces to Honey when she recovers, piquing the interest of the other boys. She tosses the phone across to Honey, who catches it, and the boys follow the throw like a dog about to fetch a ball. 

Honey turns the phone over in her hand and looks at the screen, brushing her hair out of her face with her pinkie, still holding the joint between her index and middle fingers. She had a smile on her face when her phone illuminated her features, but that dropped almost as soon as it appeared. 

Trevor braces for the worst. Honey looks shocked. Despite her expression, a pretty pink blush blooms across her cheeks. He gulps when her eyes find him. 

“What did it say?” Jack demands, bouncing a little bit in his seat. 

“It’s– nothing,” Honey says, waving her hand and shutting her phone off. 

She’s a terrible liar when she’s high. It just makes Jack more interested. Cole still isn’t that excited– he’s waking up from his weird limbo nap– and Trevor couldn’t be more glad. He’d be able to snatch Honey’s phone in an instant. Trevor can hear his heart beating way more rapidly than normal.

“What is it?” Jack asks, his voice growing more cartoonish. He looks like the fucking Cheshire Cat. He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. 

“A– guy,” Honey stammers out. 

Trevor can tell that she’s trying not to lie, because she’s so shit at it, but she doesn’t want to reveal the whole truth. She’s better than him– he would have run away by now. The boys would’ve chased him, but he still would’ve ran.

“You’ve been seeing a guy?” Jack says, sounding incredulous. His head turns to Trevor, meeting his eyes. 

For a second, Trevor thinks he’s been caught, but then Jack scoffs and claps him on the shoulder.

“Dude, I’m sorry,” Jack laughs. He sighs comically, then elbows Trevor in the ribs. Jack looks back at Honey. “What did this dude say that has you all bothered? Do we need to go beat him up, or is this a good look? I’m hoping it’s a good look by the little smile on your face.” He reaches forward, index finger waving over Honey’s face until it finds its mark at the corner of her mouth. He stumbles a little bit, almost falling forward off the couch when Honey bats him away.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” Honey tells Jack with a practiced, but fake smile. She’s turning on the charm. Trevor despises the way she grabs Jack’s finger and wiggles it affectionately. “Really, he’s nothing to write home about. That’s why I didn’t tell you guys.”

Nothing to write home about, Trevor seethes. Yuh-huh!

“What was it?” Jack presses.

“He asked me to sleep over,” Honey reveals, rolling her eyes a bit like she’s unimpressed. Trevor disagrees. That was a pretty impressive line.

“What are you going to say?” Cole demands, piping in for the first time. 

Now, Trevor’s heart freezes as Cole tries to feel for Honey’s phone. Partially because of the chance that he’ll find Honey’s phone, but also partially because Cole’s hand is getting awfully close to Honey’s tits, and those belong to Trevor.

Yes, he turns into a caveman when he’s high. He likes Honey. So what?

Honey just twists out from under him and stands, brushing her hands over the arm of the couch as she slinks away. “I was thinking,” she drawls. Her eyes slide over to meet Trevor’s and his heart starts again because she’s answering him in front of everyone. She licks her lower lip before continuing. He licks his subconsciously like he’s spellbound, following her every move. “That I’d tell him to come back to mine instead.” 

Fuck, Trevor’s hard. He bundles up his fists and shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to mask his bulge. He looks up to find that Bea noticed and she’s holding back a laugh. Quinn just smiles. Man, Trevor wishes he could wipe it off Quinn’s face.

“Good answer,” Jack says, nodding. “We approve.”

“Go get laid, bro,” Cole adds, offering a fist-bump to the girl. She’s upside down in his vision, so they don’t connect first try.

Honey laughs. “Thanks,” she says. “I’m hoping to.”

And then she disappears up the stairs.

The air is still for a minute. Trevor flashes a glare at Bea and Quinn before collapsing into the cushions of the couch, covering his face with his hands.

“Bro, don’t worry about it,” Jack says. He pats Trevor on the stomach. “This is why you’re on Raya, remember? Just find some other girl to hook up with.”

Trevor spreads his fingers wide enough to nail Jack with a glare. 

“Yeah, but that’s the difference between them,” Quinn says, jumping in where he’s not wanted. He’s still got that stupid, smug, knowing smirk on his face. “Trevor’s hooking up with other people because he has to. Honey’s hooking up with other people because she wants to.”

Bea frowns and flicks Quinn’s earlobe. “Be nice,” she chides, her words dripping with false pity. “Poor Trev just got his heart broken.” She turns to Trevor and quirks an eyebrow. “Will you be okay?” She mocks.

Quinn laughs quietly, splaying his fingers out over Bea’s stomach, his fingertips dipping beneath the fabric. He kisses her shoulder, then her neck. He’s still smirking. Trevor really wishes he could do something about it.

“I’ll be fine,” Trevor growls through his teeth. A lightbulb seems to turn on in his head– this is actually the perfect escape route. “Actually, I was thinking about inviting someone over. I’m waiting for her to text me back.”

“Atta boy!” Cole cheers.

Trevor stands, flashing his own smug smirk Quinn’s way. See, look how smart I am, he says to Quinn in his mind. The other boy is unbothered, which is annoying. “I’m going to go up to my room and get ready for her.”

“Make sure you put the nice sheets on,” Luke jokes dryly. “The 300-count.”

“Maybe after we’re done,” Trevor replies. He stumbles a bit while maneuvering around the coffee table, but he can’t be judged for that. None of them have stood up, except for Honey and Bea, since they started smoking. Trevor is brave for being the first. The first man to stand, technically, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s a warrior.

Honey seems to agree. She’s waiting for him by the front door, her arms crossed over her chest and leaning back against the wall. “You’re very brave for sending me those messages in a room full of all of our friends,” she teases, trying to hide a smile from him. When he gets close enough, she reaches out and pulls him in by his shirt, planting a kiss on his lips. 

“I didn’t know Bea would have your phone,” Trevor tells her sheepishly, almost apologetic in his tone. 

“It’s okay,” Honey says. She pulls him down for another kiss. “I think it’s cute when you’re all bold. You really just go for it, huh?”

“Go big or go home,” Trevor says, letting his hands make their way under the sides of her shirt. He fits his fingers along the curve of her waist on either side, moving slowly. She’s soft and warm and he really, really can’t imagine anything prettier. It could be the high talking. Or maybe Honey is that pretty, so pretty that the light from the bulb on the other side of the front door shines through the window and turns her golden.

“Speaking of home,” Honey says, pulling away from Trevor’s touch. She loops her pinkie with his index finger and reaches for the door with her other hand. “We have to move my car.”

“We can’t drive,” Trevor says, feeling suddenly alarmed. Surely she doesn’t expect him to get into a car with half a joint in his system.

“No, baby, we’re not going anywhere,” Honey corrects. “We just have to move it out of sight so the boys don’t know I’m here. I was thinking we’d go to the end of the driveway, then behind those trees. You can go up to your room if you want, or you can come with me.”

Honey could’ve said anything and Trevor would have agreed. All of his trepidation is gone. He’s melting into Honey’s touch and has been since the second she called him ‘baby.’ It was rushed and a little patronizing, and not at all like the way he says it to her, but it gave Trevor the same reaction.

He follows her through the front door and the beam from her smile at his decision is like a shot of adrenaline.

They’re careful not to slam her car doors or rev the engine too much as they creep up the driveway. They’re both being too slow and too careful and if anyone where to walk out of the house, they’d laugh and ask what the hell the couple was doing.

But they laugh like criminals getting away from a robbery scot-free. By the time Honey parks the car at the top of the driveway, sheltered from view, Trevor has lost his breath from how hard he’s laughing. He and Honey sigh at the same time, which sends them into a fresh fit of laughter.

Honey reaches into the waistband of her bottoms, where she was conveniently stashing a blunt. She holds it up to Trevor and wiggles a little in her seat, biting her lip to contain her excitement. “Got you a present,” she says. “Thought we could share.”

Trevor’s first thought is of Bea and Quinn passing smoke between them. His eyes drift down to Honey’s mouth, imagining doing the same thing. He doesn’t know if he could do it, hover there just millimeters from her lips. He’d be too eager. He’d want to kiss her too much to stay so, so close, but so far from her. It would be like torture. 

“Will you let me kiss you every time you hit it?” Trevor asks, staring at the way the bow of her lips curves when she smiles. 

“Only if you let me kiss you every time you hit it,” Honey replies, her tongue poking out as she laughs again.

Trevor groans, loving that answer. He leans forward to claim his prize, but Honey swerves him and his lips only catch the corner of hers. Trevor frowns. 

“Easy there, big boy,” Honey laughs, planting her hand on Trevor’s chest and pushing him back. “You haven’t even taken the roach yet.”

Trevor eyes her, then plucks the blunt from her fingertips. “How are we even going to light it?” Trevor asks, inspecting the wrapping. Not a wrinkle in sight.

“Cigarette lighter,” Honey says like it’s obvious. She reaches toward her console. She pushes a button and waits. “Perks of having an old car, Z.”

Trevor startles at the nickname. It’s what his friends call him. Honey shouldn’t be using it. “Don’t ‘Z’ me,” he deadpans. 

Honey raises her eyebrows at him. 

“Don’t!” Trevor repeats, wanting to stomp one foot like a child when he complains.

“Or what?” Honey asks, unfazed by Trevor’s annoyance. She seems thrilled, even, as she laughs.

“Or else!” Trevor announces, then looks away from Honey with a huff. He can’t stay in that position long, missing her too much when she’s out of view. 

She kisses him when he turns back, cradling his jaw in her hand with the most delicate touch of her fingertips. The pad of her index finger pets over the curve of Trevor’s jawline and he shivers. 

“You’re so stupid,” Honey whispers fondly. Trevor can feel the weight of her gaze after she pulls away. He basks in it.

Then, the cigarette lighter pops out of its spot and bounces. The hot end brushes Honey’s knuckle, burning her.

She jumps, gasping and pulling her hand up. She flexes it, pressing her lips together to hold in any noises of pain, and she looks up and to the side, blinking in surprise. She grinds her teeth and her face goes grim, almost angry. She doesn’t want to check it to see what it looks like. 

Trevor has her hand in his and his lips over the affected area in an instant, as if he can really kiss it better. “Oh, Honey,” he murmurs. 

Honey shudders. “Ugh, that was– overdramatic,” she sighs in a self-deprecating way. She shakes her hand out of Trevor’s grasp like the wound was nothing. She checks the spot and sees the red mark, but shakes it off again. She finds the cigarette lighter, right at the scene of the crime, and picks it up like an old friend. She lights the blunt and it burns and crackles between Trevor’s fingers, but he never lifts it.

“You got burnt,” Trevor says, sounding stupid. His eyes follow the branding on Honey’s skin. It has to hurt.

Honey leans in, getting into Trevor’s gaze. She blinks at him like she’s waving hello. “Baby, I got my nipples pierced,” she says. “A little burn isn’t going to hurt me.”

There it is. That ‘baby’ again.

Trevor goes from one trance to another, reminded of the silver bars adorning her chest. She gets so responsive when he sucks them. That’s why he likes them so much. She whines and curses and tugs on his hair and squirms when he nibbles on the accessories. It’s the only time she loses her composure completely, all because of Trevor. 

His eyes fix on the little bow keeping her shirt together. He considers it. Does he dare untie her now? This road is pretty secluded, and it’s getting late…

“You had better not try to untie this bow,” Honey threatens, sounding absolutely aghast. She clutches at the bow, covering the ties completely so that Trevor can’t even grab them. She inches away from him. 

“I wasn’t!” Trevor denies. He’s not very convincing.

“Oh, you’re so–” Honey cuts herself off, shaking her head. 

“I’m so what?” Trevor asks.

Honey, still covering the bow between her lovely tits, uses her free hand to crawl over the center console and into the back seat. “I have to get away from you,” she says. 

“What?” Trevor grabs her ankle. “You can’t get away from me at a time like this,” he says, using his other hand to unbuckle his seatbelt. He goes to follow Honey. “You’re injured!”

Honey collapses on the back seat, pulling her legs back and dragging Trevor along. She laughs as he stumbles a little and kneels half-on the seat and half-on the ground. His hand is still attached to her ankle, spreading her thighs.

They seem to realize the position they’re in at the same time. Honey’s jaw drops and Trevor just smiles. He palms over her calves, then up to her thighs, pushing them even further apart. It’s like his three texts were three wishes from a genie, or three Herculean feats he has to overcome before getting Honey into his bed for the whole night. 

I want to eat you out, Trevor had said then. And now, his wish is coming true.

Honey’s pants are in the way. Trevor’s too respectful to just rip them, so he just rubs over her clothed center with his thumb. He bites his lip. 

“Make you feel better?” Trevor jokes feebly, not sure what line will work on Honey. It might be too cheesy. 

It is.

Honey scoffs. “More like make it up to me,” she declares, shuffling around and pushing her waistband over her hips. Trevor takes over from there, getting his hands on her ass and helping her out. “Seem to remember that you didn’t make me come the other day.”

“Oh, are you ready to beg?” Trevor asks, perking up. He stops his movements, her lower half just short of exposed. 

She wasn’t expecting him to one-up her, but she recovers quickly. “I don’t beg for the things that I’ve earned.”

“Earned?” Trevor scoffs. He pulls away, securing her waistband above her hips and covering her. “Baby, you didn’t even try.” 

Now, it’s a game of wills. 

“I’ll remind you how to follow the rules,” Trevor adds. He finally brings the joint, which he steals from Honey, to his mouth, crawling up her body as he inhales. He sits back, spreading his legs a bit, and pats his thigh. With his other hand, he takes the blunt from his lips and exhales. “Come gimme a kiss,” he invites, tapping the corner of his mouth. 

“Don’t piss me off,” Honey replies like a warning. Still, despite the disapproving tilt of her mouth, she makes her way over to Trevor and crawls between his legs. 

Instead of sitting on his lap, she just sits in a little ball, knees pressed against her chest between his legs. Her back is against his front and she plucks the joint from his fingers, placing it between her lips. He has to shift on the seat, moving so they’re sitting along the row instead of facing forward. Trevor’s legs are outstretched toward the opposing window, through which he can see a few tree trunks and then utter blackness.

“It’s kind of freaky, how alone we are out here,” Trevor ponders. 

Honey crinkles her nose. “Sounds like something a serial killer would say.” She leans her head back on Trevor’s collarbone, blowing the smoke in the air like she did in the basement. It drifts right into Trevor’s space and he turns his head to avoid it. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Trevor says. “I don’t mind.”

Honey doesn’t reply to that. She scoffs a little and rolls her eyes, taking another hit of the joint. It’s a small one– probably the smallest one Honey rolled, but it’s plenty for them to share. 

“I’m serious, though. It gets so dark up here. I’m still not used to it,” Trevor continues. 

“You never get used to it,” Honey says. “But it’s nice, I think.”

“Yeah,” Trevor agrees. He bundles her up in his arms and presses a kiss to her temple. 

She breathes in again. On her exhale, she speaks. Her voice has grown quieter, more thoughtful. “When I came up here as a kid, all I ever wanted was someone to play with,” she says. “But I like the silence and darkness up here, now. Sometimes I feel like nothing that happens here is real. It doesn’t count.”

Trevor gets what she’s saying. Litchton is like a bubble– the only things that exist in the bubble are the things that are actually here. Everything else is other-worldly. They train all the time, but sometimes even hockey doesn’t feel real to Trevor. The realest thing he has in Litchton is the girl in his arms. 

“Is that why you came here?” Trevor asks. “After everything that happened?”

Honey shrugs, prodding Trevor’s hand with the blunt until he takes it back. “I just needed to get away.”

Trevor hums as he inhales. 

Honey continues. “I’ve been thinking about that year a lot more often than normal, lately.”

“Oh, you have?”

“Mhm. I was talking with Bea after I told you everything, you know, and it was just, like, a weird realization. I think about then and I think about now and I think I’m so different. I’m not, really, but I changed fundamentally that year.”

“How could you not?” Trevor asks. “It sounded like it was really hard.”

“It wasn’t just that, though,” Honey says. She’s a little louder now, a little more angry. She struggles to find her words. “It’s like– I look back at the person I was then and I know it’s me, and I know it all happened to me, but none of it feels real because that version of me doesn’t exist anymore. I got rid of her when I came here. She wasn’t– necessary.” Honey laughs to herself, burying her face in her hands. “God, I sound like a crazy person. Forget I said any of that.”

The only way Trevor will ever forget what Honey said is if this weed knocks him on his ass tomorrow morning. He agrees, not wanting to start a fight, but how could he forget this? That Honey feels like she left herself behind when she moved to Litchton, and that all of her past seems fabricated?

“I can feel you still thinking about it,” Honey interrupts, turning her head so her nose nudges Trevor’s neck. “Guess neither of us are good at following rules.”

Trevor takes another hit from the blunt before passing it back to Honey. “Guess not,” he murmurs. He wonders if she can feel his heartbeat. He’s, all of a sudden, very aware of his racing heart against Honey’s back, and he blames the high. He should really be done for the day. Honey’s presence is making him stiff and warm and the weed is making him tired and lazy. The combination is not ideal.

“How many have I missed?” Honey asks, twisting the joint between her fingers.

“Hm?” Trevor answers. She pulled him from his thoughts, so he barely heard what she said.

Honey chuckles quietly. “How many times did you take a hit,” Honey clarifies. She brings the joint to her lips and breathes in. “Need to know how many kisses I owe you,” she continues on her exhale.

Trevor perks up. “A million,” he quips. 

“Mm, wow,” Honey reacts sarcastically. She inspects the roll between her fingers, growing smaller by the second. “The never-ending joint. I didn’t know they made those.”

“Willy Wonka is opening a dispensary. Candy sales are going down and weed is a growing industry,” Trevor jokes. “He’s got the Oompa-Loompas in the greenhouse pruning the marijuana trees.”

Honey laughs, a loud one pulled from her chest. Trevor watches as her eyes squint shut and her throat moves with the sound. He brings a hand up to trace the line of her neck, just to feel her move. He doesn’t miss the shift of her breath when he makes contact, icy fingers skimming across warm skin. 

Trevor looks at Honey when her breath hitches, tearing his eyes away from his fingers contrasting her neck, really looks at her. He likes the way she blinks up at him with his hand here. He likes that she stopped everything to look up at him with wide, awe-inspired eyes. At least, that’s what he thinks he’s seeing. Maybe he just really likes when his hand is on Honey’s neck.

He leans down to kiss her slightly, using his touch to pull her up the rest of the way. She sighs into his mouth, practically breathing into his lungs. The movement isn’t enough. Trevor needs to hear her say that she likes this. He’s so close to hearing her beg. He pulls away, breaking the moment.

Honey frowns.

Trevor takes his hand away, albeit a little reluctantly. It falls to her shoulder before settling in her lap, right next to her hand. He touches her knuckle, on the burn. 

“Your hand okay?” He queries softly.

Honey frowns even more deeply. “My hand’s fine.”

“I feel bad that you burned yourself,” Trevor says.

“Nine hundred, ninety nine thousand, nine hundred ninety nine more kisses to go,” Honey implores impatiently.

It takes a minute for the number to comprehend in Trevor’s mind. He has to think over it five times before he is sure that he’s interpreting it right. One less than a million, he finally thinks. Got it.

Trevor laughs and pecks her mouth, quick as can be. He waits.

After a minute, Honey’s indignance increases. “999,998 more kisses to go,” she says. 

The number is a lot easier to comprehend the second time around. Trevor plops another kiss on her mouth. 

The more she pouts, the more he smiles. It’s an infinite loop that only breaks once Honey squirms in Trevor’s arms, twisting to face him. They lost the blunt in all of this. Trevor hopes Honey snuffed it out someplace. That would be bad if she didn’t. But she’s smart, so she probably did.

“I think we should go in the house,” Honey whispers conspiratorially. She leans to kiss Trevor, a little softer than the past few. It’s a ghost of her lips, really.

“999,997,” Trevor replies, pulling her down by the hem of her shirt. He steals another kiss before letting her pull away.

Honey makes herself all pretty in front of him– barely changing a thing, just looking at him through her lashes.

“What’s that look?” Trevor asks with a laugh, smearing his hand across her cheek to break her focus.

“Wanna go inside?” Honey invites, tilting her head. It’s a thinly veiled request.

It’s close enough to a plead, for now. Trevor nods, taking another kiss from the girl before she goes to the door on her side of the car. He has to roll a bit to exit on his side, rushing to get back to his spot near Honey. 

She grabs her keys and phone, leaving everything else in the car. Trevor’s keys are in his pocket, probably, just in case the boys locked the door. Trevor doubts that they did– they’re probably still downstairs, watching some movie that they happened upon on cable. Maybe Family Feud. Cole has been loving Family Feud lately.

They make it back in the house easily, tiptoeing a bit over the creaky wooden steps and floorboards. Honey holds Trevor’s hand.

He has her on the bed in moments, his lips on hers. Trevor lays her head across his pillows, hovering above her. He wants her spread out below him, falling apart because of him.

“Can I?” Trevor asks, touching the string of her bow, twisting the end between his pinched fingers but never pulling.

Honey nods, arching her back so her chest presses into his touch. She’s kissing him again. 

He tugs until her shirt is falling open. Her sternum appears, plus the curves along her breast, and Trevor jumps forward to mark the unblemished skin. 

Her fingers find his hair and guide him. He pushes the fabric out of his way, feeling for her jewelry. His fumbling fingertips find it and rest, lightly pinching the skin.

Honey moans softly, grinding against his bulge, pressed right against her spread legs. Even with the clothes, he knows that she can feel him… and that she likes it. He doesn’t need to be cocky, but where’s the fun in that?

“Let me get my mouth on you,” Trevor says, letting his kisses fall lower and lower.

“Your mouth– is on me,” Honey sasses, breath hitching weakly in the middle of her sentence. 

Trevor pauses and bites his lip to stop a laugh from escaping him. She’s really making him work for this. He rephrases. “Let me get my tongue in you.” He continues his path, kissing down Honey’s stomach. 

Honey’s hips jump when his lips find her abdomen. He kisses as close as he can near the waistband of her bottoms, dipping his fingers underneath the fabric. 

“Okay,” Honey breathes. She’s trembling a bit, trying to keep her hips still. Trevor can feel the effort. 

He smooths his hands over her skin, then under the fabric of her panties. He lets his palm find her tramp stamp before he pulls her clothing off to reveal her lower half. 

He can’t bear to wait any longer, but if he had more resolve, he’d kiss every inch of her again before finding her cunt. As much as Trevor wants to give her that reverence, he also wants to give her an orgasm.

He fits his mouth over her clit, licking over her bundle of nerves slowly. His index finger traces between her lips, spreading her folds and finding her entrance. This, Trevor takes his time with. He wants to taste her forever. He wants to touch her forever. If he could relive this moment over and over for the rest of time, he would. 

He pushes his finger inside, burying himself in the tight squeeze of her walls. He blinks like he’s in a dream, long and slow, not sure whether it’s worse to look away from her or lean into the drowsiness of the moment. He feels drugged on Honey, not just off the weed they smoked.

His middle finger prods at Honey, slipping into her cunt with a slight stretch. She reacts to it, but only seeks more. Trevor would give her everything. That’s why his tongue leaves her clit to fulfill his original goal– to get inside of her. She moans when he does and Trevor nearly combusts on the spot. 

Trevor laps at her wetness, fingers buried into her warm cunt almost lazily. He's pumping them in and out of her like it's nothing, like it's the natural instinct only-thing-he-can-do on an atomic level. Everything is amplified and red and pulsing because of the weed he consumed two hours prior and her warm, warm, and wet skin surrounding his fingers. 

He pauses to bite his lip, feeling the glue of his permanent retainer scrape against his chapped skin. Then, he returns to Honey's clit, flicking it with the flat of his tongue, mouth closing over her and worshiping her. His fingers beckon her forward, towards him, and she moves beneath him.

She rolls her hips with the press of his fingertips to her insides, a stuttered little gasp breaking her whine. 

Trevor's eyes flutter open and hazily, all clouded with lust, he finds her face. Her eyes are locked on his and her mouth is open. Her chest is heaving, smooth skin rising and falling in Trevor's view. The bars through her nipples catch the pale light from his lamplight in the corner of the room, glinting across his vision. 

“Take your shirt off,” Trevor says.

Honey blinks at him, but pulls at the fabric anyway. It’s a hassle, but she removes the top. She’s wearing nothing, completely naked in front of him. Trevor realizes he’s wearing all of his clothes and decides he has to remedy that immediately. 

He pulls back enough to shuffle his arm through the hole in his t-shirt. He can still kitten-lick over her clit, at least until his fingers are free again. He’s never able to part from her completely. It would just be cruel to derive her of his pleasure, if she’s feeling the same thing Trevor is feeling.

His fingers are inside her again and he uses the other hand to pull his shirt off and struggle with his sweatpants. Once his shirt is gone, he seals his lips over her clit again and sucks until she’s whining and lifting her hips off the bed. Her jewelry glints again.

"Touch your tits," Trevor mumbles, barely lifting his head from between her legs.

"What?" Honey asks, just barely audible to Trevor over the sound of her fingers running through his hair, clenching down behind his ear to lead his tongue across her clit again. 

Trevor groans, not wanting to part with her skin. "Touch your tits," he directs louder, diving back to gather the liquid that drips between his fingers with his tongue. It settles on his tongue and he hums, eyes closing. His eyes open again, lids heavier than before.

Honey's listening so intently, but the words aren't registering. She's too caught up in the feeling of Trevor's mouth against her, eager to please her. He's glad to know he's not the only one who is losing himself in the moment, feeling like no time is passing at all despite every second feeling so long.

Trevor's happy to help her out. He’s managed to get his pants down to his knees, along with his boxers now. He’s got an occupied hand. 

With his free hand, he reaches up from her thigh and feels out her body. He traces the curves of her hips and stomach to her waist and chest, slowing down as he nears her peaks. Carefully, even removing his mouth from her clit to make sure he isn’t distracted, Trevor sweeps a thumb over her pierced nipple. 

She springs to action, feeling it immediately. His pinch has her squeaking, both hands in his hair as she drags him up to her mouth.

He comes willingly, smiling until her mouth clashes against his. He's laughing a little bit at the ferocity, his fingers dancing inside her merrily, making the kiss all the more messy when Honey groans. Then she clenches down when his hand meets her other nipple. It's a vicious cycle, one that quickens when Honey starts grinding her hips. Trevor slows his movements and lets her sweat a little, working herself up with furious twitches of her hips.

"Trevor," Honey pouts, pulling him out of his trance. She insistently rolls her hips again, her bottom lip jetting out as she looks up at him.

Trevor pulls back, eyes widening a little as he comes back to himself. Honey's face clears in his sight like he's fixing a telescope. Her eyes are starry like the sky, too.

He's trying to identify the look on her face, blinking blankly. 

Her eyelashes are so dark, he realizes. She must have put on mascara today.

"Trevor," Honey whines again, her hips circling. 

He notices his fingers have stilled inside her and that she's whining at the loss.

Like she's begging for him.

She confirms it with one word. A beautiful, whispered “Please.”

Trevor's fingers are out and the tip of his cock is in without hesitation. His lips slide against hers as she breathes in and he breathes out. He presses further, fingers splayed across her back to pull her up, chest against chest.

They're touching everywhere and Trevor can do nothing but hope and pray that she's feeling the same way he is right now. Bea's church trips might actually be rubbing off on him.

There's no other way to describe it: Trevor must have earned a miracle, somehow. He only ever feels like he fits in the world when he's playing hockey and that pales in comparison to being inside Honey, to feeling her come while wrapped in his arms. 

Nothing has ever felt so right in his life. Something changes in Trevor in that instant– everything aligns. It’s like what Honey said before– about leaving her old self behind when she came to Litchton. Trevor understands now because he feels the same way. Now that he’s been here– now that he’s been with her, he knows he can never be without her again.

44:90 – HONEY

She wakes up with Trevor leaking out of her. He's still pressed against her, like the night before, but this time he's plastered against her back rather than pulling her up to his chest. He's still pulling. It's her hips this time, back so that his morning wood can slide between her dripping lips.

It's nice for a minute as her drowsy sleep wears off, the last remnants of her high trickling away like fairy dust into the night. She feels quite floaty with it, but allows the last wisp of her high to go on without her.

Her eyes register the light and she flinches, overcome with energy. She frantically finds the old alarm clock on Trevor's bedside table, the numbers flashing in the corner with each second. It's early, early enough for the sun to be a sliver on the horizon and a thought in a baker's head, but later than Honey intended to stay. She has to get out of here.

She goes to move, but Trevor's arm keeps her in place. He tilts his hips forward. “Baby,” he breathes in his slumber, like a dream. His nose nudges her ear. She melts back against him, then catches herself. She has to get out of this house before Quinn gets up to take a shower. 

Honey wakes Trevor when she escapes his grasp, leaving him to blink up sleepily as she gathers up her clothes: a shirt, bottoms and her underwear from the night before. She scrambles to get them on, sparing a glance at the dimly smiling Trevor, who is stretching under the covers. 

He's admiring her so intently, a daft and tiny smile on his face that distracts Honey and makes her shiver. He's always so– pleased. It's the moments like these that make Honey wonder if she's getting sucked too far into his world. She keeps chasing these looks like a drug, addicted to her next hit.

“I'll see you on Friday,” she whispers to him, bending down to smooth his hair out of his face. She’s pretty busy until then, with work and such. Today, she’s meant to go out with Quinn. 

Trevor tilts his head up and his nose pokes the corner of her lip. She catches his jaw in her hands and fixes his face so his lips are poised in front of her. She pecks his pursed, chapped bottom lip and pulls away so quick that it leaves him frowning.

He's thinking, hard, even as her touch leaves him and she tiptoes to the door. “Friday?” He asks. “That's not enough to tide me over until Friday,” he complains, pulling Honey's pillow down to hug against his chest. He presses the corner of the pillow to his lips, smiling at her when she sighs.

Honey comes back and kisses him once more, with tongue, just to leave him stupid enough to stay quiet until she's gone.

At least she's not covered in marks this time, since she's meeting Quinn in a few hours to shop for Bea's birthday gift. She doesn’t have to pull out her sleeveless turtleneck again. Realistically, she can go open The Reading Nook in this outfit and work until Bea appears. It’s then that she’ll switch places with the girl and plant herself in the passenger seat of Quinn’s car.

Honey decides to drive straight to the Nook. She and Bea stashed a box in one of the cabinets years ago with deodorant and toothpaste and the other essentials for life as a girl. 

Ada made fun of them, but once she got a paper cut and didn’t have a band-aid in her purse, so she dipped into their stash. The tables turned then– Honey and Bea gained the upper hand. They gifted Ada her own box the following week, smirking like they were acting smart. She nearly sent them running with her disapproving eye roll, but she thanked them afterward.

Honey unlocks the door and scoops up the magazine from the stoop. She nods and smiles at a man jogging by. He returns the look. The sun is nearly risen now and everything is pink. The brick wall of the Nook seems to glow. She locks the door behind her again.

The Nook has gathered more dust since they took such a long weekend. It takes Honey a little while longer than it normally does to sweep and dust the shelves. She opens the store as quickly as she can– but she still doesn’t have enough time to herself before the Founding Women come knocking.

Three minutes is all she has to brush her teeth, her hair, and throw on some deodorant. Honey rushes to do so, multitasking as best she can. With one hand, she’s brushing her teeth and with the other, she’s scrambling to find the handheld mirror that Bea set in the bin after checking her teeth for seeds the other day. 

“Damn it, where are you,” Honey asks aloud, as if the mirror can reply. 

Her hand brushes the handle and she pulls it out, catching the glare of the light and blinding herself for a second. She blinks to clear her vision, shaking her head a bit. She finally looks in the mirror, bracing herself for the likely appalling state of her hair. 

Oh. Okay. It’s not that bad.

She puts the mirror down and finishes brushing her teeth, spitting the toothpaste and applying deodorant before picking up the mirror again. She fluffs the hair on the back of her head, cocking her head to the side and pursing her lips at her own reflection. Her eyes go lower, to inspect her neck and make sure Trevor didn’t leave anything behind that she couldn’t see before in the dark. 

It’s then that she regrets driving straight to her place of work. In her fervor this morning to escape the rental house before Quinn woke up, Honey didn’t grab the right clothes. She grabbed her underwear and her favorite athletic skirt, but the shirt she threw on was not hers. It’s the second time she’s worn Trevor’s shirt after hooking up with him and Honey is starting to wonder if she’s accidentally-doing-it-on-purpose. 

It’s a plain white t-shirt, pretty much. There’s a logo on the front breastbone of a platypus-looking duck mask in the center of an upside-down triangle. Honey squints at it in the mirror, then looks down at her chest with her own two eyes. The shirt is big, sure, and she had absentmindedly tucked the back of it into the waistband of her shorts while she was dusting, so she should’ve known it wasn’t hers. She showed up to Trevor’s place yesterday in a shirt that ties in the front. Yes, that was on purpose.

This mishap was not. Now she’s having to scramble to make the shirt look natural and hers before Sacha comes knocking at the door. 

Honey uses the mirror to tuck and untuck the back of the top into something a person might see an influencer wearing at the gym. She doesn’t like the style, but it’s necessary. She can’t look as out of place as she feels, wearing Trevor’s clothing. People will really start to suspect something. She knows the ladies suspect– but she can’t have it getting out.

Honey frowns and whines at herself in the mirror, tossing her head back on her shoulders and feeling her face crumble. She places the mirror down and covers her face with both hands. 

She’s so stupid. This is exactly what Honey sought to avoid after Thomas. She knows herself. She knows that she gets caught up in what’s happening and she starts to neglect the other parts of her life. She came to Litchton to be independent and put-together, not like the child that sent her naked pictures out just for it to come back and bite her in the butt. Wearing Trevor’s shirt is not the same as that, but Honey can’t believe that she made this mistake. One mistake like this just leads to more, which leads to a snowball effect, which ends in Honey moving towns and starting over. She’s done this before and she refuses to do it again.

Honey is stuck in her head as she lets Sacha and Gillian in, mumbling some incoherent response and giving the half-hearted kisses on the cheek when they enter The Reading Nook. As Vera, Scarlett, and Rosalind make their way into the Nook, she greets them the same way. Then, she hides behind the cash register, reading her book. She’s still reading that romance book. 

Twenty minutes of flustered page-flipping and fake reading later, Bea walks in the door.

“Oh, thank God,” Honey sighs, hopping down from her stool and stashing her book underneath the counter. 

“Is that–” Bea starts, having barely let the door shut behind her.

“Don’t,” Honey interrupts, pointing a finger in Bea’s face as she passes her. She wrenches open the door, despising the cheerful, twinkling bell that she installed years ago. She stomps to Quinn’s car, throwing open the passenger door and climbing in. She slams the door behind her.

“Good morning, Honey,” Quinn greets quietly, his voice gruff like he’s still fighting off sleep. Honey doesn’t reply– he doesn’t need it, and she’s still feeling weird. He peels away from the curb, heading back down the mountain. They pass the rental house and Honey’s pulse spikes when they do.

She feels abnormally sick as they drive down the mountain, still stuck on the fact that she’s wearing Trevor’s shirt. Now, she’s worried about how it looks to be wearing Trevor’s shirt in front of Quinn, in public. 

It’s one thing in the comfort of her own home. That’s why she didn’t freak out last time she accidentally stole Trevor’s shirt– or, at least, not verbally. She barely spoke the whole time Trevor was there, humming occasionally to answer his questions and reading a sentence aloud of her book when he asked. He didn’t notice her discomfort. He doesn’t know that she took his shirt off as soon as he closed the front door behind him, shoving it deep in the back of her closet and hoping to forget about the incident entirely. 

Trevor also doesn’t know that she’s slept in his shirt twice since then. It’s supposed to be some form of exposure therapy, but Honey just feels icky each morning after.

And now, she doesn’t even have a change of clothes. At home, she can rip off his shirt and replace it with her own, but here? In the Nook? In Quinn’s car? There’s nothing. Honey just has to face it. It’s not going well.

She’s gone silent and she doesn’t think Quinn minds, but the silence is starting to suffocate her.

“Where are we going?” Honey asks, clearing her throat. There’s a lump in her throat that won’t disappear. 

“The mall in Charlotte,” Quinn replies.

“Charlotte,” Honey repeats, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. “Why Charlotte?”

“Because the store I googled was there,” Quinn says curtly. 

“I told you that there’s a store she’d like in Winston,” Honey says.

“I found something I thought she’d like,” Quinn says. 

“Then why am I here?” Honey snaps.

Quinn looks over at Honey, a perturbed side-eye that has her glowering. He raises his eyebrows, then faces the street again. “We can go to Winston. We’re not even on the highway yet. We have time.”

“Well, good, because we’re going to Winston,” Honey says in a huff. She crosses her arms over her chest and sits back in the passenger seat. It’s obvious that Bea sat there last because the seat is practically laying back. She must have tried to sleep on the short car ride over. How futile.

Quinn scoffs and laughs a bit, rolling his eyes. Honey takes the consolation, but she doesn’t like being laughed at. 

She cranks up the radio as loud as she can stand and rolls her window down. She lets the wind whip at her hair until it’s tangled, and gross, and she has to tie it up. Then, she rolls up her window and lays back in the seat, throwing her hands over her eyes.

Quinn is perfectly content to sit in silence during the drive to Winston-Salem. He sings along softly with the radio, just enough that Honey can hear him. At first, she wonders if he’s singing at all and if she’s just hearing the backup singers and harmonies like they’re 3D, but then she looks over and sees his lips moving and his thumbs tapping the wheel. 

He looks handsome. In this light, laying down in his passenger seat, Honey wishes life was as easy for her as it is for Bea. She knows that Bea has her own problems and her own sorrows, but Honey wishes that her life could be so simple. Bea was never traumatized by an evil ex and never had her nudes leaked. She’s able to wear Quinn’s clothes without overthinking it. Better yet, she’s able to have sex with anyone she wants, including her boyfriend’s brother. 

Honey realizes, in that moment, that she detests Bea. It’s not a permanent hatred. She’s just so jealous. Trevor would never take Bea out to go shopping for Honey’s birthday, and yet, here she is, wearing his shirt.

Honey breaks, tugging at the hem of the too-big shirt. 

“Can we stop somewhere and get me a new shirt while we’re out?” Honey asks.

Quinn draws his eyebrows together before he looks over. “Why?” He takes his eyes off the road for just a second to inspect Honey’s shirt. “Is it stained or something?” 

As soon as he looks away, he does a double-take, and Honey wishes she had never brought it up.

“Are you wearing–”

“Don’t,” Honey growls.

“Trevor’s shirt?” Quinn finishes, smirking evilly. “So I guess your relationship isn’t all that secret.”

“I’m not wearing it on purpose,” Honey hisses. “I accidentally grabbed it this morning.”

“This morning?” Quinn asks, a crooked smile overtaking his face. “Where were you this morning?”

Honey snarls in his direction, grinding her teeth. 

“I thought you were inviting your, uh, dating app guy over to your place. Don’t you have clothes at your place?” Quinn teases.

He means well, is the thing. Honey knows that he’s just joking with her like he would with any of his friends, but he doesn’t know that she’s seeing red.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Honey tells him resolutely. 

Quinn shrugs. “Okay,” he says easily. Honey doesn’t believe that he’ll let it go, just based on the quirk of his lips as he continues to drive. 

Honey’s lucky because they’re only a few minutes outside of Winston now and Quinn can hold his tongue for a few minutes. Soon enough, they’ll be surrounded by jewelry and he’ll be so confused that he has to let it go, unless he doesn’t want Honey to help him.

When they pull into the parking lot and Honey lets herself out of the vehicle, Trevor’s shirt falls even more loosely around her. Or, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s just Quinn’s laughter that makes her feel like she’s drowning in the fabric. Even Trevor’s scent around her isn’t comforting. It’s just making her feel worse, reminding her that this shirt is not hers and it does not belong on her body.

Honey tugs at the hem of the shirt almost constantly, untucking it and retucking it until she understands how foolish she must look. She stands more stiffly as Quinn talks to the sales associate, describing what he would like to buy. There’s a moment when the associate asks if the bracelet is for Honey, which leaves them both denying her in earnest. 

“Her shirt might be my size, but it’s not mine,” Quinn says, which throws Honey back into her silence and makes her frown. It’s not what he said, because that’s completely true, but it’s the disdain in his voice when she says it.

His words are an answer to the question that she rarely ever lets her ask herself. Honey is not desirable. Trevor is a fluke. Ordinarily, Honey would remind herself that Trevor’s leaving in six weeks anyway, so it doesn’t matter. 

Today, for some fucked up reason, Trevor’s opinion matters a lot to Honey. She’d be positively shattered if he’s only fucking her because he can. When he leaves at the end of the summer, he’ll probably move on and start fucking other girls, and he’ll completely forget about Honey and Litchton altogether.

Honey can’t let that happen. She can’t let herself fall apart for a second time over another fucking boy. She and Trevor are just hooking up– and if she can’t get that through her head, then it’ll have to stop. She’ll just have to stop seeing him before he stops seeing her.

Yeah, that’ll work. 

Honey is satisfied with the decision. She’ll stop seeing Trevor. She’ll get home, take this shirt off, and deliver it back to him later this week, along with the other one that she accidentally stole. It’ll be like when you give another child a gift at a birthday party, just so that they don’t feel left out. 

She feels better for a little while. She’s able to shop around with Quinn, looking at the bracelets he likes and telling him which ones Bea would certainly not like. She even identifies the ones that Bea would like… but wouldn’t wear.

Eventually, they settle on a tiny gold bracelet decorated with five equidistant pink heart-shaped charms. It’s more expensive than anything Honey has ever bought for Bea, but hey, she’s not Bea’s suitor. Nor is she a rich man, and Quinn is a premier athlete. He’s sitting on some big bucks and Honey knows it.

She ignores every time Quinn makes a comment about the shirt, which he does each chance he gets. He mentions it in the store, while they shop around, as Honey models bracelets to see how they would fit on Bea, when they get in the car, and even while he drives them back towards Litchton and towards Trevor, who is the source of all of Honey’s anxiety at the moment.

She knows that Quinn is just teasing. She knows that he’s poking fun at her the way an older brother would. She knows that it isn’t meant to hurt her feelings and that he doesn’t know that she’s freaking out, completely surrounded in her mind by evil doubts and nagging, gremlin-like voices.

She can’t hear it any longer. Honey physically cannot bear to hear another quip from Quinn about her borrowed t-shirt. She cannot hear another mention of Trevor’s name. It only makes her feel worse, reminding her that she has decided to end this for her own good. The look on Trevor’s face when she tells him that it has to be over– oh, Honey might be sick. Honey might be sick if Quinn keeps talking, too.

After a final mumbled, snorted comment from Quinn, Honey slams her fist down on the arm rest and lifts her eyes to the ceiling of his car. Her eyes are stinging and it takes everything in Honey not to burst into tears right there. 

“God, Quinn, would you quit it with the comments?” She demands. 

Her throat is tight and she has to talk through her teeth to keep herself from chattering. She hugs herself, rubbing over the goosebumps on her triceps. She has to reach under Trevor’s sleeve to get to her skin– that’s how big and wrong his shirt feels on her body. The fabric is too long and too baggy and the part that she tucked into her skirt is digging into the small of her back. Honey brings her thumb up to her mouth and bites the pad of the digit, pinching her skin together. She stares stubbornly out the window, glaring at the trees along the highway. She sees Quinn look at her in her reflection and Honey avoids eye contact, biting her skin even harder. It’s stopping her lip from wobbling. She couldn’t bear to cry in front of Quinn, but today has just been– really, really hard for her.

First, she woke up wearing Trevor’s clothes. Then, she had to be seen in public wearing Trevor’s clothes. Then, Quinn teased her for wearing Trevor’s clothes. Now, the shirt is digging into her back and she’s about to cry because she really, really doesn’t want to give it back. She really, really doesn’t want her relationships to be so hard, but she can’t stop herself. She’s still not patched back up from Thomas and that’s why she can’t be with Trevor. She wants so badly to be with Trevor the way that Bea is with Quinn, but she just can’t. 

Quinn stays silent for a few minutes. Honey hears the song on the radio change twice. 

The silence becomes too uncomfortable for her after Quinn checks in on her a second time, this time taking a hand off the steering wheel like he meant to touch her and comfort her. He lets it drop to the gearshift when he thinks better of touching her.

“And it smells in here,” Honey complains, voicing up about the thought that’s been running through her head since she got in the car outside of The Reading Nook this morning. She’s grumbling by the end of her sentiment. “I thought Trevor’s car was the equipment car.”

“Always thinking about Trevor, huh,” Quinn says quietly.

“Stop,” Honey says.

“Okay.” Quinn shrugs.

Silence.

Quinn looks her way again, less than thirty seconds later. “No. Not okay,” he decides. “What’s wrong with you? What did he do that has you so upset?”

“He didn’t do anything,” Honey mumbles, still facing the window.

“Honey, come on,” Quinn scoffs. “What’s the deal? You’re wearing his shirt and you look more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen you. That’s not right.”

“Right,” Honey repeats. She finally turns to him, incredulous and fired up. He doesn’t know when to stop. He’s crossing all these lines and Honey can’t stand it. “What the fuck do you know about ‘right?’ Your girlfriend is fucking everyone else in that damn house.”

“You don’t know shit about our relationship,” Quinn replies, an edge in his voice. 

“And you don’t know shit about mine,” Honey snaps. She glares at him, grinding her teeth and fighting back a burning threat of tears at her waterline. 

“Well, fucking explain it to me,” Quinn snarls. “That’s why I asked in the first place.”

Honey is taken aback by his response. She hesitates. 

“Look, Bea won’t tell me anything about– what happened to you,” Quinn says, his tone disjointed and careful. “And I haven’t asked about it more than once, but I have to ask now. Why are you so– hesitant to like him? We can all tell that he likes you and you… feel something for him, but I can tell you’re not committing to this. Why not?”

“It’s complicated,” Honey deflects, voice hard.

“Honey.” 

Quinn’s voice is insistent. He pinches his lips together and tilts his head at her, imploring her with just a blink of his eyes.

“My last boyfriend sucked, okay?” Honey exclaims, turning to face the window again. She means to hide her tears, but her sniffle gives it away. She really should’ve considered that before she did it. “He sucked,” she says quieter. “And I really, really loved him. I really, really trusted him.”

Quinn stays quiet, letting Honey ruminate on her words.

“He–” Honey takes a sharp breath, shaking her head to herself. “He did everything he could to ruin my life.”

Honey can hear Quinn’s blinks and his consistent breath. He keeps taking deep inhales like he’s going to say something, then decides against it and lets the inhale go. 

“So I have trouble–” her voice breaks on the word, “–committing to Trevor. If that’s the word we’re using. Not that you know anything about commitment.”

“I’m committed,” Quinn replies, the first thing he’s said in minutes. He says it with a defensive edge. “I’m committed.”

The repetition rubs Honey the wrong way, just for a moment before Quinn interrupts the process of Honey forming a confused expression.

“So’s Trevor, by the way,” Quinn adds. “Don’t let his douchey texts fool you. He’s not ‘just fucking’ you. He’s just a moron that doesn’t know how to talk to a girl he really likes.”

“Trevor is leaving at the end of the summer,” Honey says carefully. “I can’t–” She shakes her head, cutting herself off. She takes a breath and picks right back up. “I can’t let myself get my hopes up. I’m not gonna– like some guy just to be left in the dirt again.”

“What is it with you guys and thinking we’d leave you?” Quinn asks, shaking his head like he’s in disbelief, eyes still on the road. The words come out of him in a rush and his subsequent sealed lips tell Honey everything she needs to know.

Honey pauses, mind seeming to clear for a split second. “You’ve talked about this with Bea,” she observes, feeling like her voice is far away. 

Quinn pinches the bridge of his nose, then moves his hair off of his forehead. “Yeah,” he says.

“What did…? She’s…?” Honey isn’t sure which question is the right one, so she gives up on both.

Quinn forces a little smile onto his face. Honey’s body turns cold because she knows that face. He’s picked up Bea’s idiosyncracy, where she tries to deliver terrible news in a positive way so she doesn’t hurt the other person’s feelings. “She won’t leave Litchton until she knows you’re okay,” Quinn tells Honey. 

“I’m okay,” Honey says.

“You’re not.” Quinn’s smile tilts with laughter, making it much more real. “She knows you’re not.”

Honey falters. “I’m– being in a new relationship after that is hard,” she insists. “But I’m doing it. I’m fine.”

Quinn nods at Honey in concession. When his eyes turn back to meet hers, Honey knows that he doesn’t blame her for this. It’s not something he has to tell her, which comforts her slightly. It calms her. He’s not angry or upset with her. He doesn’t think she’s doing anything wrong.

They fall silent for another few minutes.

“Whatever, um, he did to you,” Quinn says after a while, treading lightly with his words and clearing his throat when he’s not sure he’s saying the right thing. “It wasn’t– you didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t your fault.”

Honey breathes out a weak laugh. “I know.”

“I mean it,” Quinn says, reaching over and taking her hand, squeezing it when he talks again. “You didn’t– that never should’ve happened to you.”

Honey blinks, touched by how genuine and sincere he sounds. He’s still holding her hand. She shakes him free. “I know,” she repeats, her voice feeling strange in her mouth. She can practically feel the words forming and falling off her tongue. They’re so– tangible. 

Silence, again. This one is swifter. It’s Quinn who breaks it. Evidently, he feels as though the moment has passed and he can start teasing her again.

“Imagine how things would be if you weren’t all fucked up,” he says with a shit-eating smile.

Honey’s jaw drops and she starts to laugh, so thrown off by how blatant his statement is.

Quinn raises his pitch and speaks in a high voice, mocking Trevor. “‘Wanna eat u out baby’ and you would’ve let him! You would’ve run up those stairs with him in an instant!”

“Shut up!” Honey faux-gasps, reaching across the console to swat Quinn’s arm. “I would not have!”

“No, you’re right, you would’ve gone in the fucking closet!” Quinn shouts, pointing a finger in Honey’s direction. With his other hand, he clicks the turn signal on and takes the exit. Honey didn’t realize they’d been talking for so long. They’re almost home. “Don’t think I don’t know that you blew him in there!”

“I would never!” Honey shrieks, covering her mouth with her palm and squeezing her eyes shut from her laughter. Of course Bea told him about that.

Now that they’re laughing like real friends, Honey can’t stop. She also can’t bring herself to care that Quinn is teasing her. Now, she’s in on the joke. It’s– freeing.

“With the look on that fucker’s face?” Quinn tosses his thumb to the side like he’s pointing to an invisible Trevor. “It’s a miracle the other boys don’t know.”

Honey is able to reign in her giggles. “Thank you,” she says. “For not telling them, by the way. I don’t think Trevor or I have said that to you.”

Quinn’s laughter trails off, too. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs sincerely. The side of his lips tug up briefly before falling back into a serious line. He makes eye contact with Honey at the final light before home, ready to turn onto the main road that will carry them up the mountain. “I’m… happy for you guys.”

Honey smiles back, feeling her chest well up a little bit by how sweet he is. He deserves Bea, Honey thinks. She can’t think of anyone more deserving of her best friend. Quinn is special. Honey gets it. “I’m happy for you,” she replies. “You look really happy.”

Quinn blushes a bit, his gaze turning sheepish. He nods, a pout fighting and failing to obscure his smile. “She makes me happy.”

Honey nods. They don’t talk the rest of the way home.

45:90 – TREVOR

“I need you to go buy some stuff.”

Trevor looks up from his breakfast sandwich, still chewing his most recent bite. “What?” He asks, not sure if he heard Quinn correctly. 

“I need you to go buy some stuff,” Quinn repeats. He produces a handwritten list from his pocket, tossing the crumpled paper at Trevor.

“Why?” Trevor asks. 

“Because you can either go buy the supplies or you can decorate for the party,” Quinn says. “And I don’t think you want to decorate for the party.”

“What party?” Trevor takes another bite of his sandwich. This bite has an especially good amount of cheese in it. He hums in contentment.

Quinn furrows his eyebrows at Trevor. “Bea’s birthday party?” He reveals like it’s obvious.

“It’s Bea’s birthday?”

Quinn takes another pregnant pause before replying. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Trevor hums, taking another bite. “Cool.”

“Not today,” Quinn corrects. “Sunday. But the party is Friday.”

“Okay, well, it’s Wednesday. Why do I need to go shopping today?” Trevor asks.

Quinn scoffs and shakes his head. “Because I asked you to?”

Trevor makes a face. That’s not a good reason. He doesn’t want to buy anything for Bea’s party. He didn’t agree to throw a party for her. “Why do we have to throw?” Trevor questions. “She’s over here all the time anyway. Why do we have to decorate?”

Quinn clenches his jaw. “Because,” he explains through gritted teeth. “I want it to be special.”

Trevor looks at him for a moment, then shrugs. “Okay.” He returns to his sandwich, ignoring Quinn, who is still standing across from him. Over a minute later, Quinn is still there. Trevor shoves the last bite in his mouth and dusts off his hands, chewing harshly before speaking again.

“What else?” He asks.

“You need to dig out a suit,” Quinn says.

“A suit?” Trevor demands. “Why?”

“It’s the theme,” Quinn explains.

Trevor blanches. “It’s just the seven of us. Why do we need a theme?”

“What is this, twenty questions?” Quinn says, rolling his eyes. “I can play, too. Don’t you know that this will benefit you, too?”

“How?” Trevor asks.

“Trevor,” Quinn sighs, scrubbing his face with both of his hands. “It’s a black-tie event. Honey’s going to wear a tight, black dress. You are going to get to see her in this tight, black dress. She will wear high heels. She will do her makeup and her hair. You get to see her all done up.”

Oh.

Trevor can picture it now and he’s salivating. He’s already plotting all of the ways that he can take her dress off.

“So if you don’t mind,” Quinn continues. “I need you to go get the decorations and I need you to find your suit.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Trevor decides, still a little starry eyed at the idea of Honey in a pretty, fancy dress. “I’ll go grab the stuff before hockey later.” 

They’re going down to Charlotte for a late night practice at the arena, running with some of the Checkers’ players as a mid-summer treat for the members of the team that stayed in Charlotte for the summer. It should be fun– especially since they’re able to play a full-strength scrimmage for the first time all summer. Trevor’s been looking forward to it since last week.

“Thanks,” Quinn tells Trevor as the boy walks past him. His appreciation is dry, but it’s said with a quirk of a smile. “Hey, by the way.” He touches Trevor’s elbow as he passes. “Honey’s a little, well, concerned.”

Trevor stops in his tracks and furrows his brow. “What do you mean, she’s concerned? About what? When did you talk to her?”

“Yesterday. We went to Winston-Salem. She told me about her ex,” Quinn says. 

Thomas. Trevor’s face contorts. He feels disgusted every time he thinks of that guy. How could he take someone as perfect as Honey and make her feel so terrible that she left town? If he could get his hands on Thomas…

“She’s just nervous about it,” Quinn finishes, shrugging. “Being with you after all of that.”

“I know,” Trevor says, his lip curled. He doesn’t need Quinn to tell him all of this. He doesn’t need Quinn to explain Honey’s feelings to him. Quinn doesn’t even know her– not as well as Trevor does, at least. Honey already told him everything. They’re moving at her pace already. Trevor isn’t doing anything to pressure her, yet, here Quinn is, talking to Trevor like he’s scolding him. “I don’t need you to tell me anything about Honey. We’ve got it all figured out.”

Quinn laughs. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“She cried in my car,” Quinn says. “She cried in my car, Trevor.”

Trevor swallows a comeback and sets his jaw. He stalks past Quinn and out the door, moving in lurching movements as he climbs into his car and drives off, towards town.

What do you mean she cried in your car? Trevor asks Quinn in his head. What did you say that made her cry? She was fine the other night. Things have been fine. There’s nothing for her to worry about.

While driving, Trevor calls Honey. She doesn’t pick up the first time, but he calls her again. And again. He has to ask her why she cried and why she’s worried. What won’t Honey tell him and why not?

She picks up on his fourth call. Before she can say hello, Trevor is talking. “Why did you cry in Quinn’s car yesterday?” He asks.

There’s a brief silence on the other end. “Good morning, Trevor,” Bea says. “Honey’s not able to come to the phone at the moment.”

“Why not?” Trevor demands. “And why do you always have her fucking phone when I’m trying to reach her?”

“You mean when you’re trying to sext her?” Bea replies. “She just doesn’t have pockets, bud. She’s out in the store right now.”

“I’m coming over.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Bea says. 

Trevor laughs dryly. “Why not,” he asks, voice so despondent that the question presents as a statement.

“She’s…” Bea hums, trying to decide what to say. “She’s having a bad day, Trev. Quinn did what he could yesterday. Once she was alone again, she got back in her head. Don’t come to the store today. I’m trying to convince her not to break up with you.”

“Break up with me?” Trevor repeats, his jaw dropping. “No.” He outright refuses. She can’t break up with him.

“I know, okay?” Bea says, lowering her voice. “She went farther than she’s ready to, so she’s trying to overcorrect by backing off completely. I’m going to take care of it. I’m not going to let her break it off with you. I need you to, just, God, Trev– I have to go. Just don’t come to the store today. I’m handling it.”

Bea hangs up and leaves Trevor with more questions than he had before he called. 

Honey wants to break up with him? Does she consider them ‘together’ like… boyfriend-girlfriend? Not anymore, he guesses. He’ll stay away, even if he hates it. He’d like to be the one comforting her– not Bea or Quinn. He should be the one holding Honey and taking care of her, like that night that she first kissed him and he slept with her while she cried. Bea may think that she’s got things under control, but Honey was calm after Trevor slept in her bed. She was able to explain everything about Thomas without crying. She was soft and sweet and rational when she explained things to Trevor. He expects that she would act the same way if he could just talk to her.

Trevor’s at war with himself. He wants to go to the Nook, but he won’t. He won’t. He’ll listen to Bea because he wants Honey to be okay and Bea says she’s got it under control. Plus, he’d rather not get broken up with. If he sees Honey and she ends things, Trevor knows that she’ll commit herself to never seeing him again.

The idea of seeing Honey in the distance and having her turn away instead of smiling softly, like Trevor has grown used to, has his chest growing cold. He sags in his seat, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he always sees Honey do. Trevor won’t go. He’ll stay away so that he can be by her side for the rest of their lives. As determined as Honey would be to stay away from Trevor if they broke up– Trevor’s more determined to keep her by his side. 

Trevor’s preoccupied as he shops for Quinn. He spends probably hundreds of dollars on liquor and food and decorations for Bea’s party. He’s a little bit more content to splurge for Bea now that she’s trying to save his relationship. A pretty party seems like an apt way to repay her for the trouble.

Trevor’s also still banking on seeing Honey in a pretty dress on Friday. The party needs to be perfect.

46:90 – HONEY

Honey wakes up in Bea’s bed, snuggled up with the girl because she’s hogging all the blankets. Her head is a little foggy after yesterday. She thought she was fine after talking to Quinn in the car, but that was just a mirage. Wearing Trevor’s shirt in public was big, a disaster even, after Bea rolled into The Reading Nook yesterday and said that Honey looked cute in her soft launch. 

It turns out, Quinn had been tagged in something on an Instagram story on Tuesday. When he looked at it, it was a picture of him and Honey in Winston, shopping for Bea. The picture was harmless, but the speculation was not– and Honey didn’t like being back on social media without her permission. It made her think of– well. It made her think of her very short stint on that porn website.

It was really hard for her to breathe after seeing the picture. Quinn reported it and had it taken down after he had seen it, but he had taken a screenshot so that he could show Bea and they could laugh about it. Bea hadn’t expected for Honey to be so effected by the picture, considering you can’t even see her face, which is why she had brought it up. Honey feels a little guilty– Bea had wanted a laugh and instead, she had gotten one of Honey’s Category Four freakouts. 

By the time the store closed, Bea had calmed Honey down to a Category One, but she had asked Honey to stay the night with her just to make sure she was okay. Bea practically babysat Honey all night, which is probably not how she wanted her evening to go. She probably had plans to meet up with one of the boys, but she was relegated to hanging out with Honey instead. It’s another reason why Honey feels guilty.

Poor Bea. She didn’t sign up for such drama when she became friends with Honey in grade school. If she could go back, Honey wonders if she would change it.

Bea stirs when Honey tries to take back some of her covers. “No,” she whines, blinking blearily. “Don’t take my blankets.”

“You can’t have all of them,” Honey insists, able to secure a corner of the topsheet. She bundles herself in the thin linen. 

Bea squeezes her eyes shut and whines again, turning away from Honey and trying to fall back asleep.

“Hey,” Honey says.

“What,” Bea replies, her voice an annoyed grumble. She’s never been a morning person.

“Never mind,” Honey decides, thinking better of asking the question. It’s too early and Bea will think she’s still in a bad headspace. 

Bea tosses her head back and turns over, glaring at Honey before reaching up to rub the sleep out of one eye. “Say it. You can’t just start your sentence and then say ‘never mind.’”

Now it’s Honey’s turn to roll her eyes. “You do it all the time.”

“Well, it’s different when I do it.”

Honey scoffs. “It’s only different because you think you’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

“Because I’m special,” Bea brags.

“You think so.”

“Hey, it’s my birthday week, you have to listen to me.”

Honey sighs. “Fine. I was wondering if, if you could go back in time, you’d still choose to be my friend.”

Bea widens her eyes, an alarmed look taking over her features. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Well, ‘cause…” Honey shrugs. “Everything with Thomas? Everything with Trevor?”

Bea scoffs. “If I could go back in time and change anything, I’d stop you from dating Thomas in the first place. But, then we wouldn’t be here, and you wouldn’t have met Trevor. Who, by the way, you’re still not breaking up with.”

“I know,” Honey drawls, rolling her head back on her shoulders. Bea spent a good portion of yesterday trying to talk Honey down from making a ‘rash decision that she’ll regret.’

“Good, I’m glad we’re still on the same page about that,” Bea says. She brings her hands out from under the covers and stretches, then sits up. The sheets pool around her waist. “He’s our guest reader today.”

“What?” Honey asks. She sits up too. 

“He’s our guest reader for Story Time,” Bea says again. 

Honey’s mouth opens in surprise and a little bit of anger. “When did you organize that?”

“After you fell asleep last night,” Bea reveals with a shrug. 

“Why?” Honey demands.

Bea smiles. “He wanted to see you yesterday.”

Honey gestures for her to continue, not satisfied by that answer. 

“Don’t act like your boyfriend needs an excuse to see you,” Bea says.

Honey frowns. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Bea rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say.”

“He’s not.”

“Okay.”

“Bea.”

“I said okay, Hon. If he’s not your boyfriend, then he’s not your boyfriend.”

“We’re just hooking up.”

“For now,” Bea mumbles.

“Yes, Bea, for now,” Honey says, practically pleading for the girl to understand what she’s explaining. “He leaves at the end of the summer.”

“You don’t have to remind me that they’re leaving,” Bea says, sighing.

“Well, they are, which is why he’s not my boyfriend. He’ll never be my boyfriend. He’s just– stress relief.” Honey has climbed out of the bed by now, gathering clothes from Bea’s dresser so that she can head to the Nook soon.

Bea laughs. “This is your way of not breaking up with him? Reducing him to ‘stress relief’ and pacing around my bedroom?”

“Bea!” Honey exclaims, halting her movements and facing the girl. “He’s not my boyfriend because he doesn’t deserve all of that pressure. You, of all people, know how much work it is to keep up with my constant mood swings and take care of me. It sucks, taking care of me. I ruined your night last night and the joke you wanted to make yesterday, and that’s just within the past twenty-four hours.”

“You’re not hard to take care of,” Bea says.

“You only say that because you’ve gotten used to it after the past five years,” Honey sneers. “Plus, you and I were friends for twelve years before Thomas, too. You’ve got experience. Trevor has no experience.”

Bea raises her eyebrows. “He might not have experience, but he has plenty of patience. Plus–”

“Look,” Honey interrupts. “I am not going to put a label on this. If he’s my boyfriend, then he’s partially responsible for me. It’s part of the package. He’s leaving at the end of the summer anyway and we both know, after last night, that I can’t handle being seen in public with an NHL player. He’s not my boyfriend because I don’t want him to resent me by the end of the summer.”

“Why would he resent you?” Bea asks.

Honey throws her hands up in exasperation. “Because I’m hard work and I can’t give him what he wants! I can’t even tell Jack and Cole and Luke about this relationship. That’s a shitty way to live.”

Bea leans forward, holding eye contact with Honey. “Honey, Trevor is obsessed with you,” she says, speaking clearly as if Honey can’t hear her. “He’s not going to leave you. He’s not going to resent you. He wants you.”

“Yeah, now,” Honey scoffs. “He won’t want me when–”

“All the time,” Bea insists. “He wanted to eat you out because you looked pretty on Monday. You looked like a fucking bum.”

“Hey!” Honey complains. “So did you,” she grumbles.

“That’s neither here nor there.” Bea waves her off. “The point is, Honey, he really likes you. Even Quinn says it and he’s always annoyed with Trevor. He never says anything nice about Z if he can help it.”

“Well, whatever,” Honey replies. “I’m going to the Nook.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in like fifteen,” Bea says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and heading towards her bathroom. “I gotta tame this bedhead.”

It’s a wonder that Bea is late to work almost every day. She lives, like, a five minute walk from The Reading Nook, in a townhouse just off the main street. It’s the best piece of real estate that Litchton has seen in years, in Honey’s humble opinion. Her building was a repurposed government building and the apartments were split up by department. Bea lives on the second floor in the brick building, in the old Parks and Rec department. Now, the Parks and Rec department resides in the only real building in Litchton’s only park. 

Honey joins Ada in the Nook, busying herself with some of the opening tasks that she knows Ada hates. Sweeping under the shelves, mostly. Honey likes that she’s left alone to do her sweeping. She’s able to avoid Bea when she comes into the store and she’s able to sneak off before the start of Story Time.

She restocks the stacks until there are no books left. She’s searching high and low for a book out of place, but Honey can’t find any. The only other thing to do in the store is take up her spot behind the counter and listen to Story Time, waiting for the parents and kids to be done. No one buys anything during Story Time. They’re just there to listen. It’s afterward that they mingle and look around– maybe because school is starting in about two months, people will be doing summer reading, and they’ll need a book.

Honey is praying for something to intervene. She's praying. Honey doesn't pray. She also doesn’t want to see Trevor after everything she’s felt over the past few days. She’s still not sure what she wants to do. Does she want to hook up with him like everything’s normal? Does she want to end it now and save herself the hurt later?

Or, does she want to take the jump and do more, like Trevor is always asking? Dinner, drinks, wearing his shirt in public, shit like holding hands. Is Honey ready for that? Is Trevor the right person to trust with that?

As much as she’d like to avoid making a decision on that front, Honey’s distracted by Trevor’s voice as he reads The Giving Tree. Of course he chose to read The Giving Tree, too– it’s such a cliché book. Honey never liked it as a kid. She always thought that the boy was selfish and the tree gave up too much. She knows that the whole point of the giving tree is that the tree gives everything it can selflessly, but she just hated it. Her mom loved it, so they read it a lot. There’s probably a worn copy of the book in Honey’s home, come to think of it.

She doesn’t like the book, but Trevor’s making these silly voices for the tree and the boy… and Honey just wants to melt into a puddle. She’s able to make it over to the counter without looking at him. She’s able to pick up her book and skim the words on the page, not really reading them. She’s too distracted by Trevor’s voice and his conspiratorial whisper. 

“‘Come, boy,’ She whispered,” Trevor says. “‘Come and play.’” His voice changes to something deeper, more gruff. “‘I am too old and sad to play,’ said the boy. ‘I want a boat that will take me far away from here. Can you give me a boat?’”

Honey closes her eyes and bites the insides of her cheeks. She shakes her head to herself, pushing her tongue against the back of her top teeth.

“You okay?” Bea asks, touching Honey’s shoulder and making her jump. She could’ve sworn that a minute ago, Bea was loitering at the back of the group of parents, listening to Trevor speak. 

Honey forces a smile on her face. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she says. She nods at Bea, shooing her away. 

Bea watches her for a second longer, walking backwards to rejoin the group. She offers Honey a shaky thumbs-up on the walk back, waiting for Honey to give her a signal that she’s not fine. Honey refuses. She already caused enough problems for Bea lately. She doesn’t want to be the emotionally unstable friend that needs to be watched every minute of every day.

She catches a glimpse of Trevor behind Bea and through the parents. Like a car crash, she’s unable to look away. He’s wearing golf clothes, like he’s about to go on the greens with the boys after Story Time. His hair is tucked up into a cap and he’s smiling widely at the crowd gathered around his feet. There’s a little, baby girl using Trevor’s leg to pull herself into a standing position. He turns the page and shows her the illustration, mouth wide open in a showman-like gasp before he starts again. 

“‘Well,’” he reads. “‘Well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.’ And the boy did!” He exclaims, smiling at the little girl. She reaches up to try and touch his teeth.

Honey’s heart suddenly feels like it’s being thrown through a meat grinder. She’s taking deep breaths like it can level her head. She’s touched by Trevor’s dedication to the book and to his audience. She catches one of the moms whispering and pulling out her phone, taking a video and zooming in on the girl as she stomps a foot like she’s ready to walk. She doesn’t, but she’s standing. 

“She’s never done that before,” Honey catches as the mother starts to whisper again. 

Her eyes return to Trevor. He’s closing the book, placing it gently in his lap. Trevor’s eyes find Honey and his eyes soften. So do the edges of his lips, turning upward like an instinct. “And the tree was happy,” He says with that same soft smile. 

The parents break into applause, prompting their children to do the same. Trevor continues to look at Honey, but she can feel her frown deepen into something almost comical. She looks away and shakes her head again, biting her lower lip so hard that she wonders if she’ll leave a mark. She covers her face with both hands, then drops them. She shakes out her wrists and takes an unsteady breath.

Fuck. She’s going to cry right here behind the cash register.

In order to prevent the embarrassment and to save herself from further content that will make her emotional, Honey hops off her stool and ducks into the back room. She closes the door behind her, sitting down at the little wooden table where she and Bea normally eat lunch, folding her arms and cradling her forehead against the skin. Her nose is brushing the wooden tabletop, so Honey shifts lower until her arms are resting against the edge of the table. 

She takes a few breaths, swallowing hard as she winces and shakes her head some more. She feels like a fucking bobblehead. She hates that book. She hates that it always applies in every situation. 

She’s the boy. Trevor is the tree. She takes, he gives, and nothing will change for her except age and he’ll be left gutted and stoopy from all of her taking. 

Honey’s getting a migraine. This week has been too emotional and turbulent for her. 

The door opens and shuts. Honey doesn’t have to look up. He’s been following her around for weeks. Why would this be any different?

“I can’t do that to you,” Honey whispers. “And if you stay with me, I’m gonna do that to you. I don’t want you to give up everything because of me.” If her eyes were open, they’d be stinging with tears. She decides to brave it. Honey picks her head up and faces him.

The look on Trevor’s face is one of deep thought. He’s pouting just a tad, just enough that Honey can tell. He looks at her, takes his time examining every detail of her outfit and her body and her face. When he finally speaks, his words follow the same volume Honey used. 

“I’m not giving up anything,” Trevor says. “I’m– I’m getting you.”

Honey grimaces and looks away, sniffing and wiping under her nose.

Trevor walks closer. He crouches, then kneels next to her chair. “Baby,” he breathes, putting a hand on her knee. 

Honey fixes him with a miserable glare, a tear running down her cheek before she can stop it.

Trevor reaches up and wipes it away. “I’ll give everything I have,” he murmurs. He brushes her hair out of her face. “If you’re the company by my side at the end of the story.”

Honey crumples and cries. “I’m sorry,” she says through the tears. 

“Sorry for what, Honey?” Trevor prods, tilting his head at her and looking up through those sad puppy-dog eyes. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

Even though he’s right, Honey is still sorry for everything. She still feels like she’s weighing on him, like her past is weighing on them. She thought she was healing because she didn’t think about Thomas as much anymore at the beginning of the summer. It was just denial– five fat years of denial and repression that’s bubbling up now that she’s got this sweet, caring, and devoted boy at her feet. She wishes she could give him everything. Unfortunately, she’s never been the giving kind.

She’s hoping that can change. 

“I– I do like you,” Honey stammers out, trying to sound as convincing as she can through the tears. “You know I do.”

Trevor nods seriously. “The sex gave it away.”

Honey bursts into a fresh round of tears, spurred on by the sudden laughter that Trevor inspired. She wipes under her eyes. “I’m really trying,” she insists.

“I know you are,” Trevor says. 

“Sometimes I think it doesn’t seem like it, but I am,” Honey says again. “I know you’re not– him. He never tried this hard.”

“He didn’t know what he was missing,” Trevor says. “You are sweet, and smart, and quick, and you challenge me. I’ve never had to try so hard for someone.” He shrugs. “You’re just– worth it.”

“How do you– how do you know that?” Honey asks, feeling silly and embarrassed to ask such a stupid question. 

Trevor shrugs, touching her face down to her neck and shoulders. “I don’t know it. It’s just natural. Like, of course I’m trying this hard for you. It’s you.”

Honey understands the sentiment, even though Trevor is the worst at explaining his feelings. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, reading her mind. “That probably sounded stupid. I’m really bad at talking about stuff like this.”

Honey breathes out a laugh and reaches down to cradle Trevor’s face. “You’re sweet,” she says, leaning forward to kiss him. “Thank you for trying so hard. I wish I didn’t make it so hard for you.”

“I don’t care, baby, don’t worry about all of that.”

“I worry,” Honey says, thumbing over Trevor’s bottom lip to wipe her lipgloss away. She only put it on because Bea handed it to her when she walked into The Reading Nook, wordlessly. They always share lipgloss and chapstick and have for years. It’s second nature and now Bea’s cherry lip gloss is smeared along Trevor’s lips. “I always worry.”

“How about this,” Trevor starts.

Bea knocks on the door, popping her head into the room. “Hey, Hon?” She says softly. “Jessie’s wondering if she and Luca can say goodbye to you before they go.”

Honey sniffs and wipes under her eyes. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll be right out.” Bea nods and leaves the back room. Honey pats the side of Trevor’s face and gestures for him to move so that she can stand.

He does, taking her hand and squeezing it. He uses his other hand to wipe her eyes once more. “I’ll come over later and we can talk, yeah? I’ll bring you a bunch of trashy food and we can do a whole lot of nothing until you feel better.”

Honey nods. “Okay. Do you want to sleep over?” 

She wants Trevor to sleep over, but she won’t tell him to stay outright. Honey wants it to be his choice. She knows that his answer is yes, always yes to sleeping over, but she doesn’t want to assume.

He tries to stop his face from lighting up, but Honey notices anyway. She’s unable to hold back a smile and an eye roll. 

“I’ll see you after you get off work, yeah?” Trevor says, touching her fingers like a promise. 

Honey can only nod. She leaves the room first, bidding Jessie and little Luca a goodbye. She bounces the toddler on her hip after he reaches for her, still attached to her from the year and a half of babysitting she did for Jessie and Tyler when Luca was first born. When she finishes saying goodbye to the boy and once she heads back to the back room to see how puffy her eyes are, Trevor is gone. 

He stays true to his word and shows up at her house after work. He’s changed into his comfy clothes after golfing, but he loses his shirt once he sees that Honey is already in her pajamas. He lost to Quinn and Jack in the final few holes, but beat Cole and Luke. He tells Honey that he’s happy being the middle of the pack, which she makes fun of him for saying. 

They watch a movie on Honey’s couch, some new terrible rom-com that Trevor swears was good when Cole watched it. Once Honey decides that the movie stinks, Trevor makes it his mission to kiss every inch of her exposed skin until she’s squirming and pushing him away. He just laughs and keeps going while she squeals, placing his hand against the side of her neck to caress her skin.

Honey relaxes over the course of the film, comforted by the weight of Trevor’s hand on her neck and the way he’s laying half-on-top of her. His lips continue to kiss her skin and brush against her, keeping Honey on her toes and making her body feel charged with electricity. It’s lazy and sweet and it’s actually very comforting– Honey doesn’t think about Thomas or her fear and anxiety about her relationship with Trevor once. She just watches the poorly-made film and plays with Trevor’s hair.

They talk in murmured and hushed whispers as the night passes, even after the movie ends and the food Trevor brought over goes cold. They don’t even fuck, despite the fact that Honey can feel Trevor’s dick pressing into her hip the whole night long. He puts his hand up her shirt to cup her boob, another comforting weight.

They sleep on Honey’s couch. It’s thinner than a twin bed and probably a lot less comfortable in the long run, but Honey and Trevor fall asleep right there, too comfortable and content to move. Trevor falls asleep first, his breath fanning out and raising goosebumps on her skin. Honey continues to pet through his hair until she, too, closes her eyes and succumbs to calm dreams. It’s the most secure she’s felt in days and that’s all thanks to Trevor.

Honey wishes that she could express it outright, that Trevor is the right person to trust with all of this. It’s just a matter of getting all of it out. 

47:90 – TREVOR

They’ve been decorating all day. Trevor is about at his wit’s end with Quinn and no matter how much he’s begged Honey over text, she won’t send him a picture of her dress. She won’t tell him how she’s doing her hair, or even what lip color she’s wearing. He’s asked over and over, since they’re back to normal after Honey’s freakout the other day, and since they’re back to normal… she’s teasing him. The only detail she’s offered is what he already knew: her dress is black. It has offered him absolutely no relief.

But, finally, it’s time for Trevor to get dressed. The closest thing he has to a black suit, which is what Quinn wanted him to wear, is his navy suit with the thin white checkered lines on it. 

He actually should get another one ahead of Shoulder Check– maybe he can swing by his home in New York before the media starts for the game. It’s in about two weeks and Trevor has barely thought about his participation– really, he was having so much fun in Litchton and with Honey that he forgot about his other responsibilities. He loves the Shoulder Check Showcase and everything it stands for. Maybe he can bring Honey with him.

Meh. He thinks. That’s a question for another time.

He suits up in his fancy outfit, having steamed his shirt ahead of time to get rid of the wrinkles. Trevor runs a comb through his hair, touching the flow to make sure it’s in place. He folds his collar over and considers adding a tie, but decides against it. He’ll probably lose the suit jacket by the end of the night anyway, so what’s the tie worth? 

Quinn seems to think otherwise. He’s wearing that same dark suit he always wears, with the same shirt he always wears, and the same tie he always wears. Trevor would rag on him, but Jack and Luke are already teasing him. Luke can barely speak though– he’s not even showered. 

He’s wearing the same clothes he’s been wearing all day and he got out of decorating because he stayed away from the house and played hockey all day. He got up at the ass-crack of dawn and snuck out of the house, driving himself and his gear to Charlotte. He just got back about twenty minutes ago. Trevor wishes he had thought of disappearing first– Quinn promised that if Trevor bought the supplies, he wouldn’t have to decorate, and yet he was the one tasked with blowing up balloons to scatter throughout the basement.

Everyone else is ready, though. Jack is playing some game on the basement TV while Cole hangs up even more streamers along the pool table, just for fun. Quinn is delicately filling and balancing plastic champagne flutes atop each other, creating an impressive tower that Trevor’s sure will fall apart before the end of the night. That’s why he bought plastic flutes instead of deciding to use the ones in the cabinet upstairs.

Luke lumbers downstairs in his NHL Awards suit, tie and all. He joins Jack on the couch and leans back, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. 

Trevor busies himself at the makeshift bar they’ve set up. It’s more of a big cooler that they usually use on the boat, filled with ice and beers and the seltzers that Bea likes so much. He doesn’t know why he bought so much liquor if no one is going to drink it. There’s a full bottle of everyone’s favorite kinds of liquor, and not the cheap ones– Bea and Cole like tequila. Honey prefers vodka, but she’s not averse to a gin and tonic when the moment calls for it. Trevor likes keeping both on hand for her. Luke and Jack are vodka folks too, although they’re slowly warming up to scotch and whiskey. Jim likes whiskey, as does Quinn, and Quinn started getting into bourbon before he started focusing on his diet for hockey again. This might be one of his last nights to go crazy before he cuts drinking out completely again. 

He was so annoying last summer when he did it– although Trevor did like the fact that Quinn was always their DD. This summer has been better. He indulges and parties with them, but he’s not a stickler about their own habits. It’s another way that Litchton has mellowed Quinn.

“Yoohoo!” Trevor hears from the foyer upstairs. “Anybody home?”

He grins to himself. With Bea comes Honey– and the clicking of high-heeled feet on the floor above him is proof. Trevor’s face feels split from how he’s trying to hold back his smile and stay calm, busying himself with the drinks. He digs for a Modelo that is completely submerged in the ice. 

“We’re down here,” Quinn calls, balancing that final champagne flute on the tippy-top of his pyramid. 

“Good job, Q. Looks good. Makes me want to take a flute from the bottom,” Jack says. “Send it all crashing down.”

“I’ll kill you if you do,” Quinn replies with a quirk of his eyebrow. Then, his eyes fall toward the steps, towards the clatter of feet. Bea is bounding down the stairs with graceful ease, whereas Honey is stepping carefully and holding onto the railing.

Bea comes first, but once Trevor gets eyes on his girl, he can’t look away. The dress is black, alright. So are the high heels. After that detail, Trevor’s mind goes blank. It’s tight on her waist and hips, and long. It’s scrunchy towards the middle of her chest, accentuating her lovely tits. Trevor likes the straps of the dress too– a see-through ribbon material that she’s tied into this elegant bows. It’s how Trevor’s going to undo the dress later tonight, if he ends up undoing it at all. He might just crawl up under the fabric and get his mouth on her with it still on her body.

Honey’s lips are painted in a dark red. Her lips perk up when she catches Trevor staring, but she’s quick to turn away and greet Cole, who’s taking her hand and lifting it up for her to spin underneath. Her hair is up and curled and beautiful and a breath of laughter escapes Trevor. He quickly stifles it and goes back to his beer, twisting the cap off. He picks a seltzer from the cooler, Honey’s favorite kind. 

Trevor sets it on the edge of the bar, next to the fruit board that he organized just for Honey. She’ll know it’s meant for her and that it’s from him.

After he wanders over to the sofa, after he’s had a few sips of his beer, and after he’s eaten some chips and dip, Trevor sees Honey pick up the seltzer and read the label. She smiles to herself and picks up a raspberry, popping it into her mouth. She glances at Trevor and tips the can at him like a toast. Then, she turns away.

They don’t interact for most of the night. Honey keeps a safe distance away– it’s part of what they talked about last night. She told him that she’s worried that they’re being too obvious. Trevor’s solution was that he’d leave her alone. He’d stop giving her those “forlorn puppy eyes”, as she calls them, and he’d stop following her around until she gives him The Signal.

It took them about an hour to decide on what the signal would be. Trevor’s bad at code words and Honey refused to be so obvious and agree to some hand signal. They eventually decided that she’d play with her hair for an extended period of time, and if that didn’t work, she’d send him a text. They decided that she’d send him the seeing-eye-dog emoji, since Trevor made the joke that he’d be blind if he didn’t notice that Honey wanted to hook up with him. She had replied that it’ll probably be her most-used emoji by the end of the summer.

They drink, they’re merry, and Honey catches Trevor watching her more times than he’d like to admit. She shakes her head at him like she’s disappointed in him, but Trevor’s not too hurt. After all, he’s caught her staring, too.

The party goes into the night and Cole is the drunkest of them all. He’s commandeered a bag of pretzel rods from upstairs, which Trevor had tucked away in case they needed more food. He’s not sure how Cole found them. He thought he put them in a high-enough cabinet. It’s probably a good thing that Cole found something to soak up all the drinks, though, because if he hadn’t, his words would be even more absurd than what he’s saying now.

It started as an evaluation of all of their outfits, with proper ratings after he forced them to strut across the room. Now, they’re all tired and talking deliriously, and Cole is talking about how pretty each of the girls are. Trevor’s not even mad– it’s just funny.

“Honey, you’re like small-town-girl pretty. When I saw you, I thought: what the fuck is she doing here?” Cole says.

Honey scoffs out a laugh, raising her drink to her lips. “Gee, thanks, Coley.” Her lipstick is smudging the rim of the can.

Cole continues. “No, like… you’re the kind of pretty where I could imagine someone meeting you in college and when you tell them that you’re from Litchton, they’d be all ‘Oh, no way, I thought you were from Raleigh’ or something.”

“Well, I’m from Charlotte,” Honey corrects under her breath. Trevor chuckles into his beer.

Cole talks on like he didn’t hear her. Maybe he didn’t. “You’re state capital level pretty, but some of the charm is that you’re from a small town.”

“Sick,” Honey says sarcastically. “I really appreciate that clarification.”

“And Bea’s like an actress that always wears an evening gown and holds a champagne flute in every role she plays,” Cole says. Trevor wonders if it’s because she’s conveniently holding a champagne flute between her fingers now. “Just because it’s so perfect. You’re, like, regal-hot, Buzz.”

Trevor rolls his eyes. That’s Honey’s nickname for Bea. Cole using it is like when Honey called Trevor ‘Z.’ Bea doesn’t seem to mind.

“You could model if you weren’t living in Litchton, Bea,” Cole says. He’s started hiccuping and now he’s pointing his pretzel at Quinn. Quinn and Bea are sitting on the floor, with Bea between his legs. Her back is against his front and his arms are hugging her. Cole pipes up again. “Dude, she should talk to Liv. Didn’t she say that whoever-the-fuck was always looking for people? Bea could be their champagne girl.”

Oh. Trevor cringes. Cole has completely lost track of anything that is socially acceptable. He’s entering uncharted territory, a very dangerous topic: past relationships that didn’t end necessarily well. 

Cole doesn’t notice anything, even when Quinn glares at him. “Yeah, she did say that,” Quinn replies.

“Bea, I’m serious. You really should talk to Liv.”

“Who’s Liv?” Honey interrupts, looking around the room. 

Trevor’s honestly surprised that Bea hasn’t told Honey about Olivia yet– he knows that Quinn has told Bea about his recent ex-relationship. 

An awkward silence falls over the room with each of the boys looking at each other. Who’s going to be brave enough to speak? Quinn doesn’t want to. Cole is oblivious. 

“Quinn’s ex,” Luke eventually murmurs. “She’s, uh, a model in New York.”

“Oh,” Honey says, turning to look at Bea. 

Trevor watches Quinn nudge his forehead against the back of Bea’s head, then his arms drop. He leans back, planting his palms on the ground behind him. Bea shuffles to the side a bit– and they’re no longer touching at all. 

“Coley, let’s play pool,” Honey suddenly says. “I bet I could whoop you right now. You probably can’t even do a break.”

“I can do a break!” Cole defends himself, sounding much more upset than he normally would be at the weak jibe. He clambers to his feet and deposits his bag of pretzel rods in Jack’s lap, setting his drink on the coffee table without a coaster. 

Honey joins him at the pool table and Trevor smiles at the sight of the duo in their fancy clothes, playing on their dingy table in their rustic room. 

Bea murmurs something to Quinn quietly, then she stands. She smooths out her white dress, adjusting the line of feathers that act as her neckline. It’s a strapless dress with a low back, and with how Quinn’s hand had been resting on the small of her back all night, he wasn’t expecting this evening to take this turn.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” Bea announces unnecessarily, sounding awkward. “J, will you…?”

Trevor furrows his brow and looks at Quinn. The boy’s head is hanging and his fingers are picking at the fabric of the carpet. When Trevor looks at Jack, the boy’s lips are parted in surprise and his eyes are wide.

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, downing his beer and grabbing his jacket when he stands. He and Bea head upstairs, disappearing from sight. 

The group kind of disintegrates after that. Cole and Honey play pool and Luke and Trevor watch them. Quinn returns to the television, throwing ESPN on and sipping his beer. He doesn’t talk, but he joins them once Honey schools Cole in pool. He takes the cue from Honey and Luke takes Cole’s, and Cole goes up to bed.

“I think I’m gonna go home,” Honey says quietly to Trevor, touching his lapel. “See you later?”

“Want me to come over?” Trevor asks.

“No. Gotta keep my schedule open for Bea. She might want to talk about this Liv thing. You can walk me to the door, though,” Honey decides. She looks over his shoulders to the other boys. “Bye, Lu. Bye, Quinn. Good luck with the Liv thing.”

“Thanks, Hon,” Quinn replies. He sends a ball into the corner pocket with a crack.

“See you, Honey,” Luke echoes.

She and Trevor walk upstairs and stop at the door. “Love this dress,” Trevor says. “Was hoping I’d take it off of you later.”

“Mm, I’ll wear it again before the summer is over,” Honey hums, unbuttoning one of the buttons on Trevor’s white dress shirt. She pulls the collar open more, so that his chest is starting to show. “Didn’t know you cleaned up so nice.”

“Well, I’ve heard good things about suits,” Trevor says noncommittally. 

Honey hums again. She leans up on her tiptoes to give Trevor a kiss. “Would rather see you without it. I was thinking we could use the hot tub tomorrow?”

“Sounds fun,” Trevor replies. “I’ll tell the guys.”

Honey shakes her head. “I was thinking we could use the hot tub tomorrow.”

“Might be hard to chase Cole away.”

“Okay, then a late-night rendezvous. We’ll tire ‘em out over dinner, all of them, and then we can use the hot tub while Bea celebrates her birthday with her man of choice.”

“For Quinn’s sake, let’s hope it’s him.”

“Mhm.” Another kiss. “Bye, darlin’.”

“Bye.”

Honey shuts the door behind her and Trevor holds his chin in the space between his index finger and thumb. His lips are tingling and his stomach is flying with butterflies. He loves when Honey calls him pet names. After a few days of trepidation, they’re back on track. Everything is exactly how it should be.

48:90 – HONEY

“How are you feeling?” Honey asks, digging through Bea’s purse for her lip gloss. 

They’re driving to the boys’ house now, since the guys just got back from practicing in Charlotte. Trevor says that they’re all pretty tired, so they’ll hopefully be alone in the hot tub later tonight. Trevor’s last text read that they’re all doing showers in a rotation and dinner is on the stove, ready to eat. Promptly, he stopped replying. Honey thinks he went to take a nap before they showed up, since he’ll be up late.

“About what?” Bea asks, avoiding eye contact.

Honey clicks her tongue and pauses her search for a moment. “‘About what,’” she repeats, mocking the girl. “About Quinn? About what was brought up yesterday? You went upstairs with Jack.”

“I feel fine,” Bea says.

Honey purses her lips. “No shot.”

“We talked about it last night,” Bea says. “After everything with Jack. Jack gave me info on Liv, I… rewarded him… in the least coercive way possible, I guess. Then I went to Quinn’s room. We talked it out and everything is fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Honey observes. “You still seem upset. What was it? Just the fact that they brought her up at all?”

“No, it wasn’t that,” Bea sighs. She pauses, grinding her teeth together. “It was the model thing.”

“You know Cole was drunk and–”

“No, not that. I think it’s sweet that Cole thinks I could model. It’s the fact that Quinn dated this girl, was completely in love with her, and she was a model. You know I’m not insecure, but, like, she’s a model.” Bea itches her temple, then gestures aimlessly in the air. “And now he’s with me?”

“Buzzy. You’re hot,” Honey says. 

“I know,” Bea drawls, rolling her eyes as she drags the word out. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You just still seem upset,” Honey says with a shrug. 

“I’m not upset. Our talk was actually really helpful. Everything is back to normal.”

Bea is insistent and her tone is final. Honey decides to let the matter go, although she can tell that Bea is still affected by everything. Even though she talked it out with Quinn, Bea must have something nagging at her. Honey can tell by the way she’s gnawing at her bottom lip. 

Honey’s suspicion doesn’t improve once they get to the house. Bea descends on the liquor cabinet, breaking out the tequila and declaring that it’s her birthday tomorrow, so everyone has to drink with her. 

It doesn’t take much to convince Cole and Jack. Luke is quick to agree as well, then Quinn agrees once Bea bats her eyelashes at him, swearing with a pinky promise that he’ll keep up with her. While Quinn puts the finishing touches on dinner, an on-theme skillet of fajitas, Bea measures out the ingredients for margaritas and seems to forget about Honey’s allergy, because she throws a handful of strawberries into the blender for flavoring.

It all works out, remarkably– Honey’s not offended by Bea’s oversight. The girl apologizes profusely, threatening to throw the blended goods away and wash the blender and start over completely, but Honey manages to convince her not to. She just takes one of Trevor’s beers from the fridge and twists the top off, saying she’ll drink that. Trevor waves his own beer, already half-empty, and declares he’s also got his own.

Honey laughs to herself quietly, very fond of Trevor’s commitment to avoiding strawberries. He actually asked her the other day, when they were high and Trevor suddenly remembered that the fruit stand was open on Mondays and they ‘missed it!’, if he could eat strawberries and then kiss her. Just for fun, Honey had told him that if he did, her throat would close up and she’d swell up like that scene in Meet The Robinsons, and Trevor was so perfectly high that he believed her every word. He swore off strawberries and, apparently, he meant permanently.

They eat dinner and watch a few episodes of Bea and Cole’s favorite reality show. Honey and Jack share the loveseat and after the clock strikes 9, Jack is out. He falls asleep right on Honey’s shoulder, mouth open and head tipped back. 

Honey actually defends the boy from his younger brother and Cole, who wanted to see how many straws they could fit into Jack’s mouth before waking him up. She hugs her arm around his shoulders and Jack turns into her neck and snores softly. 

It’s a true testament to how much Honey has grown since meeting the guys– Jack used to get on her nerves, and still sometimes does, but she noticed that he’d been yawning all day. Once they had turned the TV on, his blinks had grown more and more slow, so Honey figured he needed a good sleep. 

Plus, it’s one less guy that she’ll have to kick out of the hot tub later.

Trevor volunteers to carry Jack upstairs to his bed, which Honey thinks is sweet. She also suspects that he doesn’t like the way Jack was cuddling up to her, nor the way she was petting through his hair maternally. 

“Hot tub?” Honey asks once the most recent episode of Cole’s reality show is over. 

The shorter boy perks up from his lazy position on the couch. “Hot tub?” He asks. “Yeah!” He bounds up and is out the sliding glass door before anyone else can agree. Honey can see, and hear, him taking the cover off of the tub and starting the jets. 

Bea looks at Quinn. “Do you want to?” She asks. She’s sitting on his lap again in their recliner chair. 

Quinn pats her thigh. “If you do.” He kisses her jaw. “We can have a couple more drinks then go upstairs, hm?”

“Sounds good.” Bea nods, then turns to Honey. “Will you do some shots with us?”

“I will!” Cole calls from outside. 

Bea looks over at him, then back to Honey. She prompts the girl again with a nod.

“Yeah, I’ll do a shot,” Honey agrees. “If Luke does.”

Luke’s already drunk off of his third margarita, so it doesn’t take much to convince him to do another shot. By the time they make it outside, Cole has stripped down to his underwear and he’s in the tub. Luke and Quinn go upstairs to change into swimsuits, whereas Honey and Bea wore their own underneath their clothes, and Trevor comes back in his own swimsuit. He says that Jack woke up shortly after they made it up the stairs and demanded that Trevor “unhand him,” so he’ll be down in his own trunks soon enough.

“Feels nice,” Bea sighs, lowering herself into the bubbling waters. She sags once she’s on the ledge, sitting as far in the water as she can without putting her head underneath.

Honey does the same, checking her watch to start her fifteen-minute count. Bea has tried to tell her over and over again that it doesn’t matter if she stays in the water for longer than fifteen minutes, but Honey once read a lifeguarding handbook and the recommendation to split up your time in a hot tub always stuck with her. 

“I love this hot tub,” Cole announces, a dopey smile overtaking his face. “We should use it more. I can’t believe we’ve only used it twice.”

“We’ll use it more,” Bea says, an empty promise that could be easily filled, but probably won’t come to fruition. 

As Quinn returns, Bea asks him to grab some plastic shot glasses and her almost-empty bottle of tequila. She pours shots for everyone, emptying the bottle on the fourth. Quinn switches over to the open bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a shot and two additional ones. Honey offers to take one of those, as does Luke.

They all cheer together.

“To Quinn’s last night with liquor,” Bea cheers, lifting her glass higher than the rest of them.

Quinn smiles with his teeth, eyes a little bleary. “To Bea’s birthday,” he says, trumping her toast. Everyone echos what he says before throwing back their drinks. 

Bea smacks her lips contentedly, smiling wide and pointing to the sky like a rock star. “To Bea’s birthday,” she simpers, floating over to pull herself onto Quinn’s lap. She settles there, kissing him until his brothers start booing. “Don’t be losers,” Bea chastises.

“We wouldn’t hate so much if you were kissing each of us like that,” Jack teases, puckering his lips at the end of the statement. 

Bea fixes him with a look. “Maybe he’s the best kisser.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack says with a shit-eating smile. “You can admit that he’s your favorite. He’s already Mom and Dad’s favorite.”

“Well, much like your mom and dad, I have to insist that I don’t have a favorite,” Bea says, sticking her nose into the air. Quinn squeezes her sides and she shrieks, laughing.

They shoot the shit for nearly an hour before anyone decides to leave the tub– except for Honey. She leaves the tub every fifteen minutes, like always, and she’s usually tasked with grabbing snacks or a drink refill for her friends. 

Luke is so drunk that he’s starting to fall asleep, so he’s the first to leave the tub, at Quinn’s request. He makes it all the way to the sliding glass door before Quinn tells him to sleep on the couch in the living room. Luke is too tired to argue, which Honey thinks is both sweet and sad that he doesn’t go to his own bed.

Luckily, though, Quinn and Bea aren’t far behind. They must have a secret language and code like Honey and Trevor do, because all Quinn does is pat Bea’s hip and she’s moving out of the tub and saying that they’ll see everyone tomorrow. 

Their departure leaves Honey, Trevor, Cole and Jack in the tub. Cole is content with his back against one of the jets, practically massaging the area. He won’t stop raving about it. Jack is still yawning and rubbing his eyes, but he’s joking around with Honey and Trevor as they talk. It isn’t long until Honey starts to twirl a strand of hair between her fingers, eying Trevor pointedly.

Which works– he notices quickly and starts to talk about how tired he is and how he can’t wait to go to bed.

Unfortunately, his friends don’t catch the hint.

“So go to bed,” Jack says dryly, making a face at Trevor. “I don’t want to hear about how tired you are. You’ve got a perfectly comfortable king size bed up there, Z. Use it.”

“Yeah, Z,” Cole agrees, eyes closed. “Also, maybe if you weren’t sneaking out at night to go sleep at all of your Raya girls’ houses, then you’d be less tired.”

Trevor shares a look with Honey. She plays it off with an interested quirk of her eyebrows, blinking at him. “Is that so?” She asks, sing-songy. 

“Yeah, he’s been leaving the house at weird hours and he doesn’t come back until the next day,” Cole says, opening his eyes a bit at the chance to gossip. “And I checked Raya. I don’t know who these girls are. He might be going all the way down the mountain to see them.”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Trevor replies, smiling smugly at the ‘clever’ quip.

“Yeah, you’re magic alright.” Jack nods sarcastically. He raises his voice. “‘Oh, Trevor. Trevor, Trevor. Please,’” he mocks. 

“Oh my God,” Cole laughs, sitting up. “Dude, she was so loud on Monday. I thought I couldn’t sleep because we were high, but then all of that noise.”

Honey’s eyes widen. That ‘noise’ must have been from her. She was the girl in the house on Monday. 

The boys continue cajoling, splashing each other and getting into a little spat over the mocking of her moans. Trevor doesn’t think it’s funny, but Jack and Cole find his lack of humor about the situation even funnier, so it just gets worse. Honey checks her watch and sees that it’s time for her to take a break, so she starts to climb out of the tub. 

She turns to face the sliding glass door, gathering up some trash from around the tub, and spots movement inside.

Bea is walking down the stairs, the only clothes on her body being the bottom of her bikini. Her boobs are free and she’s glowering as she walks across the basement, stomping towards her white board in the corner.

“Oh my God,” Honey exclaims, caught off guard by the sight.

“What?” Trevor asks, looking her way. Honey catches the moment he spots Bea because his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and he looks away. “Oh my God!”

It’s like a chain reaction. Both Cole and Jack utter their own “What?” before turning to look at Bea. She’s scribbled something onto the whiteboard and is making her way to the hot tub, throwing the sliding door open and crossing her arms over her chest. 

“You,” she says, pointing at Jack. “Upstairs, now.” She looks over at Cole, squinting. He smiles and waves, just wiggling his fingers with a little wink. Bea sucks her top teeth, then snaps her fingers at Cole. “Yeah. You too. Upstairs, please.”

Cole turns to Jack, both boys already making their way out of the hot tub. They drip on the concrete. Jack wraps his towel around his waist and Cole uses his to dry his hair. 

“Ha,” Cole says to Jack. “I got a please. All you got was a ‘now.’ Bitch-boy.”

“Yeah, well, she asked for me first,” Jack replies, bickering in full swing. 

“You okay?” Honey asks Bea. The glare she gets is answer enough. Honey does not press any further.

Both boys disappear upstairs, scampering along the steps like they’re racing each other to get into Bea’s bed. Honey doesn’t know if they know where they’re actually going, but she does know that they’re in for a long night. Bea’s scowl means that she needs some intense TLC.

“Is she gone?” Trevor asks, eyes still averted from where Bea once stood.

“Yeah, she’s gone,” Honey says. 

“What do you think that was about?” Trevor turns to Honey, reaching out and touching her arm. He grabs at her playfully, pursing his lips and making kissing noises.

Honey rolls her eyes, but she gets back in the hot tub and straddles Trevor’s lap, touching his hair with her wet hands until he shakes her off like a dog. “Dunno,” Honey says. “I’ll ask her tomorrow. She seemed upset.”

“She walked down here naked,” Trevor says. “That’s crazy.”

“Well, she’s hooking up with three of the guys in this house,” Honey surmises. “It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.”

“It’s something I never planned on seeing,” Trevor says.

“Well, I appreciate that,” Honey jokes. “You’re a one girl kind of guy, huh, Trev?”

He places his hands on her behind and pulls her closer, rocking her hips against his growing bulge. “Yeah, I really like my Raya girl. I can’t believe she was so loud that the boys heard her the other night.”

“Wasn’t she high, though?” Honey teases, touching Trevor’s bottom lip. “That might be why she was so loud.”

“You don’t think I can do it again?” Trevor asks, brushing his fingers beneath the thin ties of her bathing suit. 

Honey shivers a bit on his lap at the touch, but she stays planted. “No, probably not. I hear you’re not that good in bed.”

“What?” Trevor lifts his hips and grinds against her. “Who told you that?”

“No one had to tell me,” Honey replies. “I’m the one who didn’t come twice because of you.”

Trevor gasps. “When?” He questions, affronted. “I would never do that to you.”

“Well, you did,” Honey insists. She tugs Trevor’s hair until he snaps the band of her swimsuit against her back. 

“Mm, I’m sorry, baby,” Trevor muses, nuzzling under Honey’s neck and kissing the skin. “Won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, let’s hope not,” Honey agrees. “Especially not tonight. I wouldn’t want to get blue balled.”

Trevor chuckles out a laugh but doesn’t afford Honey a reply. Instead, he sucks a wet kiss under Honey’s jaw, touching the base of her neck. He repeats the motion until Honey is sagging against him, twisting her hips as she grows more and more wet in the tub. His hard-on is equally as insistent. 

“Oh, gross!” The sliding door had opened without either of them noticing. Quinn stands there, wincing and glaring at the duo. “God, it’s like you want to get caught.”

Honey turns to him, still sat on Trevor’s lap. Even if she wanted to get off of him, Trevor’s hands keep her securely atop him. 

“What are you doing down here?” Trevor asks, voice monotone and frustrated at the interruption. 

Quinn cuts his eyes at the boy. “I’m not upstairs with Bea, so I thought I’d come down here. I didn’t realize she’d have taken everyone else from the hot tub in my absence.”

Trevor shrugs. “Guess you just weren’t enough for the birthday girl.”

Honey touches Trevor’s chest. “Don’t be mean,” she says. She turns to Quinn. “What happened up there?”

Quinn turns red, looking uncomfortable in his own skin. “I’m sure Bea will tell you later.”

Trevor hums. “Why don’t you want to tell us? You’re here, after all.”

Quinn rolls his eyes. “As if I’ll tell you anything, Z. Whatever. I’ll leave you lovebirds alone. Wouldn’t have come down here if I knew you were fucking in the hot tub.”

“You can stay if you want to,” Honey offers. Trevor and Quinn make the same face at her– clearly wondering why she’s extending an invitation to the other boy. Honey defends herself. “Not like that,” she says. “I’m not going to fuck you if Quinn is in the hot tub with us, Trevor.”

“Thanks for that,” Quinn says. “Good to know that someone here has respect for me.”

Trevor goes to open his mouth and rebut, but Honey presses her fingers to his lips. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll just head back upstairs,” Quinn decides. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow for Bea’s birthday lunch.”

“Bea’s having a birthday lunch?” Trevor asks. “Will the celebrations ever end?”

“Well, it’s her actual birthday tomorrow,” Honey says. “So yes, the celebrations will end tomorrow. Goodnight, Quinn.”

“Goodnight, Honey. Use protection, Trevor.” Quinn leaves.

Trevor’s lips are on Honey once again, as soon as Quinn turns away. “Should we tell him that we don’t use that sort of thing?” Trevor asks, joking.

“I think he’d have a heart attack and ask me if I’m trying to ruin my life,” Honey says, sharing a smile with the boy beneath her. “Since I’m obviously the one being baby-trapped by you if anything happens, not the other way around.”

“Hey, anything to get you to stay in my life forever,” Trevor says. It makes Honey pause, because even though he moved on to feel the peaks of her nipples through her top, Trevor didn’t sound like he was joking as much as before. 

Honey decides to ignore it and escalate the situation further– she reaches behind herself and undoes the bow keeping her swimsuit together. The bikini top falls loose under Trevor’s fingers, where he’s pinching her nipples over the fabric, but he makes quick work of the swimsuit. He removes it entirely, dropping the top over the edge of the tub. It falls with a thwap against the pavement surrounding them.

“Now I’m just like Bea,” Honey jokes as Trevor weighs her breasts in his hands, grinning at the flesh that he’s kneading. 

Trevor snorts out a laugh. “Mhm, you’re two peas in a pod.”

“Be honest with me, now,” Honey says. She’s goading Trevor into an argument, seeing if she can catch him. “Whose tits are prettier, mine or Bea’s?”

“Yours,” Trevor replies instantly, thumbing over the piercing adorning one of her nipples.

Honey faux-gasps, having lured him right into her trap. “You looked at Bea’s boobs?”

Trevor scoffs against Honey’s skin. “Kind of hard to avoid when they’re just out like that.”

“I can’t believe you looked,” Honey admonishes. “How could you?”

Trevor rolls his eyes and circles his fingers around Honey’s throat. “That’s enough out of you,” he scolds softly. “You know I don’t care about any tits except yours.”

Honey’s hand slides up to cover his, over her throat. “I like this.”

“I thought you would,” Trevor says. “When we kissed on the balcony that night, I touched your neck and you made the prettiest little noise.”

“Well, apparently all my noises are pretty,” Honey replies with a pout. “And mockable.”

Trevor kisses the pout off of her face. “That’s just the boys being stupid, baby. They’re jealous that they’re not fucking a pretty girl every night.”

“Every night?” Honey asks, laughing incredulously. “We have not been fucking every night.”

“A guy can dream,” Trevor quips back. He grins at Honey and she kisses him instead of replying. It takes only a sweep of her tongue for Trevor to open his mouth, letting Honey take control of the kiss as he touches over her breasts and hips. It isn’t long before his fingers shift the crotch of her bikini bottoms to the side, petting through her wet folds.

“You know, it’s actually really gross to hook up in a hot tub,” Honey murmurs. 

“Yeah, it’s like a petri dish of disease,” Trevor agrees.

Neither of them make a move to get out of the tub. They just stay– Honey is grinding down on Trevor’s calloused fingers and fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. Trevor is touching her neck, her piercings, and the tramp stamp on the small of her back, all while fingering her with the others.

Honey tries to keep quiet– now having heard that Jack and Cole overheard her moans on Monday, she’s determined to be subtle. After all, they’re making waves in this hot tub with all of their grinding and all of Trevor’s thrusting. Moans and screams would be too far, even with Jack and Cole occupied upstairs. Quinn could hear, although Honey knows he doesn’t want to, and hopefully Luke has been passed out since he left the tub in the first place.

Trevor fingers Honey until she’s squirming. “Ready to sit on my cock?” He probes, tweaking her nipple with his other hand. 

“Yes,” Honey agrees easily, greedy for an orgasm. Her body feels overheated, probably from the hot tub and the heat of the moment, but there’s nothing that will stop her from getting off now that they’ve started the process. 

“That’s my girl,” Trevor breathes out. He takes his fingers from inside of her and uses that hand to pull his shorts down, just enough to expose himself. 

Honey is far too eager, knocking his hand from the base of his cock and aligning herself with his member. She sinks down much more quickly than she expects Trevor would have, his goal always being to tease her as much as he can before she either snaps at him or, in the rarest of moments, actually begs for him to move. It’s only happened once. Honey is determined to only ever beg him again when it’s on her terms– not because he asked.

Trevor’s hands find her hips and he bites his bottom lip as she starts to move her hips, rolling them in sensual circles as she gets used to his length. Honey never noticed his chipped tooth before. She touches it before freeing his lip from the confines of his bite. Trevor kisses the pad of her thumb.

“Ride me good, baby,” Trevor encourages. “Wanna see your eyes roll back.” He snaps his hips up, thrusting into Honey in one sharp move that completely throws her off her rhythm.

“Trev,” she says with a frown, touching his chest. “You’re throwing off my concentration. Shut up.”

Trevor growls playfully. “So mean,” he says, snapping his hips up again.

“Do you want me to do it, or do you?” Honey asks. “Since you’re unable to stop yourself from fucking me, evidently.”

“Guess you just feel too good,” Trevor replies, kissing over her neck again. “Can’t help myself. This pussy was made for me.”

Honey’s heart flutters a little bit at his mumbled, possessive statement. She brings his hand back to her neck, moving her hips forward and backward in a fast rocking motion. “Made for you,” she says. “Is that right?”

“Uh-huh,” Trevor says, licking his bottom lip. “It’s all mine.”

Honey stops moving. She sits heavily on his lap, dick buried inside of her. It’s throbbing and pulsing, filling her well, but Honey stays still. She touches Trevor’s collarbones, leaning down to kiss over them and up his neck. When she reaches his ear, she whispers, “Show me.”

When she pulls back, Trevor’s eyes are wide. His hand twitches around her neck, drifting lower to squeeze her left tit. “What?” He asks.

“Show me how good you are at fucking this pussy,” Honey says. “Since it’s ‘yours.’”

Trevor’s eyes grow darker. 

“Honestly, Trevor,” Honey continues. “My cunt was made for you? Prove it.”

The challenge finally gets through his head, with Trevor jumping into action. It’s the exact response Honey wanted from him: wild, quick, desperate rutting from Trevor’s hips and his hands clutching her body so hard that they’ll definitely leave marks. If not marks, they’ll leave the ghost of a memory for Honey to think about over the next few days. 

The tip of his cock bumps her walls with each thrust. Trevor’s even at the point where both of his hands are holding her ass cheeks, bouncing Honey on his cock in time with the thrusts. It makes the sex that much more electrifying, especially once Trevor angles himself in a way that has him brushing against Honey’s g-spot.

Honey closes her eyes and focuses on feeling, throwing her head back in pleasure. Trevor bites over her neck, then seals his mouth over her chest, and Honey holds his bicep tightly to keep herself grounded. The steam from the hot tub is like a sauna, stifling her a bit and making her sweat more than she would in a normal sexual environment.

Still, although the heat from the tub should make this experience worse, Honey just finds herself overtaken by gratification. Trevor’s making these choked groans and gasps in her ear and against her skin, which she feels are painting her body like a tattoo. Trevor’s pleasure is a part of her now. Knowing that he’s feeling good makes Honey feel even better– and when he comes, spilling inside of her like he’s physically unable to remove himself from her cunt long enough to come in his hand, Honey comes too.

She shudders with him inside of her, still fucking up into her lazily. Trevor’s eyes are half-closed, a smile gracing his face. He kisses her lips slowly, guiding her hips in smooth motions until Honey pats his chest and removes herself from his lap.

Honey climbs out of the tub, feeling water and Trevor’s cum slide down her legs. “Ew,” she murmurs to herself, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around herself.

“I hope that wasn’t a review,” Trevor pipes up with a laugh. “‘Ew’ is a terrible thing to say after sex, baby. Bruising my ego a bit.”

Honey sticks out her tongue at the boy. “Gonna go to the bathroom,” she says in lieu of an answer. “Steal some clothes from you. Are they still in a pile in your hamper?”

“Take some of my nice folded clothes in the dresser,” Trevor replies. He winks before adding, “Feel free to spray some of my cologne on the shirt so it smells that much more like me.”

Honey fake laughs at the boy: “Hardy har, Trevor.” She enters the house and heads up to his bedroom, tiptoeing around as if she’ll run into any of the boys. Luke is asleep on the couch in the living room, like she thought, and Quinn has disappeared. She can hear Cole and Jack behind Jack’s closed bedroom door, bickering about something still. Honey rolls her eyes. How they can fight when they’re both subbing in for Quinn tonight, she doesn’t know.

Once in Trevor’s room, Honey ties her hair up into a messy updo. She pees and hops in the shower to rinse herself off, using Trevor’s handheld shower head to clean her more intimate areas. Honey emerges shortly after, feeling much more refreshed and clean. The heat from the tub is no longer affecting her mind’s clarity.

She digs through Trevor’s dresser and finds a pair of boxers that resemble her favorite pair at home, which she throws on. On top of that, she wears one of Trevor’s hoodies. The sleeves cover her hands and she ties the strings into a little bow before she climbs into Trevor’s bed and cocoons herself under the covers.

A short while later, the boy finds her. He’s absolutely elated to have her in his bed, that much Honey can tell even without Trevor saying it aloud. It’s written all over his face when he jumps onto the bed and peppers kisses all over her face, and in the way that he snuggles up against her chest once he’s ready for bed. 

With one last kiss to her neck, Trevor is out like a light. Honey isn’t far behind him. Waking up and sneaking out of the house before church is the farthest thing from Honey’s mind with her sweet, doting boy breathing evenly next to her like it’s the most natural thing in the world, for them to be sharing a bed. 

49:90 – TREVOR

“Why are you texting me when you know I stayed over?” Bea demands, barging into Trevor’s room. 

Trevor immediately pulls the covers to his chest. “Jesus Christ, Bea,” he exclaims. “All I did was wish you a happy birthday. Is that not allowed?”

Bea narrows her eyes at Trevor, crossing her arms over her chest. “So what,” she says. “We’re friends now?”

Trevor scoffs, sitting up in his bed. “I just thought it would be nice. It’s your birthday. I see you almost every day. Why wouldn’t I wish you a happy birthday?”

Bea remains skeptical, squinting at the boy. She taps her foot while she thinks. “I’ll allow it,” she decides. She drops her arms to her sides and looks around. “Where’s Honey?”

Trevor looks to her side of the bed. He frowns, a little confused at the empty space that should be occupied by the girl who went to sleep there. “I don’t– I dunno. I guess she snuck out while I was asleep.”

“Call her.”

“Call her?” Trevor repeats. 

“Call her,” Bea insists, like it’s an argument. 

Trevor blanches. “You call her.”

“She doesn’t pick up my calls this early anymore. You call her.” Bea points at his phone, jabbing the digit at it impatiently. “C’mon, Trevor, I need to talk to her.”

“Won’t you see her at lunch?” Trevor asks.

Bea takes a breath, closing her eyes and pushing her hair out of her face. “Trevor,” she says. She blinks open and her face is blank, impassive. “Please. Call her.”

Trevor reaches for his phone and holds it in his palm, biting his lip as he looks at Bea. She looks like she’s in pain while asking the boy for his help, reluctant, but certain that her decision is the correct one. Trevor slaps his phone against his palm and scrunches his nose. “You call her,” he reiterates, tossing the phone to Bea. 

She catches it, face contorted with confusion.

“What happened last night, anyway?” Trevor asks. “You seem…”

Bea glares at Trevor, causing him to snap his mouth shut. She turns his phone over and fiddles around a bit before putting the phone on speaker and throwing it back onto Trevor’s messy blankets. She joins him on the bed, sitting with her legs crossed. She places her hands on her ankles and straightens her back, watching as the phone rings and vibrates while they wait for Honey.

Trevor is a little uncomfortable, to be honest– Bea makes herself at home and he’s not wearing a shirt. No, she doesn’t care, and she’s wearing her pajamas too, but Trevor feels bare. 

“Hello?”

Trevor looks at Bea when Honey picks up, but the girl gestures at him to speak. Trevor, thrown off by the motion, says the only thing he can think of. “Hi, baby,” he greets quickly. He makes a face at Bea when she rolls her eyes, mouthing a defensive ‘what?’ at her.

“What’s up?” Honey asks.

“Um–” Trevor loses his train of thought, fighting silently with Bea as she motions for him to carry on the conversation before it’s her turn. “I was just, uh, calling to chat.”

Honey laughs. “Trev, I’m going to see you in three hours.”

“You didn’t say goodbye when you snuck out this morning,” Trevor says, making Bea faux-gag. ‘Fuck off,” Trevor mouths at her, sneering slightly.

‘You didn’t say goodbye,’ Bea mocks, sticking her tongue out.

“I did. You were half asleep and tried to hold me back by the pocket of the sweatshirt I was wearing,” Honey replies, amusement bleeding into her voice.

Oh, yeah. Trevor was there for that. He thought it was a dream. “Oh,” he says lamely.

Bea shakes her head, then picks up the phone so that she’s holding it flat in her palm, screen facing the ceiling. She speaks into the charging port, where the speakers are. “Are you coming to church?”

Honey pauses. “No.”

Bea groans, whining like a child. “Honey,” she drawls.

“Bea,” Honey replies, imitating the girl.

“I need you.” Bea pouts. Now, it’s Trevor’s turn to glare. He doesn’t like sharing, even with Honey’s best friend.

“Why do you need me?” Honey asks, her voice growing distant then returning like she switched which ear she was listening with mid-sentence.

Bea side-eyes Trevor before she speaks. “Q couldn’t get it up last night.”

Trevor can’t describe the feeling that overtakes him. This tidbit of information equally balances the scale again– when Quinn read Trevor’s sexts to Honey on Monday, the scale was thrown out of whack and Quinn had all the power. Now, Trevor knows something that Quinn doesn’t want him to know. It’s perfect. 

“Quinn– what?” Honey demands. There’s a clatter on her side of the line. She must have set something down so that she could hear better.

“He couldn’t get it up,” Bea hisses. “He had whiskey dick!”

The gossip is salacious. Trevor is delighted. He is so glad Bea didn’t take his phone and have this conversation privately. All of a sudden, his shirtlessness doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that Trevor is winning.

“No,” Honey breathes out. “On your birthday?”

“He couldn’t help it,” Bea explains with a frown, eyebrows turning down sympathetically. “We drank too much and, like, I know it happens sometimes, but it was just so jarring.”

“Oh, I bet.”

“Especially after we talked about Liv the night before,” Bea adds, turning and laying perpendicular from Trevor on his bed, knees bent over the edge and feet dangling. She places his phone on her chest, using both hands to cover her eyes in exasperation. “Also, yes, I overreacted and I had a threesome with Jack and Cole, but it wasn’t even fun for me. I was so in my head the whole time.”

Honey hums.

Trevor doesn’t understand. Quinn’s dick flagged, so Jack and Cole tagged in. That makes sense. Bea’s whole goal this summer was to get laid as many times as she could, with all of her partners. That’s solid– Trevor can work with that. But… being in your head during sex? Having sex ruined because you’re thinking? Trevor’s never had that problem before.

“What do you mean, you were in your head?” Trevor asks, interrupting.

Bea removes a hand from her face to glare at Trevor with her one visible eye. She groans, covering her face again. “Just– Trevor,” she says shortly. “Who’s the hottest man you can think of?”

“Ryan Reynolds,” Trevor responds instantly. He and the boys have talked about this before.

Bea sighs. “Of course you think that.” She takes another deep breath. “Such a fucking man response. Imagine Honey was seriously involved with Ryan Reynolds before you–”

“No, Blake would never allow that,” Trevor interrupts.

“Baby, that’s why it’s in your imagination,” Honey says patiently, whereas Bea had already thrown her hands down and turned her head to scowl at Trevor for interrupting her.

“And then imagine that the next time you go to hook up with Honey, after having a long conversation about her ex-boyfriend Ryan Reynolds, she’s not wet at all.” Bea states, over-enunciating her words. “How would you feel about that?”

Trevor is shocked by the comparison and how much it would affect him. “Oh, I’d be pissed,” he says.

Bea nods, her voice turning bitter and sarcastic. “Yeah, uh-huh. Then, to make things worse, you’re going to start comparing yourself to Ryan. ‘She’d be wet for Ryan,’ you’ll think. ‘Maybe he’s better for her. Maybe she should go back to him.’” She pauses, staring at him. “Now do you get it?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Trevor concedes, clenching his jaw a bit. 

Bea raises a finger. “One more thing. You’ll wonder if she thinks the same thing, so now you’re afraid that she’ll drop you to get him back.”

“Mhm,” Honey adds. 

“Well, don’t agree like you would,” Trevor complains, scoffing and frowning at Honey’s contact name on his phone screen.

“I’m not agreeing like I would,” Honey argues, exaggerating the same word as Trevor in the same tone. “I’m agreeing like Bea is making a good point. It’s a hypothetical, Trevor.”

“Well, it’s not fun,” Trevor says.

“No,” Bea interrupts. “It’s not.” She snaps her mouth shut and stares at Trevor, unblinking. Her nostrils flare briefly, then she breaks eye contact and returns to the phone, sitting up and resuming her previous position. She’s antsy, Trevor realizes. She’s jittery and anxious, not just pissed off.

“I thought you and Quinn were just hooking up,” Trevor says.

“We are,” Bea says, her voice a bit darker in that old reluctant way. “It’s just a little different. Quinn and I get each other more than Jack and me, or Cole and me.” She spits out the latter pairings like they’re sharp and piercing her mouth if they ruminate for too long on her tongue. 

“But– you wanted to hook up with all of them.” There’s still a bit of confusing lacing his words. “And you are. And you’ve enjoyed it.”

“Mm,” Honey hums. It’s a reminder that she’s still there, listening in, and Trevor and Bea aren’t having this discussion alone. “He’s right, Bea. You have enjoyed hooking up with them, just not last night.”

“I know,” Bea drones on. “That’s why it’s so hard. I, like, don’t even want to talk to him because it’s so stupid that I feel this way. I like hooking up with everyone. We decided that we wouldn’t be monogamous because he wasn’t over Liv yet.”

Trevor makes a face. He didn’t know that Quinn had said that. He seems fine all the time, but especially when Bea is there. They haven’t talked about Liv, or the breakup, since Jack originally informed Trevor and Cole that the relationship had ended in the first place. 

“You didn’t tell me that,” Honey says, but Bea interrupts, reacting to Trevor’s expression.

“Don’t make a face at me,” Bea chides. “Trevor, I feel bad. I like him! I think he’s awesome, but then he’ll say something offhandedly about missing her or something like this will happen–”

“This has happened before?” Trevor asks. “He's gotten whiskey dick before?”

Bea talks over him, ignoring him, except for a wave of her hand to silence him. “And I’m reminded that his ex-girlfriend is a model and that he’s looking to settle down with a wife and have babies!” She flounders, stammering a bit. “It’s just, like, so… so overwhelming. And it’s my fucking fault that I feel this way, because I’m the one who wanted to keep it casual and polyamorous when it could’ve gone the other way and I could’ve been happier with just Quinn. But then, he might not have enjoyed it because he just got out of this relationship so he also wanted something casual–”

“Bea, baby, you’re spiraling,” Honey murmurs. 

“I know, Honey,” Bea replies. “But, still, what am I supposed to do about this? I– fuck. I like being with him, and I think we’re a really good match, but it’s just not working out like I thought it would. Probably because I like him. But I also like what we’re doing and I don’t want to change it that much. Things just aren’t working the way that I thought they were and it’s my own fucking fault..”

“Buzzy,” Honey sighs. “He knows what he got into at the start of the summer. You told him and he agreed and endorsed your Slut Summer.”

“What if he regrets that?” Bea asks, eyes wide and growing faraway due to her frustration. She looks like she’s seconds away from crying. “Like– I don’t regret this, but I shouldn’t have made it such a deal. I’m worried Quinn is having second thoughts, too.”

Trevor hopes that she doesn’t cry, to be honest– he doesn't want to be sitting in his bed with Bea at the foot of it, bawling over Quinn and their confusing relationship.

“Fuck, not the what-ifs,” Honey teases, laughing.

Trevor’s not sure that’s what he would’ve said, but it seems to make Bea deflate a bit. She’s not as pent-up.

“Why did you have to go home so early?” Bea asks helplessly, cracking her knuckles. “I wish you were here to give me a hug.”

Honey is silent for a split second before her voice rings through the speakers. “Trevor, give Bea a hug.”

Trevor and Bea look at each other, side-eying the other person warily. Trevor raises an eyebrow. Bea rolls her head back on her shoulders and Trevor hears her neck crack, too. 

Too much time seems to pass for Honey, because she takes a deep breath. Trevor can practically hear the eye roll. “You guys are so annoying. Bea– you want a hug and I’m not there to give one to you. Trevor’s there. Trevor– you love a cuddle and you’d be equally as upset if you had to deal with Ryan Reynolds showing you up, even though his relationship with me is long dead. Not that that’s what Liv is doing,” she clarifies. “Quinn likes you too, Bea. Stop worrying so much.”

“I can’t help it,” Bea whines. “You’re the same way, Honey.”

Honey slows her speech. “Calm down. Take a break from all of this for a minute. Give Trevor a hug and then go enjoy your birthday. I will see you in a couple hours and I’ll give you a hug then, okay?”

“Okay,” Bea agrees miserably. 

“Okay,” Honey repeats. “I’m hanging up now. I’m trying to bake a cake and you’re making it very difficult for me.”

“Sorry,” Bea apologizes, going back to gnawing on her bottom lip. “Love you.”

“I love you too. Hug Trevor. I hope you feel better, babe.”

Honey hangs up and Bea returns Trevor’s phone to his hand. She looks up at him from under her eyelashes reluctantly, wincing a bit. “I didn’t expect you to hear that much. Didn’t realize we’d be getting so deep on my birthday.”

Trevor shrugs. “It’s okay.”

Bea twists her hands together awkwardly. “We don’t have to hug.”

“Well, Honey said so,” Trevor replies. 

Bea laughs. “Trev, I know you’re, like, in love with her, but you don’t have to do everything she says.”

Trevor feels his face grow red. “‘m not in love with her,” he mumbles. “I just–” He shakes his head with a breath and stops himself. “I think she’s right. She thinks you need a hug, so I’ll give you a hug. She’s smart, we should listen to her.”

Bea rolls her eyes, then shifts on the bed and leans into Trevor’s side. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her tightly against his torso before releasing her. It’s a brief hug, and not a full one, but it seems to be fine for now. Honey can give Bea a real hug later.

“Do you think she was right about all of it?” Bea asks when they break apart. She itches the tip of her nose with her knuckle. 

Trevor makes a nonchalant noise, trying to decide what to say. “What, uh, part? All of her advice was good.”

Bea scoffs. “Yeah, because you’re not biased at all.” She pauses, shaking her head like she can’t believe what she’s about to ask. “Just– the break part. Should I take a break? Is that even what she meant?” She scrunches her face up and Trevor is surprised that she’s actually asking his opinion. She came in here to talk to Honey, but now that Honey’s gone, she’s still talking to him. 

So, Trevor thinks on it. “I think… I don’t think it could hurt,” he tells Bea. “You’ve got a lot on your mind. Leaving Quinn alone for a couple of days might help you figure out what you want.”

Bea nods tentatively. “Okay,” she says. “I– yeah, I guess. Might as well try it, right?”

Trevor nods. “You guys are good, though,” he offers. It’s a weak statement. “You’re not the same as Liv. He seems happier with you.”

Bea forces a tight smile onto her face. “Thanks, Trev.”

A silence falls between them for a beat. 

Bea breaks it. “We should probably get ready for church.” Her eyes fall to Trevor’s chest and she grimaces, judging him. “You’re underdressed, I think.”

Trevor falls back into their normal dynamic at her words, reacting with apt defense for himself. “Dude, you’re the one who charged in here.”

“Well, I was in crisis.”

“Okay, well, don’t let Quinn see you leaving my room so early in the morning in your pajamas,” Trevor sasses. “I think that’ll make your crisis worse.”

Bea climbs off the bed. “You might be patient zero of the sassy man apocalypse,” Bea snaps, although Trevor can tell that they’re still joking with each other. “And that’s not a compliment.”

With that, she leaves the room.

Annoyed that he didn’t get the last word, Trevor grumbles to himself while he gets ready for the day. He goes through the motions at church, side-eying Bea throughout the mass and checking his watch and phone as often as he can without the Litchton residents calling him out for being disrespectful in “the Lord’s house.”

It’s happened before, just once. That was when he was in the parking lot after mass was over– so Trevor can’t imagine how they’d feel about seeing his phone in the middle of something so sacred to them. He’s willing to risk it, but only because he’s itching to see Honey. Now that they’re together, in a sense, Trevor can barely stay away from her for more than a few hours. He’ll do it if he has to, but God, he doesn’t want to.

Even once they make it through church and head to lunch, drawing closer to Honey, Trevor doesn’t miss the way that Bea brushes Quinn off as nonchalantly as she can. She doesn’t want to make a deal of it and it’s making Quinn more and more quiet throughout the day. He holds the door for Bea, but they sit on opposite ends of the table at lunch. Quinn doesn’t even hand over the little square box that he spent so long trying to wrap perfectly when Honey reveals her present and Bea’s cake. 

It’s too late to go back now, but Trevor is starting to wonder if he should’ve advised Bea to take a break at all. She and Quinn look out of place, looking away from each other whenever their eyes meet. Yet, they can’t seem to ignore the other. They’re always trying to sneak glances and they always look seconds away from calling out to the other before looking down, which is when the other person will sneak their peek and the process repeats.

It’s sad, really. Trevor feels bad. This probably wasn’t how Bea wanted her birthday to go. At least she got a hug from Honey, though, as promised.

In brighter news, Trevor is able to sneak a kiss with Honey when they pass each other in the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. It’s a quick peck, but it leaves Trevor smiling stupidly for the rest of the meal. 

[strniohoeee]

Racketeer

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N hates that Chris packs heat when they go out, but what happens one night when he may need it?🗣️

Warnings⚠️: Chris has that pewpew on him. This is pure self indulgence for my friend and I. I was thinking about the podcast where Chris said if he didn’t have Nick or Matt he’d def be drinking and smoking and doing bad shit. So I made Chris a “hoodrat”. I’m from NY, so we always say hoodrat. If you’re offended uhhh my bad?? Idk this is normal slang for me

Song for the imagine: Sweetheart- Pop Smoke feat. Fivio Foreign

You see my face, you better move

Bullets flyin’ through the room

They want static, I’m in the mood

To say Chris was always ready for whatever would be an understatement. Chris was always packing heat, and to be honest I hated it.

He always told me it was for protection in case anyone got funny around him or me, but I never liked the idea of my man potentially hurting someone.

I adored him for wanting to protect me, but also that put a target on my back. Especially since everyone in Boston knew Chris and I. And they especially knew the crew Chris ran with.

I always brought this up to him, and he would go back to saying that, that was the reason he carried at all costs. When I met Chris we were in high school, and he was always hanging with the wrong crowd, but he never had enemies. I fell in love with him for who he was when he wasn’t around his hooligan friends, but when we left high school, and I realized this was his lifestyle I just came to terms with it

“Chris I don’t think you should have that on you” I told him as we were getting ready to go out to a club

“Nah. Just in case someone wanna breathe loud near my woman. Ima boom his face off” he said

“Sweet of you to want to protect me, but can’t you just fist fight” I told him

“Baby, the life I live they don’t play fair. I gotta carry” he said shrugging his shoulders

“Man I really wish you’d stop hanging around those asshole” I said back

“Come onnn don’t speak like that” he said kissing me

“I’m serious Christopher. You should really have gone to school, or do something with your creativity so you wouldn’t be having to have a strap on you wherever we go” I said scolding him

“Listen mama, I promise I’m going to get us out of this lifestyle” he said hugging me from behind

“Okay Christopher” I said rolling my eyes at him

Chris and I had gone to a small club downtown that his friends were raving about. We hadn’t been to a club in a while, and we really wanted to go out and have some fun

We got to the club and got a table, and ordered some drinks. We were all chilling and laughing here and there. Chris and I had danced to a few songs

I was at the bar closing the tab, and handing over Chris’ card to the bartender, when a guy came over and tried to speak to me

“How are you tonight?” He asked

“I’m fine” I said not even looking at him

“What’s wrong pretty lady?” He asked trying to touch me

“Back off! I have a man” I said rudely and backed away

“Chill lil mama. It was never that serious” he said walking off

I had paid the bill, and walked over to Chris

“What was that about?” He asked looking at me with concern

“Some fucking weirdo tryna talk to me, but I told him I had a man, and he ran off” I told Chris

As we were getting ready to leave the same man walked by me

“There’s that pretty lady again” he said smiling at me

“Yo fuck outta here!” Chris said to the guy putting his hand up to keep us separated

He just looked at Chris and walked off not thinking much of it

We were all outside chatting while Chris friends waited for their rides, and that same man came around again

“I think it’s fate the way we keep bumping into each other” he said trying to grab my right arm, but I moved slightly

“Yo! Beat it you fucking weirdo” Chris said a little more upset

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy said

Chris pulled me a little towards him so I would be out of the way of the man’s view

Chris lifted his shirt, flashing the pistol sitting in the waistband of his jeans

“I’m her boyfriend, so like I said, get the fuck outta here” Chris said ready to pop the guy

“Yo man! I ain’t even mean anything I swear” the guy said getting scared

“Yeah. Keep it pushing before I pistol whip you” he said watching the guy walk away, and pulling me in closer

“The fuck that guy thought he was” Chris said looking over his shoulder watching the guy walk down the street

“Come on baby. Don’t worry about him” I said pulling Chris to look at me

“This is why I carry my gun because any mother fucker will try me” he said rolling his eyes

“I’m grateful baby. That you were here to protect me” I said giving him a kiss

“Always baby. I’ll fuck anybody up for you. I love you” he said kissing me back

After his friends got in their rides, we both headed back home. I guess I didn’t mind Chris carrying now since he did protect me.

The End

This was pure self indulgence, so I hope yall enjoyed this as much as I did making this little short story 😋🤞🏽

-J💅🏽