#there’s so many good moments i just can’t

[sahkuna]

OH, HIM? HE'S SPOKEN FOR — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: one too many women at this wedding think they've got a shot with gojo satoru. but what they fail to realize is none of them are you, the one who holds his unwavering devotion.

content warning(s): non-curse au, plot before the eventual smut so 18+ mdni, afab/fem! reader, mentions reader wearing a dress, established relationship, unprotected sex, gojo's impatient so you guys get it on an empty room upstairs, exhibitionism (sorta kinda?), brief mentions of jealousy, pet names.

word count: 4.6k+ // i lurve weddings.

For the fifth time this evening, Gojo’s teeth catch his inner cheek, biting back a smile that threatens to spread across his lips.

You’ve got a cute habit of toying with pieces of your clothing or whatever object was within your range whenever something’s nagging at your mind. He wonders to himself if this was something you were aware of.

Unconscious of Satoru’s intense gaze on you, you idly gulp down a cold glass of water and breathe a heavy sigh.

As the evening persists, you’re starting to feel your social battery deplete by the second. It’s been almost a whopping 5 hours since the wedding reception began, and with every hour that crept closer to midnight the more you wanted to throw in the towel and go home.

The poor music selection blaring from the speakers stationed around the venue— a collection composed by the newlywed couple, you presume— didn’t aid in your fight to stay here any longer than necessary.

Your index finger mindlessly loops and unloops around the straps of your attire, and Gojo can’t help but softly knock his foot with yours underneath the table to pull you out of your daze.

Rather than blatantly asking what was wrong, Satoru settles for something else. 

“Relax,” he says in an attempt to settle your nerves. Any effort that he’s previously made to stop himself from smiling is ultimately shot down the moment your eyes catch his. “You look nice, quit worryin’.”

Though you did look nice, the word alone wasn’t enough to bring any justice to how you looked tonight. The venue’s warm and orange lighting flattered and illuminated you too well. There’s more he wants to say, and it’s all on the tip of his tongue. 

But Gojo opts to sit back, eyes soft as they make a trail across your bare shoulders, eventually working his gaze up to your face. There, he traces your features slowly, from your eyes down to your cheeks and they finally stop at your lips.

And his eyes just stay there for a few seconds, lingering on your mouth.

He wants to kiss you so badly. 

To him, it didn’t matter if there was a group of old geezers who you two had to share a table with. Gojo would tune them all out if he had to. But knowing him, the moment his lips would press against yours he wouldn’t be able to pull away on his own accord. 

And you’d rip him a new one if you two ever became “that couple” engaging in heavy practices of PDA in front of such critical eyes.

So, picking up the same glass that you drank from, Gojo drinks from it, swallowing down the water along with the nagging urge to nip and lick his way into your mouth.

Huffing at the fact that he’s chugged down your drink in one go— despite clearly having more than enough in his glass— you wrestle the cup out of Gojo’s grasp and place it far from his reach.“Thank you for that, Satoru,” you respond, to both his compliment and how he’s done away with all your water.  

Gojo hums in acknowledgement, completely missing the snarky tone your voice carried. “I’m serious though, you look really good.” 

You flash him a small smile at this. However, it’s short-lived because seconds later your lips pull into a soft pout. 

Noticing the drastic change in your mood, Gojo scoots his chair closer to you so he can get a better read on the situation. He presses his finger to your forehead, tapping once, then twice. “What’s going on up there, hm?” he inquires.

A bit apprehensive, you start with a drawn-out, “Well…”

Throughout the evening as Gojo's plus one to his distant relative’s wedding, you’ve noticed that no matter where you step the guests at this venue seem to have eyes on you. Or more so to speak, who you came with.

It’s no secret that Gojo draws attention to himself wherever he goes, that part doesn’t need much explaining— especially when his appearance sticks out like a ridiculously beautiful, jaw-droppingly gorgeous sore thumb. But today his magnetic charm has pulled much more than you expected.

Like now.

A couple of tables away from where you two sit— perhaps two or three— is where you spot them. There’s a small group of women who hide their blushes and bashful smiles behind their hands, giggling and blatantly ogling at your dashing boyfriend.

You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t bother you. …Because it did, big time. 

Suppressing the urge to cringe physically, you turn your sights toward Gojo. “Doesn’t it bother you?” you ask, nodding your head toward the table of women who were whispering amongst themselves.

You could count on both hands the number of times you’ve had to pretend not to eavesdrop whenever one of the bridesmaids would muster up their courage and make their way up to Gojo whenever he was away from you— which was rare because despite being the one who invited you to the wedding, Satoru stuck to you as if he knew no one here.

Humming for a bit, Gojo throws an uncaring glance over his shoulder to view the mini fan club he had unknowingly accumulated tonight. A few have the decency to abruptly look away when he does so, not wanting to be caught in the act. But the others? They boldly send him flirtatious smiles and shy waves, accented with blushing cheeks.

None of which he returns, but you still feel a gnawing ache settle in your stomach.

Gross. 

Finally answering your question, Gojo meets your troubled gaze. “Nah, not really,” he replies. “It gets bothersome, sure, but I usually just ignore it all.”

You don’t respond to this and decide to flick your gaze elsewhere. If he isn’t bothered by it, then this isn’t even that big of a deal. Don’t let it get to you. It’s fine! Perfectly fine.

Blue eyes trail along your face, tracing your expression slowly. Gojo’s face softens, and his hand slips under the table and brushes against your knee before he squeezes. “Why?” he asks suddenly. “Does it bother you?” 

Yes. “No,” you respond a bit too quickly.

“‘No’?” he tries again. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to crack.

“Fine. It does a bit,” you hiss bitterly, your poker face falling into shambles completely. Gojo’s smile stretches a little wider. “So can we leave now, please?”

You don’t know if you can withstand another hour in here with all things considered. 

It’s also essential to note how you gradually find yourself nodding off to sleep every ten minutes or so the longer you’re here at this venue. You’re hoping and praying Gojo takes the bait so he would finally shoot Ichiji a text telling him he should be coming to the venue to pick you two up soon. 

Behind his rounded shades, confusion swirls in his gaze and a subtle pout tugs at his lips. “But they haven’t even handed out the cake yet!” 

Oh, for fuck’s sake. 

You want to throw your head back in exasperation at the fact that the sole reason why you guys were staying out so late was over a damn cake. 

Throwing a cautious glance over your shoulder, you spot the culprit. An extravagant-looking tower of vanilla fondant stares back at you, where it’s situated many tables away from you and over to where the bride and groom sit. 

You don’t know why Satoru likes that crap anyway, fondant is known for its notoriously awful flavour because of how it tastes like an extremely sugary, yet stale donut glaze left out for far too long.

“Oh my God,” you wail, but you’re abruptly aware that your volume has garnered a few pairs of curious eyes to land on you and Satoru from various tables around you.

Smiling awkwardly at your tablemates, you’re prompted to lean in close to the stubborn white-haired man and lower your tone so only he’s privy to what you say next. “Can’t you ask Ijichi to grab something sweet for you on our way to your place?”

Unyielding, Gojo shakes his head. “I’ve tried, believe me,” he says, crossing his arms across his chest. “But he's always on about how impractical it is for a sweets shop to be open at this time of night.” 

He can’t be serious right now. You think you’re starting to reach your wits' end. “You’re kidding me.”

Thinking you also find Ijichi’s claims outlandish, Gojo leans back in his seat more comfortably. He’s relieved you’re taking his side. “Right?! I tell him all the time that there’s bound to be—”

“I mean you, Satoru,” you say, flashing him a face of disbelief. Gojo wilts a little at this and pouts. 

Pursing his lips, it seems like he’s seriously giving your question some thought. You don’t fault Gojo for having a sweet tooth, but sometimes you wish you could ween him off it. Especially since they got you into predicaments such as this.

But, there is one more thing that Gojo Satoru loves more than his sweets. 

And that’s you.

“Those women really did a number on you, huh?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you throw an incredulous look Gojo’s way. The abrupt topic change flipped so fast it could’ve given you whiplash. He’s purposefully trying to provoke you. 

But why?

Your voice is barely above a whisper now, “What does that have to do with—”

Gojo pushes his chair away from the fancy table and shoves himself up to his feet. Just where does he think he’s going? “You wanna leave, right?”

Like this, you’re able to drink in just how appealing he looks tonight. It’s no wonder since walking in, everyone seemed to rubber-neck their attention to where you two were seated.

You nod slowly, and your hesitant nature has him practically purring when he says, “So let me take you upstairs then. Show ‘em that I’m spoken for already.” 

And at that very moment, you swear you hear the middle-aged woman whose chair is seated one space away from you choke on her drink— you don’t blame her. 

But there’s no way she could’ve heard everything… let alone understand the connotations of what he’s said, right?

She aims a displeased once over toward you and Satoru’s direction and dramatically shuffles her seat closer toward her unsuspecting husband. “My goodness,” she mutters under her breath.

Okay, so she’s heard everything.

Gojo laughs under his breath at the guest’s over-the-top antics and your blood runs a little hot.

Pushing his frames off the bridge of his nose, Gojo’s hand slides them past his hairline to rest on his head. He offers you his hand. “Come with me.”

And you’re sitting there, staring dumbly at his perfectly glossed lips that are decorated with a wicked smile because he knows. He knows you’ll let him whisk you away upstairs to do what even God wants nothing to know of. 

Carefully, Gojo wraps a hand around your wrist and tugs you to your feet. “Let’s go.” Delicate fingers slide down past your palm and lace themselves with yours. You move with him when he pulls you toward the back of the venue, near the huge wooden double doors and toward the exit. Leaving behind many shocked guests and a dejected party of bridesmaids.

Which reminds you…

Before you both slip out from view entirely, over your right shoulder you childishly poke your tongue out at the group of women right as the door is about to click shut. 

A sense of relief washes over you when you both finally step out of the ballroom and into the vacant grand hallway. There’s no boisterous noise to pound away inside your skull, just the gentle sound of you and Satoru’s footsteps padding down the marble flooring.

There’s a mix of emotions that swirl inside of you with each step that’s taken toward the main staircase and up to whichever room Gojo wishes to… well, fool around with you in. “You stick your tongue out at them?” he asks.

How in the hell would he have been able to guess that? You stare long and hard at the back of his head, half expecting to catch a glimpse of a third eye you didn’t know was there. However, there’s nothing but white tufts of snowy, white hair glaring back at you.

Or maybe you’re just that predictable.

“By accident,” you murmur, not even bothering to think up an explanation for your weak excuse.

Repeating your answer to himself, Satoru grins. “Cute.”

Stopping in front of one of the doors, with your hand still in his, he knocks on the door with his free hand, silently waiting for a response. 

When there are no signs of life on the other side, Satoru twists the knob and carelessly kicks the door wide open with his black leather shoe. The action was so harsh that the metal knob clunks loudly against the wall,— seeing that there was no door stopper— its sound reverberating off the many walls inside the building.

“Satoru!”

Uncaring for the commotion he’s made, Satoru squeezes your hand before he releases his grip and pulls you inside the small room. 

“Relax,” he drawls, before flicking on the light and kicking the door shut behind him— this time with a little more tact. “It’s fine, no one’s here anyway.” 

No longer tethered by your intertwined hands, Satoru plops himself down onto one of the two leather couches and sinks into the seat. 

Exhaling softly, you shake your head and follow your boyfriend to where he’s seated. You’re about to sit down adjacent to him until his hands abruptly shoot out to stop you.

“Y’know…” he starts, and you’re prompted to stand in between his open legs. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders when he glances up at you, cerulean eyes shimmering when he tells you, “It was kinda cute seeing you get all mad down there.”

“I wasn’t mad!” you deny, a half-truth and half-lie. “It just got to be too much is all.”

Pulling your body closer in between his spread legs, you feel something firm press against you. He couldn’t possibly be… “Are you seriously…” You swallow and clear your throat, trying to not let the heady tone of your voice take over. “Are you seriously hard right now?!”

You emit a pathetic squawk when Satoru’s hands brush up against the back of your knees. His palms run higher and higher up your legs, and the fabric of your dress pools around his forearms until they stop right under the swell of your ass.

“What can I say?” he breathes, his eyes burning with intensity the more he stares at your face, searching for something. “I like it when you get jealous over me.”

This man…

“Wasn’t jealous, either,” you say, leaning more into his touch. The more you stay like this without the two of you doing anything to combat the growing sexual tension, the more desperate and needy you become.

“Yeah?”

A heavy heat settles through your entire body when you slide down and sit on Satoru’s lap. “Yeah…”

His breath heaving in his chest, Satoru leans forward and kisses you, sighing blissfully against your mouth the moment they’re pressed together. Eyes closing, the gentle press of Satoru’s lips— soft and warm— has got you smiling against his skin, to which he returns one of his own.

Dragging his mouth away from yours, he presses a trail of searing, lingering kisses from your cheek and down your jaw.

Pressing in closer, a puff of warm air fans out over the curve of your neck. 

“I’ll make you forget aaall about them,” he whispers his promise to you, fingers curling into your waist. “Make you feel so full.”

Growing flustered with how explicit he’s become with his words— a habit of his that seems to materialize only when you two get like this—your face is screwed tight with embarrassment and you faintly nudge his face out from your proximity and bury yours into his neck. 

“You… you talk a lot,” is all you can muster as you pull him tighter into your embrace.

Satoru’s lips curl into a small smile and he squeezes your hips. The deliberately slow trail of his fingertips smoothing their way from your waist down to the bottom hem of your dress had your mind dizzy with anticipation. 

When they slip underneath your attire, you’re not surprised when he starts to get more handsy. Palming at your thighs before ultimately winding up to the lacey material of your underwear. His index fingers hook around them, making an effort to tug them off you, but he can’t seem to do that just yet due to the obstacle of you sitting on his lap. 

Groaning, Satoru jumps his shoulder, prodding you to lift your face from his neck so that you may see what he wants from you. “Help me out, will you?”

You’re more than happy to oblige by a simple lift of your hips off his lap. With the weight of you temporarily gone, Satoru lowers the underwear down your thighs and to your knees. One leg at a time you step out of them, leaving nothing but the cool, air-conditioned air of the room breeze past your exposed cunt.

Bunching the garment in his hand, Satoru skillfully tosses it across the room… only for it to land unceremoniously atop a fake fern tucked into a corner of the room.

“Hey!”

Breezing past your sudden exclamation, Satoru's hands slide up your bare thighs and his fingertips tease over your skin, eventually grazing your pussy. When your hips inadvertently jerk back the moment they brush over your clit, your boyfriend holds you still against him.

“Sensitive, huh?” he asks, turning his head to press an affectionate kiss onto your warm cheek. “That’s one of the things I like most about you, how reactive you are.”

Not stopping with his ministrations, your boyfriend’s fingers stroke your bud, rubbing excruciating slow circles against you that send you reeling at the palm of his hands. 

Sounds of content are breathed out from his lungs when he starts to feel you grow wetter and wetter the more he toys with you. Your heart’s pounding loud against your chest, and you’re positive that if Satoru were to press his ear against you and listen real close, he’d be able to hear it.

Groaning, you exhale a pathetic string of nonsense into your boyfriend’s clothed shoulder, tugging harshly at his tie when you start to feel that familiar searing heat start to come undone when he slinks a finger inside you— gathering at the slippery arousal pooling around your inner thighs— only to take it back out again, drawing intricate shapes onto your clit.

“Oh my God,” you mewl, riding his hand now, shedding out of the once flustered facade you had moments prior.

Whispering your name, Satoru unwraps his arm from your waist so he may turn your face to look at him with the free hand that isn’t currently hidden underneath your dress. The tips of your noses brush and he watches you silently with unadulterated desire as you practically come undone by his hand. 

“Kiss me,” he demands, his palm pressing against the back of your nape to bring you closer to him, and you do as you’re told. 

Nipping at your bottom lip, your boyfriend presses one wet kiss after the other against your mouth before his tongue slides inside. The kiss is sloppy and fevered, and your whines are consumed by Satoru when his fingers are poking and curling inside you with passion.

You don’t think you can keep up with him if this continues.

Gasping, you pull away from an all too eager Satoru, who chases your lips only to be met with your cheek when you turn away from him. 

Pouting, the white-haired male searches your face for an explanation. “Why?” he whines, and a brief flash of disappointment strikes his features.

“It’s too much,” you murmur. At this, you feel Satoru’s fingers slow down inside your receptive pussy, but there is the subtle wiggle maybe once or twice to let you know he’s still there. “If you keep going like that I’ll—” You fling a lame hand in the air, hoping the unspoken gesture would speak for itself.

Seemingly catching your drift, a boyish and devilish grin is tacked onto his lips. “Want me to put it inside, then?” He bucks his hips up against your core, not caring if you’d make a mess of his lap. “I want you to feel all of me before that happens. Will you let me, sweetheart?”

There’s some sort of strangled scream that’s caught in your throat the moment the precious pet name drips off his tongue.

 You nod dumbly, to which Satoru laughs sweetly in response.

Lifting you off him, he settles you down onto the black leather seat beside you, not before hiking the bottom half of your dress up to your hips, exposing you completely to him. He presses your back down into the cushion and rests his knee between your legs.

Peeling off the black blazer from his shoulders, Gojo lets the article of clothing drop to the floor before his hands unbuckle his ridiculously expensive belt.

He’s taking his sweet ass time and he knows it because there’s an amused glint that swirls in his eyes the more he looks down at you.

“Hurry. Up,” you bite, unsure if you can withstand any more of his teasings. 

“You’re impatient as ever,” he jabs, tone laced with artificial annoyance.  Finally undoing his zipper, Satoru frees himself from the confines of his slacks and boxers before his hand finds the back of your knee, pushing it down toward your chest to get you ready for him. 

Right before the crown of his head can slip past the entrance of your slit, the unmistakable sound of heels clicking down the hallway catches your attention.

Shit, shit, shit!

You make moves to sit up and at least get yourself together, in case the oblivious stranger miraculously chooses your room out of all the others to walk into for God knows what.

However, Gojo has a different agenda. 

The corners of his lips quirk up as the sounds of what you predict to be two people, approach closer and closer down the hallway and toward your door. Satoru pins you back down and offers you a few words of encouragement along the lines of how good of a job you’re doing, before the thick head of his cock slides into you.

You both moan at the intoxicating sensation. However the sound of his runs deeper, like a pained grunt. It was as if he were a man possessed.

Fucking himself sweetly inside your tight, greedy hole, you can’t stop thinking of the fact that with each step you hear, the closer you are to toeing the line of you and Satoru being walked in on.

God, what would even do in such a situation? Keep going? Stop altogether?

“Fuuuck,” Satoru breathes, the vulgar somewhat audible sounds of your bodies grinding and bucking together had you thinking with other body parts rather than your head.

Yeah, no shot were you stopping anytime soon.

“I should’ve known he was taken, Airi!” You hear a voice exclaim from down the hall. “I mean, look at him!”

Yeah, look at him.

A furious pink blush crawls up Satoru’s neck and hues the tips of his ears as his hips drive in and out of you at such a gruelling, slow pace. His mouth is slightly parted open and the harsh sound of his laboured breathing can be heard echoing off the room’s wall with each thrust he sends inside your pussy.

He looks positively debauched right now. 

His tie (if you could even call it that now) barely can hold itself together, and a few buttons of his linen white shirt are now loose— revealing the milky expanse of his chest. He can’t seem to control his facial expressions either because one moment pale, white brows are furiously pinched together as he obscenely stretches your insides, and the next moment pleasure is etched onto those angelic features of his.

A second voice chips in, who you assume to be the woman’s friend. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

You can hear the sulk in the woman’s voice when she mutters, “I guess…” 

You’re half relieved when you hear their footsteps walk past your door entirely, unsuspecting of the pure filth that was going on behind it. 

But deep down in you, tucked somewhere far away is the feeling of excitement, knowing that you and Satoru could’ve been sniffed out at any second had you been a wee bit careless and more loud

With the coast clear, you cry out as Satoru sinks his throbbing hard length deeper inside you. His cock expertly works you open, leaving you twisting and writhing in pleasure as you start to near orgasm.

“Feels good, right?”

“So good,” you choke out, wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him impossibly closer to you. 

“Don’t stop. Please, please, please don’t stop, Satoru,” you beg him weakly, you feel like you’re about to explode. It’s too hot. It feels too good and a bundle of nerves in your core is ready to snap.

With one hand secured on your leg, supporting how it rests around his slender yet muscular waist, Satoru’s other hand comes up to palm and kneads at your clothed breast.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he groans, kissing you through your panting breaths. “You take me so well, just hold on…”

Giving into the pleasure, Gojo’s hips now snap faster into you, his big hands gripping and squeezing your ass possessively, pinning your hips to the couch.

Rocking harder and faster now, Satoru’s whimpers reach a whole new octave as he’s forced to pull out of you when his balls start to pulse threateningly, alerting him that he’s nearing his release.

Shuddering, Satoru strokes mindlessly and you gasp when something warm and gooey dribbles down your lower belly and toward your pubic bone.

“Agh! I—” He’s still pumping and there are small beads of cum weeping out the slit of his tip when’s rubbed all that he’s had left to give out. It drools off his dick and drips onto your lips. “I couldn’t help it…” he responds, knowing that he had nothing nearby to wipe you off with.

At least he had the sense not to come on your dress. 

Content with his performance, Satoru gives your butt one last cheeky pinch before tucking himself back into his pants. You close your legs. “We should do this more often.”

Shimmying your dress back to its proper state, you turn to him with a questioning glance. “What— What do you mean?” you ask.

You’re hyper-aware of his cum that’s beginning its slow descent down your leg. You need to take of that and fast.

Gojo points a tired finger between you and him, and then circling it around the room, he adds to this by saying, “Getting it on in public? I like it, it heightens the ‘experience’.”

You push him away from your body and mutter for him to shut up as you prop yourself off your back and into a proper sitting position. 

Throwing an arm across his face with his forearm shielding his eyes, Gojo laughs a little. “So, are we heading back in?” he asks you. “They must’ve cut the cake by now…”

You have the most insufferable boyfriend known to man. After this whole ordeal, he was still thinking about that fucking cake. 

“I can’t stand you, Satoru.”

thank you for reading yayyy :)

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats

Aegon ii Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI. Targcest, smut, angst, violence. S2 SPOILERS

“I can’t be ‘Aegon the Magnanimous.’ No one knows what Magnanimous means.” Aegon drawls, slumped over in his throne. The hour is late and there are many places he’d rather be. Namely with his beloved wife, who he’s scarcely seen, since taking on his duties. Their children will already be asleep, but if they wrap things up here soon, he may have a few moments with Y/N before bed.

“Aegon the dragon cock.” One of the piss drunk men raises his cup to the king.

“That’s more like it,” Aegon claps his hands together.

The men hoot and holler at the name. Dissolving into laughter.

“Speaking of,” Aegon rises to his feet, “I must get back to my wife. I did not wed her to admire from afar.” Aegon tosses back the remainder of his wine, throwing his gauntlet down beside the throne. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

He wastes no time, taking the stairs two at a time up to his chambers. His queen is already abed, waiting up for him with a bit of light reading. “What story is that now, my dearest love?” Aegon asks, pulling off his boots.

“It’s a book about the plague.” Y/N bends it open at the spine, setting the bound pages on the bedside table.

“Seems a bit morbid.” Aegon frowns, “especially in these times, wouldn’t you say?”

“Do you have something better in mind, your grace?”

Aegon doesn’t miss the bitterness in her voice. “You are my equal, here of all places. Don’t do this to me, please. Do not ice me out, I cannot bear it.”

Y/N sighs, crossing both arms over her chest. “Helaena is frightened of the rats. I’ve been looking into their behaviors and customs.”

Aegon flops onto the mattress, unceremoniously. “The rats?”

Y/N nods, “to be honest, I’m not particularly fond of them either. Although, they are interesting.”

“No vermin shall touch you so long as I live, darling girl. The only thing nibbling your toes will be me.” He wiggles his foot against hers for emphasis.

Y/N huffs a laugh. Allowing the silence between them to hang heavy.

“I am sorry about your brother.” Aegon says, despite ordering his own brother, Aemond, away at the news and holding her through sobs, he’s yet to say the words. “I cannot stand your suffering. It’s made it nearly impossible to be away from you to perform my duties.”

Y/N brings his hand to her lips, kissing the knuckles.

“I want you to attend the petitions,” he decides. “At my side, in my lap, seated directly on my cock; whatever suits you.”

“Directly on your cock?” Y/N chortles, “your mother would have my head.”

“She will do no such thing, you are queen. You may do as you wish.���

“You spoil me,” that’s what everyone says anyway.

“You’re mine to spoil. They’re jealous is all.”

“Shall we practice then? For the hearings?”

“If you wish.” Aegon rolls onto his back, sliding both arms behind his head.

Y/N grins, devilishly as she slides off his clothes, allowing his cock to spring free. Her own nightgown and small clothes follow before she swings a leg over his hips and slides down his length.

“Seven hells,” Aegon groans.

His wife leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Half of my flock has been taken, your grace.” Aegon tells her, repeating one of the small folk’s concerns.

“Your what?” Y/N blinks at him.

“Sheep,” he continues, “half of them gone, taken by your guard, just before winter. What say you, my queen?”

“Give them back.” Y/N sighs as his hands finally land on her hips, guiding her movements.

“That’s what I said,” Aegon hums, thrusting up to meet her.

“Did they listen?”

“No.” Aegon purses his lips, “they might need them to feed the dragons.”

“It’s much harder to concentrate this way, my king.”

“I know,” he cooes, “but you’re doing so well.”

“The dragons,” Y/N pants, “have never required sheep from the small folk before.”

“We have never been to war.” Aegon says, through gritted teeth as she clenches around him.

“My mother wants revenge for Lucerys.”

“And I want this matter resolved peacefully.” Aegon assures her, “still I cannot give my brother up for the slaughter.”

“I don’t see how this can end peacefully now,” Y/N laments, feeling the coil in her belly tighten. “It will end in fire and blood.”

“What would you have me do?”

Y/N shakes her head, “We must stop Aemond from claiming Harrenhal at the least.”

“Consider it done.” Aegon beckons her down for a kiss.

The clatter of metal against the floor breaks them apart, “what was that?” Y/N’s eyes search the room.

“Twas only the wind, my dearest love.” Aegon smiles up at his wife.

The hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. “No. Something is wrong.”

“I agree,” Aegon takes her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it to a taut peak. “You stopped moving.”

“Aegon,” she warns, “please.”

“Shhh,” he gentles her back to a steady grind. “I’m here. You are safe.”

Y/N offers a shaky smile. Still something seems amiss, though she can’t think much more about it with Aegon’s free hand toying with her clit.

“Cum on my cock, then we will investigate, if you feel so inclined.”

Y/N nods, bouncing faster, harder. Trying to ignore the worry twisting at her gut.

Aegon’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth. “Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you.”

“More than anyone or anything, save for our children. I want you to remember that…always.”

Y/N nods, feeling herself teetering on the precipice. “I-” she wants to say it back, only her brain doesn’t seem to be working.

“Hush, sweetheart.” Aegon groans, because he knows. Rubbing his fingers harshly against her pearl to push her over the edge. Shaking and crying her release as she milks his cock. “Good girl.” Aegon fills her pulsing cunt with his spend.

She leans toward her husband, capturing his lips as they ride out their high. Once she has caught her breath Y/N rolls away, off of the bed, shuffling back into her nightgown.

Aegon follows her lead, redressing in his tunic and trousers. “Head to the children’s room, wait for me there. I’ll have the guards help me search the floor for any sign of…rats.”

Y/N wrings her hands, knowing how silly it sounds. “Thank you, Aegon.”

He closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to her forehead and cheek. “You’re more than welcome.” He watches her leave the room before heading in the opposite direction. Where is everyone? The keep is never so quiet, even at night.

Y/N scampers down the hallway to the nursery, it takes a moment for her mind to make sense of the scene before her. Helaena with a knife held to her throat by a strange man. His counterpart hovering over the children’s beds with a blade at the ready.

“What are you doing?” Y/N breathes, clutching a hand to her chest.

The man holding Helaena shoves her aside.

Y/N catches the woman in her arms, smoothing down her white tresses. Helaena clings to her. “It’s ok.”

The children sleep better together, they always have. Besides the maids prefer Aegon and Y/N’s children close to Aemond and Helaena’s for practical reasons, until they are older.

“Which of them are yours?” The first man demands.

“All of them,” Y/N lies. “All of them are mine.”

“You have but four children,” Cheese insists. “Here lie six, tell me which are yours and I will spare them.”

“If I don’t tell you and you’re wrong, my mother will have your head.” Y/N clenches her jaw. “For all I know of our true queen, this was not her request. So who’s was it?”

“A son for a son, that’s what’s fair.” Blood insists.

“What did they offer you? Gold?” Y/N wonders, “I’ll double it if you leave now.”

The men look to each other, undecided.

“Or you could take me instead. I’m worth more to my mother than any bounty.” Rhaenyra’s eldest child offers.

————————————————————————-

Aegon completes his sweep of their chambers, along with the rest of the royal floor. Nothing is amiss. He moves to the children’s quarters and finds Helaena, curled up on the floor. “What’s happened?”

Helaena takes her brother’s outstretched hand. “They wanted to kill the boy.”

The boy? “My boy?”

Helaena shakes her head, “mine.”

Aegon looks to his nephews, still sleeping soundly. “Where is Y/N?”

“They took her instead.”

“Where the hell is Cole?” Aegon demands. “Where in the seven hells is anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Helaena sobs.

Part 2

[f1goat]

roommates ; lando norris + part seven

In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: smut & not proofread

You let out an annoyed grunt when you wake up for the second time that night. Lando is still pressed up against your body. It’s nice, you’re more then comfortable with him cuddling you like this, but still you can’t seem to fall asleep. Every time you think you’ve finally fallen asleep, you wake up only a bit of time later. Maybe it’s your thoughts who keep you awake. There did happen a lot tonight after all. You relive the earlier happenings. Every time you think about what happened between Lando and you, you feel yourself getting heated. 

Before you can relive every moment for the tenth time this night, Lando wakes up as well. You feel him move against your body. It’s hard to miss how his cock grinds over your ass. Fuck, you feel yourself getting even more bothered right now. Are you really getting aroused again just because of this? Then a thought pops up in your head, could it be that you’re still too horny to sleep? It happened to you before, so it wouldn’t surprise you now that you think about it. 

“Can’t sleep babygirl?” Lando asks you with a raspy voice. That’s not making things better. Since when can he sound this hot? 

“No,” you softly confirm. 

“Something that’s keeping you awake?” Lando continues to ask. 

You don’t reply verbally. It’s not like you can tell Lando that you’re still horny, right? And you’re not even sure about that being the problem, it can also be because of everything that happened. Your mind is a mess right now trying to progress everything from tonight. 

“Or do you want to sleep in your own bed?” Lando asks you a bit nervous. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed you to sleep here. 

This time you’re fast to respond. “No,” you reassure him quickly, “I uh, I don’t know what’s keeping me awake.”

“Regret?” Lando continues to ask you. He feels nervous while waiting for your answer. What if you tell him that you regret what happened? 

In the mean time you’re thinking about what to say. Words are getting mixed up in your head. You don’t regret what happened and you need Lando to know that as well, but you do however wonder what will be the result of that. And then you’re still feeling horny, which isn’t helping as well. You want to tell Lando all of that, but when you open your mouth it’s just one word that leaves your tongue. 

“Horny.”

“Horny?” Lando asks you confused, “You can’t sleep because you’re horny?” 

After saying it already, you can’t do anything else then confirm it. Slowly you nod your head to show Lando that being horny is in fact your problem right now. You see a small grin forming on Lando his face. He seems to like this answer. 

“Oh babygirl,” Lando softly says, “Let me help you.”

“Please,” you beg. 

You add more power to your words, by throwing the blankets of and moving yourself closer to Lando. Unsure you take place on his lap. You feel his hardened boner pressing against your thighs. Lando lets out a low grunt. “The things you’re doing to me princess,” he groans. You grind yourself on Lando his lap. 

Lando tries to take you off his lap, but you deny him. “Let me make you feel good,” he mutters frustrated, but you just shake your head. “Babygirl,” he says with a stern voice. It almost works, but you hold your position in his lap. “I can’t do anything like this,” Lando adds.

“That’s the point,” you softly tell Lando, “This time I’m going make sure you feel good.” 

Lando doesn’t know what overcomes him. Fuck, you’re incredibly hot already and when you’re saying things like that it only makes you hotter. You hover above him, making sure his boner is lined up with your entrance, before coming down again. It’s way more intense then earlier, you feel his dick sliding inside of you. Not that it’s hard, you’re still wet from thinking about earlier tonight. 

“Fuck,” Lando whimpers, “You better wake me up for this a whole lot more.”

You don’t reply to his statement. For now you focus on riding Lando his cock and making it one of the best times out of his life. Something you believe you’re accomplishing, at least with how many moans are coming out of Lando is seems so. 

While looking at Lando, you increase your pace a bit. You can’t seam to tear your eyes off from Lando. He looks amazing like this. There’s some sort of carefree look on his face, he seems to be focused on the pleasure and nothing else right now. Of course, you have always found him hot, but now he seems even more beautiful. 

“Babygirl,” Lando moans, “I’m getting close.”

He lets his finger find your clitoris. Teasingly he circles onto it. It causes you to let out a moan. That only seems to motivate Lando to continue his movements, only this time he increases his pace. His other hand finds it’s way to your ass, harshly he takes it into his hand. All of this make sure that you’re getting closer to your orgasm as well. 

“Kiss me,” Lando grunts. You do what he says. Carefully you move your head down to make sure you can press your lips against Lando’s. He’s quick to react to your movements. Within seconds he is firmly kissing you back and sliding his tongue into your mouth. The two of you battle for dominance for a couple seconds, but Lando is quick to win again. He feels a moan from you vibrating against his lips. 

When you pull back from the kiss, it’s only to tell Lando how close you are. Instead of telling you to come, Lando does to opposite. 

“Ask me,” Lando instructs you, “Ask me if you can orgasm.”

You show Lando a surprised look. At first you want to tell him to fuck off, but when you start thinking about it a bit more, it starts to sound hot. Before you can react, Lando continues to talk to you. 

“Such a brat,” he whimpers while slowing down his movements on your clit, “Need you to be my brat.” 

You know that boys don’t mean things they say during sex, but you can’t help yourself and start to feel fluttered. You want nothing more then for Lando to mean everything he’s saying right now.

What you don’t know, is that Lando is one of the exceptions. He means every word of what he just told you. 

“Can I orgasm?” You shyly ask Lando. 

“No,” He answers, “Not like this, do your best.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, “Can I please orgasm Lan?”

“Better,” Lando praises you, “Come for me, my good girl.”

That’s all it takes for you to let go. Lando is quick to follow you. When you try to remove yourself from his body and also his dick, Lando pins you down against his chest. “No,” he softly mutters, “Just sleep like this.” It sounds insane, but within seconds you have fallen asleep on Lando his chest. 

The rest of the night you don’t wake up anymore. You’re sleeping rather peacefully.

The following morning, you have no idea how to start a conversation with Lando. Maybe because the both of you are still naked, maybe because his dick is hard again and makes your mouth water, or maybe because you have no idea how to confess your feelings to him. Not that you’re planning to confess, that would just be dumb. Lando is still a player.

When Lando wakes up, he barely feels different then you. The sight of your naked body on top of him, makes him aroused in no time. He knows that the two of you should talk, but for now he just wants to fuck you again. If you let him. 

“Good morning babygirl,” Lando softly murmurs to you. He toys a bit with your hair while waiting for you to respond. 

“Morning Lan,” you reply with a soft voice. You’re distracted already by Lando his raspy morning voice. That can’t be good. You know that you have to talk with Lando about what happened last night, because if you’re laying on him like this any longer you’d probably switch talking for sex. “I guess we have to talk?” You question him a bit nervous. 

“Depends,” Lando replies, “Do you want to talk?”

You don’t know what to answer. No you don’t want to talk, you want Lando to rail you until you can’t walk anymore. Although you guess that you’re already pretty close to that after last night. But you know that the two of you have to talk, otherwise this will turn into an even bigger mess.

“I guess we have to,” you tell him, “because I don’t know what will happen otherwise.”

Lando sighs softly. “How do you think about all of this?” He asks you curious. 

His question silences you again. Why is he only asking hard questions this morning? You haven’t even had the time to think about all of this. Maybe it would be smarter to take a moment for yourself and think everything over instead of already discussing everything. 

“I don’t know,” you confess. 

“Then let’s talk later,” Lando suggests. It humors you how he has the exact same idea as you. You show Lando a small smile and tell him that you agree with his idea. Lando presses a soft kiss against your cheek as answer. 

Would it be bad to have sex with him another time? Like, now.

Lando is doing everything in his power to stop himself from trying to have sex with you again. But when he notices the glance in your eyes and the way you bite your own lip, he almost loses it. He tries to calm himself down again, but when he feels your hands on his chest he knows that it has no use. 

“Babygirl,” he grunts, “If I were you I’d stop doing those things, because otherwise I’m going to fuck you so hard that you can’t walk for the rest of the day.”

You press a small kiss against the corner of his mouth before grinning. “What’s stopping you?” You ask Lando.

In no time you’re laying underneath him again. It’s not like this is helping your situation at all, but it feels a lot better then thinking about what’s happening between Lando and you.

+++

“Sooo,” you drag the word for as long as you can manage, to afraid to continue your sentence and what will happen after. When Lando doesn’t reply, you do however finish your sentence. “Let’s talk,” you suggest nervously. 

You have just gotten out of the shower. Finally you had some time to think about everything that happened. Not that it helped. You still have no idea how to continue now. It’s still unclear to you what you want. It’s scaring you that you feel attracted to Lando, in more then a physical way. It’s not like Lando wants a relationship with you. He’s a player. But, you need to know what you want as well. You can’t act like nothing happened between the two of you. You can’t act like you don’t want this to happen again. It’s unclear when you started having feelings for Lando, but in some weird way it feels like those feelings have been there forever. 

“Let’s talk,” Lando confirms. 

By saying those exact words, he leads the conversation back to you. Meaning you have to continue, to start the conversation that you’ve been dreading to do since this morning. You have no idea what to say. You don’t even know what you want. Suddenly a stressed feelings creeps up in your chest. 

“Uhm,” you try to start, but you’re quick to stutter. There’s no full word coming out of your mouth right now. “I uh,” you continue, “I really don’t know how to go on from this.” 

Lando is surprised by your words. After you told him it was a mistake last night, he expected the worst. So, this almost seems good. If it’s up to Lando you’re dating from now one, but he doesn’t think you want that was well. 

“You can make me your boyfriend,” he eventually jokes. It does sound like a joke. His voice is lighthearted and his tone is jokingly. However, it’s not. It’s another form of self defense. He’s not ready to be rejected by you. You almost scoff because of his ‘joke’. An annoyed glance is send in his direction. 

“I don’t think that’s what you want,” you sigh a bit annoyed. Lando almost asks you if it’s what you want, but he doesn’t dare to do so. “Look,” you continue to speak, “I don’t know how to go further from this. It’s not like I want to act if nothing happened, because I can’t simply forget about it. However, I have no clue how to act around you now.”

“Act the same as before,” Lando quickly states. 

He surprises you. His words always seem to get you by surprise. 

“What’s the same?” You ask Lando confused, “It’s not like I can have sex with you like yesterday whenever I feel like it.”

“Why not?” Lando questions you back, “If it’s up to me, you can. Just act however you want. I  also don’t want to forget about last night and this morning.” 

“How do you imagine this?” 

Lando picks his next words carefully. He doesn’t want you to think it’s just sex, but he also doesn’t want to scare you off. “What if we just explore this a bit?” Lando asks you. It’s the only thing he dares to ask you, but it’s better then nothing. 

“Explore what?” You question Lando, “The sex?”

“Not just that,” Lando quickly says, “We can explore us.” 

“Sounds vague,” you joke, “but also good.”

Lando lets out a relieved sigh. He didn’t even know he was holding in this much breath. He can’t believe that you’re okay with this. In the meantime you show him a small smile. Lando can’t help himself and moves closer towards you. Softly he presses a kiss against the corner of your mouth. It makes your smile grow.

“You’re cute,” Lando mutters more to himself then towards you. 

“Cute?” You ask surprised. That’s not a word someone used to describe you before. 

“So fucking cute,” Lando states.

In some weird way you can’t stop smiling after Lando said that. The two of you enjoy the short moment of silence. It’s Lando his phone who interrupts it. A thread of messages pops up on his screen. Without really meaning to do it, you read along with Lando. You read the messages coming from an unknown number. It’s a picture first. Lando doesn’t open the notifications. He doesn’t need to however. It’s pretty clear that it’s a nude. The messages underneath it tell you enough. 

Lando doesn’t look at you while opening the notifications. When you see the picture, it is indeed a nude photograph from a girl. She seems beautiful. Fuck. You can’t even say that you’re surprised. Lando barely told you that he wanted to explore this with you and he already has a nude from someone. It’s almost funny how stupid you are. 

Then Lando does something else that surprises you. He swipes on his phone and blocks the number. He throws his phone away from himself and focusses his attention on you. 

“Lando?” You ask softly. He nods at you, waiting to hear your question. “What exactly are we doing?” You continue to ask. 

“Exploring us,” Lando answers.

“What is us?” You question, “Us the friends with benefits?” 

“Whatever you want it to be,” Lando replies. 

“I don’t know,” you confess. 

“Let me know when you do know princess,” Lando chuckles.

“What do you want?” You ask him back. 

“Whatever you want,” Lando smiles, “but whatever it is, it’s exclusive. It’s only us.”

You show Lando another smile. Before you can tell him that exclusive sounds great, Lando is already talking about something else again. “Do you already have McLaren clothes?” He asks you. 

“Sorry?” You ask confused.

“Or even better, clothing from my line?”

“For what?” You ask even more confused.

“The race,” Lando states as if it’s the most logical answer. “I told you right? You’re coming to the race with me, so we’re leaving tomorrow. And if you’re coming with me, I want you to wear my clothes.”

Why are those words making you feel all hot and bothered? You should stress right now about packing, but in some weird way you’re only focused on Lando. In no time your lips are on his while you position yourself on his lap. 

This will be a good weekend.

“And,” Lando softly says after you pull back, “maybe after this weekend, you can tell me what we’re exploring exactly.”

You don’t answer to that. It’s not like you already know an answer. You focus your attention on Lando and making sure that he’s undressed in the next couple minutes.

a/n; let me know what you think!! <3

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[hhughes]

୨୧ ⋅ 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍﹙⠀LH43⠀﹚

⠀⠀╰  ꒰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ◞ fem!reader x luke hughes

⠀⠀╰  ꒰ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ◞ in which your bf loves giving you head. . .

⠀⠀╰  ꒰ 𝐜𝐰 ◞ oral f!receiving, overstumulation. i think that's it? lmk if there's more!

⠀⠀╰  ꒰ 𝐰𝐜 ◞ 0.6K

⠀⠀╰  ꒰ 𝐚/𝐧 ◞ my first attempt at writing a longer smut piece, it’ll get better the more I do it <3

“luke,” his name falls from your lips on a sob, your back arching from the bed as you push at his head, fingers tugging on his curls. his arms were wrapped around your thighs, one hand gripping your hip and the other pushing on your lower stomach, trying to keep you still. Luke turns his head and runs his tongue over the purple bruise on your inner thigh. you let out a whine when he turns his attention back to your clit. “please lu, it’s too much”

you woke up this morning with the sun on your face, a light breeze trailing through the open window, and luke’s head between your thighs. you’ve lost track of how long he’s been down there. how many times he’s made you cum. It was a good thing Jack agreed to an early morning workout with Nico, you were grateful you and luke had the apartment to yourself, knowing you couldn’t keep quiet.

there were few things luke loved more than eating you out. hearing the moans spill from your lips. the way your legs closed around his head. the way you didn’t know if you wanted to pull him closer or push him away. the way you tasted. he could spend all day between your thighs. luke has no doubt that he gets more pleasure out of this than you do. it’s his favourite thing in the whole world.

he presses his tongue into you, nose bumping your clit and smirks when he feels your hands clench in his hair. “luke,” you moan again, voice hoarse and breath hitching. that was his favourite sound ever. whenever he’s on roadies, this is the moment he replays in his head over and over again. this moment. that sound. he’s obsessed with it. with you. so obsessed he just needs to hear it again. and again. and again.

“please,” you beg, pushing at his head. Luke makes a noise at the back of his throat, tongue softly flicking over your clit as he tries to build you back up again. his eyes were glassed over, staring at the mess you’ve made. focused on the task at hand. seeing that expression you knew he wasn’t going to stop until you said that magic little word.

“you’re okay baby. you’re doing so good.” he mumbles, lips brushing against your pussy and you whimper. when he lifts his head and looks up at you, your stomach clenches at the sight. the wild look in his eye. his swollen lips. your release all over his face.

“you okay?” he asks, gently rubbing your thigh and you nod.

“good, you can give me one more.” luke says, dropping his head again.

“But-”

“shh baby. just one more, promise.” he mutters, already preoccupied again.

“you said that before the last one” you protest

“I know sweetheart. I just can’t get enough of you. just one more, I promise. please?” he begs. actually begging and you nod, agreeing before you could even really think about it. your head drops back against the pillow as Luke stares down at you, using his thumbs to spread you open a little more. he lets spit drop from his mouth onto your clit before bending his head and taking it into his mouth again.

after a few minutes, you reach that peak again, tears falling from the overstimulation and luke gently presses kisses on your stomach.

“think you can go again?” he asks, grinning up at you and laughs when you use your whole hand to push his face away, and snap your legs closed.

[ajortga]

comfort person

pairing: sam carpenter x female reader

summary: sammy spends time with you after a long day, giving you all the love money can't buy.

word count: 1.7k+

a/n: first sam fic, just had this idea and plan on writing more of her later on. more jenna fics will be out soon:). thank you for 600 followers<3

-

Sam is greeted with the sight of your figure waddling to her after school, her hands making way to her helmet that protects her head. As she takes it off and feels the cool breeze flow through her hair, she her heart strings tug when your smile widens and you walk faster to her.

“Hi, baby,” she says, kissing your forehead gently while playing with your hair. Her arms wrap around you as soon as she places her helmet against the seating of her motorcycle.

Immediately you cling onto her, burying your face into her chest because that’s the only place your head can reach. Her scent invades your senses, sweet and slightly musky from her leather jacket.

Sam peppers kisses against your hair, stroking it softly. It warms her heart (that’s meant to be tough) seeing your slightly grumpy façade melt as soon as her protective arms wrap around you. But, could you not say the same for her? Seeing the way your girlfriend’s eyes soften like ice cream on a hot summer day. Sam isn’t the closed off person that your best friends see, not your Sammy.

She’s the sweetest, making you melt into her arms whenever you have a bad day, cuddles and kisses at night, soothing tummy rubs for bad stomach aches. 

“Hi, Sammy.” You look up at her, eyes a little tired with her arms snug around your waist as she brushes a strand away from your face, studying you.

She softly smiles at you, rubbing your cheek. “Tired?” She asks, a little worried.

You nod, “Just a little. Too many tests.”

“That’s not good,” the taller girl says, voice etched with concern. “You were up studying.” She pauses for a moment, before lifting you on the motorcycle seat, behind her. “What about this? I’ll make you feel better, are you willing to go somewhere or do you want to stay home? I have a surprise.”

You murmur incoherently against her chest, a few muffled words before saying, “Mm willing to go somewhere.”

Sam kisses your forehead, “Okay, hold onto me. When we get home I’ll give you all the cuddles in the world, cook you dinner, and turn on your favorite movie. It’s Friday anyway.”

Your girlfriend turns around and places her helmet on your head, making sure that you’re safe and comfortable before taking off, a soft vroom sounding.

You drive through the buildings and city of Woodsboro, people spilling coffee, apartments into view, parties beginning to happen as you cling onto Sam’s waist.

A turn here, brake here, vroom there. Your eyes close, nuzzling into Sam’s back. It’s not long before you two come to a stop when you open your eyes. 

“Build-A-Bear?” you question, looking at your girlfriend who is grinning at you.

“You know I can’t ignore the way you keep checking on my phone if that Pochacco plush is sold out, right? My whole search history is, “Pochacco plush build a bear” or “Is Pochacco still at Build-A-Bear stores?” Don’t even get me started with, “Why is Pochacco build-a-bear stuffed animal so expensive on eBay?” So we’re going to find that stuffed animal.” Sam scrunches her nose, seeing the way you embarrassingly smile.

For some reason, Sam’s internet on her phone works better than yours, so you catch yourself desperate to see if your Build-A-Bear plush you wanted is still out of stock online.

She ties the helmet on your head against the handles of her motorcycle, extending her hand for you to hold.

You take it as you both walk into the store. “I don’t understand how your phone works faster than mine, Sammy. You barely use it!” 

Sam rolls her eyes, “Not my fault that the wifi just favorites me, mi vida. Come on, we’re gonna get you that plushie.”

Your arm clings onto hers as you place your head on her shoulder, a way for you to show your affection. It’s always sweet to Sam, seeing your clinginess whenever you’re with her. You're skipping with her, teeth shown in a toothy, happy smile.

She doesn’t understand how you do it, she’s supposed to be closed-off to everyone except for Tara. Her sister even has to tease her for it because she finds herself buying flowers for you and making a Spotify playlist for you. “It’s cute, Sam.” Tara assures her, pinching her shoulder.

Sam holds the door for you, in which you immediately cling back onto her. Cool breeze surrounded you both from the AC, the comfy atmosphere of stuffed animals and outfits. You drag her to the Sanrio section where Pochaccos were waiting for you.

Before she could even speak, you turned to her, holding an unstuffed Pochacco while wearing puppy eyes. A smile cracks onto her face as she pulls you into her chest, “Is that all you want? Shouldn’t we get him some clothes so he isn’t.. You know, unclothed?”

“Naked,” you correct, looking up when she rolls her eyes and nods. “Yes, naked. Do you have to make me say it?”

You sniff, “Yes, I do actually. Okay, help me choose the clothes, Sammy!”

As you two hold on to each other while looking at the colorful clothing, she gently circles her thumb against your palm. She reluctantly agrees when you ask her to have her speak for the voice box. You didn’t want to sleep without hearing her. But sometimes, she had to work late, and this was a cute option.

Sam goes through the clothes, pulling out a purple bikini, “What about this one?”

You stare at it, before bursting out into a laugh. “Sammy, Pochacco is a boy! He can’t wear a bikini!”

“Oh yeah? Says who, Y/N? This is a free country!” She argues while your head is buried into her chest, the scent of musk from her leather jacket filling your senses.

“Yes it’s a free country! But I was wanting Pochacco to wear something that fit his personality!”

She sighs, relenting as she puts away the bikini. “I thought our Pochacco would look very fashionable wearing a purple bikini. Oh!” She pulls out a flying ace outfit, with pilot goggles and a fluffy brown bomber jacket. “This one?”

Sam knows she made the right choice as you give her a toothy grin. A grin that makes her smile too. “Okay! Yay! That one.” You watch when she helps you carry the outfits and your bags. 

“How about we get him some overalls too? He can’t always go out wearing the same outfit, can he?”

“I guess not,” you sigh dramatically, “Overalls would be very cute.”

You two dig through the outfits before being able to find the jean overalls. “I have another idea for an outfit we should get.” 

Your girlfriend turns to you while grabbing a pair of tiny overalls, “Oh?” She tilts her head, “What would that be, mi vida?”

The tall brunette feels your hands untangle from hers before you run away, coming back 10 seconds later with your nose scrunched, holding a familiar purple bikini. Her eyes gleam, grinning at you. “Told you, fashionable.”

You roll your eyes.

~

By the time you two are about to checkout, you both are holding a lot of outfits. (Sam insisted as she got your stuffy shoes, hats, scarfs, hell, even a dress.) It made your cheeks burn as you had to look away from her to not let a smile break throughout your face when she was looking for a “I love Sam” or “I love Y/N” shirt. Unfortunately, she had to resort to a “I love you” shirt instead. 

Your forehead is peppered with kisses when you both are in line. You let the sweetness of Sam comfort you as you nuzzle her, burying your body against her.

“Talk about a cute couple,” the two girls say behind you, jealousy and admiration in their tone. 

You two get to a register as Sam pays. Next thing you know, the Pochacco is taken out of your hand to be stuffed. A soft whirring sound buzzes from the stuffing station, fuzz flying in the large container with a bear to decorate on top. You shiver from the AC that is starting to get a little too chilly.

Sam smiles down at you, her fingers threading through your hair. They begin to stuff your Pochacco, his body starting to inflate until it looks like a cute puppy. 

“All done!” The worker says, handing the puppy to you with a sweet smile. 

The cute face stares back at you as you hug him tight, a soft song playing when you squeeze him.

“I’ll get the custom voice box tonight, promise.” Sam says, draping her leather jacket over you, catching the way you begin to feel cold. 

“I love you,” you whisper, letting her kiss you softly. You hold Pochacco up for her to hold, the leather sleeves slightly oversized. You two leave the store and sit against a chair together.

He’s cute, Sam thinks, squishing him gently as you two begin to dress him. You start him with some overalls, black converse, and a heart headband. She notices how you look so happy. It makes her heart squeeze. 

“Come on, baby. Let’s get you some cinnamon rolls, okay? Then we can cuddle up and watch a movie when we get home.” Your arm links with hers as you both head back to the motorcycle, Sam making sure to stay on the side with the cars on them as you two walk.

The rest of the day, you spend time cuddling in bed with a fluffy blanket wrapped around you two. You don't let your stuffed animal go whatsoever. (Sam doesn't want to admit that you brought an extra chair to make the fluffy creature sit at dinner.)

"An extra meatball for him," You point at Pochacco as she sighs, pouring some spaghetti on a small plate.

-

Whenever Sam comes home late, she's greeted with the sight of you, hugging the plushie and squeezing the voice box like you'll die if you don't hear her.

"Hi, sweetheart. Just wanted to let you know that I love you and miss you. Hold tight, I'm always thinking about you and will give you so many cuddles when I get home, okay? I love you mi vida."

You sniff, burying your face into the plushie as you keep squeezing the arm, a different lullaby of Sam playing every time.

[exoticbvnni]

Movie night | J.Y.xP.S.

Best friend!Yunho x fem reader x cousin!Sunghoon

Plot:movie night at your best friend’s house turns into something unexpected…and his little cousin,Sunghoon,is so ready for it

Warnings: heavy make out session, masturbation,fingering, mention of a blow job, Sunghoon is pervy,smut

Author’s notes:Little smutty crossover for y’all guys! I don’t know where this pair has come from, but enjoy!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ‘♡’- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I think I’ll go to sleep now” Sunghoon said, standing up from the armchair he was sitting on

“You sure you don’t wanna finish the movie with us?” Yunho, his cousin, asked

“Yes. I’m tired, and I have to studytomorrow. Good night Yu. Good night y/n,it was a pleasure meeting you!” he smiled. You smiled back, watching as he left to go to his bedroom.

When you had arrived at Yunho’s, you didn’t expect to find his younger cousin there; yet, you had to admit that he was a really nice guy and that, luckily, you had a funny evening.

“He seems like an amazing guy!” you spoke, leaning onto Yunho’s side. He was your best friend, the guy you had known since kindergarten, and you were an extremely clingy person, so it was normal for you to hug him and lean against him when the you were together.

The only reason why, till that moment, you stood still, resting your back against the sofa without hugging or touching Yunho was Sunghoon:you felt pretty embarrassed, and didn’t want him to think you liked his cousin.

“He is, that’s why I’m pretty disappointed by his lifestyle” Yunho sighed, resting his hand on your thigh

“What do you mean?” you asked, adjusting onto his side.

“He’s been having two friends since middle school. In five years of high school I’ve never seen him hanging out with any of his classmates, and now, in college, he spends most of his day alone. He’s not even shy, that’s the point, he literally refuses to talk to people”

You laughed:

“He’s a stubborn introvert, but don’t get too pressed, when he’ll change his mind he’ll change his behaviour as well. For now, let him enjoy his loneliness if he likes it”

“I’m not doing much ti change him! But he’s smart, kind and funny. He has an interesting, strong personality and could rule the world if he wanted to; yet the only thing he cares about is playing Genshin and Valorant with his two friends. He deserves so much more than that, he deserves to be surrounded by so many people that love him; but as much as I try to tell him, he keeps shutting me up. He could’ve been an heartthrob as well,yet I don’t think he has ever spoken to a girl in 21 years of life -Yunho sighed, scratching his forehead- he’s a lost cause”

“He’s not a lost cause! He’s just a boy,Yu! Relax! He’s got a lifetime to open up to people. I’m sure he will. Don’t press him, and don’t worry too much! As long as he’s happy, you can be happy” you squeezed his shoulder, resting your chin on it as his hand kept caressing your thigh, playing with the hem of your oversized t-shirt.

“Maybe you’re right, I don’t know. I get so sad every time I think about what he’s missing out on. There’s a world out there, he should be so eager for new experiences but he’s…he’s completely passive” Yunho huffed

“As I told you,he’s got a lifetime. People can do any kind of experience in any period of their life. Don’t worry about Sunghoon, he will be fine. Especially if he’s smart and nice as you said! Just let him take his time, Yu. It’s sweet being so worried, but you can’t let it consume you -you hugged him, stroking your cheek against his- he’ll be fine” you gave him a reassuring smile as you watched him nod and relax against the couch.

“Maybe you’re right, yeah, I’m stressing too much. I should just…let it go and focus on the movie” your best friend commented

“Exactly, you chose it, you better watch it” you ended, resting your head on his shoulder

Yunho welcomed you in his embrace:his arms surrounded your back and his hand rested, again, on your thigh, caressing your skin.

It started as nothing, as the usual manifestation of affection the two of you felt towards each other; but, then, slowly, it turned into something else.

You didn’t know why that day things seemed to be so different:maybe you were too close to the beginning of your period, maybe Yunho had been single for too long; maybe he looked more handsome than usual due to the black tank top he was wearing,and you looked particularly sexy in that oversized shirt and ponytail; maybe it was the movie, the chemistry that lead the two main characters to a night of sex; or, maybe, there had always been a feeling that none of you had ever completely understood; however your breath got so short and your body started begging for Yunho’s touch.

At first, you would simply look at him, who was completely focused on the tv, you would hold his bicep, caressing his soft skin with your slender fingers as he couldn’t stop sliding his hand in and out your shirt, hitting the cloth of your shorts,often repeating his movements

Then, Yunho turned to you, locking his eyes into yours, biting his lips in silence; but nothing happened as he fixed his gaze on the show. He just licked his lips.

The tension was growing slowly, but strong, the need crawled inside your bodies without you understanding it, until Yunho looked at you one last time, placing a fast kiss on your lips.

“I’m sorry” he said immediately after, his voice was strangely deep.

You stared at him for a second before kissing him one more time

“I’m sorry” you spoke, copying him; but Yunho didn’t reply, he just grabbed your chin with his hand, smashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was immediately intense. Yunho devoured your lips like a hungry puppy, sucking and biting. Your hand slipped behind his neck, grabbing the hair at the base of it. You craned your back to reach his height, your mouths not moving apart for a moment; needy, they tasted each other until you ran out of air.

You stood apart for a second, your labored breaths filling the silent room, then Yunho grabbed you by the hips, making you sit on his lap. Once again, he grabbed your face with one hand to kiss you; the other slipped under your shirt, stroking your back. His fingers moved up and down, drawing imaginary lines as the first moans of pleasure peeped from your red lips

"What are you doing?" you asked, breath short and forehead resting against Yunho's.

"I don't know. Don't you like it?" he demanded, panting

"No it's just..." you couldn't speak, your mind was distracted by his hand that was moving from your back to the front, up along your stomach until it reached your chest. Yunho squeezed one of your breasts, returning to kiss you, but you stopped him for a second

"It's strange, Yunho," you murmured, grabbing the wrist of his hand under your shirt.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked

You didn't answer, not knowing what to say

"Do you want me to stop or not?" he demanded again, softly, in a whisper.

You lowered your gaze, releasing your grip on his wrist and shaking your head; a smirk appeared on Yunho's face as he begun to touch you again.

His hand squeezed the flesh of your breast, massaging it, sending discharges all along your body. You returned to kiss him intensely, grabbing his other hand to allow him to touch you. Yunho moaned; you followed him. Your chests rose and fell erratically:you felt your lower abdomen tingle and your intimacy burn. You needed Yunho as much as he needed you.

Your fingers left the boy’s arms,moving down his abdomen until they slipped between his legs.

"Fuck," he moaned, throwing his head back as you palmed him from his sweatpants.

"You're getting hard," you murmured.

"I know -he gasped- I know"

"Fuck, that's hot" you panted, starting to move your hips back and forth.

"Are you gonna fuck yourself like that?" Yunho teased you, but you didn't answer, just resumed moaning, followed by the boy.

Drawn by desire, you had completely forgotten that the two of you were not alone in the house:Sunghoon was also there.

The boy had not really gone to sleep, he was simply tired of having people around, so he had retreated to his room to play Genshin on his phone.

He had earphones in his ears, so it took him a moment to realize what was happening.

With his breath confined in his throat, he had turned off his phone, tossing it beside him, and got up slowly to see what was happening. His pants became tight as soon as, casting a glance from behind the living room door, he had seen Yunho touching you.

Immediately, he ran to his room, throwing himself under the covers:he should not have had the thoughts he was having or felt the sensations he was experiencing...but that was impossible.

As much as he tried to ignore your moans, it was too exciting to listen to you. He bit his lip, lowering his pants and sliding a hand into his boxers,touching himself in hope to find some relief.

He tried to be as quiet as possible; he didn't want the two of you to stop, nor did he want you to find out, so he stifled every single moan emitted by his vocal cords, jamming them all down his throat.

He listened to you in the darkness of his bedroom, head back and eyes shut as the situation in the living room grew hotter and hotter.

Yunho had just taken off his shirt; you,on the other hand,had been in pants and bra for a while:your best friend wanted to see you without veils, so, with avarice and desire, he had undressed you as soon as possible,throwing everything on the floor.

The palm of his hand rubbed back and forth against your intimacy, making your panties wetter and wetter as your lips filled his neck with kisses.

Yet another moan escaped your lips as you rubbed against Yunho's hand:

"I need you, Yu, please" you whined, arousing the boy even more and,with him,though unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon as well.

Never in his life, the youngest boy, had he longed to be his cousin as he did at that moment:how he wished he could have been the one to touch you with the knowledge that those moans were all for him. At the end of the day you were a beautiful girl, one of the few who had somehow affected him, and he resented the fact that the only thing he could do was jerking off to that real life porn.

"Fuck" he moaned, softly:he was about to come, but did his best to restrain himself so that his orgasm hit him only at the end of the show

"Yu, please," you continued to beg Yunho from the other room. Your best friend smiled, leaving a hickey on your neck before grabbing your hips and turning you around so that your back rested against his chest.

He moved your hair to the side, sucking in the soft skin of your neck, going lower and lower until he left purplish marks on the back of your shoulder as well; at that point, with one hand, he opened your legs and moved your panties aside, rubbing the fingertip of his index against your clit.

"Yu!" you exclaimed, sinking your fingernails into the flesh of his arms; the brunette laughed:

"You are so needy, aren't you? My little y/n crying for my fingers. You like it, don't you, little one?" he went on teasing you

Your cheeks turned red and rested your head against your friend's shoulder:

"Yu, please, please," you whimpered.

“How whiny! My little, naughty crybaby. I'll make you feel so good since you’re so noisy and cute," he spoke into your ear, sliding a finger inside you

You shut your eyes and bit your lips, tears started rolling down your cheeks as you begun to fuck yourself on his finger:

“Ah~ ah~ Yu! Yu! Mmh~” you moaned; he smirked, sliding one more finger in, and then, after a few seconds, another one.

“Fuck! Fuck!” you panted as his digits hit your g spot. He went soo deep you gasped.

“I’m-I’m about to-“ you could barely speak

“Cum,baby, cum for me” Yunho spoke as your release hit you.

Shortly after, out of breath, you let go into the arms of the boy, who kissed your neck again

"Babe don't let me down, I need you” he spoke, resting your hand on his bulge to remind you that he wasn't done yet

Sunghoo, prompted by your moans, was about to come; however, he still held back when he heard Yunho speak.

"Fuck...-he murmured, through clenched teeth-I can't hold back any longer."

He stopped touching himself for a moment, taking a breath, but started again as soon as he heard Yunho moan.

"Good girl, you take me so well," gasped the older one:the younger knew that, probably, you were giving him a blowjob; therefore, once again, he really wanted to be his cousin.

He could imagine you, on your knees, pleasuring him, his fingers clenched in your hair until he cum in your pretty mouth.

That thought had sent Sunghoon over the edge again and, finally, when he had heard Yunho's final moan, he cum. What a relief for both boys.

Yunho helped you up, making you sit on his lap. Your arms tightened around his waist and your head rested on his chest:

"That was so good" he giggled.

"It was" you replied, snuggling into his embrace.

You let your mind go blank for a moment, enjoying the brunette’s caresses; until, suddenly, a tiny detail came to your mind:

"Sunghoon!" you exclaimed, covering your mouth with one hand.

Yunho became petrified, and his cheeks turned as red as fire:

"He's a heavy sleeper..." he murmured, but you couldn't bring yourself to listen to him.

Without a second thought, you got up and ran to his cousin’s bedroom, finding the younger boy wrapped up in his sheets, asleep.

Yunho followed you:

"See? I told you, take it easy," he hugged you from behind, leading you back to the living room.

As soon as you and his cousin were gone, Sunghoon opened his eyes, taking a breath of relief:luckily , the two of you hadn't noticed anything.

[heartsfromia]

the only exception — k. soonyoung

pairing: non-idol! soonyoung x f!reader

word count: 4,834

genre: romcom, fluffy, age-gap, older!reader x younger!soonyoung uwu

warnings: nothing really, just don't fall in love with a guy younger than yourself (speaking from experience)

author's notes: reader is a few years older than hoshi. i never proofread guys im sorry (i should tho)

There was rarely ever any good when Soonyoung gets a call from his mother on a Friday afternoon. Don’t get him wrong, he knows his mom tends to call at random times of the week—mainly to make sure he’s eaten while living alone, close to campus, and far from home, or if he needs any money to pay bills or any other expenses. Most of them are a ruse to cover up the fact that she misses him, and his presence at home. And ever since he entered his final semester in college, he could feel his mother’s presence sitting on his shoulder, whispering to him to find a girlfriend, find someone to settle with.

However, when it comes to phone calls specifically on Fridays, Soonyoung has noticed a pattern. Since it’s the last of the five week days, and the weekend is at their fingertips, he found that his mother would call him to ask if he was free for a lunch with his parents, and guests.

Who might those guests be? Parents to whoever it was his mother was planning on arranging him with. The years might go by, traditions might be forgotten, but when it comes to Mrs. Kwon, she’ll always stick to the tradition of marriage before hitting 25.

Soonyoung knew the moment her name appeared on his screen at exactly three in the afternoon, that she has another willing parent on her hand that would like to meet him for their child.

With a heavy sigh, Soonyoung took a step out of the library where he was hoping to spend his time in before his next class, before sliding the call and placing it by his ear. “Eomma, what’s wrong?”

“Soonyoung-ah, are you free tomorrow? Your father and I want to have lunch together,” she asked, her tone chipper than usual—another sign of an arrangement.

“With you and appa? No one else?” Soonyoung egged, causing his mother to chuckle lightly.

“How did you know?” She laughed, Soonyoung rolling his eyes and suppressing a sigh from leaving his lips. “There is a friend of your father’s that I want you to meet, he has a daughter that’s around your age and is on her way of becoming a lawyer—I want you to meet her.”

“I’ve said so many times, you don’t need to do this, I’ve barely gotten the hang of college, let alone plan a wedding,” Soonyoung protested, his hands moving in grand gestures around him in frustration.

“You are 20 years old, and you don’t have a girlfriend, what are you going to do once you finish college, Soonyoung?”

“I don’t know, maybe get a job, build my credit, invest in a future and then maybe consider marriage,” he explains, his exasperation over this repeated conversation evident in his sarcastic tone.

“You know, at your age, your father and I were engaged.” Soonyoung groaned, rubbing the ache that was forming in his temples as he hears his mother go on a rant how his parents had met when they were in their twenties, before tying the knot at the ripe age of 22. Despite the obvious generational differences, and how back then, marriage felt like an obligation rather than an option, his mother was adamant on having both her kids—Soonyoung and his older sister—to be wed off before they hit 25. To which she hoped she’d have grandchildren running around before her own children hit 30. It was an entire plan in the Kwon household.

“It’s different now, eomma,” he reiterated, “I don’t need to get married so quick, can’t you focus on Minkyung instead? She’s engaged, right? So you can bother her instead.”

“Yes, she’s engaged, but she’s still working and she doesn’t want to get married this year,” she explained, “right now, I want to focus on finding someone for you, do you really want to stay single until your thirties?”

“If I could,” Soonyoung muttered, but luckily his mother didn’t hear it.

“It’s time that you try to settle for a lovely girl—”

“I have a girlfriend already, eomma, and I don’t think she’ll be happy to know that I’m being set up on a blind date,” Soonyoung informed, the words slipping out faster than he, himself, realized and before he knew it, the damage was done.

His mother was silent on the other line, seemingly unconvinced, so Soonyoung added to the lies. “I met her a couple of months ago, I wasn’t sure if it was serious enough to tell you, but I’m happy with her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have gone through so much to find someone for you, Soonyoung-ah!”

“I told you I met her a couple of months ago, I wasn’t sure if it was serious then.”

“Is it serious now?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want to meet her.” And this, everyone, is why you shouldn’t lie to your mother.

“You want to… meet her?”

“Yes, of course, if you’re telling the truth then the lunch tomorrow doesn’t need to happen,” she explained, and for a second, Soonyoung was overjoyed. Before he realized what that entailed. “Does Sunday work? You can bring her, and we can have lunch at a restaurant.”

“Sunday?” He repeated, stunned. That was two days from now, he has to find a girlfriend in two days.

“Yes, I will make a reservation for four and you can bring her along.”

“Wait, eomma, you don’t—”

“Yeobo, I told you to— ugh, I’ll see you Sunday, Soonyoung-ah, don’t forget to eat dinner!” Before Soonyoung could make up an excuse. another lie, to avoid having to meet his parents with his apparent girlfriend, the phone call disconnected and all he could hear was the racing beat of his heart.

Returning back into the library, he walked back to the table he occupied with his friend, Seokmin, a distant look on his face as he sat back down.

“Where did you go? I almost thought you ditched me,” Seokmin stated, before realizing his friend was not listening. He tapped Soonyoung’s shoulder, causing him to jump. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I need a girlfriend.”

Stunned, Seokmin stared at his friend before looking down on himself, then back at Soonyoung. “Well, I don’t fall under your requirements, so…”

A low groan rumbled in Soonyoung’s throat as he covered his face in frustration. “How am I going to find a girlfriend before Sunday?”

“Is it your mom again?” Without removing his hands from his face, Soonyoung nodded. Seokmin threw his head back in laughter, earning glares from people who were studying quietly around him, the man sending apologetic looks around him. His eyes scowered the relatively crowded library of campus, an idea appearing. “What about finding one here? I’m sure someone out here is bored enough to be your girlfriend for a day.”

Soonyoung lifted his head, glaring at his friend. “That is a… good idea.”

Bewildered, Seokmin lifted his brow. “Really?” Soonyoung ignored him, body turning left and right as he tried to find anyone that looked alone and approachable.

“Soon, you’re not actually going to—” But before Seokmin could finish his sentence, his friend was gone and heading to a table where someone was seated alone, eyes focused on a cellphone instead of a book, or laptop.

That person was you.

You found yourself walking to a nearby university’s library on your day off, your apartment serving no purpose to clear your mind of boredom, and since you didn’t have any work to do, you chose to play a video game on your phone instead. The crowded atmosphere made you feel more productive about your day even if you were just on your phone playing games.

However, your focus on the offline game was broken when a presence appeared beside you, tapping your shoulder timidly. You looked up, finding a guy with a small smile on his lips as he greets you, “Hi, is this seat taken?” He gestured to the empty chair beside you and you shook your head, assuming he wanted to take to his own table, but was surprised when he sat down.

“Can I help you?” You asked cautiously, saving your game before placing your phone down.

“Yes, actually,” Soonyoung began, fidgeting with his fingers. “This might be a weird request, especially since we don’t know each other, but is there a possibility you’re interested in being my fake girlfriend to meet my parents on Sunday for lunch?” Soonyoung almost said it in one breath, and once the words were out, he held said breath, awaiting for your response.

The most expected response was to be cursed out, called a weirdo for thinking that his request was appropriate to ask the first girl he saw alone in a public place. He held his breath, waiting for the slap, or insults, or both as he stared at you processing it.

“Sure.”

“Yeah, I understa— what?” He was taken aback by your quick agreement to his bizarre request. “What did you just say?”

Your lips pursed as your shrug, turning to face him. “I said sure, I don’t have much going on in my life, anyway.” You were telling the truth. Your everyday routine was a back and forth of work and your apartment, because you weren’t necessarily happy at your job either, you never felt the need to connect with your co-workers about non-work-related things, minimizing going out.

The guy beside you also looked desperate, and you didn’t get bad vibes from him either, so it didn’t seem like a lose-lose situation.

“Really?” You nodded curtly. His hand rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous chuckle slipped past his lips. “Oh, well… Uhm, I didn’t know I’d get this far, to be honest.”

“Is there a reason why you need a fake girlfriend to accompany you have lunch with your parents?” You asked, hoping it’ll guide him into elaborating his plan more in depth than what his initial approach was.

“Ah, well, my mom is trying to set me up on blind dates, hoping that I’d marry before I reach 25, and obviously—” He gestured to himself, “—I haven’t even graduated yet.”

Your eyes widened, sitting up straight. “Oh, you go to school here?”

Soonyoung nodded, confused by your question. “Don’t you?”

You shook your head, his question eliciting a light laugh from you. “No, I’m just here because I’m bored—it’s my day off.”

He blinks a couple times, before asking, “You work?” You nod. “You’re older than me?” Again, you nod and he immediately ducks his head, bowing at you briefly. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine,” you uttered, waving it off. “I’m not too big on seniority. You can call me Y/N.”

He extends his hand towards you, and you shake it gently. “I’m Soonyoung, I think I should’ve start the conversation that way instead of, well, dumping it all at once.”

“It definitely kept me engaged in the conversation,” you reassured with a light chuckle. Before Soonyoung could utter another word, a guy approached your table, noticeably looking at Soonyoung before he glanced at you, with an nod of acknowledgement.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N, but I have a class to get to,” he apologizes, eyebrows drawn together in guilt. “Can I have your number? So we can further discuss our plan of action?”

“Sure, let me write it down.” He handed you a binder, opening it on to an empty page where you wrote your number and name. You then asked, “What about we meet outside the library tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah, sure, that’s easier,” he agrees, “around eleven, is that alright?”

“Yeah, it’s cool with me, Soonyoung.”

His smile widened, and he stands from his seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

You mirrored his smile, nodding. “You’ll see me tomorrow.”

“So… you just said yes?” You nodded, busy with blow drying your hair. You were meeting with Soonyoung again today, mainly to discuss of your game plan to when you’re expected to meet with his parents. Admittedly, you never really sat to think of the entire ordeal, you just agreed. Chungha, when hearing about your situation, couldn’t help but stare at you in bewilderment, especially at how nonchalant you seemed.

“Yeah.” Your eyes locked with your co-worker-slash-roommate through the mirror, her eyes blankly staring back at you as you blinked multiple times. “What?”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Hearing her statement, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a dry laugh escaping past your lips before you put the hair dryer down and turned to face her. But before you could get a word out, she continued. “You barely know the guy, and you agreed to be his fake girlfriend to lie to his parents, and then, what? Should I emphasize that you don’t now him?”

“His name is Soonyoung, and he goes to the university nearby,” you answered, feigning innocent as you smiled at Chungha.

“And?”

“That’s why I’m meeting him today,” you told her, “we’re supposed to talk about how we’re going to lay it all out for his parents—talk about he and I met, what our plans for the future—”

“And what are those plans, Y/N?”

You lifted your shoulders to shrug. “I’m just going with the flow.”

“Exactly, Y/N,” exclaimed Chungha. “You don’t “go with the flow”—” she air-quoted, and you roll your eyes again, “—you plans things, you’re organized, I don’t get why you’ve suddenly agreed to become some stranger’s fake girlfriend out of the blue.”

“Maybe it’s that, Chungha,” you stated calmly. “Maybe I’m tired of being organized, doing things according to plan. For once, something really interesting is happening in my life, and to be honest, I just don’t want to think of the consequences over agreeing to do this.

“I’ve met the guy, albeit briefly, but I met him, Chungha,” you informed, “my radar to be cautious wasn’t blinking bright red or ringing any alarms, and later today, will confirm that I don’t have anything to worry about.”

Your friend stared at you, processing what you had just let off your chest. She’s known you since you both started at your company—you trained together, you got through the same struggles together in the past year, admittedly, she knows you well enough to raise her own suspicions over this entire ordeal. She knows that you’ve been burnt out from work, and the mundane routine of going to work, then back home, with barely any time for yourself. Despite wanting to reel you back to normality, Chungha only sighed. “Just keep me updated, Y/N.”

“I will,” you uttered, a grateful smile sent to her.

There was a beat of silence before Chungha spoke up. “You said he goes to the university nearby?”

“Yeah.”

Another beat of silence. “I didn’t think you’d go for younger guys, Y/N.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Your arm lifted a third time, checking your wristwatch to see that it was forty minutes past eleven—past the meeting time with Soonyoung. You were seated in the cafe besides the library, the iced tea you had ordered long gone, the ice melting and the condensation creating a small puddle surrounding your glass. No texts, no calls, radio silence from Soonyoung, and as the minutes ticked by, you’d begin to think that Chungha was right.

Maybe agreeing to something as out of the blue as a fake girlfriend proposal wasn’t the best idea. Maybe you should’ve just stuck to what had been planned. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to the library, that wasn’t planned. You were bored at home, and needed fresh air, so you walked around, stumbled upon the university library and well, that’s that.

Heaving a sigh, you stood from your seat and pulled the strap of your bag over your shoulder. However, as you were pushing the chair back into the table, quick footsteps approached your table and an out-of-breath Soonyoung, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Y/N, I’m so sorry!”

“Are you okay?” Brows furrowed together in worry, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as he bent over to regain his breath.

“Y-yeah,” he heaved. “I had a—”

“Soonyoung, sit.” Obediently, he pulled the chair and sat, leaning back into the chair and inhaled deep breaths. You stayed quiet as he regained his composure. “I’ll get you water.” Without sparing him a glance, you headed towards the door of the café, but Soonyoung took ahold of your arm, stopping you mid-step.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Y/N.” The sincerity behind his eyes was similar to what you saw in him yesterday, the glimmer that made you agree to the proposal he had for you. Without uttering a word, you only sent a small smile, pushing his hand from your arm. You enter the café, buying him a bottle of water and returned, placing the bottle in front of him.

“I’m guessing you had a last-minute thing to do?” You asked, playing with your assumptions from how he was out of breath and ran from the opposite direction of the main entryway of the library.

Downing half the bottle, he nodded. “I thought it was going to be a brief meeting for a group presentation, but apparently they began talking about other classes, and I lost track of time. And before I knew it—” He paused, finding you staring at him, intently listening. “—I’m sorry, I have no excuses, I should’ve told you I’d be late instead of making you wait here without any info, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Soonyoung… for owning up to your mistake,” you uttered, notably shocked by his statement.

“Let me pay for your drink, Y/N, or I can buy you lunch?”

“It’s fine, Soonyoung, seriously.” You waved off with a chuckle, finally letting the tension disappear. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Eager, aren’t we?” He teased, earning an eyebrow raise from you. “Sorry… uhm, yeah. My parents are quite chill, nothing too traditional—they usually like to make sure I’m dating someone that is capable of getting along with others…”

“The bars are quite high, huh?” You joked, the both of you laughing.

“I think my mom is the one that possibly doesn’t believe I have a girlfriend, that’s why she wants to see for herself,” he explains. “I’m the youngest, and even though you might think that would be plausible reason for my mom to not want me having a girlfriend, she’s different. She believes being in the early twenties is the perfect age to get, uhm… married.”

“But we’re not getting married, right?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Of course not, we’re not actually dating either.” You nodded in agreement, laughing with him. “But showing my mom that I have a girlfriend will get her to lay off me for a bit, and I won’t have to expect any brunches with potential in-laws anytime soon after tomorrow.”

“I see,” you mumbled, nodding, letting the information process for a bit. “But, by showing me, wouldn’t she be asking about us? Our plans and everything. I mean, you did say she thinks you should be marrying at this age, no?”

“That is true,” he realized, “but I’m sure if we establish that the relationship is still quite new and we’re still playing it safe not to take a life-long commitment just yet, she might understand.”

You let the idea marinate briefly in your head. What you told Chungha was true, you were tired of the mundane routine you’ve had all this time, it’s put you in a rut that you’ve always struggled to get out off. Maybe this was the world’s way of saying: “hey do something so your life isn’t just a monotone routine of work and sleep”.

It’s not like being in a fake relationship with Soonyoung would be long-term either, you’re sure that after the brunch with his parents, that the two of you would meet-up to keep the lie up for a while, before eventually parting ways and he’ll have to deal with whatever future in-law brunches because he’d have to break it to his mother that the two of you have broken up.

You’d like to think of it as doing it for the plot, your year was getting boring and it’s already past the third quarter.

With a sigh, you leaned forward, placing your clasped hands on the table, locking eyes with Soonyoung. “Alright, let’s set the ground rules and how we’re going to do this.”

Maybe in another life, you were an actress because how did you even get through the brunch without sparking any suspicion?

It started off rusty. You and Soonyoung had thought up the whole backstory of how you two met—your route to work fell into his routine, where you both met at a coffee shop, and he had accidentally spilled coffee onto your white shirt one day and profusely apologized, insisting he should pay the laundry bill to which you allowed it. It was a cute story, 50% inspired by Chungha’s last failed situationship, but it helped make your “love story” seem more real than what happened in real life. You obviously couldn’t tell his mom that her son just sat by your table and asked you to be his fake girlfriend.

You took into account the backstory, how many dates you’ve gone on now and how long you’ve been dating, but you forgot your own self. You forgot to discuss whether or not you’ll be faking your identity—saying that you were working in one of the top 3 consulting firms in the country, or if you were actually older than Soonyoung—you weren’t sure how his mom would react to her son dating an older woman.

So you played yourself. You told Mrs. Kwon where you worked, your day-to-day and how you were able to juggle meeting with her son, in the midst of your schedule. Conflicting emotions arose during the brunch, and the fear that you never acknowledged came into fruition—Mrs. Kwon was sweet, and she liked you. Conversation with the elder woman flowed smoothly, her crescent eyes and the smile that seemed stuck on her face the moment she saw you enter the country club, until the moment she wrapped her arms around you, uttering the words, “I hope we can meet again soon!”

As the afternoon had sunk in, it wasn’t just your interaction with Mrs. Kwon that drove you to silence, it was Soonyoung as well.

If you thought you were a great actress, then he had already secured his Oscar trophy with his performance.

“How was it?” Chungha had asked immediately when you entered the door of your apartment. Her excitement dimmed to stun and morphed to concern upon noticing your dazed face. “Hey… Y/N? You okay?”

You returned to reality when she snapped her fingers in front of your face, blinking your eyes repeatedly as you regained composure. “What did you say?”

“I asked how your date was? Or, “fake date”,” she asked again, using her fingers to quote. “Did his parents buy it?”

“Yeah… they did,” you uttered, voice trailing, “but…”

“But…?”

“I think I bought it, too.”

Her brows knitted together. “What?”

You shook your head, your fingers aggressively running through your hair as you exhaled a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, he just– we were in the middle of brunch, and his mom asked him what made him decide to give us a chance, and Soonyoung just– he just—“ You couldn’t process what had happened into words, articulating what you felt at that moment felt so complex—something you hadn’t felt in a while, maybe even ever. You can’t recall the last time someone made you feel this… valued.

“He just, what, Y/N?”

Your mind drifted to that moment, when it felt like everything between you and Soonyoung were real… The warm rays of the sun shining through the vines, tracing the outlines of his face, the light hitting his eyes just right to accentuate the golden flakes in his eyes. The way his lips moved as he articulate every single word, with a sense of sincerity that seemed to be too genuine to be said just for a fake relationship.

“Even though it feels like we’ve just met… I don’t know, I just felt that you would be the one. I mean, it feels like you’re the only one patient enough to deal with my spontaneous ideas and out-of-this-world proposals, that I feel whatever we might face during this… that it would be all worth it.”

His words echoed, the image of his honey-dripping eyes looking back at yours, unbeknownst to his mother’s eyes but your hands intertwined beneath the table, his thumb rubbing gentle circles as his cheeks puffed up in a sweet, innocent smile, as if the words were uttered were true and real—that what you two had was real.

“Y/N, for the love of God, please don’t leave me hanging—” Before Chungha could finish her plea of desperation, your phone vibrated between the two of you, Soonyoung’s name and face flashing on the screen, awaiting to be answered.

“Give me a second, yeah?” You rushed out, without waiting for Chungha to respond and climbed off your bed, leaving your best friend to stare at you with sorrow. You escaped to the hallway outside your apartment, swiping the screen and pressing your phone to your ear. “Hello, Soon?”

“Hey, sorry, I know I just dropped you off, but I’m downstairs because I bought something to say thank you for your help today,” Soonyoung informed, causing you to straighten your back, surprised he returned and with a gift.

“Oh, sure- uh, give me a second and I’ll be down.” You hung up, rushing back into your apartment to put on a jacket, ignoring Chungha’s questions of where you’re going and who called, before you were out the door and going down the elevator. Soonyoung was seated in the lobby, a box on his lap as he watched the elevator number go down before stopping, opening and revealing you with a soft smile and bright eyes. He mirrored your smile, standing and approaching you, extending his arms to pass the box to you.

“It was kinda a last minute thing, I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciated your help today,” he uttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I hope you like custard-filled donuts.”

You tried suppressing the grin on your face, your cheeks warming at the sight of little note he wrote on top of the box. ‘Thank you for being a real one and playing my fake girlfriend <3’. “It was really not hassle, Soonyoung. I did have fun.” You sat down, patting gently on the spot besides you and he sat besides you. You opened the box, revealing the freshly baked donuts, offering him one which he smiled gratefully before picking up one and taking a bite. You followed en-suite.

“Did she believe it?”

Soonyoung glanced towards you, custard on the corner of his lips that made you stifle a laugh. “Yeah, she did,” he spoke, wanting to answer but still in the middle chewing as he tried to speak without opening his mouth as wide. Your chuckle shook your shoulders, before reaching out to wipe the custard at his lips with your thumb. You pretended to not notice the red that spread across his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

He cleared his throat, trying to hide how flustered may have looked, only causing you to smile wider. Payback for what you pulled earlier, you couldn’t help but think.

“By the way, Y/N…” You faced him, finding his features strewn with worry—brows etched, a crease created between them as his eyes looked back at you in guilt. “I know we talked about it keeping the boundaries, as well making it vague, and avoid being too sentimental, but I got caught in the moment and… and I was just so grateful that you would take up my offer that I didn’t know what came over me, you looked really pretty, too, and you smelled nice- I mean, wait that was a bit out of pock—“

Your lips pressed against his shut him up immediately. For a moment, he was taken aback, before he melted into the kiss with you.

“I like you, too, Soonyoung,” you whispered once you pulled away. A child-like shine sparkled in his eyes upon hearing your confession, something bubbling in his chest that caused a bright smile to break out, his cheeks seemingly fluffier than before.

“So, we can keep doing this? For real this time?” You nodded, your cheeks flushed as you came to the sudden realization of something, chuckling to yourself. Soonyoung cocked his head to the side, inquiring, “What’s funny?”

“I just…” You sighed happily. “I just never expected myself to fall for a younger guy…” You bumped your shoulder with his, adding, “You’re the only exception.”

He threw his head back in a hearty laugh, smiling back at you. “Well, I’m honored to be the one and only, Y/N.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

This can be consisted the prologue of the series, a little taste test or something…

Warning: men being men and not listening and paying the price for their stupidity.

You didn’t know how you did it.

You really didn’t, and it currently wasn’t as if you were actively trying either! You had been running for a while now after catching the unwanted gaze of some unsavoury characters before running as fast as your legs could to get out of sight, only to find yourself somewhere and staring into the large eye of a dragon.

This was no ordinary dragon because from just it’s eyes alone you could tell that this one was a lot bigger than most, possibly as large as Vaghar but the cave had been proven far too dark to get a good look of the rest of its body.

Or the reason you can’t see the rest of its body is because its head is so large it’s all you can see. That little voice in your head told you as the cold feeling of dread crept up your back, thought of standing in front of something far larger than you didn’t sit right with your feeble human mind as you swallowed thickly.

One thing that you were for certain about and that was the potent stench of rotting corpses however and blood that stung your eyes with how horrid the smell was the moment you had rushed into the massive cavern on impulse to find safety. It wasn’t until your eyes has caught a glimpse of the skeleton of a dragon, one of which that was far, far smaller than the one you in front of you, followed by a skeleton of a human did realisation hit you.

You had found Cannibal, one of the largest dragon to ever exist, the very same dragon you’ve heard plenty stories about as a kid. Stories of how many people tried to claim the behemoth, only to end up within the dragon’s stomach and even more stories of how Cannibal would even hunt and kill other dragons for sustenance.

You didn’t understand why people would still try to claim him, knowing well enough of the fate that awaits them, but still pressing on regardless in hopes that one of them would be lucky enough to make history by becoming Cannibal’s first ever rider. It was stupid to think such a thing when it had been proven time and time again that Cannibal simply didn’t wish to be ridden and left alone in peace but kept having it being disrespected by people fuelled by their own personal agendas.

Cannibals eye remained on you the entire time, watching you as though trying to read your next move. The behemoth of a dragon seemed to recognise that you knew of him and his reputation, but didn’t dare move to attack you like you thought he would. The question on your mind were between him trying to lure you into a false sense of security or was he trying to gauge whether you’d break first and run?

You respected dragons becuase they were far smarter then you’ve been lead to believe, beings that harboured endless fires within their bellies, and have lived long enough to recognise the changes within Westeros from the one they’ve arrived to a long time ago. They fascinated you all the same but something about Cannibal has fascinated you the most, however you valued yourself in knowing that it was better to admire the beast from afar rather then up close; much like you were right now.

‘I’m sorry.’ Were the first words that came out of your mouth in a flurry as you bowed lowly before the dragon, tensing when you felt Cannibal’s hot breath wash over you, it reeked badly of blood but your fought your urge to gag as the scent as though your life depended on it because it did. ‘I didn’t- I wasn’t aware that you resided here. I’ll leave.’ You told the dragon as it merely watched you back away with a peculiar look in its eye, all the while you tried to prevent yourself from stepping and tripping on old bones of both human and dragon, not once ever breaking eye contact with Cannibal for a single second.

However once you were close enough to the entrance of the cavern, you heard the voices of the very people you had ran away from in the first place and felt yourself as though trapped between a rock and a hard place; either die by dragonfire or by the hands of fellow humans?

‘Where did they go?’ A voice sounded close by the entrance of the cave, causing your breath to catch in your throat as you found yourself frozen in place.

‘They ran off into this cave, the stupid cunt.’ Another voice called, cocky and arrogant as two men appeared in your only way out, their faces were casted in shadows but you could feel their stares and their growing smirks once they saw you.

‘There you are.’ One sang, steeling forward but you immediately took a step back, feeling Cannibal’s hot breath at your back once more.

‘I wouldn’t come closer if I were you.’ You tried warning them as you could sense that Cannibal was getting annoyed, you didn’t know Joe you knew what Cannibal was feeling but you just assumed that the dragon wouldn’t like the additional company of two men who reeked of piss.

‘Oh? And why’s that?’ The other said as he too stepped into the cave, causing you to take another step back.

‘There’s a dragon in this cave.’ You said and the two men stopped their advances to look at each other for a moment before bursting out into a fit of laughter. ‘A dragon? Here? You’re having a laugh!’ They were crying tears of laughter now and you’ve never felt more helpless in that moment. ‘I’m serious! There’s a dragon in this cave and he’s going to kill you!’ You cried as you could feel Cannibal practically hovering over you now as you internally begged the beast for mercy and forgiveness for being these men into his home.

‘Oh I’m so scared!’ One of the men said, nudging his friend. ‘You hear that? We’re going to die according to this little cunt.’

His friend snorts. ‘They’re lying, let’s grab them before they attract anymore attention.’ He said before bringing his attention back towards you as he and his friend began to advance on you once more. ‘Come here you lying little-‘ before he could finish his sentence, a wave of dragonfire consumed both men in their entirety until there was nothing more then charred corpses.

You looked over your shoulder towards Cannibal who huffs at you as if to say you’re welcome.

‘Thank you.’ You told him, only for the dragon to huff again, leaning his head down to nudge you with his snout towards the entrance of the cave, urging you to take your leave before wandering back further into his cave until you couldn’t see him anymore.

This wasn’t what you at all had expected from this outcome, not one bit.

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

ok so like i get where ppl are coming from with the “the crew loves izzy” takes but also like. ok. i think that take involves a certain amount of reading very deeply into the text to a degree that is almost reading against the text at some points. it’s like when ppl pour all this energy into an underdeveloped and unportant side character—none of those layers ppl add to the character are strictly contradicted by the text, but it clearly wasn’t what the writer intended for anyone to really focus on. and yeah, death of the author, just bc the writers didn’t intend for ppl to think abt something that hard or care about it that much doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to do whatever the fuck we want. but bc i love analyzing the shit out of this show i do want to talk about WHY i think the textual support for this headcanon isn’t rlly there.

first of all. when archie is like “why are we trying so hard to save this guy, he’s kinda a dick” and jim’s like “yeah but he’s our dick.” rather than elaborate on what makes izzy special to them they’re like “it used to be that the crew all had each other’s backs no matter what and things were better back then” while reminiscing fondly about 1. olu and 2. that shot from season 1 where the whole crew is hanging out except for izzy who’s sulking in the background hating everyone. if this was supposed to be an “izzy’s a dick but we love him anyway” moment i would expect jim to talk about. yknow. izzy. instead to me ot comes across more like an “izzy’s a dick but crew is crew, we stick up for each other even if we don’t particularly like each other bc it’s us against the world” which isn’t as impactful from an izzy stanning perspective but i think makes for, like, an interesting allegory abt the queer community. we all gotta defend the rights of ppl in our community even if those specific ppl are dicks and we don’t get along with them.

second of all. after they save izzy’s life and get caught by ed they all leave the room and then a few minutes later a gun goes off. maybe someone saw ed leave the room before the shot was fired, but either way they think either ed just killed izzy or izzy just killed himself. and then they DO NOTHING ABOUT THIS. nobody checks on the body. they put all this effort into saving izzy’s life and then when their efforts are foiled they do not seem that bummed out about it. the next scene with any crew member in it is frenchie talking to ed on deck, and ed is like “go take the day off” and frenchie is like “oh nice!” and he’s like, confused and a little concerned about ed suddenly steering the ship rlly erratically, but he also seems pretty excited about getting some time off (after so many raids in a row i would be too lol). and THEN!!! in the next scene where we get the whole crew, they’re crowded in the hallway that leads out to the deck and the conversation they have isn’t “oh my god i can’t believe ed killed izzy after we cut off izzy’s leg” it’s “maybe ed’s better now? maybe killing izzy was all it took? he seems pretty cheerful for the first time in ages, maybe ed’s okay?” like literally they think ed just killed izzy and they are more worried about ed’s emotional state than they are grieving a beloved shipmate

then in 2.04 the crew B plot is so blatantly “the crew struggles to trust each other again but after seeing izzy be incredibly sad and pathetic they remember that a good crew has each other’s backs no matter what and so they extend izzy some unearned kindness and make him a new leg” that i’m amazed that other interpretations even exist. like literally they’re all drawn away from screaming at each other with weapons drawn by izzy making some dramatic announcement and then falling and then drunkenly crawling away and refusing their help rambling “youre born alone you die alone” over and over again or whatever melodramatic bullshit he said. like he’s muttering abt being miserable and alone and there’s a WHOLE ROOM OF PEOPLE!!! standing RIGHT THERE!!!! like “oh hey man do you need help standing up? no? no ur just gonna crawl away? um. ok.” and then they all go “well at least we’re not as fucked up as that guy. maybe we should do something nice for him?” like they are literally almost explicitly motivated by pity, not fondness. which yeah, it’s probably fucked up the way they use izzy’s new disability to sort of emphasize how pathetic he’s being, but i think the intention there is not that izzy’s pathetic bc he’s disabled, he’s pathetic bc he’s refusing to accept help. like the crew doesn’t go “yikes 😬 at least we don’t have his issues” abt izzy falling down when his makeshift prosthetic breaks, they go “yikes 😬” when he bats away their hands and goes on a weird mumbling tirade. definitely not the most sensitive way to depict izzy in this mental state, but that’s a different post probably. for the sake of THIS post tho: the takeaway i got from this scene is that the crew is remembering how to be there for each other again. it’s easier for them to let go of their paranoia and stop being so defensive and distrustful when izzy is there as an example of what happens when you’re TOO defensive and distrustful. “the crew makes a leg for izzy bc they care about him on a personal level” did not seem to be the focus of that story arc. to me.

in 2.05 we get our first ever instance of a character expressing appreciation for something izzy said or did or some trait he expressed (except for stede that time in 1.06 when izzy backed stede up on wanting to do a fuckery, which he only did specifically bc he wanted stede to fucking die and ed was taking too long), and it’s lucius saying he loves the shark izzy whittled. but during the entire episode leading up to that scene izzy is either in syede’s storyline where he’s not engaging with the crew or he’s getting snarked at by lucius, and not in a fun teasing way. like during that whole bit where izzy steals his cigarettes and calls him “twatty” lucius just looks so fucking annoyed and then uncomfortable. and then at the end of the episode izzy is sort of offering him advice and lucius is just sarcastically like “that sounds healthy.” and within this storyline, the point of these scenes isn’t rlly abt the developing and deepening relationship btwn izzy and lucius, it’s abt lucius individually coping w his trauma. izzy in this episode kinda exists in a weird place in the narrative, where he plays a supporting role in two different characters’ (lucius’s and stede’s) storylines without getting a central arc for himself. and both of those two storylines are only really about lucius and stede respectively, izzy is just there as this a static character who imparts wise advice. which is a very weird role for him to take, imo, but on top of that it doesn’t rlly contribute any sense of like, actual bonding btwn izzy and the other two.

and in 2.06 they just enjoy the show izzy puts on. they like listening to him sing. it’s all very cute! but also. i would not say that it shows the crew really cares about izzy?? i was in pit orchestra in high school and all the lead theater kids were always fucking assholes but they were also rlly good singers and it was fun to listen to them. i would mouth along to the words being sung by bitches who seemed to be trying to be sharpay evans irl for some bizarre fucking reason. like, cartoonishly mean girls. so like, the crew listening and dancing to izzy’s song doesn’t rlly sell “the crew loves izzy” to me. if anything, i would say that actually a stronger indicator of the crew loving izzy would be wee john sharing his makeup, and it’s a shame that we don’t get to see this happen. i mean that genuinely, i think that would’ve been a great moment to rlly strengthen izzy’s arc and it just. doesn’t exist on screen. and this isn’t like the finale where we know for a fact that they had to force a 40-minute episode into 30 minutes, Calypso’s Birthday has a runtime WELL under 30 minutes. it would’ve been SO easy to add another like 45 seconds of izzy and wee john getting ready together, but the only moment they show us is izzy walking in and discovering drag for the first time. it feels like the focus of this scene is less about a moment of connection between two characters and more about izzy individually having a gender breakthrough—and that carries on with the rest of the performance, too. bc it’s a performance, it’s everyone looking at izzy, it’s izzy a half step away from the crew as he puts on a show. the narrative framing of all this puts the focus entirely on izzy as a solo act, not on izzy as part of the crew. they like his performance, but we aren’t rlly shown evidence of the crew liking him as a person.

and that’s kinda it for izzy and the crew! up until he’s actively dying in ed’s arms and they’re all in the background silently weeping, at least (and btw, speaking from experience but uhhhh it’s pretty normal to cry when u watch someone die even if u have literally no connection to the person dying). even when they’re helping him back to the ship, ed is the one who notices he’s injured, nobody notices until he’s already giving izzy support. and i fully believe roach flips off izzy’s grave marker with fondness, but that’s also like. the only little personal moment any of them aside from ed has during the funeral. they do all laugh at his pinocchio joke earlier in the ep but idk if that one line can carry the entire weight of “the crew loves izzy” on its own. apparently there’s some shots during the zheng v stede fight where izzy can be seen in the background close to jim and archie??? but like, you can’t tell me a background shot of izzy standing near some crew members is strong textual support for the crew loving him. and i don’t think i need to argue abt any scenes in s1 bc literally every single crew member who was on that boat, ivan and fang included, was about to fucking drown him in the fucking ocean.

there is one single scene that gives actual strong evidence that anyone other than ed likes or cares about izzy. it’s the part at the end of impossible birds when fang is crying after ed shot izzy. so maybe fang specifically loves izzy, even tho izzy used to pull fang’s beard a lot and fang didn’t like it bc it hurt. idk.

here’s the thing tho. in 2.01 the writers use dialogue very effectively to tell us about the kraken era. the crew doesn’t say much, but what the do say tells us a lot: we know that archie thinks the kraken era is all normal pirating stuff, jim felt like the wedding raid (which seems like their only raid on a civilian ship and not a military one) was a step too far, frenchie is Not Okay but he’s doing a fantastic job repressing everything, izzy looks tired but the specific thing echoing in his head right before he starts crying in front of the crew is ed telling him “if you can’t do the job, someone else will.”

and we know fang, who’s known ed for decades, has never seen ed like this. and the specific thing he mentions as something he’s never seen from ed before is not batting an eye when ivan died. meaning that even before meeting stede, fang would’ve expected ed to have some sort of reaction to ivan dying.

and the thing about ivan is that we know next to nothing about him. he has very little dialogue in season one. we don’t even know how long he’s been working with ed—long enough to have at least heard about fang having to put his dog down bc “the love of a pet makes a man weak” when fang joined ed’s ship years ago, even if ivan wasn’t actually there yet at the time—but we do know that watching ed tell ghost stories was apparently the most open and available he’d ever seen ed get. so it doesn’t sound like ivan and ed were especially close. ivan was almost certainly less close to ed than izzy was.

if fang expected to see ed have some sort of reaction to the death of an ordinary crew member (who mightve been working for ed for decades, might’ve been working for him for months, we really can’t say) who wasn’t even that close to ed, seeing ed casually and unflinchingly inflict a life-threatening gunshot to his first mate must’ve been fucking earth-shattering. and interpretation is also supported by what fang actually says while he’s crying at the end of 2.01—it’s not “i can’t stop crying, izzy’s hurt” or “i can’t stop crying, izzy’s going to die.” its “i can’t stop crying, ed shot izzy.” more than the imminent demise of a crew member, fang is shaking and sobbing and traumatized because he can’t believe ed would do that.

and if that feels like a reach, just remember what happens after the leg is cut off, after the crew most likely believes ed shot izzy again, this time 100% fatally: the whole crew is crowded in the hallway, and fang asks “do we think he’s… better?”

fang is not sad about izzy. or if he is, it’s dwarfed by how much more sad fang is about ed.

in conclusion: have fun with ur headcanons i am not the boss of you but also there is less canonical textual evidence of the crew loving izzy than some of y’all seem to think k byeeeee

[messylxve]

goddess | elle greenaway x famous!reader

content warning: unlabeled sexuality, SA, douchy men, self-deprecating thoughts, soft elle, google translate spanish, laufey

divider by @enchanthings

It always goes like this

Could have predicted it

I’m so naive to think you loved me for me

It was almost humiliating how many times you’d been in this position. Heels were abandoned at the door, makeup streaked down your face, and your heart felt too heavy to even make it to your own bedroom.

You threw yourself on your couch, dragging a blanket over yourself and taking your phone out apprehensively. Through your tears, you felt the hesitation of dialing that number.

The number you knew through and through.

You knew it by heart.

‘She doesn’t want to hear from you,’ that little devil whispered into your ear. ‘She’s so sick and tired of you and your bullshit.’

A whimper escaped your lips. You wanted to throw your phone and let it shatter on impact. But you never did.

Instead you clutched it tighter and shoved yourself deeper into the cushions of your couch, the memories of that night resurfacing.

Kissed as I ran off stage

Too old to play this game

Guess you’re still growing up at thirty

You met him on a quiet Sunday morning. You were at your favorite cafe and there he was, approaching you. Calling you beautiful, unlike any other girl you’ve met.

But most of all. He didn’t recognize you.

You detested dating fans. You already got your heart broken there before. You swore off of that.

He showered you with so much affection, you completely missed the signs.

Red flags always seemed normal under your rose-tinted view of the world.

Were you surprised by me

When you took me home?

When the glamour wore off

Reduced to skin and bone

You should have known it was all a lie.

You should have known he was just like all the other

You don’t know how long you sat there, wallowing in self-pity, but the sound of your phone ringing took you out of it for just a moment.

You pulled it away from where it was resting under the couch pillow and your eyes widened at the name.

Elle <3

Once again, you hesitated, your thumb hovering over the green button. You finally picked it up on the third ring.

“Ellie, hi!” You cringed at the way your voice nearly immediately cracked as you tried to feign your usual chipper mood.

“Hey lovely.” Her voice sounded so comforting. Even with just two words, you felt a twinge of warmth attempt to spread through your chest. “You okay?”

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, what makes you ask?”

“You sound like you’ve been crying. And it’s nearly midnight in LA, you aren’t usually this chipper this late unless you’re faking it.”

A sigh escaped you. You never could lie to her.

“You’ve always been so observant.” Your voice dropped the octave now that the facade faded.

“I hope so,” she chuckled lightly. “It’s kind of my job. Do you want to talk about it?”

‘She doesn’t mean it. She’s just being nice.’

“I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

She hummed in disapproval. “You know I always want the details from mi estrella.”

A sad smile slid on your face at the nickname given to you in your childhood; coined after you had gotten the solo in the choir concert.

‘Super star by day, best friend by night,’ 10-year-old Elle had quipped.

You huffed out a small laugh before it all fell away as you recounted your date that night.

“You remember Trevor right? Met him at that coffee shop on Melrose Avenue?”

You heard a pause on her end before she spoke again, her voice softer. “I do.”

“Well…I had a date with him tonight. Fourth one.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

His lips pressed harshly into yours and his hands skimmed over your body as you struggled to keep up.

“I invited him to see me at a concert. My final one on my tour.”

I can’t even tell

Who you want to know

“Trev,” you had tried to laugh. “Slow down.”

Your words fell upon deaf ears as he kissed down to your jaw and began attacking at your neck.

“I um…I thought it was a good idea to invite him backstage when it was over…talk to him for a bit before I had to go out again.”

Elle listened as your tone got darker and darker, reliving your own fresh memories. She heard every bout of emotion in your voice. The pain that shone through from a broken heart.

He began lifting your skirt. You grew dizzy with nausea the more he continued.

‘This isn’t right,’ a tiny voice screamed at you.

“Trev—Trevor, please stop.”

Your hands found his chest, steadying yourself on it before pushing him away. “I said stop!”

“y/n…” Elle’s voice was a whisper now.

“I-I told him I didn’t want that. That I didn’t think we were there yet. He didn’t really like that…”

I’m a goddess on stage

Human when we’re alone

“What do you mean we’re not there yet,” he scoffed. “I’ve been waiting for basically two months for you to be ready.”

He moved in close again, placing a hand on your waist. “I’m so tired of waiting. I’ve listened to your stories, your music. Hell I even talked to that she-devil of a friend of yours, Bella.”

You couldn’t decide whether or not to feel disgusted or betrayed. “It’s Elle…You mean you didn’t want any of that?”

“I wanted you, baby…isn’t that enough.”

You cried freely now into the phone and Elle listened quietly, her own heart breaking for you.

“You’d be proud of me Ellie,” you sniffed. “I stood my ground. Told him no.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, regardless if she’d see it or not. “Yeah… He didn’t really like it though. I had to call security to escort him out.”

“Did he put his hands on you,” she asked.

You bit your lip, the line going quiet for just a moment before you spoke again. “Do you think I can visit you? Just for a week or so?”

She frowned at the sudden change in topic.

“Of course you can, lovely.”

That next day moved so painstakingly slow for Elle. It was a paperwork day which meant she got to sit around anxiously as she waited for another call from you.

You had already called twice. Once to tell her you were leaving your apartment, twice to tell her your plane was about to depart from LA.

Hours has passed and now she awaited your call telling her you were at the airport waiting.

“Alright,” Derek quipped, rocking back in his chair. “What’s up with you today?”

Elle looked over at the man, lifting an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been staring at your phone all day,” Spencer claimed, not looking up from his paperwork.

Elle’s attention snapped between the two men before finally settling on Morgan. “So?”

Derek grinned. “So…? You hate the phone Elle, now you look like you’re waiting for it to come to life in front of your eyes.”

The girl scoffed out a laugh, shaking her head.

“You know what I think it it,” Derek continued. “I think you’ve got Mr. Mystery you’re waiting on.”

Her smile halted for just a second at his words. She twirling the pen in between her fingers once then twice. “You’re delusional Morgan.”

Almost right on cue, her phone rang and Derek let out a laugh seeing the usually preserved woman scramble for it.

“Agent Greenaway.”

“So professional,” you mused, a sly grin sliding on your lips.

A smile eased onto her expression as she turned away from Morgan’s prying eyes. “Hola amorcito. ¿Cómo estuvo tu vuelo?”

“It was good, I slept the whole way here.”

“Eso es bueno. Lo necesita.”

“Rude,” you fake gasped. “Are you calling me grouchy?”

“Sabes lo que quise decir y/n.”

Morgan and Reid looked at each other as they listened to Elle’s end of the conversation, completely clueless as to what you were saying.

“Estaré allí en veinte. Estar segura. Te amo.”

Reid furrowed his brows curiously. He might not have been a whiz in Spanish, but he definitely caught those last words.

“Alright boys, you better behave.”

Spencer frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

The two of you had spent the rest of the day together.

You didn’t want to go out, so she took you straight to your apartment and there you had the time of your life. You two binged movies, played board games, and now you were cooking together.

It was pure bliss and you couldn’t as for more.

“I missed this,” Elle mused.

You sat perched on the counter, your head laid comfortably on the cabinet behind you and you passed ingredients to the cooking woman.

“Cooking,” you asked with a giggle.

She looked over at you with a laugh. “Pass me the oregano would you. And no I don’t mean cooking. I mean being with you. Phone calls don’t feel like enough anymore.”

You twisted your body around as you shuffled through her spice cabinet. “Yeah,” you mused. “Hearing your voice is definitely what keeps me sane though.”

Elle’s heart stuttered at those words. The cooking spoon in her hand slowed it stirring and she looked up at you.

“I can’t find the oregano,” you mumbled, your attention now fully on the cabinet.

“…it’s on the second shelf,” she cleared her throat, pointing up to where it should be.

“I’m looking on the second shelf,” you whined playfully.

“Here,” she moved away from the hot stove and in front of you, leaving over your head to reach it. “It was right…there.”

She didn’t even realize what position she had put herself in until it was much too late. Either one of your thighs laid beside her hips. You looked down at her and you could feel her breath on you. You could smell her addicting perfume that you found yourself missing every time you two were apart.

It was like an invisible magnet between you two, beckoning the both of you closer and closer. So close that you felt her lips brush against yours.

It was like an epiphany to you. Everything clicked in your head.

The pauses over the phone.

The nicknames.

Hiding your phone calls from her team.

But just as the fireworks began to rise, they sizzled out before ever going off.

She pulled away, clearing her throat awkwardly.

‘You’re so delusional,’ that ugly voice hissed to you. ‘She’s seen the real you. The ugly you. Why would she want that?’

You swallowed hard and blinked away your tears. “Elle.”

She didn’t look over to you. Just focused on finishing the meal. “Yeah?”

You released a dying sigh. “Do you…do you think I’m unlovable?”

She had never looked up so fast. You would have thought the spoon burned her from how quickly she dropped it.

“What?”

You felt like the question was a plot for attention, but it wasn’t. It was probably one of the most genuine questions you asked in a long time.

“I- never mind. I’m sorry.”

Elle looked at you as if you grew a second head right in front of her. “y/n,” she moved back to that same position she had just run from. Except this time, her hands fell to your cheeks, caressing them oh-so gently. “How could you ask that question?”

You frowned. “How could I not?” It came out as a whisper. A moment of pure vulnerability. The first of its kind since that phone call last night.

“I’m not that impossibly perfect, beautiful super star they all expect me to be. I’m just…me. No one wants that.”

Elle shook her head, eyes scanning all over your face before finally settling on your eyes once more. “I want that.”

She felt you freeze under her grasp, but she continued on. “Every single failed date and false expectation was never your fault. You are…so incredibly talented, beautiful, and utterly amazing. In more ways than people give you credit for. If all these other people can’t love you the way I do, for you, then they don’t deserve you.”

Your breath stopped in your chest. Stuck. Unable to move in or out. “You love me? Or do you love me?”

You put that emphasis on your final words. There was no other way it could have been interpreted other than

“y/n, I am so utterly in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

Your hands found her wrists where you stabled yourself onto her. A smile broke free from your shocked expression. With a broken laugh, you surged forward, pressing your lips onto her’s in a kiss.

“I love you too.”

Translations:

“hi lovely how was your flight.”

“That’s good, you needed it”

“You know what I mean y/n”

“I’ll be there in twenty. Stay safe. I love you.”

@mackannkees

AN: I can’t believe I wrote that all in one night. It’s officially 3am as of posting, I’m not expecting this to get much attention, this was more self-indulgence if anything. I hope u guys like it tho

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | june 3 - june 9

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

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

8:90 – HONEY

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

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

She can’t stop thinking about Saturday night.

It was fun. She had fun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Better than Overalls Joe,” Bea replies.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you felt bad.”

“Yeah.”

“And you still feel bad.”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“Do you regret it?” Honey asks.

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

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

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

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

But she's not finished.

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

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

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

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

“It's how I think it works!”

“Okay.”

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

Ten minutes of thought later, she sits up abruptly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor.

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

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

It’s a futile effort and she knows it.

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

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

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

“Hi,” Trevor says.

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

“Do you like tarts?” Trevor asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

9:90 – TREVOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Trevor knows that she enjoys it.

Poor baby.

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

Which is peculiar.

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

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

Disgusting.

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

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

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

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

Not his most shining moment.

He would absolutely do it again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He cannot possibly think about this any longer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” Trevor says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baking,” Trevor snaps. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10:90 – HONEY

It’s officially summer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’re kind of fighting anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anthony,” Honey reveals, giggling. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s not looking for that.

11:90 – TREVOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honey stares at him, quirking an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

12:90 – HONEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing,” Honey deflects. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Obviously dare,” Jack laughs out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor blinks, then looks away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ew.

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

Hopefully.

“Bea,” Trevor says.

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

“Truth or Dare?”

“I’ll dare,” Bea decides.

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

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

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

“Q,” Bea sighs. “Truth or Dare?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lukey, Truth or Dare?” Quinn asks.

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

Honey smiles at him and rolls her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NO.

Not Trevor.

Yes, Trevor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor’s thumb moves closer and nudges her thigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honey takes it back. Cole is her least favorite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She refuses to look Trevor in the eye after that.

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

That, Honey can do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh my God.

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

Fuck.

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

Trevor was licking whipped cream off of her nipples.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s not looking for that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I felt– seventeen.”

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

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

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

“It’s okay if you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

Bea pets her hair. “He likes you.”

Honey nods.

“You feel– something.”

Honey sniffs, but nods again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

13:90 – TREVOR

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

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

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

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

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

It’s pure torture. 

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

He’s helpless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, it was no surprise Bea went with her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s dreading today. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s enough of that.

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

Nothing more.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re burning, Trevor.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

14:90 – HONEY

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

She and Bea have been hanging out all day. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was thinking–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe–”

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

She takes a breath before opening her eyes again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a phone number.

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

Monday!

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

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

[cursedcatvibes]

WORLD RECORD!

re4r!incel roommate leon x roommate reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: Incel leon who thinks he’s above women and thinks he’s an alpha male. he’s an absolute piece of shit too.

tags/warnings: 18+ minors DNI! Smut, many many mentions of misogyny. He literally can’t find the clit. P in V, he wrapped it before he tapped it! Incel 😧. quick mention of abuse but it’s not super relevant to the plot. not proofread!

a/n: not much to say other than i cringed so bad trying to write leon’s character, but i was committed, i looked through incel forums on reddit and even got chronically online real quick. also i’m on vacation! so i’m not able to write as much as I want! :( i’ll probably post small drabbles but i will most likely have another full story up in a month considering I cranked out a whole 7k page fic and then now a 3k one. DONT QUOTE ME! Also maybe agent leon x agent reader next. @gettingsilly (my sweetheart who was so hyped about this! here you go my love!)

songs:

pussy - rammstein (highly recommend them)

behind blue eyes - limp bizkit (fun fact; this was the og title of the story!)

rape me - nirvana (this was going to be a non con but i changed my mind)

norwegian wood - the beatles (literally burns the woman’s house down cause she don’t want him😭)

happy reading!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

Handsome. Is the first thing that came to mind when you first opened the door to greet your new roommate, Leon. 

-

The rent was getting out of hand these days and you figured it was a way better deal to split the rent instead of living paycheck to paycheck damn near.

The only downside were the horror stories about roommates and even just random strangers too. It made you feel a bit queasy, but what else could you do, a recently single woman and at the ripe age of 25, technically you were in your prime for all types of creeps and weirdos to try and pull something, especially if you live alone.

So you bit the bullet and put up a craigslist ad, putting it at the back of your mind for now while you went back to getting rid of your ex-boyfriend's belongings. 

You only remembered about it when someone responded to it and after a few messages back and forth you gave the address to him and told him he could move in tomorrow. Feeling a bit proud of yourself for even being able to organize such an arrangement.

-

The first thing you noticed was how absolutely built he was, he definitely went to the gym and it made you feel a little insecure for a brief moment, before you stepped to the side to allow him to enter. “Welcome to your new home!” You beamed, happy with what you’ve done to the place. Completely missing the way his eyes ran up and down your body lewdly. 

He only wanted to have a girl roommate because he figured she would give it up easily or at least flaunt her body off to him, much to his dismay you were wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, not a single ounce of skin showing where he could sculpt your body out. “Prude.” Is what ran through his mind.

“Thanks.” He replied stiffly. “Where is my room at?” Leon asked as he looked around, he was kinda pissed off you didn’t show him any goods. He hated girls who didn’t show off their body, but he hated girls who showed off too much, thought they were just whores looking to get some attention.

So what if he catcalled them? Obviously they were dressing like that for attention and got all pissy when he gave them that attention.

You were oblivious to Leon’s degrading thoughts, too focused on trying to make sure he didn’t try to kidnap or murder you. When he spoke about where he would be staying you perked up and showed him the room while also giving a quick tour of the apartment.

You were even sweet enough to help him unpack all his things once they were all brought in! He owned some interesting objects, a bit uncomfortable to watch him unpack as he had a whole box dedicated to just sex toys. Fake pair of tits that were way too big to even be comfortable on a woman, fake mouth, fake ass, and multiple fake pussy’s. That wasn’t even the worst part of it. 

It got all too freaky when he pulled out hentai figurines that had little to no clothes on, all in lewd poses with lewd expressions on their faces, more specifically ahegao. You could feel the initial attraction from him sizzle down to a mere speck of a flame.

How could someone just own all this stuff so casually, flaunting it like it was a toy race car collection? But Leon didn’t care, fictional cat women were so much better than real women. They couldn't reject him or deny him sex. (Because they quite literally couldn’t, they're inanimate figures.)

He had the straightest deadpan expression on his face and you got the heebie jeebies thinking about what he could’ve possibly done with all these weird toys.”So,” You cleared your throat awkwardly, suddenly feeling like every object of his you touched was just icky. “Where did you say you lived before this?” You asked curiously.

Leon glanced over at you, wondering if you were gonna pull your hoodie off and finally show him your tits if he answered all your questions, he was growing frustrated. Dammit woman! Show him something! He thinks this is the longest he had gone without jerking off or watching a porno. If you weren’t gonna entertain him sexually why were you still bothering him?

“My mom’s. She said something about me needing to move out because I'm too old.” He grumbled out, this gave you a major ick, didn’t this guy say he was 27? He wasn’t struggling to get money when clearly he can afford expensive sex toys and other items. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” You replied quietly, to which Leon grunted in acknowledgment.

Once you finished the box you were unpacking you decided the best course of action was to just walk away from this conversation. “It seems like you can handle the rest on your own, I don’t really wanna break any of your computer monitors and stuff.” You said as you stood up from the floor and brushed your hands against your pants.

 “Okay.” Leon hummed, disinterested in  conversation. All he really wanted to do was hurry up and set his computer up so he could jerk off in peace. You leaving his room was a bonus. He didn’t want to be downright rude and kick you out, after all, he is totally a nice guy. Plus he got the opportunity to stare at your ass as you walked out, he could see it jiggling underneath your sweats which was enough to rile him up.

-

You wish you could say it improved from there but unfortunately it did not at all. It only seemed to worsen. Like who the hell is watching porn from the moment they wake up to the moment they fall asleep. It’s all just yucky. The loud and over exaggerated moans that were definitely done for performance and not real. 

The only time Leon would leave his room was to eat or grab some water, he always looked so dazed too, it made you wonder what he was doing in there, you’ve never seen him go to work so it made you curious. 

Leon on the other hand was always so dazed or flustered in the face from the amount of jerking off he does all day. He once ran his dick dry enough to start cumming clear, rubbing himself raw damn near. It’s not like he tried not to get laid, he definitely did. But it never worked.

The way he carried himself was creepy, flaunting the fact he was a nice guy who could give a girl a good time. News flash! If you have to say you’re a nice guy, you're definitely not. Girls often avoided him in middle school and that followed him throughout highschool and even college. So he naturally drifted towards animated women.

He was hot but his personality quite literally sucked, it's like he would attract women because of his looks and as soon as he started speaking they lost interest. But you? You still greeted him every time he came out of his room with a polite smile on your face, offering to cook him something but he always declined because the mere thought of having a woman do something trivial such as cook for him like a traditional woman should, made him hard on the spot.

He had the normal views on life, such as all men do. Women are baby makers, they belong in the kitchen, they should treat their man like a king. It’s not like anyone could change his opinion either. He’s so far into the rabbit hole that his other incels praise him like he was a god, thus only further bursting his massive ego. 

-

You didn’t think much of Leon, not in a harsh way, you just didn’t really know that much about him because you two never spoke like that. All you did know was that he watched porn, maybe a bit too much that was considered normal. It's not like you're shaming him because you watch porn too, but you have some decency, a bit of dignity and pride.

Yet your opinion of him instantly sours when one day he comes out of his room, which reeked with the smell of cum and sweat, the room was humid too, which confused you when you first noticed it. He wore an angry expression on his face as he stomped, yes, like a toddler would, towards the fridge to guzzle down a can of soda. 

You, sitting on the couch mindlessly scrolling through your phone waiting for the time to pass on your off day, you planned to go to a club and slut yourself out to help remind yourself that you’re in fact hot and your ex missed out. Yet when he slammed the fridge door closed that caught your attention, perking your head up like a puppy.

“Uh, you alright?” You asked aloud, watching his eyes snap towards you with a frustrated huff. He figured if you put up with him this long then you must see the same misogynistic views he does about women. “No!” He scoffed out, dragging himself to sit on the couch next to you, like directly. Knees touching and everything.

This piqued your curiosity, maybe you could learn something about him? “What’s wrong?” You questioned as you shut your phone off, sitting up a bit straighter now, putting some distance between the both of you on purpose by grabbing a throw pillow.

Leon then started to rant and you’ve never been more disgusted and horrified in your life before. “I’ve been talking to this really hot chick and we were hitting it off, even had phone sex once or twice but when she asked me who my ideal woman was she ghosted me! Like what's wrong with saying women belong in the kitchen, or doing laundry, or even just cleaning. Women are only here to serve us alpha males.” 

Your nose scrunched up while your face morphed into genuine horror mixed with disgust. Is this seriously his mindset? It must be a joke or something of the sort because no way in hell. “Is.. is this a joke?” You asked, feeling puzzled as you looked around for a hidden camera. Out of all the people you got stuck with, you got stuck with an incel of all people.

Leon stared at you with the most serious face he could muster, he wasn’t kidding, in fact he was getting a bit upset that you were thinking he was joking. “Women are what's wrong with this world! You’re all too soft and so ditzy. You all think men’s feelings are a joke.” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and you swear you can make out a dried cum stain on his clothes. 

You felt so sick and also tickled, you’ve never heard someone or have been around a real life incel before and unfortunately this one came in the form of a super hot guy that wasn’t looking so hot anymore 

“Ew..” You stood up from the couch and stuck your tongue out slightly. “Is that how you see women? No wonder why she ghosted you, you’re a fucking incel.” You scoffed out, to which Leon got offended. “So?! What’s wrong with that?!” He shouted, the tips of his ears turning pink. It was different being scolded by a woman in person rather than over the phone because  he knows they can't hurt him physically but rather verbally. Plus it’s much easier to insult someone online versus real life.

“Do you actually hear the words leaving your mouth?” You questioned, staring him down intensely. Leon tried not to shrink in on himself, it reminded him of his mom telling him that he had done something wrong and now he was in trouble. So he doubled down and sat up straighter too, staring up at you. 

“Yeah, and what about it? Why do women get so butthurt over every little thing?” Leon grunted out, rolling his eyes like a little kid would. You were just astonished that he was willing to keep going even after being confronted with the fact, but you weren’t oblivious to the way his ears were turning red from embarrassment. “Fine, if that’s how you’re gonna be.” You murmured as you sat down on the coffee table right in front of him. His eyes follow your form curiously. If he was being honest the only reason why he actually moved in with you was because he thought you were really hot from your profile picture and even the photo you sent of yourself to prove that you were real, per his request. He jerked off to both photos for hours. (Plus his mom really did kick him out.)

Leon went to question you in hopes of turning the table around to make it backfire on you. Yet as his mouth opened to make another snide remark about women you spoke up first. “Let me be the first one to tell you this, and I mean this too.” You paused as you stared right into his eyes. “No woman is ever gonna have sex with you if you have this mentality and mindset.” You watched his eyes widen a bit and felt some joy come from it.

Leon balled his hands up into fists in genuine anger, a deep part of himself knew she wasn’t lying but the other part was so adamant on her being wrong. Obviously she didn’t know what she was talking about, women never do. “You’re a liar. You’re just jealous.” He scoffed out, narrowing his eyes into thin slits.

You were absolutely not lying.

Far from it actually.

The closest Leon had came to a pussy is on a computer screen, let’s face it. No woman on earth would wanna sleep with such scum such as him, not even prostitutes themselves want to take on such a tedious task. They’d rather kill themselves or have their pimp abuse them than sleep with him.

“Really, name 5 women you’ve had touch you in a romantic way.” You countered, staring into his eyes with an intense expression. Leon opened his mouth to try and smugly name a woman until he realized the answer was 0, he had no names because no one wanted him like that.

It was a blow to his ego and it showed on his face. If he wasn’t such a loser with terrible opinions along with his shitty personality then you would’ve felt bad but you didn’t. It was his own fault.

“That’s not fair.” He grumbled, staring up at you with a slight hurt look on his face. He wanted to get back at you. Make you regret and eat your words. How? Well that problem was quickly answered as he grabbed your wrist and pinned you beneath him on the couch. A yelp leaving your mouth at the sudden movements.

“What the—“ You were suddenly cut off by Leon’s hand slapping over your mouth, he smelled of cum and sweat, it made you wanna gag and throw up on him. “I bet I can make you cum so hard you’ll forget that you were mean to me.” He hissed, his fragile ego was broken because of you!

You furrowed your eyebrows before rolling your eyes. “Whatever.” You said underneath his palm, voice coming out muffled.

Leon smirked and moved his hand off your mouth, gazing lustfully at your body. He seemed confident but on the inside he was screaming at himself. He’s never touched or seen a woman in such an intimate manner in real life. This wasn’t a screen this time.

He gulped and hooked his fingers on the waistband of your sweatpants, he was determined to make you cum if it was the last thing he ever did.

Once he removed your sweatpants he found you commando beneath it. His breath caught in his throat, your mound was glistening beneath the light in the living room. It wasn’t even wet because of him, but he was dumb enough to not know the difference. He stared in awe before looking back up at your face when you cleared your throat awkwardly. “You gonna stare or what?” You questioned.

Leon shook his head before putting his hands on you, gently rubbing your inner thighs. Making you think that for a brief moment he might actually know what he was doing, right up until he pressed his thumb against your lower lips and started rubbing them.

Completely missing your clit.

He felt so aroused and a bit cocky now that he was touching your pussy, his eyes laser focused on your face to see if it was feeling good. He even tried dirty talk too. “Yeah? Does that feel good? I bet it does.” Literally hyping himself up.

You found it hilarious and decided to nod, stifling a laugh as you let out a fake over exaggerated moan he hears in his crappy pornos. Leon let out a soft groan at the sound, his hips bucking up into the air while his cock twitched.

Now, Leon had seen enough porn to know that he needed a condom and lube, obviously they never showed the actors prepping the girls' pretty cunts, they just stuck it in. Spoiler alert, foreplay is hot! None is not.

While Leon ran to his room you took the opportunity to finger yourself, even if you were sure he wasn’t packing much you wanted to be somewhat prepared for a small stretch, you groaned silently, throwing your head back in pleasure, clearly favoring your hand over Leon himself.

When you heard his footsteps you quickly pulled your hand away and watched as he excitedly took his pants off. Wow, so much for knowing how to pleasure a woman. It was funny to watch him struggle to keep it together when he kneeled back between your legs.

“I’m gonna put it in now.” Leon announced, squirting a generous amount of lube on your cunt before (attempting to) rolling on the condom. (You definitely had to help him. The last thing you wanted was to get knocked up by some dimwit.)

He put some lube on his cock, jerking off a bit while looking down at your pussy. Not your face. When he stopped masturbating he slapped the tip of his dick against your clit a few times, your body jolting in pleasure at the sudden sensation.

This immediately boosted his ego and you were in awe he was able to make you feel partially good. He was just daydreaming of how tight and warm your hole was going to feel. His dick wasn’t that big either, it was average length, average size, average balls. Just.. underwhelming and average.

“What’re you waiting for?” You murmured, snapping him out his trance briefly before he cleared his throat. “J-Just trying to brace you for my cock, it’s big right?” Leon questioned, feeling a bit insecure but he wanted you to make him feel better, feel like a man. That was a woman’s purpose after all.

“Yes (no).” You sighed out breathily, keeping up your act, dragging your nails down his body gently, causing him to shudder and nod with a smug look on his face. He pushed himself in fairly easily, considering your ex-boyfriends cock was much bigger and overwhelming, accidentally clenching down around Leon’s sad excuse of a penis which riled him up, thinking you had came.

You definitely missed his dick and now was stuck with some crappy one attached to a misogynistic freak. A soft sound of discomfort left your lips and Leon took it as a sign that you were enjoying it. You must love it! He was so confident in himself!

So confident that after 5-6 thrusts he spilled inside the condom, talk about a minute man. He was a millisecond man. His whole body spasmed from euphoric bliss, he had never cum this hard in his life before, burying his face in your neck, sloppily kissing at your skin because he couldn’t kiss for the life of him.

You were stunned someone could cum so quickly, that had to be a world record or something. Quickest man to cum after sticking it in or some random ass title, you hadn’t realized you had zoned out about the Guinness record book until Leon pulled his cock out from inside you, feeling good about himself.

He was panting softly from the intensity of his orgasm, leaning back against the couch to gaze at your pretty pussy, he wanted to eat you out too, wanting to show you he was good orally too.

“Was it good? Did you cum too?” Leon said as he stared into your eyes, wanting to hear you sing his praises and take back your harsh words that hurt his feelings. Almost like a puppy waiting for its owner to praise them for pissing outside the house instead of inside.

You grabbed your clothes and put them back on, smirking as you stared him dead in the eye. “No, I didn’t cum.” You snickered as his face dropped, kissing his forehead quickly. “Sucks to suck, Leon.” You said casually, getting up to go to your room and nap.

Leon sat on the couch stunned beyond relief, his cock kicking against his thigh as he watched you.

He swore under his breath that you were lying and you did cum, after all, delusion is key, and delusion is what made him become your roommate to begin with.

[weirdozjunkary]

While I can’t force myself to draw (and I don’t have many ideas at the moment.) I do wanna share a few ideas for the Sonic Mecha AU that I’ve had floating around in my head for a while.

The AU is still mostly inspired by SGRB, but I’ve been wanting to stray from that show a bit more, just for more ideas. Still unsure about a lot of things, but I have a pretty good idea for the most part.

S0N1C is a 20(ish) foot robot created by MilesElectric to help deal with the ever growing problem that is Dr. Robotnik and his various machines. He has a fully conscious and adaptive AI system, allowing him to adapt on the fly, and also just be an overall nice dude.

Having to deal with other machines, he’s gifted with an incredibly powerful core, as well as superspeed. While this does help defeat near any obstacle in his way, it also makes him require almost constant stimulation. If not, he will find ways to stimulate himself, often being annoying to those around him. Usually he just runs around to alleviate it.

Unfortunately, one day, his overeagerness and hyperactivity caused him to do a dangerously stupid stunt and attempt to go as fast as he possible, causing him to somehow travel near 10 years in the future.

Miles ‘Tails’ Prower, owner of MilesElectric, both designed and built Sonic from the ground up. Though he’s technically a dad of sorts to him, Sonic views him more of a ‘younger’ brother (mostly due to how small he is compared to him.) Being the kid genius, he usually stays behind the console and help guide along the mission. He does help on the feild from time to time.

Knuckles the Echidna has acted more of a role model/brother figure in Tails’ life. Aside from schooling, he has physically trained him, so he could hold his own in a fight. Outwardly he seems kinda hostile, but he’s actually a big sweetheart deep down. During action, he’s there to also help guide in the missions, as well as talk sense into the group. He actually was the person to suggest creating another robot in order to keep Dr. Robotnik and his robots at bay.

SH4D0W is a 20(ish) foot robot created by G. U. N. in order to manage Dr. Robotnik. While he has similar attributes in not only physical appearance as well as overall design, he has some drastic changes. Aside from his darkened and more threatening colour scheme, he is a no nonsense brute who gets the job done, he almost never acts like his own person, despite having the capabilities to do so. He has a job, and he wants to stick with it, it’s only when S0N1C comes back when he finally starts to loosen up.

As well, his speed and strength is limited in order to not let another mishap happen again. His speed is capped at around Mach 1, though he usually stays slower, especially in towns and cities. He doesn’t care that he can’t go faster. Though his ego does get bruised a bit when Sonic goes faster than him. Being made from G. U. N, most of what went into creating him has been kept a secret, Tails is the only one outside of G. U. N. with access to his blueprints, and even then, a lot is redacted. Still, it doesn’t hinder repairs or anything on the field.

[dr1lldash]

venture x medic!reader 1.4k, pure fluff (pls note i have not written in years and wrote this in like an hour bc i cannot stop thinking about them)

You met Sloan on a dig in Cairo. You were a medic, which was a relatively easy job with the Wayfinders. The dozen or so crew members were usually careful, the keyword being usually.

You were sitting in your tent, triple checking your supplies when you heard footsteps rapidly approaching. You barely had time to turn to the tent flap when it was whipped open.

“I’m fine, I swear!” someone protests as they’re pushed inside. “It’s just a little bump on the noggin!”

“Sloan, you passed out for almost a minute. You can come back as soon as (Y/N) gives you the all-clear, but not until then. If it’s really just a little bump, you’ll be back before the end of the day.” You recognize Carrie’s voice, but not the person she’s talking to.

“This stinks,” they mutter, kicking at the ground before looking up at you. You only had a moment to look closer at them, noticing a bruise forming on their forehead underneath a mop of curly, dark brown hair. One of their thick eyebrows is pierced, and it was slightly swollen. They look back at you for a second, unblinking, before wiping some dirt off of their face. “Uh, hi! I’m Sloan.” They stuck a hand out at you.

You look at their hand, covered in dirt, but shake it anyway. “(Y/N),” you respond. “Are you hurt?”

“No!” they insist. “I mean, I fell a little bit. But not that far! My head barely even hurts!” Your eyebrows narrow slightly in worry. You reach out and touch their forehead, barely brushing up against it, and they wince and pull back.

“This doesn’t look good,” you tell them. “Can you sit for a minute?” Sloan does as you say, almost onto the cot behind them. You turn around to grab an ice pack and some painkillers, and they look around the tent.

“It’s pretty nice in here,” they say, more thinking out loud than talking to you. “It gets so hot outside.”

“I can’t imagine that coat keeps you cool,” you respond, handing them some pills and a bottle of water. You hold the ice pack to their forehead. They wince again, but don’t pull away this time.

“No, but I’m not really outside that much. Once you’re a few meters in the dirt, it gets freezing.” They pop the pills into their mouth and swallow them with a swig of water. “Can I go back now?”

“I need to make sure you’re not concussed.” They pout slightly, letting out a sigh. “It won’t take long, I swear.”

“Okay, okay,” they concede. You ask them about symptoms, and they tell you that they’re not nauseous, lightheaded, or tired, but their head is pounding a little bit, which is to be expected from the size of the bruise that is slowly but surely still forming. Their loss of consciousness concerns you, and you have them lay down for a minute.

  “Did you eat breakfast?”

“I had a granola bar.” They pause. “Well, it was a cereal bar, technically, but it’s the same thing, right?”

“Uh, not really, but at least you got food in your stomach.” You check in your cabinet, and pull out a bag of beef jerky. “Can you eat?”

“Ooh, yeah!” They happily take the bag from you, and start munching. “Do you always have snacks in here?”

“Of course, you’d be surprised how many people don’t notice they’re hungry til they’re about to pass out.” The two of you chat about different things while they work through the bag, and when they’re done, they finish their bottle of water.

“So, am I okay to get back now?” You check the time on your watch, about an hour has passed since they came into your tent and they still seem fine.

“Yeah, but come back if you feel nauseous or anything, okay?”

“Uh-huh!” They swing themselves around so their legs are dangling off the cot before dropping to the ground. “I swear.”

“Alright.” You smile at them. “Be safe.”

They flash you a chipped-tooth grin back. “I always am! Well, usually. Bye!” They wave at you as they walk out of your tent.

You don’t see them for the rest of the day, so you assume they’re fine. The next day, however, they’re back in your tent as the sun is setting.

“Sloan, are you okay?” You’re worried as soon as they enter, but they flash you that grin again.

“Yeah, I just thought you’d miss me.” You can’t help but smile at them. “Plus, the bruise is kind of killing me. Can I have some painkillers?” You glance at their forehead, and their bruise is turning a deep purple. It’s normal, it should be expected, but it doesn’t look comfortable, especially with their goggles pressing on it.

“Of course, but you shouldn’t take them on an empty stomach.”

You turn to grab painkillers and a granola bar for them, but before you can, they ask, “So we should grab dinner?” You’re not sure why you’re slightly surprised, but you agree. So you can make sure they’re not having any concussion symptoms, of course.

“Yeah, that sounds great.” You beam at them. You hand them the painkillers and the two of you walk out of your tent, towards the bonfire next to where the kitchen staff have set up. You tell them to sit as you grab plates full of food for the both of you, and by the time you get back to them, they’re twiddling their thumbs and watching the fire.

“Thank you!” They grin up at you as you hand them their plate, quickly digging in. They bounce their leg ever so slightly as they eat, leaving the two of you in a comfortable silence. You can hear the conversations of the rest of the crew around you, more murmurs than anything else. When the two of you are done eating, Sloan takes your plates back to the kitchen staff to be washed. You sit, looking at the slowly dying fire, and you’re slightly surprised when they come back to sit with you.

“Do you like ice cream?” You’re not sure what you expected to come out of their mouth, but it isn’t that. “I asked the kitchen staff to keep some safe for me, and I wanna share. I-if you want it, of course.”

The heat in Cairo has been getting to you the past several days, and even though the night was cold, the heat from the bonfire leaves you sweating. “That sounds perfect right now.” They stand up, holding a hand out to you.

“Follow me!” You take their hand, following them as they practically run to the kitchen staff’s trailer. You’ve been inside a few times, only to restock on water and snack foods, but Sloan seems to know where everything is. They grab bowls and spoons before dishing out a generous serving of vanilla ice cream. “I would usually bring a couple flavors, but they told me they didn’t have room this time.”

Sloan hands one of the bowls to you, digging into their own as soon as their hand is free. “Ugh, this is so good,” they practically moan. You take a spoonful, letting the cream melt in your mouth before swallowing it.

“I honestly can’t remember the last time I had plain vanilla.”

“What? But it’s the best flavor!”

You shake your head. “Strawberry.”

They tilt their head from side to side like a see-saw. “Hm, okay, I’ll concede to strawberry. Rocky road, too.”

“It’s been years since I had rocky road.”

“I’ll get you some once we’re done with the expedition.” They freeze as they bring their spoon up to their mouth. “I mean, if you want to. And if you can. I don’t want to assume -”

You interrupt them. “That sounds great, Sloan.” They continue eating their ice cream, a content smile on their face as a soft blush spreads on their cheeks.

“It’s a date,” they mutter. You’re not sure if you were supposed to hear it, but you’re glad you did. Once the two of you finish your ice cream, they clean the bowls and spoons and put them away.

They take you back to your tent, the two of you being as quiet as possible. You’re not sure how much time had passed, but it seems like everyone else had already gone to bed. They grab your hand and squeeze it for just a second, smiling warmly as they wish you goodnight.

When you crawl into your sleeping bag, there’s a smile that won’t fade and a warm feeling in your stomach.

[skzdust]

Room 514

Part 3

Sorry this part took so long! I finally had a ton of time to write this morning and I'm getting a lot done! I hope you guys all enjoy it!

Summary: You’re moving into a new suite halfway through your sophomore year at Stay University, populated by three guys: Jisung, Changbin, and Bang Chan. You meet their friends and quickly become a part of their group, but you find yourself wanting more with Jisung…

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Includes: sleepy reader, sleepy Jisung, shirtless Jisung, shopping, Jisung being a gentleman

Word count: 1.5k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Part 1 | Part 2

Masterlist

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You blinked your eyes open as a beam of sunlight fell over your face.

Apparently, you’d fallen asleep in the living room. You didn’t remember putting a pillow next to Jisung and curling up with your head against it, nor did you remember Jisung going to get another blanket, but he must have at some point. You were still under the fluffy throw he’d brought out when you’d first started The Immortal and the Restless, and you could see a blue quilt out of the corner of your eye.

You carefully sat up, trying not to disturb Jisung. He was in the same fetal position you’d woken up in, with his head on top of the pillow instead of against it. His quilt was draped over him, and you could see the corner of the fabric scrunched in one of his hands. The morning light made his hair seem to glitter as the air from the ceiling vent gently played with it, and his face was serene and unguarded.

He rubbed one of his eyes as you stood up from the couch. You held your breath as he stretched. The blanket slid off his side as he unfolded his legs, and your eyes widened as his back arched.

He opened his eyes with a sleepy smile, and you made your expression as normal as possible.

He scrunched up his nose. “What’s wrong? You’re making a weird face.”

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m making a normal face.”

“Mhm.” He smiled again, closing his eyes and letting his head fall sideways onto the pillow. “Normal face.” He ran one of his hands through his hair.

You fought the urge to also run a hand through his hair. “How many episodes in did we get last night?”

He shrugged, eyes still shut. “Dunno. I think I turned it off after three, but they’re each an hour long and I was mostly asleep by the third one.”

“Yeah.” You yawned. “I only really remember the first half of the second one.”

“It’s okay. We can rewatch. No rush.”

“I liked what I remember.”

His smile grew a little bigger. “Good, glad to hear that. It’s one of my favorites.”

You looked at him for a moment longer. His eyes were still closed, and he looked so relaxed, more relaxed than you’d ever seen him.

He opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows, and your cheeks reddened.

“Staring? I know, I know, I’m gorgeous, you just can’t take your eyes off me.”

“That’s not it, I… you’re… ugh.”

He laughed softly. “Just kidding.” He stretched again and sat up. “I am gonna take a shower, though. Maybe we could do something after, if you don’t have calculus to do?”

You did your best not to imagine Jisung in the shower and waved a hand, dismissing both your thoughts and Jisung’s concern. “Calculus isn’t due until Tuesday. It’s Sunday. Plenty of time.”

“Okay, well, I’ll meet you out here in a few minutes and we’ll figure out somewhere to go.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

You went back to your room and sat on your bed, staring forward.

Did that really just happen?

You got changed and did your morning hygiene, changing your outfit a couple of times before deeming it good enough. You went back out to the living room and sat down on the couch, scrolling on your phone for a minute.

A staticky noise stopped, and you realized Jisung was still in the bathroom. He must’ve just turned off the shower.

A minute later, the bathroom door opened.

Jisung’s hair was wet, wearing a towel draped around his remarkably hot waist and… nothing else.

You looked down, hoping he wouldn’t notice you.

“I’ll be ready in a minute.” Jisung smiled at you as you looked at him.

You focused on keeping your eyes on his face and not his body, smiling back. “Cool.”

As Jisung disappeared into his room, you took a deep breath.

His body is perfect, too. That’s really not fair.

He walked out a minute later in a jeans and a green hoodie layered under a leather jacket. “Anything you’d like to do?”

You shrugged. “Nothing’s coming to mind except shopping, but I’m kinda broke right now, so I dunno about that.”

“We can try stuff on, though!” Jisung tossed his car keys from one hand to the other. “Come on, I’ll drive us to the mall.”

“Okay, I can try stuff on.”

Jisung beamed. “Perfect.”

The mall wasn’t particularly close, but it was a pleasant drive. You chatted the whole way, and Jisung was a good driver, unlike many of your friends—your old friends, you reminded yourself. Strangely, thinking of them didn’t hurt when you were with Jisung.

You parked and got out of the car, Jisung running around the front and opening your door for you.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” His smile was like sunshine as he shut the door behind you and locked the car.

You walked into the mall, and he took your hand, guiding you towards a store with a few cute tops in the window. “Ooh, these are cool!”

You walked in and found one of the tops in your size, a light green bustier with ruching across the front and cap sleeves. “Isn’t this one cute?”

“Very cute.” Jisung agreed. “You should try it on!” “I think I will.” You nodded and walked off in search of a dressing room.

You put on the top, struggling with it a bit before realizing there was a side zipper. It looked great on you, fitting like a glove.

You pulled back the curtain and walked out. “Jisung?”

“Here!”

You walked out to the sitting area outside the dressing rooms, doing a little twirl for him.

He smiled, watching you. “Beautiful, you look… amazing.”

“Aw, thank you.” You did a little curtsey, immediately realizing it made no sense since you weren’t wearing a skirt and the top wasn’t that fancy. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Jisung laughed. “It was cute. How much is the top?”

You tried not to think too hard about Jisung calling you cute and looked at the price tag, doing a double take. “Wow, 85 dollars.”

“Damn.” Jisung’s lips twisted. “It looks good, though. Do you want me to get it for you?”

“No, I couldn’t let you do that.” You waved off his offer. “I’d feel bad.”

“I want to, though!”

“I’d feel guilty, though!” You mirrored his language.

Jisung sighed. “Go change back, and we can keep looking, there was this sweater vest with an apple on the front that I really liked.”

“Why don’t you try it on? You’d probably eat it up.”

“I would.” Jisung preened. “Maybe I will.”

You walked back into the dressing room and put your T-shirt back on, carefully adjusting the top on its hanger and walking back out to Jisung. You hung it up on the return rack. “Where’s the sweater vest?”

“Over here.” He stood up, and you followed him to the sweater vests.

“It’s cropped! Cute.” You took it off the rack, feeling the material between your fingers. “Oh, it’s soft, too.”

“Perfect.” Jisung pulled out the vest in his size, and you went back to the dressing rooms. He pranced out a moment later with the sweater vest on.

The crop exposed the bottom part of his abs, and his arms were muscular. The combination of the light green of the trim, the red of the apple, and the cream background looked great on him.

You were reminded of earlier in the morning, when you’d seen him shirtless, and you could feel yourself go red.

“It looks great!”

“Everything okay? You look a little flushed.” Jisung looked concerned.

“Yeah.” You laughed. “All good, just a bit hot.”

“Yeah, it is warm in here.” Jisung nodded, and you exhaled, a little bit relieved. “But you like it?”

“I love it.” You said sincerely.

“Maybe I’ll get it.” He pulled at the hem. “It’s a little tight, but I want it a little tight. I like to wear either oversized stuff or tight stuff. No in between.”

“It’s a good style on you.” Both of those options are really hot.

“Okay, I’m gonna change out of this, if you want to look around a little more, I’ll find you.”

You stood up. “Okay, perfect.”

You walked over to one of the racks, looking at a pink satin top with a large bow across the front. It was cute, not quite your style, but very cute. You walked through the store, but nothing else caught your eye the way the green top had.

Someone tapped you on the shoulder, and you whirled you around, startled.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Jisung smiled, holding out a bag.

“Hm?”

“Look inside.”

You did so. Inside was your green top, a receipt stuffed on top of it.

You looked back up at him. “You did not.”

He gave you a mischievous smile. “I did.”

“Jisung! I told you it’d make me feel guilty!”

“Don’t feel guilty! I did it because I wanted to! It looks like it was made for you.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, taking the bag. “Thank you. I’ll wear it, I promise.”

“You definitely need to. I also got that sweater vest, which has green trim, so we can kinda match!”

“Perfect!”

“Perfect.” Jisung beamed.

[gay-dorito-dust]

The raven came for Jace, bringing unfortunate news within the form of a small scroll that kept itself sealed shut by a bit of string.

The look that Lord Cregan Stark made his stomach drop, he didn’t need to for it to be vocalised that the raven had brought news many would find hard to stomach, so without an ounce of hesitation Jace found himself flying home to Dragonstone; fighting back the tears that threaten to blur his vision.

His brother was dead and he was too far out of reach to help him, and even if he did attempt to fly on dragon back and into Storm’s end, Jacaerys fears that he wouldn’t have gotten there quick enough for his liking in order to save Luke.

However thar didn’t stop the thoughts within his head that told him that he was failure of an older brother for not protecting Luke better when he should’ve. There were even minor thoughts that his own mother -the rightful queen- would blame him in a fit of grief and anger, that everyone back home would point the blame at him for living while his brother did not.

Jace even caught himself thinking what if you too blamed him? Condemn him for breathing the air that Luke now could not? His brother and Arrax’s remains were found in Shipwreck Bay but even with that in mind it was impossible to comprehend that his brother, someone he saw not too long ago alive and well, was now pronounced dead alongside his dragon with evidence to prove it.

Did you blame him? Jace wondered as Dragonstone came into view, his blood having been frozen solid the moment the news struck him in the chest, he could barely feel anything besides the aching pain where his heart resided and the urge to scream and shout the unbearably hurt he felt out of his body for good.

The rest of the day Jace has never felt more like a spectator in his own body as he watched himself walk through Dragonstone and stopping short when he caught sight of you near the fireplace, reading the same letter that he had moments ago and covering your hand over your mouth to muffle your own cries of pain over the loss. You loved Luke as though he was your own little brother and it hurt Jace just as much to see you in pain and suffering, unable to bring you comfort whilst dealing with his own grief and loss of his brother.

‘Jace?’ Your voice called out in the near empty room, broken but relived at seeing him alive after worrying yourself half to death over the idea that Aemond might’ve tried killing him too.

‘I’m-‘ Jace could barely speak a single word without his voice cracking under the grief he’s tried suppressing the entire flight home. ‘I’m-‘

You walked towards him slightly, opening your arms towards him in a sign that you wished to comfort him, Jace was quick to accept your offer with teary eyes and slam himself into your arms as he clung to you for dear life. The pain growing too much for him to deal with alone, rendering him afraid that it might break him should he try to upkeep his duty as prince, rather than feel his grief like he should.

‘It’s my fault.’ He cried into your shoulder as his fingers dug into you as though he was scared that you’d also leave him.

‘It’s not.’ You told him softly, rubbing his back soothingly as tears streamed down your cheeks silently. ‘It’s not your fault, we both know who’s at fault; Aemond.’ You reminded him as your hatred towards Aemond grew, you wondered whether the bastard even had a human heart to even feel an ounce of remorse for his crime, you prayed to the old gods and the new that they’d condemn him to a fate worse then death.

After all you’ve heard that Cannibal and Grey Ghost were still very much unclaimed and somewhere on Dragonstone.

Jace gripped you tighter as he cried the last of his tears into your shoulder, soaking the fabric but you didn’t care, all that mattered to you was bringing Jace off of the ledge he was hanging off of within his mind. ‘I can’t believe-‘ Jace couldn’t even finish his sentence without another wave of tears streaming down his face.

You pressed a kiss to his head as you held him close to your chest as possible, staring into the fires blankly. ‘It’ll be made right soon Jace, the greens will pay back tenfold by fire and blood I’ll make sure of it.’ You promised him, you might not have a dragon but soon enough you’ll will and when you do, the greens will witness your wrath firsthand.