#Other designs will be coming soon ( ish ) ^^
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( 2/8 designs done! )
Welcome to my funny lil au! More details to come, but for now the short of it is:
A TV set and it's props were left out in the woods- and nature has taken it's course. But, eventually our neighbors woke up again and continued living on as usual! After all even without you there's still a neighborhood here ^^
( Welcome to the Grove! )
Sally + Julie !
#welcome home#welcome grove#welcome home wally#welcome home home#welcome home frank#frank frankly#wally darling#Other designs will be coming soon ( ish ) ^^#Then maybe some lore#maybeb#welcome home au#byte's bites
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Aggravating
Dad Bod!Miguel x Spider-Woman!Reader
TW/CW: Smut. Smut in general. NSFW, PIV sex, office sex, teeth, hints at venom useage, a bit of pining(?) feelings! Body hair! Soft tummy Miguel! Dom(ish)!Miguel, a bit of bullying
MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME
A/N: Blame @cupcakeinat0r for this. I really needed the distraction and our conversation is helping me a bit getting the creative among other things juices flowing!
Taglist: @tojishugetiddies
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You had been... less than covert about the way you ogled your boss. On one hand, your Spidey mask was useful for hiding your eyes and face away from somebody's view; on the other hand, Miguel just somehow knew you were staring at him.
And... yeah. At first you were crushing on him, a young, single fresh-faced Spidey welcomed into a bigger picture suddenly comes face to face with the body of a Greek god. He swooped in to save you from a variant of Kraven before he could make a possibly fatal swipe.
After that, he admitted that he'd had an eye on you, such a promising candidate who just needed the right amount of guidance.
(The fact he has that gorgeous jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass plus those jaw-dropping eyes of his certainly helped you make your decision too.)
But you had been too much of a wimp to ever fess up, instead settling for pining in silence, throwing the occasional stare his way at his perfectly globed ass. (Seriously, did he purposefully design his suit to accentuate his ass or what?)
But the plain, flat-out ogling didn't begin until he began to gain more weight. Realizing his stress didn't have to be solely on his own shoulders, Miguel began to relax. He began to eat more, sleep more. Or, well, as much as a normal person should be eating and sleeping. You surmised he was likely dehydrated a lot, too...
Because once he picked up a steady diet (of what you didn't know, maybe he was a secret chef in the kitchen in addition to having the multiverse's greatest brain?) he began to look... healthier.
He gained weight, his formerly slim and perfectly cut abs and waistline began to fatten out, gain a delicious softness you wished to just lay your head over, or perhaps snuggle and squeeze.
Peter B made a joke to Miguel about comparing "dad bods" and god, when Miguel indulged him (mostly just to get him to leave him alone) he used his tech to have the top half of his suit vanish in rainbowy spiderweb-like patterns until he was naked from the waist up.
And... fuck. Your legs went weak at the sight of him.
Dark wisps of hair across his chest, spreading down his soft, plush-looking midsection to disappear beneath the waistline of his pants.
Even with that soft belly, Miguel looked built like a shitbrick house. Peter B had pouted, knowing he'd lost his little game before sauntering away, bragging about something along the lines of "well at least I have the prettiest baby mama in the whole multiverse!". Good for him, you had thought.
But very quickly as your eyes greedily raked up his frame, you realized he had been staring right back at you.
You very quickly rattled off some excuse and dropped off your report on your most recent mission, yanked your mask back down your face and scurried out of there.
Though you'd be lying if you didn't immediately shove your hand down your pants once you got home, playing with yourself at the mere thought of being pressed up against Miguel's soft-yet-imposing frame; feeling his dick (oh you just knew he was packing a monster, down there) stuff you full and stretch you out, the coarse dark haira brushing your clit with every slam of his hips.
You went to sleep thinking this was merely some kind of office crush, trying to force down the thoughts you had of your boss.
Little did you know, he often stole his own glances at you.
He needed to find a way to solve your little problems, soon.
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"This is what you wanted, isn't it, princesa?" Miguel grunted, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass sinfully loud in his dark office.
Your body was perfectly illuminated by the dim orange lights on his monitors; every curve, dip and deliciously squeezable part of your jiggling ass as he fucked you.
The sounds your pussy made as you swallowed him deep were the most lewd you ever could have imagined yourself making, especially the little sounds coming from those pretty lips of yours.
Your suit has been torn right between your legs, freeing your soaked, swollen folds to his lascivious gaze before he had crammed two heavy fingers into your needy cunt.
Your tits squished against his desktop, and a whimper comes from you when he settles over you, the weight of his body pressing tighter down around you.
You could feel the soft flesh of his belly mold around your back, almost like a hug. Almost like how he had your head trapped in a headlock as he bullied his cock into you and stuffed you full of him.
Your brain was so set on your one-track focus of how good it felt to just have him fuck you, to use you, that you barely registered a word he said.
Having his warmth surround you and fill you had effectively rendered you dumb.
You choked slightly when you heard him hiss in your ear, his sharp fangs grazing the soft skin; he squeezed his arm a bit around your neck and that's what knocked you back into reality.
You were here. In his office, bent over and having your guts reorganized by a man you had been pining for for months.
The pent up sexual tension had finally exploded when he confessed his own interest in you, and he met you halfway with a kiss that was all tongue and need; loud and messy.
Like how he was bullying his cock into your tight little hole.
"My dick that good, bebé?" He panted, leaning back away from you to grip your hips in his meaty palms, squeezing your soft flesh as he stared, almost mesmerized at the creamy ring at the base of his cock as it disappeared into your dripping wet pussy.
Already on the floor between you was a small puddle of your slick.
"So good that I fucked you stupid after just a couple thrusts?" He said, his voice gravelly as he tried to keep it even, to betray the fact he wanted to just rut into you like a mad animal.
All you could do in reply was whine, a breathy sound that was almost a squeak as you mourned the loss of his soft body surrounding you.
The sound of him relentlessly fucking you cunt was abruptly halted and he let out a shaky breath, staring down at you. "I swear... did I nick you with my fangs? Shit... Maybe we should stop--"
"N-no!" You moaned out, desperately trying to roll yourself back against him in his grip. "Please, don't! I just--I just need more!"
Miguel grinned as you flattened your hands on the table, desperately trying to fuck yourself onto his cock but getting nowhere.
"Ahhh there's my good girl. Doing so good f'me." He purred, leaning back over you once again, his arms caging around you, encasing you in his wonderfully soft warmth, the hair on his body tickling your skin.
His lips traced the shell of your ear, his hot breath ghosting over your sweaty skin;
"Wanna watch you take my cock all day. Gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight for a month--"
You made a long, loud mewl as he snapped his hips in suddenly, bottoming out so hard you felt him smash into your cervix; almost making you pass out from the force of it alone.
"This is what you wanted, sweetheart. Jus' giving it all t'you." He groaned, his eyes rolling back into his skull as he began relentlessly pounding into you once again.
#miguel o'hara#miguel smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara smut#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara atsv#miguel spiderman#spiderman 2099
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i based chloe off of an angora rabbit which are very fluffy and prestigious and with a rich girl like chloe i know she'd enjoy fur.
also feat the old duchess noir look and her peacock look that i had shown ages ago but never fully drawn up
of course i also had to include all the rabbits ive made together
i'd say rabbit are the miraculous are the most like opposite to the core of who chloe is [theres one more miraculous thats even more opposing to her but i havent finished ironing out that design for her]
with the rabbit miraculous she has to witness over and over again, she's not the main character. She's not the important one, she'll never be ladybug or be as iconic as ladybug.
That Adrien is not just her childhood friend and beloved prince but is chat noir, that dupain cheng of all people is the ladybug she's respected. Maybe she should have seen it coming. Something karmic always had to happen to her of all people!
That to be confronted with the past of her showing in the burrows of all her own causing of akumitizations that she also could see snippets of others talking poorly of her-
Is this really her legacy she wants?
She knew she was more stand off-ish and prioritized herself but truly no one actually likes her or tolerates her or finds any admirable quality in her- even Sabrina gets upset with her.
She can't even go back and fix it, sure her power could allow for that but I think if it happened it'd create bigger butterfly events that'd shed need to go back and correct even if she didn't want to. That if she really wants to keep a miraculous this time... she can't mess it up.
Of course I wanted Chloe draped in furs to mimic how fluffy an angora rabbit is and how their wool can actually be used in fashion as an expensive and more niche fur.
Her 'shorts' on the bodysuit [its just a design of it not actual shorts] to reference back to her beta design which i found was very cute
I decided her top to reference her Queen Bee outfit - In this I would place Chloe as another [accidental] holder of the rabbit very soon after her time as queen bee ended. She's desperate to get back out there, be a team member, to be fighting by her idol ladybug and getting to be a hero. Before the whole regression arc started in miraculous ladybug
even in the queen bee concept art taking the hat again to attach ears to.
she was very close to keeping her signature ponytail but the fluffed out hair is much more close to the image of a fluffy rabbit i wanted to keep
#miraculous ladybug#kwami swap#ml chloe#chloe bourgeois#marinette dupain cheng#alya cesaire#alix kubdel#nathaniel kurtzberg#rose lavillant
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every time you walk into the room (i’m speechless)
| leah williamson x reader
| fluff
| 1.9k
| inspo: speechless by dan + shay
| a/n: another req let's go! this one's been in the ask box for minute and it finally made it past the outline stage! twas a fun one to write! s/o to this anon for the req! i hope i did it justice! this is the outfit inspo for leah btw!
~~~
You loved your girlfriend, you really did, but sometimes moments like these really tested your patience. She sometimes really tested your patience.
“Leah, love, for the sake of football, any chance that we could head out before the world cup starts?” You shouted up the stairs, hoping the other girl could hear you clearly.
The two of you had been invited out with the team, just a nice little get together to celebrate the end of the season before everyone parted ways to prepare with their individual national teams. It wasn’t much really, just a dinner that had the possibility of migrating to a bar or club, but nothing outwardly crazy.
You and Leah had started getting ready a while ago, you getting dressed much earlier due to Leah wanting to kick you out of your shared closet and room, something about a surprise and a kiss promising she wouldn’t be too long distracting you from complaining.
So here you were, sitting at your kitchen island for the past forty-ish minutes or so, resignedly waiting for the blonde to finally come down. Some time between the doom-scroll of Instagram and then TikTok, your mind had been severely sidetracked, the sweet aroma of your girlfriend’s favourite perfume floating down the stairs, overwhelming your sense in the best way possible, and for a while you hadn’t minded how long she was taking.
Now though? A little under half-an-hour away from the designated time for the dinner, you were beginning to worry whether you’d make it on time, well aware that London traffic and parking would be a pain to navigate.
Getting no response from earlier, you tried once more, leniency wearing thin.
Hand running across your face in a vain effort to relax, careful not to mess up your hair, you called out a bit gentler this time. “Leah we gotta leave soon otherwise we’re gonna be late!”
This time you got lucky, the frenzied voice of the defender carrying through the hallway and down the stairs.
“I’ll be down in five! Almost done, I swear…just got my hair left!”
Quietly groaning to yourself, you threw your head back, aware that five minutes weren’t going to be just five minutes.
“I heard that!”
“And yet you didn’t hear my first call! Love you too babe!”
Shaking your head and taking a deep breath, you fiddled with your keys in front of you, getting antsy with every minute that passed.
All you really wanted to do was see your girlfriend dressed up, admire her, and head out to enjoy your night with your teammates turned friends, something you were immensely excited for and therefore eager to attend to. All this waiting wasn’t doing you any good, the restlessness taking up home in your bones, jitteriness becoming ever present.
It seemed that luck was on your side though, when only about seven minutes later you could hear the defender approaching the top of the stairs. Murmuring a quiet thanks into the air, you rose from your seat, heading to the landing, hoping to usher Leah to the car quickly and head out.
Approaching the bottom steps though, you couldn’t help but stop in your tracks, the sight that awaited you when the blonde walked down the stairs making you glad you waited.
Your mouth falling agape, adoration pouring in your veins, you couldn’t help but stare.
“I-…Leah…baby…” You tried, words not seeming to fall past your lips, at least none that would do justice to just how beautiful she looked standing there ahead of you.
Blinking, mind short-circuiting, you stood there stunned, speechless.
Leah wasn’t going to lie, she had expected this reaction from you, with the number of times she had already witnessed it in the past. Yet, each time it didn’t fail to cause her to blush gently, your love for her always surprising her, making her appreciate you just a little more.
Head ducking down, biting back a smile, Leah’s soft voice wrapped around you. “What do you think? Worth the wait?”
“Uh-“ Swallowing hard, you tried to regain your bearings, praying for your internal gay panic to stop for long enough to allow you to form at least one coherent sentence. Letting your eyes trace over her stunning form, you tried once again.
“Shit.”
“That bad?” Leah couldn’t help but tease you, aware that you meant it in awe, yet not willing to pass the opportunity to annoy you.
“Leah…okay fuck. Shit. Fucking hell.” You threw your head back, eyes closing at your nervousness at seeing your girl dressed up.
You could feel the blonde’s eyebrows raise in amusement at your words, not needing to look at her to feel her smiling, yet you did, bringing your gaze back down, not wanting it to leave her for even a second.
“What happened to being late for dinner?”
“Babe…” you whined. “You absolutely cannot be asking me that after you come down looking like that!” Finally finding your ability to talk, you continued. “Literally not at all fair. Not one bit. Did you even think about me? Or the other girls? How, tell me how are we supposed to stay focused on dinner when you look so gorgeous?”
Biting the inside of your cheek, you eagerly stepped forward to close the gap between you two. Opening and closing your mouth a few times again, you searched for better words to express how you were feeling.
“My god…”
“Yes I’m real, and yeah, I don’t know how you managed to pull me either to be honest.”
Head shaking in amusement, you reached out to the blue-eyed angel. “You’re so cocky y’know, out here thinking you can read my mind.”
“Am I wrong?” The cheeky reply not taking more than a second to slip past Leah’s lips.
“You know you aren’t. It makes it so much worse.” Grinning you let your eyes trace over her outfit for the umpteenth time.
You weren’t sure how Leah managed to make everything she wore look so amazing, but she did, especially the suits that she wore, like she was now. There was just something about the way that the cropped blouse and tan suit had you in awe, her wavy hair and makeup complimenting it ever so perfectly, the world’s most elegant model, here in your arms.
Taking a deep breath in, your eyes widened once the realisation that she was yours hit you again. “Seriously though…no words. I’d tell you you look beautiful but I don’t think that even begins to cover it.”
Your words had Leah blushing even harder, ocean eyes shyly meeting yours.
“I’m so serious babe. I know I say it every time but you genuinely blow me away with how lovely you look. Out here leaving me at a loss for words really.”
Stepping back just a tad bit, you raised your intertwined hands above your head, wrist turning enough to wordlessly tell Leah to spin around slowly.
“God I’m gonna marry you one day…” The words slipped out of your mouth, heart speaking faster than your mind could comprehend.
Leah stopped in her tracks at your words, slowly finishing her turn before looking at you intently. “You mean that?”
This time it was your turn to blush, cursing yourself for being so lovesick.
Seeing the truly concerned look in the midfielder’s eyes though, you decided to double down.
Shrugging, pulling Leah closer by her waist, you eased her mind.
“Yeah. You've had me wrapped around your little finger since the day we met. Still have me in a daze most days. In fact, you said it yourself, I genuinely can’t believe I managed to get you and so I’d be honoured to love you for as long as I can, forever hopefully.”
The look that she gave you at your words had your heart bursting in joy. Eyes shining with love, a gentle smile on her face, Leah looked at you like you were her whole world (because you were- she didn’t know what she’d do if she lost you).
“Promise?”
“Pinky promise. And you know we can’t break those.”
Interlocking your pinkies, you brought your joined hands up to your lips, placing a tender kiss on the back of her hand before dropping it down.
Becoming aware that you had already spent long enough in your apartment and not enough on the streets though, (not that you would ever mind spending time with Leah) you decided to suggest finally heading out, only having ten minutes to make the twenty minute trip now.
Tugging Leah closer to you, you placed a kiss on her lips before stepping back and giving her another once over and then a playful wink.
“As much as I'd love to stay here with you, Katie and Beth would absolutely kill us if we skipped out on tonight. So, before we get any more late, shall we head out pretty girl?”
Nodding and letting you lead the way, Leah followed you out the door, smiling to herself at your actions. She knew you were extremely punctual, not one to ever be late if it was in your control. Yet, in moments like these, you’d always make the time to appreciate her, to love her, and she couldn’t adore you more for it if she tried.
It wasn't a secret how much the pair of you loved each other, endless teasing from all your friends (and sometimes family) adequate proof of that. Yet in stolen seconds like these, where it felt like you two were the only ones in the world, in the cozy bubble of your love, nothing ever felt greater, nothing ever felt more important. Not to you and most definitely not to Leah.
The English captain knew that she'd spend forever with you if she could, the idea of loving you, of marrying you having always been a question of 'when' rather than 'if'.
So if on the drive there, she silently planned your guys’ wedding in her head, you didn’t have to know. And if she spent a good chunk of that planning thinking about what wedding outfit would best leave you speechless, more than she had ever made you thus far, you most definitely didn’t have to know. After all, while her beauty left you tongue-tied, your love for her, all of her, left her at a loss for words, nothing but warmth coursing in her veins, a permanent blush on her cheeks.
And when you both arrived indisputably late, nearly half an hour past the designated time, and the teasing from your teammates was directed at you, you couldn’t help but shrug, declaring your love for her and ignoring the impending comments of 'whipped' headed your way.
“Leah looking at me dressed like that? There’s my weakness. She can take as much time as she needs to get ready. Hell, I made us late in fact. Really though, anything she says tonight, I agree with,” you joked, adoration and mirth filling your eyes.
It really was safe to say that it wasn't a secret how much you two loved each other, especially when all it took was her walking into the room for you to fall in love all over again.
#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson imagine#leah williamson#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagine#my writing#fic#etywitr#fic req#fluff
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it's so hard to watch everything i want (everything i was spinning down the drain) - trevor zegras
pairing: trevor zegras x original female character
warnings: swearing, angst-ish, mentions of cheating (not between the two main characters), self-loathing, fluff
based on: "bleach" by 5 seconds of summer + "the archer" by taylor swift. title from "bleach"
word count: 15.6k
author's note: tried my hand at writing trevor's pov and it was Hard. this one means a lot to me personally so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! takes place at least five ish years from now so future fic alert!! trevor is finally employed again and that motivated me to finish this LOL
*****
Trevor Zegras is good at a lot of things. Remembering names and faces is at the top of the list.
It kinda makes sense. He’s been meeting and shaking hands with people ever since he was a teenager, most of them wanting something from him in one way shape or form. It’s not completely a bad thing. He wouldn’t have gotten this far without knowing who he was talking to.
So that’s why it’s such a surprise that it took him a whole damn hour to figure out why the wedding planner for Jack and Amelie’s wedding looked so familiar. Isabelle, she introduced herself as, and he keeps racking his mind to see if he knows an Isabelle, but he comes up empty.
As a groomsman, Trevor was expected to come to the venue earlier. He didn’t have to come a whole week earlier, but he had nothing else going on and the wedding’s in Michigan, so it wasn’t completely inconvenient for him. He just crashed at Jack and Quinn’s, to which the latter rolled his eyes at. But the soon-to-be-married couple were thrilled that he was coming early so they could put him to work, and he was more than happy to help out.
It’s halfway through assembling floral centerpieces when he shoots his head up to the wedding planner across from him. “Belle Holloway?”
Belle looks up with a small smile. “Been a long time since anyone’s called me that.”
“Holy shit. I knew you looked familiar. It’s been so long.”
“Z, are you bothering Isabelle?” Jack calls out from another table. “Please don’t scare her away. She’s been our lifesaver the last year.”
Belle chuckles. “You don’t need to worry, Jack.”
“Yeah, Hughesy. Belle and I go way back.”
Amelie is passing by and hears that comment, raising her eyebrows. “You two know each other?”
“We grew up in the same town,” Belle explains, tying a ribbon around a bunch of flowers. “My brother was in Trevor’s grade in school. They played hockey together for a bit before Trevor got too good and left.”
“Belle was probably the smartest girl in school,” Trevor adds with a hint of pride in his tone. “Can’t say the same about her brother. Where did you end up going to college?”
“University of Michigan.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jack smirk. Weirdo. He literally didn’t even go to Michigan.
Trevor whistles. “Still smart. Where is Connor these days? He went to UConn, right?”
“Yup. He’s with his wife in Chicago now. Doing something with finance.”
Trevor makes a mental note to reach out to his old friend the next time he’s in Chicago. “And little Lily?”
Belle chuckles. “Not so little anymore. She graduated from Parsons last year and works at Michael Kors as a designer.”
Trevor smiles knowingly. “Guess her styling Connor all those years paid off, eh?”
“Guess so.”
(Amelie and Jack are at another table working on centerpieces, overhearing this conversation. They give each other a knowing look as they keep eavesdropping. This is why Belle didn’t seem surprised during their initial consultation when they had to explain Jack’s hockey schedule and why he wouldn’t be able to adhere to the traditional timeline if he wanted to be at all the appointments. Little did they know, she already knew someone in the NHL)
She then asks about his family, because while Trevor was always her brother’s friend, their parents got to know each other pretty well to the point where they would go over to each other’s for dinner enough for her to remember. Trevor talks about how Griffin is off doing God knows what in Florida but having a good time at his sports marketing job and how Ava, who’s the same age as Lily, graduated from Elon and is now in the Philly area as a nurse.
They’re now moving pots of flowers around as they venture into their lives post-grad. “So have you been in Michigan this whole time?” Trevor asks.
“Yeah, though I had a brief stint in Santa Ana. This wedding is my last one here, actually, so a fun one to end on.”
Trevor follows her eye-line at the soon-to-be-newlyweds, who are now decorating the photo station but more fucking around then decorating. Amelie’s slapping Jack’s shoulder as he laughs loudly. Trevor smiles at the sight. “They’re great, aren’t they?”
“They are,” Belle admits. “I’ve worked with a lot of couples, but they’re one of my favorites. From the fact that they’re organized and flexible and so kind and understanding to the fact that they seem to be super in love with each other.”
“You said this is your last wedding here?” Belle nods. “Where you off to next?”
Trevor notices her stiffening a bit, and he immediately wants to take the question back. But the discomfort leaves as fast as it came. “Not sure. Gonna do some last minute packing up and then go home to New York next week to reset and figure it out from there. Connor offered his guest room in Chicago so I might take that. I have some friends that are dispersed around the country as well.” She shakes her head and switches topics and he makes a mental note of her vague answer. “Enough about me. How about you, Mr. NHL? Not gonna lie, when I saw Jack’s list of groomsmen, I had to brace myself mentally when I saw your name.”
“Brace yourself? What does that mean?”
Belle chuckles and his smile widens at the sound. “It’s been awhile, but not everything is different. I’m sure you’re still the life of the party everywhere you go, which means you’re at high risk of intruding on my meticulous plans on the day. Mind grabbing those shears for me next to you?”
He passes her the shears, standing up straight. “Jack’s conned you. He is way worse than I am.”
“Jack is also the groom so he knows that he has to listen to what I say if he wants things to go well,” Belle says. “How have you been, though? Has Anaheim been treating you well?”
“It has. The team’s great. The weather’s great. The beach is right there. Very different from Bedford.”
“Congrats on a great season. The playoff run was fun to watch.”
His eyebrow shoots up. “You watched?”
She shrugs a bit sheepishly. “If a game is on, I’ll usually watch. It’s like white noise to me now, after going to Connor’s, and I guess your games growing up. I went to a couple of Ducks games during the two years I lived in Cali.”
“And you didn’t reach out?”
She wipes her hands on her jeans. “I…you were always more Connor’s friend than mine. Didn’t want it to be weird.”
“It wouldn’t have been,” he assures. “Next time, let me know and I’ll get you tickets. You still have my number?”
“I do.”
“Perfect,” Amelie then comes up and seems like she has a question. “I’ll let you ladies be. Where’s your fiance?” He asks the bride-to-be.
“Quinn just arrived, so probably making sure the bar is all good, since you guys have your weird ass drink preferences,” Amelie says. “We should be almost done here though. Just have a couple last questions for Belle and then we’ll head back.”
Trevor snorts. “Typical. I’ll go find them.” He turns back to Belle with a grin. “Good to see you, Belle. Don’t be a stranger.”
Belle smiles. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior.” Trevor promises, before walking away.
When things finally settle down a couple of hours later and he settles into one of the guest rooms for the night, he reflects back to his own childhood and memories of Isabelle Holloway, or Belle, as everyone used to call her. Brunette and green-eyed, Belle was decently quiet compared to him and Connor’s wild teenage boy energy, but she was talkative with her own friends and Trevor’s parents adored her. She loved Taylor Swift, and if Trevor looked into it deeper, her blasting her music around all the time probably got Trevor to like it purely through osmosis. She was always clean, happy to do the dishes and Trevor often caught her organizing the living room and basement without being asked. She was incredibly smart, always had her homework done before hanging out with her friends and seemed to always ace her classes with minimal difficulty. Even when Connor gave her shit just because he was the oldest sibling, she rarely dished it back. That kindness extended to all of Connor’s friends as well, including Trevor, even when they were loud and playing video games when she came home from school. Every memory he has of Connor growing up, Belle’s right around the corner.
Belle Holloway had always been too good to them. It’s a no-brainer that her profession is based on giving something to others.
He still follows Connor on Instagram, so he goes to his old friend’s page to find his sister’s page. She’s private, but he doesn’t hesitate on requesting her account. He goes to take a shower and brush his teeth and when he comes back to his phone, he’s delighted to see that she’s accepted his follow request.
Thus begins his stalking.
There’s not many posts to stalk — she only has 47 — but it does span the amount of years he lost touch with the Holloways. There are posts from her later high school years when Trevor had already left Bedford, and he smiles to himself when he sees the post from her high school graduation, with Connor, Belle and Lily all cheesing in one photo. There are various posts from her college years — she must’ve spent a semester or a summer abroad in Barcelona — mixed with some various travels from Yellowstone to Sweden to Miami. Then it gets less frequent after she graduates college, posts of the Michigan landscape, posts with friends on a night out, at a friend’s wedding, the rare photos of just herself. She notices there’s a guy in some of those posts, but no one’s tagged and the caption doesn’t reveal anything, so he figures it must be a friend or ex-boyfriend of some sort.
One thing that hasn’t changed much, he thinks, is how beautiful she is. As he scrolls on her Instagram and thinks back to seeing her earlier today, he kinda can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.
The day of the wedding comes by and it’s an early start for the bridal party. Trevor rolls into the Planterra Conservatory at 8:47 a.m. with coffees for himself, Quinn, Luke and Jack while Cole had gotten coffees for himself, Nico and Alex earlier. The suits are already hung up by the window of the spacious room and beers have already been opened.
“Starting off early, eh?” He sets down the coffees on the table.
“It’s a big day,” Luke calls out from steaming everyone’s suits.
“That it is,” he stops by the chair Jack is sitting in and gives him a hug. “Congrats, man. You nervous?”
“Nah,” Jack smiles. “More excited than anything.”
Quinn grabs his coffee and sits down. “I stopped by the bridal suite just a few minutes ago. Amelie said the same thing.”
Jack lights up at the mere mention of her. “I’m just anxious to see her, to be honest.”
Belle walks in then, clad in a light green jumpsuit and a tan blazer, with a bright smile on his face. “Oh good, Trevor made it. Everyone all good in here? Do you guys need anything?”
Jack grins. “We’re all good here, Isabelle. Thank you. I’ll holler if we need anything. Promise.”
She shoots the groom a semi-skeptical look before nodding. “Okay. I’ll check back in, in 30 minutes.”
“Do you need any help at all?” Nico asks.
She shakes her head with a thankful smile. “You all are too kind. I’m good. Michelle and I are manning the floor. She’s kinda doing my job better than I am, when she has her own bridesmaid duties to worry about.”
“Impossible.” Quinn remarks. “You’re fabulous at your job.”
Belle rolls her eyes fondly, and Trevor’s reminded that even though she’s the one running the show, she’s younger than a majority of the bridal party. “Flatterer.” She takes her phone out of her pocket and clicks her tongue. “Alright. I’m out.” She looks at Trevor with a pointed look. “Zegras. You better come find me if anything goes wrong.”
“Why are you entrusting that responsibility onto me?”
“Because I have so many stories about you that I could tell everyone if you don’t listen to me.”
Trevor gasps in mock offense. “Belle, oh Belle! Resorting to blackmail?”
The whole room laughs as she grins. She stops in front of him, a more serious look on her face. “Call me if anything goes wrong?”
“I gotcha.” He assures her with a firm nod and she shoots everyone one last grin before walking out. If his eyes linger on her, no one has to know.
(Everyone in the room knows. He doesn’t notice them all giving each other knowing smirks)
Jack speaks up first. “Z, if you end up hooking up with my wedding planner, give her a good time at least. She deserves it.”
“Jesus Christ, Jacky.” Trevor groans as everyone cackles. Thankfully for him, they drop it after that.
The next time he and Belle get to interact is after the ceremony — to which he couldn’t stop smiling watching one of his his long-time best friends marry the girl of his dreams, proudly watching at the front as they exchanged vows to love each other forever — when it’s time for pictures and Belle and the photographer are working together to direct everybody where they need to go. Belle stops directly in front of Trevor and focuses on fixing his boutonniere. Her tongue pokes out as she focuses on making it straight after several attempts. Even amongst a crazy day, he feels a sense of calm surrounding him.
She huffs. “Why won’t your boutonniere stay still?”
He smiles down at her cheekily. “On my worst behavior.”
She snorts, before softening. “Thank you for earlier.” He knows she’s referencing when there was a minor mix up with the rings right before the ceremony was about to start and Trevor got it under control within 10 minutes.
“Of course.”
She puts a piece of stray hair back on his head away from his forehead and he feels his heart flutter at her light touch. She smirks a bit. “On your best behavior today, actually. Like you promised.”
“Don’t count on it once the open bar hits.”
She laughs before moving on to fix Luke’s collar and Trevor gets a second to finally take a normal breath.
The next time he spots Belle is well into the reception, when the dance floor is full and the drinks are flowing and everyone is enjoying themselves. She’s nibbling on a slice of cake in the corner, eyes sweeping through the crowd with a small smile on her face
Trevor, who ditched his blazer after ‘Mr. Brightside’ brought the place down at least 7 songs ago, strolls over, hands in his slacks. “Haven’t seen you in a bit, Belle of the Ball.”
Her nose wrinkles. “No one’s called me that since I was 6.”
“A good wedding to end off on?”
“I think so,” she smiles, staring at Amelie giggling as she pours a bottle of champagne into Jack’s mouth. “You having a good time?”
“The best. And I’ve been to a lot of weddings. You did beautifully.”
Belle waves him off. “All in a day’s work.”
“Do you still have fun at weddings? Since you have to work them?”
“Yes and no,” she admits. ‘Yes, because the end result is always worth it and seeing the happy couple live their day is always worth it. No because now when I go to weddings of my friends and family, it’s hard to turn my work brain off.”
“Are you allowed to dance at your clients’ weddings?”
“I usually wouldn’t,” she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.
“Make an exception for an old friend? To celebrate your last wedding in Michigan?”
She looks away for a second. “I don’t want to make Jack or Amelie feel weird.”
“Those two couldn’t care less. I’m sure they’d actually encourage it.”
He shoots what he hopes is an encouraging smile as he offers a hand. She looks at him for a couple of seconds before letting him help her up.
It’s perfect timing as ‘Lover’ by Taylor Swift comes on and the once rowdy floor is calmer, with couples dancing with each other or families dancing with their kids. It’s a dance floor filled with love.
He guides Belle to put her arms around his neck as he carefully places his on her waist.
“I told Connor about seeing you again.” She starts
“Oh yeah? What did he say?”
“He told me to tell you to hit him up the next time you’re in Chicago.”
“Was already planning on it.”
“He also said and I quote ‘if the next thing I hear is that Zegras is dating my sister, I will kill him.’” Trevor tips his head back in laughter as Belle chuckles. “He’s lucky I never dated any of his friends. He had some cute ones.”
“Was I one of them?”
“Nice try. I’m not blowing smoke up your ass, Trevor.” She says dryly. “Besides, I was kinda kidding. It’s not like you or any of his friends would’ve gone for me anyways.”
Now he’s confused. “What?” He thinks she’s joking, but from her face he realizes she’s not. “You do know that like, half of the hockey team had a crush on you, right?” She tips her head back in laughter as he squeezes her waist. “I’m not kidding. It annoyed Connor to no end.”
She snorts. “There’s no way.”
“Up to you whether to believe it or not. Just know that I never lie, Belle.”
She hums, and the way she’s looking at him makes his hands start sweating. He hopes she can’t feel it through her jumpsuit. “What you’ve done with your hockey career and everything, it’s really cool. I’m happy for you, Trevor. You deserve it.”
And he’s heard so many compliments about his career throughout his whole career, but it’s different coming from someone from his hometown. Someone who knew him before he left and knew what he was like before the NHL — before his days at the NTDP, even. Someone who has nothing to gain from complimenting him.
“Thank you, Belle. That-that means a lot coming from you.”
She just smiles back before they fall into a comfortable silence and keep dancing. He twirls her and does an exaggerated dip that has her giggling. They keep dancing and dancing, even as the songs change tempo.
(Amelie, who’s resting her feet right by the dance floor, nudges Jack and gives him a look. She picks up a disposable camera and points it at them, before taking her phone and also taking a picture. She has an inkling that Trevor and Isabelle may want these someday)
“What are you up to before the season starts?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure, actually. I just need to be back in Anaheim for pre-season in three weeks.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Quinn and Jack have been letting me crash at their place. Don’t have an exact date of when I’m leaving yet.”
Belle snorts, though it’s paired with a smile that seems fond. “Still the same, huh, Trev?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your spontaneity used to stress my parents out, even back then. The reason they still liked you is because you could charm your way out of it.”
“I stressed Kurt and Susan out?” He says, actually worried.
“Oh, hush. It’s not that deep. My dad loves watching you play. There’s been many a family call where I hear a Ducks game on in the background. Unless it’s against the Rangers, of course, in which you don’t matter.”
“To be expected,” Trevor says, heart lifting at the fact that two people who used to drive him around so much still support him, even from afar. “Do they still live in Bedford?”
“Yup. Though with the amount of time my dad spends in White Plains golfing, you’d think they lived there now. He’s loving retirement, clearly.”
Trevor laughs. “I’ll have to hit up Kurt when I’m back for a couple rounds. Does Susan still make the best apple pie?”
“Yup. And everyone still raves about it when she brings it to parties.”
“You think she’d make me a slice?”
“She’d bake you three pies and send you home with them to Julie and Gary.”
He grins. “Never knew little Belle was this sassy.”
“Because you wasted all your time with Connor.” She shoots back with a laugh.
(Honestly, he thinks as he twirls her again, maybe she’s right. Who knows what could’ve been if he had seen Belle as more than just Connor’s quieter, talented sister.)
“You said you’re leaving next week?”
“Yeah. Just need to sort out some boxes to move to storage before driving back to New York.”
“You’re driving all the way back to Bedford?”
She laughs at his slight disbelief. “Well, yeah. It’s only a 10 hour drive.”
Suddenly, an idea pops into Trevor’s head, and before he can overthink it, he blurts it out. “What if I came with you?” She blinks, and he forges on. “I mean, I don’t have much going on and it’d be nice to go home before pre-season. I’ll help you load your car and pay for your gas and meals and-”
“Trevor, I-are you sure? You don’t have to…we literally just reconnected after not seeing each other for over a decade.”
“I know I don’t have to do anything,” he says, now trying everything to convince her. “If I’m overstepping, you can tell me and I’ll immediately lay off. But it just seems like…maybe some company could be nice. And we could switch off driving too.”
She bites her lip and tilts her head curiously, trying to find something in his face. It only took her a couple of seconds to chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but sure. Why not? Come join me on my drive back home.”
He lights up, grinning widely. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“When are you planning on leaving?”
“Monday.”
In two days. Perfect.
“This is gonna be so fun. Just you wait.”
“I don’t doubt it. Fun seems to always follow you wherever you go.”
He has to let her go, since she has some last things to do as the wedding planner. He kisses her cheek quickly before he leaves the reception, to which Quinn raises an eyebrow at but doesn’t say anything. The next morning, during the quick and informal thank you breakfast for the bridal party at a nearby, fancy-ish brunch place, Jack throws him under the bus (“Saw you getting pretty comfortable with Isabelle yesterday,”) and he reveals their plan for the next day.
It might be one of the most TV show worthy reactions from every single person, bridesmaid and groomsmen. Luke chokes on his mimosa, Quinn shakes his head, Alex blinks, Nico has a shit-eating grin on his face, Jack smirks and Cole lets out a bark of laughter. The girls have all been filled in and equally have similar reactions. Amelie immediately says “you’re joking,” Michelle, at the same time as Amelie, says “ain’t no way,” Kaia, like Alex, just blinks. Nicole and Sarah’s jaws drop wide open, Annemarie starts cackling and Isla drops her fork.
“What?” Trevor responds, munching on his bacon. “Why all the reactions?”
“Z, are you sure about this?” Quinn asks, ever the voice of reason.
“Yes? It’s just a drive. Everyone needs a car buddy for that long of a drive. Gives me an excuse to go home too.”
“Trevor,” Amelie starts. “I think we’re all just a bit confused because this is…not that we don’t like Isabelle! She’s wonderful. But this just seems out of the blue.”
Jack snorts. “There’s nothing confusing about this at all.” Everyone, Trevor included, turns to look at the new groom, who just shrugs while taking a sip of his coffee. “He likes her.”
“For real?”
“Oh my.”
“Okay, Z! Atta boy.”
“Haven’t you not seen her for like, 10 years?”
“Have you liked her this whole time?”
“That’s crazy.”
“Woah, woah, woah.” Trevor says above everyone’s exclamations. He waits until everyone’s settled. “I don’t like her. Not like that, at least. She’s just…I don’t know. It was good to see her again after so long. It felt like going back to old times. Simpler times.”
“It’s giving childhood friends to lovers,” Michelle says, making everyone laugh. Trevor rolls his eyes again and the subject is dropped.
Jack volunteers to drive Trevor to Belle’s before him and Amelie’s flight to Greece tonight for their honeymoon. He doesn’t leave Quinn and Jack’s place without chirps from every single person still there, gathering their things and cleaning up. He makes sure to leave with giving Amelie a tight hug and a fond kiss on her cheek before playfully glaring at everyone else as he leaves.
He climbs into the passenger seat. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“We’ve known each other since we were 16, Z.” Jack says, starting the car. “Nothing you do fazes me anymore.”
Trevor just hums, staring at one of his dearest friends who is now a husband. “Congrats, Jacky. I know I’ve said it a lot recently, but I’m really happy for you.”
A small smile spreads across Jack’s face, as he automatically goes to touch his wedding ring. “Thanks, man.” Silence falls between them. “Did you ever, even just the slightest, like Isabelle as more than a friend? And be honest with me.”
“No,” Trevor replies honestly. “I always knew she was kind and thoughtful, but she was always just Connor’s little sister and kept to herself and her own friends most of the time.”
“And now? Do you like her now?”
“I don’t know,” Trevor replies honestly. If Jack is shocked, he doesn’t show it. Trevor clears his throat, “We haven’t seen each other in over 10 years. I don’t know her enough anymore to know if I like her.”
Jack just hums. “Look, I…”
“You what?” Silence. “Jack.”
“Amelie and I got pretty close with Isabelle beyond her being our wedding planner. Maybe it’s because she’s close to our age or just easy to get along with. I think…she never told us directly, but I think something happened, Z.”
“What do you mean something happened?”
“Well, I wasn’t there, but her and Amelie went out for casual drinks once to plan some stuff out and Amelie was, you know, casually asking her about relationships and if she ever dreamed of her own wedding, and she got super…not defensive. But Amelie said it was like a switch turned on. All she said is that at some point she did, but she’s not at that point of her life anymore, and then she immediately changed the topic. It’s none of my business, I get that, but she’s also my friend, Z. Just…look out for her, okay?”
“Of course I will,” Trevor promises as Jack slows down in front of Belle’s house. They both climb out of the car and Trevor grabs his backpack, duffle and garment bag from the backseat.
“Thanks for driving.” Trevor embraces his friend in a tight hug.
“Anytime,” Jack says. “Thanks for everything this last week. And just in general. I love you.”
“Love you too, man. Have fun on your honeymoon.”
Jack smiles. “Thank you. You two drive safe, eh? Let Amelie and I know when you're back in New York.”
Trevor just nods, before walking up to the front door and knocking. Within seconds, Belle opens the door with a wide smile. She looks beyond Trevor’s shoulder and waves at Jack as he drives away.
“Hi!”
Trevor can’t help but smile at her energy. It’s infectious. “Hey, Belle. Are you sure you don’t mind letting me crash for the night? I can always get Quinn to come get me later.”
She opens the door wider to let him in. “It’s not a bother at all. As long as you’re good with sleeping on the floor.” He just waves her off, setting his duffle and backpack down and looking around at the barren household. “I would give you a tour, but there’s really not much to see anymore.”
“You need any help?”
She smiles at him sweetly. “I have some boxes in the garage that you could help me move?”
He’s eager to help, until he lifts the first box, grunting about how heavy it is. Belle just chuckles, because why else had she not moved these in her car yet? If she has a professional hockey player volunteering to help her move, then she might as well put him to use, right? Trevor just rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but let a smile peek through at hearing Belle’s giggles. Once the car is packed (it takes longer than usual, as they stand out in the driveway and in the garage inbetween moving, chirping at each other and catching up), they realize it’s getting close to dinner time especially if they want to get an early start in the morning. Trevor asks what she wants to have (“as your last night living in the state of Michigan”) and she lights up, dialing up the place of her favorite Asian fusion takeout place. Trevor tries to hand over his card but she smacks it out of his hand, glaring at him while still on the phone.
It’s a nice day outside, so they decide to venture out and have dinner on the front porch that she’s going to miss very much, leaning their backs against the panels of the house, sitting a comfortable 4 feet apart, Trevor’s knees pulled up and Belle with her legs outstretched and ankles crossed. He watches as she looks out at the sunset painting the quiet residential street, which is even more stunning than usual. If you listen closely, you can hear the sounds of kids gleefully screaming and dogs barking here and there. For a moment, Trevor feels like he’s intruding as Belle continues staring out, lost in her own world. Her focus only shifts a few minutes later when a car rolls up with their take out, as she jumps up and accepts the food with a gracious smile.
He helps her open boxes and suddenly there’s a generous spread of food between them as they start eating.
Trevor breaks the silence. “You never told me why.”
“Why what?”
“Why you’re leaving Michigan.”
She’s in the middle of stuffing a crab rangoon in her mouth. She chews and swallows for a couple of seconds. “It’s a long story.”
“I have nothing but time if you want to share.”
“I lied. It’s not really a long story. Just a sad one. That’s just my go-to when people ask.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. Ever. But you also don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
She lets out a deep sigh. “I was supposed to get married earlier this year.”
He blinks. Once. twice. And he’s speechless for once in his life. She barrels on.
“Nate and I…I met him at UMich my junior year. I had full plans to leave Michigan right after college. Not that I don’t love it here, but I just wanted to go home. But he got an offer here after graduation and I found a gig working for a great wedding planner so I stayed. And it was good. The brief stint in Santa Ana I mentioned was because of his job, so we moved out there. But I really didn’t mind. I actually really enjoyed California.” She picks at her fingernails, “He proposed to me the beginning of last year, a week before we were gonna move back to Michigan. And I was happy. Really happy. So many years I had been planning other people’s weddings and I was finally going to have my own with someone I loved.”
“Belle, you don’t have to-”
She waves him off. “The day of our cake tasting, we were running late and he was in the shower and I grabbed his phone to put in my bag. And there was a text that flashed on my lock screen. ‘Missed you, baby. See you tonight’ and that was it. He had been cheating on me for almost a year. I moved out that night and crashed with a friend for a few weeks before finding this place. Grabbed my shit when I knew he was gone during the day at work. Canceled all of the deposits. Gave the ring back.” She chuckles, albeit sadly. “Funny. The week after I found out, I had my first consultation with Amelie and Jack and honestly, throwing myself into their wedding planning may have saved me, not that they know that. Anyways, yeah. That’s why I’m leaving Michigan. I honestly would’ve done it sooner but I had to stick it out for those two. They deserved it.”
Trevor’s silent for a couple more moments. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“If we see him out and about, point him out so I can kick his ass.”
Her chuckle comes out broken but genuine. “Connor was real close when I told him. I was afraid he’d just start driving here. So you’d have to get behind him in line.”
“Gladly,” he scoots closer to her and offers an arm. She collapses into his side. “God, Belle. I’m so sorry. No one deserves that, least of all you.”
She sniffles. “It’s okay.”
“No, Belle. It’s not okay. What an asshole.” He can feel tears on his shirt and he starts rubbing her back in soothing circles. “You deserve someone to love you just as much as you love them. Someone to put you above all, who views your love and presence as a privilege. Because it is a privilege. I would know.”
She snorts, still sniffling. “You made fun of me all the time when we were younger.”
“Nah ah ah. Connor did. I didn’t. And that doesn’t mean I didn’t know how lovely you were even back then. Why do you think Connor and I were so against you going on a date with that guy…what was his name?”
“Trent.”
“Yeah. Trent. First of all, just sounds like a douchebag.”
“And Trevor is so much better?”
“Second, because he was an ass. We didn’t terrorize you about it just because. We terrorized you about it because we knew he had cheated on his ex-girlfriend.”
“Maybe if you had ever met Nate, you could’ve sniffed out his bullshit right away. Took me around 6 years to figure it out.”
“You’ve always had good judgment, Belle. No need to blame yourself when you did nothing wrong.”
“Did I though?” She whispers. “Do nothing wrong, I mean. What if-what if I was working too much or I wasn’t attentive enough or I didn’t-”
Trevor shakes his head adamantly. “Belle, no. Stop. Absolutely not. You did enough. You were enough. I’m not gonna sit here and let you pick apart yourself unfairly. You stayed in Michigan for him. You moved to Santa Ana for him. You gave all you had. And he’s the one who fucked it all up. That’s not on you.”
She signs, a bit defeated but musters a small smile. “Thanks, Trevor.”
“Of course.” He stuffs a piece of sushi in his mouth.
She shoots him a small smile that has him swallowing roughly. “Nonetheless, I’m really happy we ran into each other. It’s been nice to have a slice of home back in my life again.”
Trevor just smiles, staring into her warm eyes. “Me too.”
…..
It’s hour two into the 10 hour drive when she breeches the subject again.
“Connor never liked him.” Trevor turns to look at Belle, who has one hand on the wheel casually. He automatically turns the music down as she continues. “He tried to get along with him, for my sake. But Connor was never sold. I always thought it was just him being a protective older brother. When I asked why, he always just gave some vague answer. Didn’t like his vibe, or whatever. It’s been hard not to agonize over now. If I should’ve just listened to him from the start.” Trevor doesn’t know what to say, but just faces her fully so she knows that he’s listening. She lets out a heavy breath as she puts her sunglasses atop her head. “I never asked. How’s your love life?”
Trevor snorts and the playfulness is back in the air again. “Well, not married like Connor is. I’ve had a couple things here or there. Clearly nothing that’s stuck.”
“Any particular reason why?”
He shrugs, suddenly feeling a bit small even though he knows that’s not her intention whatsoever. “I think when people date me, they don’t necessarily want all of me, you know? They want the jokester and the charmer. They don’t want the shifts in mood or the obsession of figuring out why I’m in a scoring drought or the insecurities.”
Belle hums sympathetically. “I think you just haven’t found the right one yet.”
“You sound like Quinn.”
She laughs. “From the small amount of interactions I’ve had with him, I’d say that sounds pretty on brand.” She shrugs. “You have time though. We all do. If that’s something you even want.”
“What? Marriage?”
“Yeah.”
“I do, I think. Want that, I mean. It’s just…hard. And scary. The thought of giving someone all of you? That’s giving them a lot of power.”
“I get it,” she says. “God, I really get that.”
“Is marriage not something you want anymore?”
She sighs. “I don’t know. I think I still do. It’s just…it’s still too soon, you know? And I don’t know if I have the energy to, like you said, give someone all of me again. I got hurt once. I don’t know if I can afford that again.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re one of the best people I’ve ever known. So anybody would be lucky to love you.”
And shit, that kinda slipped out. His heart starts racing as she looks at him briefly in surprise. “That’s…that’s very kind of you, Trevor. Probably too big of a compliment.”
“Not too big of a compliment,” he automatically responds, digging himself into a deeper hole that he can’t even decipher. If he thinks about it too hard, he would realize that this is the most open he’s been with someone outside of his tight circle in awhile. And a week ago, she hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“You know, you were my favorite out of Connor’s friends back then.”
A pang of satisfaction touches his heart and he’s grinning. “Yeah?”
Belle rolls her eyes at his slight smugness. “Don’t let that get to your head.”
“Too late.”
“I don’t know. I just..liked how friendly you were to everyone you encountered. I don’t think there was ever a time when you came over and didn’t strike up a conversation with me. Even though I was quiet and shy, you still always treated me like a person.”
“I feel like that’s the bare minimum, no?”
She shrugs. “Now that we’re in our late twenties, sure. But back when we were 12, 13 years old? You’d be surprised.”
He watches her drum her fingers against the steering wheel, the patterned bandana in her ponytail swinging with the wind, wispies from her ponytail framing her face. If he looks hard enough, he can see 10 year old Belle sitting on the sofa in the Holloway’s living room, a sketchbook on her lap and a glass of apple juice next to her. If he listens hard enough, he can hear her humming to ‘Love Story’ as he leaves Connor’s room to walk past her room in the hallway to the bathroom. Maybe he can even smell her vanilla body spray that used to always filter out of her room if he breathes in deeply enough.
All he can see and hear and feel is his childhood self. Looking at her makes him feel blissfully young, a bit naive and incredibly out of his depth.
She casts him a casual glance. “You good?”
Trevor grins easily. “Never better.”
It’s hour five after stopping for lunch. Trevor’s behind the wheel now and her legs are up on the seat with her as she stares out the window, her chin on her knees. He has an urge to put a hand on her knee. To comfort her or to let her know that he’s there, he doesn’t know. But he refrains.
“Belle?”
“Hm?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
She turns to face him, chin still on her knees. “Should I be nervous?”
He snorts. “No. I’m just a dumb hockey player. What could I possibly say that would catch you off guard?”
“You’re not dumb. And plenty. You knew me when I was 13 and in my awkward phase. That’s longer than most of the people I’ve seen in the last five years. What’s your question?”
Okay, Trevor can dissect all of that later. ““Are you going to miss Michigan?”
She lets out a thoughtful hum. “I’ll miss parts of it. I loved going to college at Michigan, made a lot of friends from college and work. And I grew up a lot here. Not to mention, Michigan’s almost unfairly beautiful. I’ll also weirdly miss my porch a lot. But also, it’s tough driving around with thoughts of Nate at every corner. Because he’s present in practically all the memories I have here. So I’m glad I’m leaving because I know I need to.” He turns to her quickly and sees her lip quiver. Almost as if he had imagined it, she offers a small smirk. “That’s the question you were so afraid to ask me?”
He sputters out a laugh. “What does that mean?” He asks defensively.
She shakes out her hair to redo her ponytail. "You never had a problem asking anything to anyone back in the day.”
“Things change.”
She pauses for a split second before tying up her hair and looking at him. “They do. I’m sorry for assuming they don’t.”
Hour eight and they’ve been in a comfortable silence for a bit now. One can only talk for so long, even someone as chatty as Trevor. Belle’s behind the wheel again and her phone is plugged in playing music. The playlist he had put on initially has cycled through and without asking, he plugged her phone in and shuffled a random playlist of hers.
He vaguely recognizes Taylor Swift’s voice and looks to see what song it is. ‘The Archer.’ His ears perk up as he listens to her softly sing along, and then, he’s actually listening to the words.
Belle’s eyebrows are pinched together as she sings about people seeing right through her and how all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put her together again. He wants to offer her a hand to squeeze, a touch for support, but he doesn’t.
He clears his throat. “So. Santa Ana. What was your favorite part?”
She automatically grins. “All of it? I don’t know. I liked my job. I liked the area. I liked the weather. It felt like a breath of fresh air, in a way.”
“Would you consider moving back?”
“Maybe. I honestly haven’t really thought of anything but leaving Michigan recently.”
He stops asking her questions. He doesn’t want to keep bringing up the pain.
By the time she rolls into the driveway of Trevor’s childhood home, it’s almost 8 pm. Almost as soon as she kills the engine, the front door opens, revealing both his parents. Julie runs out, only barely letting Belle step out of the car before throwing her arms around her. He smiles fondly as his mother puts her hands on Belle’s cheeks as the younger woman chuckles, before turning to Gary and giving him a quick hug as well. Trevor drags his stuff out of the trunk and shuts it, smiling to himself as he listens to his mother invite Belle and her parents over for dinner the next night and watching Belle nod enthusiastically.
She then turns to him and it feels like someone has reached into his heart and punched it. She smiles. “Thanks for the company.”
He puts down his duffle and scoops her into a tight hug, only letting her go after giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Anytime. See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.”
(And if he catches his mom giving him an inquisitive look as they all watch Belle back out of the driveway, he doesn’t say anything)
Tomorrow comes and Trevor’s content with mostly being lazy, adjusting to being home and around his parents. It feels weird to be in these walls without Griffin and Ava, but then again, he’s sure it’s one-sided. He moved away when he was so young, leaving behind his supportive parents and his even-more-supportive siblings. They got used to Trevor not being around.
He’s recapping Jack’s wedding to his father on the patio while his mom is preparing pies in preparation for the Holloways, the mouthwatering smell filtering through the screen door. He smiles as he recalls the week leading up when he went early and was roped into helping out, how beautiful Amelie looked and how he had never seen Jack that excited and happy before, not when he was drafted first overall, not when he won the Eastern Conference Final. He talks about how their vows made Trevor tear up and just how fun it was to celebrate two people he loves. He talks about reconnecting with Belle and briefly brushes over their drive back. He gives vague answers when his parents — mostly his mom — try to pry more, partially because it’s so much that he’s still trying to decipher it himself and partially because some of it isn’t his place to tell.
An hour later, he can’t help but beam as Belle’s parents greet him similarly to how his greeted Belle the day before. He helps Susan bring in the pasta salad and shakes Kurt’s hand, his slight nerves settling as the first thing Kurt says is how proud of Trevor he is. Belle is the last one who walks through the door, listening to the moms talking animatedly in her ear. She’s wearing a pink floral maxi dress with a denim jacket over her shoulders and she’s glowing. He itches to give her a hug but just settles for a grin instead before turning his full attention to Kurt.
It’s when the parents are filtering outside does he get a chance to say hello to her as they both hang back in the kitchen. She bumps her hip with his. “Long time no see.”
He pulls her into a side hug. “Hilarious. Want anything to drink before heading out there?”
She eyes the few bottles of wine in the mini wine cabinet. “White wine if it’s not too much of a hassle?”
He opens the fridge and grabs a wine glass. “My mom put a bottle in the fridge earlier. It’s her favorite, so if it’s bad, it’s not my fault.” She takes the glass from him graciously and he grabs a bottle of beer for himself as they both head outside.
“It’s weird being here without Connor.”
“I was just thinking earlier how it’s weird being here without Griffin and Ava.”
“At least we have each other, right?”
He hums. “Good thing.” She then gets roped into a conversation with his father and he happily takes a backseat, answering when a question is directed towards him but perfectly content in watching her.
(Julie and Susan, who had never really considered these two as a pair, nudge each other and exchange a few words, watching as Belle laughs while sipping her wine and Trevor just stares at her.
“She was supposed to get married last year. To a guy she met in college.”
Julie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is that right?”
“Yup. Until she caught him cheating.”
Julie sighs. “I wish we could protect our kids from everything that could hurt them.”
“I do too.” Susan watches her daughter wistfully and lovingly. “She’s always thrown herself into work, But especially after the break-up. You have no idea how relieved I was when she told me she was coming home.”
“Does she know where she’s going next?”
“Not that I know of. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t know.”
“She’ll be okay,” Julie says confidently, rubbing her old friend’s shoulder. “I’ve never had any doubt about Belle.”
“But you had doubt in the others?” Susan teases as Julie snorts. “All our kids are doing well for themselves, but you have one who is the definition of achieving their childhood dream.”
Julie sighs thoughtfully, looking at Trevor. “He’s done well for himself, I think.”
“You think?”
Julie just smiles, clinking her glass against Susan’s.)
Meat is grilled, salads are tossed and food is eaten as the sun fades away. Sometime between sunset and when the sky becomes black, the fireplace is lit and the outdoor lamps are turned on. Trevor switched to water after his second beer, liver still trying to recover from the wedding festivities.
Trevor finds Belle sitting by the edge of the pool with her feet dipped in, sandals to the side of her. Her hands are folded on her lap as she stares down, occasionally kicking her feet a bit to make the water ripple. He clears his throat so he doesn’t startle her. She looks up and her lips quirk up at seeing him, but they soon fall, as she turns back to the water and tilts her head to the side, taking a deep breath.
Trevor licks his dry lips. “Come with me?”
“Where are we going?” She asks, accepting the hand he offers as she gets up and slips on her shoes, adjusting her dress.
“You’ll see. We won’t be long.” Wordlessly, they go around the side of the house to go to the driveway. He catches his mom’s eye and just offers a small smile. Julie’s eyes flicker between him and Belle before she nods. Belle doesn’t say anything as Julie tosses her son the keys to her car, letting Trevor lightly tug her along by loosely intertwining their hands. He opens the passenger door for her and she gives him a grateful look as she slips in.
He hasn’t been to his intended destination in at least five years, but he knows the route all the same, easily driving the seven minutes. He sneaks a glance or two at Belle as the minimal streetlights light her face aglow for a few seconds at a time. Before he overthinks it, he reaches out and grabs her hand gently, waiting for her to pull away. She doesn’t, instead lacing her hand with his and squeezing once.
“I haven’t been here since I was in high school,” Belle says as Trevor kills the engine, the tranquility of the small lake and lookout everyone who grew up in Bedford called “Pink Sun” due to the incredibly beautiful sunsets one could see if they were lucky, no one knowing that it’s actual government name was. He’s almost confident that this specific lookout is private property, due to the string lights adorning the trees meticulously that seem to always be on, but whoever owns the property clearly doesn’t care. He would come in the summers from time to time with friends like Connor after he moved away for hockey, but he knows he didn’t experience it the same way as others did.
“Which tree did you have sex under?” Trevor asks as they get out of the car and open the trunk. He quickly fluffs up the two pillows his mom has in the car at all times and pulls the blanket over them both as they get comfortable.
She chuckles and Trevor immediately smiles at the sound. “Gross.”
“What? Isn’t that what people did?” She just lightly slaps him before they both fall into a comfortable silence again. She takes her hand from under the blanket and reaches out to find Trevor’s. He offers his hand immediately. It feels like the most natural thing in the world.
She starts sniffling, and when he turns to her, concerned, he sees tears rushing down her face. He immediately wraps his arms around her and maneuvers her so that she’s crying into his chest. He tries to be steady for her shaking body, rubbing her back and muttering sweet nothings to assure that he’s here and she’s not alone. He places a couple of kisses on top of her head without thinking because there’s a split down the middle of his heart that’s widening everytime she whimpers.
She cries. The water ripples. Trevor holds her close.
…..
The entire time Trevor’s back home, he doesn’t go more than a day without seeing Belle. They get ice cream, sitting in the chairs that haven’t been replaced in at least 30 years and giggling as the ice cream drips over their fingers. They go back to Pink Sun to watch the sunset. Because this whole month has him feeling nostalgic, he goes back to his old rink in Stamford and she tags along, indulging him as he pulls up his hoodie over himself as they watch the last 15 minutes of a game the AAA team that Trevor used to be a part of is playing in. Some of the front office staff is still the same and they all immediately beam when seeing Trevor. He chokes up a bit when talking to some of them. He’s missed it here more than he thought he would.
After training sessions, he just shows up to her house without any warning. They take a lot of drives, passing by landmarks they know well and ones they don’t know at all. They spend hours chatting on the porch of her parents’ place, waving at neighbors as they walk by and petting their dogs. She doesn’t cry in his chest again, but there are stretches of silence where she craves a comforting shoulder. Trevor doesn’t hesitate to offer his.
He learns more about why she enjoys wedding planning and her time in Michigan. She learns more about how his goals have changed the longer he’s been in the league and his time in Anaheim. They both talk about times they feel like they’ve had their heart ripped to pieces and he finds himself admitting things he’s never admitted out loud to anyone — not Jamie, not Jack, not Cole, not Alex.
He wonders to himself how he’s lived this long without her in his life.
The day Trevor has to leave for Anaheim, she offers to drive him to LaGuardia, smiling as he hugs his parents goodbye in the driveway, promising to see them soon when the Ducks are playing in New York.
She shuts the trunk at the departures drop-off area with a wistful smile. “I’ll miss you, Trev.”
“I’m gonna miss you too.” And then he practically manhandles her into a tight hug, his chin resting on her shoulder, rubbing her back before pulling away. “If you ever wanna come out to Anaheim, there’s always a place for you to stay.”
“I’ll think about it.” With most people, it’s an empty promise. But with Belle, he knows she means it. “Good luck this season. Score some goals, yeah?”
He rolls his eyes, arms still around her waist. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? You have my number. Use it.”
She nods, tilting her head to the side. “Okay.” She presses a kiss on his cheek before he forces himself to let go. She sticks her hands in her jean pockets. “Text me when you land?”
“Of course. Bye, Belle. I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye. Travel safe.”
Trevor forces himself not to look back as he walks through the automatic doors.
…..
The first roadie of the season includes a stop in Chicago, and Trevor doesn’t hesitate to text Connor. He feels the familiar pang in his heart again, guilty that he hasn’t reached out until now. But when he and Connor meet up for a quick coffee the morning of the game, it washes away quickly. They fall right back to where they were when they were 16, even though they’re both over a decade older and a bit wiser now. Trevor practically shoves two tickets for the game for him and his wife, even though Connor is trying to bat his hand away.
After the game, the three of them go to dinner and he gets introduced to Ashley, Connor’s wife, who is peppy and fun and he loves seeing her and Connor together. After dinner, Ashley excuses herself to go home as the two of them migrate to a nearby pub. They have years to catch up on.
“Belle tell you about the break-up?”
Trevor scoffs, taking a hefty sip of his beer. “Yeah. Fucking asshole.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth. When she decided to get the fuck out of Michigan, I was relieved.”
“Yeah?”
Connor sighs. “Yeah. I know she says she stayed because of the Hughes wedding, but I also think it’s because she had a hard time letting go. Which, you know, who can blame her, right?” Trevor just nods sympathetically. Connor leans back, eyes flickering elsewhere for a moment. “Thanks, by the way.”
“What for, man?”
“For looking out for her.” There’s a hint of relief in Connor’s tone. “She’s always been independent, I’m sure you remember. And she has a hard time letting people know that she’s struggling, even if we all see it and want to help. Whatever you did, thank you, man. It’s appreciated.”
Trevor bites his tongue. He wants to say that he doesn’t have to thank him for being a good friend, but Connor is adamant. So Trevor just smiles.
…..
The season’s in full swing, but Trevor makes the effort to keep in contact with Belle frequently. Whether it’s sending a meme or calling on his way to practice, Belle becomes a part of his daily life.
A month in Bedford now and he can tell she’s getting a bit restless. She’s taken up crocheting, which Trevor loves to make fun of her for. Until he finds a little box on his doorstep and opens it to find a crocheted Wild Wing. He hands it on his rearview mirror in the car. He doesn’t fully realize she’s watching his games until he sees a text from her after a game against New Jersey (“Don’t let Jack hang the win over your head too much. That slapshot was insane.”) and that has him grinning much too widely for someone who just lost.
On Thanksgiving Day, after one of the guys’ families hosts a Friendsgiving for the whole team, he’s back at his place on the couch when she calls him.
Her face comes up on the screen and he has to smile. “Oh. Hey.” she says gently. “I didn’t actually expect an answer.”
“You just caught me. I just got home from Friendsgiving with the team. Happy Thanksgiving, by the way.”
“Happy Thanksgiving.”
He doesn’t recognize her background. “Where you at?”
“My aunt’s. They’re all watching the game in the basement so I decided to take a break up in the living room.”
“Good food?”
“I’m fucking stuffed,” she admits, making Trevor laugh. “I’m not bad in the kitchen, but nothing beats a good homemade turkey and stuffing.”
“I feel you. So what’s been happening? Haven’t called in a bit.”
“It’s been, like, a week, Trev.”
“Exactly. A bit.”
She rolls her eyes, before leaning back further into the couch. “Actually, I do have news. Kinda.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I, uh, heard back from two people about a job. My old boss from Santa Ana said there’s a spot open for me if I want it. And then my boss in Michigan recommended me to someone in Manhattan, and she called me yesterday and also said I had a job if I wanted it.”
He grins. “Belle. That’s amazing! Congratulations. I’m not surprised though. I know firsthand how damn good you are at your job.”
He sees her blush slightly and he thinks it’s adorable. She twirls her hair around her finger. “Thanks. I’m, yeah. It’s pretty exciting. I’m excited to get back into it again.”
“So. California and New York. Those are two pretty different places.”
She sighs. “Yeah. That’s partially why I called you. Kinda want to get another opinion.”
Before he can stop himself, he snorts. “You’re telling me you haven’t made a pros and cons list already? Don’t think I don’t remember you forcing me to make one when I was deciding if I should go to Avon.”
She tilts her head to the side. “You remember that?”
“There’s not a lot of memories I have from growing up here that don’t have you in them. Of course I remember.”
She bites her lip but Trevor can see the smile peeking through. She clears her throat. “I do. Have a list.”
“So you’ve already made your decision.”
She opens her mouth. Then closes it. “Yes and no. I really do want your opinion, Trevor.”
“Floor’s all yours.”
“I love New York, but I don’t know if I can stay here. If I go back to Santa Ana, is it going to be like Michigan again? I don’t know what Santa Ana is like without Nate.”
“No,” he responds immediately. “It won’t be.”
“How are you so sure?”
“Because Santa Ana is yours, Belle. No one else’s. You said it yourself. You loved your time there. If Michigan doesn’t feel like home anymore and New York feels too much like your past self, California is waiting for you.”
A couple seconds of silence before a small chuckle erupts from Belle. “You take a creative writing class at BU or something? That was actually eloquent.”
If he were next to her, he’d shove her off the couch. He just huffs as she keeps laughing. “My point is, is that you can make fresh starts in familiar areas. Plus, not that I have anything to do with this, but Santa Ana is pretty damn close to Anaheim.”
“Knew you’d say that.”
“I mean, can you blame me? ” He leans back on the couch. “I don’t think you’re incapable of moving on. I think, in a way, you aren’t ready to, and that’s why Santa Ana scares you. You have to and are inevitably going to make new memories wherever you are, but you just have to do it. Take the leap. Dive in the deep end. Whatever the fuck they say.”
And well, that came out a bit harsher than Trevor intended, if the slight flinch on Belle’s face is an indication. But she sighs, “You’re right. I know you’re right. Fuck, Trev. Maybe I shouldn’t have quit and stayed in Michigan.”
“Stop,” he says. “We’re not doing that. Now you have to come out to California. Who else is gonna tell you to get your head out of your ass?” His goal is achieved as she laughs. “Seriously though. Whatever choice you make, you have my full support.”
Four days later, he sees that Belle left him a voicemail in the middle of the game. She’s coming to Santa Ana. Trevor starts organizing the guest room.
…..
Three days into the new year and Trevor finds himself running out of morning skate to drive to LAX. Belle’s staying with him while she looks for her own place, at Trevor’s insistence. He told her she can stay as long as she needs. He hopes she takes that offer seriously.
He rolls up to the arrivals terminal and idles his car, seeing a text from Belle indicating that she’s still waiting to pick up her luggage. He leans back in his seat, taking a deep breath adjusting the baseball cap on his head, bopping along to the latest playlist that he made for this season.
He’s about to do a drum solo on his steering wheel when he spots Belle come out of the double doors, rolling two suitcases, backpack on her back and a tired but genuine smile on her face. He immediately leaps out of the car, running to lift her up in a hug, making her chuckle.
“Hey Trevor.”
He kisses her cheek before putting her down. “Belle of the Ball. How was your flight?”
“Good. Long,” she reaches to get her suitcases and he waves her off, lifting her suitcases easily into his trunk as she slips into the passenger seat. She sags into the seat and turns to him with a bigger smile as he turns on the engine. “It’s really good to see you.”
He reaches to ruffle her hair to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach. “Missed you too.”
They catch each other up on what’s been happening since the last time they talked, so only really the last week. Once he turns off the highway, he opens the windows and he periodically glances at Belle, who’s leaning her head on the seatbelt strap as the houses blur by. She tucks her hair behind both her ears and Trevor feels his throat start to close up.
“Hungry?”
“A bit.”
“Enough to wait a bit so I can cook something up?”
She looks toward him in subdued delight. “You cook?”
“Decently, I’d say.”
“What are you gonna make me?”
Whatever you want, he thinks. “I make a pretty good steak.”
“Well, I’m not gonna say no to a personal chef.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he points at her jokingly. She laughs, but honestly, Trevor doesn’t hate the idea.
Belle’s car got shipped yesterday to Trevor’s place the week prior, so two days later, when Belle starts work and Trevor has to go to morning skate, they leave the house at the same time after cups of coffee and climb into their own cars, Belle wearing a red sleeveless blouse and white jeans and Trevor wearing a Duck t-shirt and shorts.
Before she can fully get into her car, Trevor runs around and squeezes her, making her squeal. “Good luck today. You’re gonna kill it.”
“Thanks Trevor. Have fun at morning skate.”
“Are you still cool with a couple of the guys coming over for dinner?”
“It’s your house, dude. You can invite over whoever you want.”
“It’s also your home too,” Trevor insists.
She rolls her eyes fondly. “It’s not. But of course you can have your friends over. I’m excited to meet them.” She gets in her car, but before she shuts the door, she puts her head out. “Do you mind grabbing some orange juice? I think you’re running out and I drink more of it than you do. Just Venmo request me.”
“Yeah, I gotcha. Won’t Venmo request you though,” she opens her mouth to protest but he just taps the roof of her car twice. “We can talk about splitting stuff later. Bye now!”
“Dick,” she mutters as she shuts her door. He chuckles. He lets her back out of the driveway first.
That night, Mason, Jamie and Leo come over and the four of them are finishing up cooking dinner when Belle walks in. A bit flushed and sweaty, she’s nothing but smiles as she slips off her shoes, putting down her bag and introducing herself. She hugs each of them with a sweet smile before finally reaching Trevor. She hugs him like she did with the other three, but he thinks she holds on a bit longer. He smacks a friendly kiss on her cheek, but he catches Jamie’s eye as she pulls away and he knows he’s going to absolutely be grilled about this tomorrow.
Dinner’s practically ready and the guys just shoo Belle away to the dining table, Leo pouring out a glass of wine for her. They chat and swap stories over chicken alfredo and salad, and Trevor’s content sitting back and watching two different parts of his life come together, not even jumping in to defend himself that much when she recalls some shenanigans from Jack’s wedding. Sure, they at least know of Jack, Alex, Cole and other various members of the NTDP crew who knew him when he was 17 and stupid, but Belle’s known him since they were children. Whether she — or Trevor even — realizes it or not, Belle and Trevor know each other in the purest way. The way only childhood allows, where filters of judgment, insecurities and expectations cease to exist.
Even with almost two decades lost in translation, Trevor thinks, in a way, Belle might know him better than most. And he might know her better than most.
Which is why he can sense that an hour after dinner, that Belle is exhausted, so he takes the initiative and the guys immediately pick up on it, bidding Belle goodbye and making her promise that she’ll come to a game soon. Once the door shuts, Trevor goes to start washing the dishes, batting her hand away when she tries to help.
“Trevor. You cooked. I’ll clean.”
“Nope. Go to take a shower. You’ve had a long day.”
“You have too.”
He waves her off. “Go. I got this.” Her shoulders sag in defeat, but she shoots him a thankful smile and heads to shower.
He’s just about finishing up the dishes and wiping down the counter when she walks back in, an old Michigan t-shirt and flannel pants on. She has her book in her hands but comes by next to him. “Are you sure you don’t need help cleaning up?”
He puts the kitchen towel back on the hook and swings an arm around her shoulder, bringing her against his side. “I’m sure. Where you unwinding for the night?”
“Probably the living room, if you don’t mind?”
“Belle. My home is your home. I mean it. I’ll probably join you after I shower.”
And he does, coming back in afterwards with only the living room light being on. He sees Belle curled up on the couch, engrossed in her book as one of the candles he rarely uses is lit up on the table in front of her. The air smells faintly of pine.
“Do you mind if I put on some football? I’ll put the volume low.”
She hums. “Not at all.” With her feet in his lap, blanket tucked over both of them, Trevor thinks that he could get used to this.
…..
Two weeks later, they’re finishing up their takeout when Belle clears her throat. “So I found a place that seems promising.”
Trevor stiffens. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s about 10 minutes from here. Just renting for now, which isn’t ideal. But it’s so soon, you know? I don’t wanna buy yet.”
Trevor understands the latter part, absolutely. But he’s still stuck on the first part of what she said. “When would you think of moving out?”
“At the start of the month.”
“That’s next week.”
She grimaces, washing their utensils. “Yeah. I just…I want to get out of your hair as soon as possible.”
“Belle,” his voice lowers into a serious tone that doesn’t come out of him that often. It works, because it gets Belle to look at him. “If you want to move out, I can’t stop you. It’s ultimately your decision. But I love having you here. So please don’t…don’t think you have to move out to get out of my hair. Because you don’t. I’d love for you to stay and live with me. Full time.”
Belle swallows, searching for something in his face. “You mean that?” She whispers.
“Of course I do.” He pushes on. “And you know I’m a shitty liar.”
She chuckles as she finishes washing the dishes. On her way to the bathroom, she stops and just hugs Trevor. He welcomes it with a big smile. “You 100% sure?”
“Yes.”
She pulls away with a smile. “Okay. Your porch is better anyways.”
Trevor laughs, his mind briefly flashing to an image of this place that had been only his for so long one day becoming theirs, with her throw pillows on the couch and fairy lights on the porch and photos of their friends and loved ones hanging on the walls, some they share, some they don’t.
…..
Trevor fully admits it to himself when Christmas rolls up and Belle refuses to go back to New York.
(“There’s no way I’m leaving you alone for Christmas, Trev,” she insists with an eye roll. “We’ll start our own tradition here. It’ll be great.”)
He doesn’t even try to hide his fondness as he watches Belle teetering at the edge of a chair to hang up lights around their living room. Some random Christmas playlist he had queued up at Belle’s prodding is playing through his speaker, and he doesn’t think “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” deserves the grin plastered on his face.
Belle, though. She might deserve it. Be the origin of it, really.
They make too many cookies that they'll have to gift his teammates and her coworkers just so they don’t end up eating all of them. They have holiday movies on in the background for three days straight, some they pay attention to, some they just leave on for background noise. On Christmas morning, after two cups of coffee on Belle’s end to deal with Trevor’s incessant rambling, they’re sat in the front of their tree. The curtains are drawn, offering minimal lighting into their living room. Yet, the twinkling lights on the tree and around their living room paint Belle in the warmest of lights. The blue fluffy blanket wrapped around her shoulders only adds to her softness and Trevor has to excuse himself after they exchange presents to go in the bathroom.
He splashes cold water in his face and stares at himself. He’s fully in fucking love. Shit.
…..
After that realization, he does the only thing that makes sense to him. Two days later, on the way to practice, he calls Jack. As the phone rings, he thinks that he probably should’ve checked to see if the Devils were playing today, but he also couldn’t be bothered.
Three rings later, Jack’s scratchy voice is projected through Trevor’s car. “Hello?”
“Hey dude.”
“You’re cutting into my pre-game nap. This better be fucking good.”
“I think I’m in love with Belle.”
Silence. A rustle on Jack’s end, before, “Jesus Christ. I knew Amelie should’ve taken the day off today.”
“Jacky,” Trevor practically whines. “Be helpful.”
“Give me a second to think and I will be,” Trevor stops at a light. “Dude. I mean, not completely out of left field. But in love love? That’s big. Considering you only reconnected, what, three months ago?”
“Yeah, I know. Am I being stupid? And I need you to be real with me and tell me if I am.”
“No.”
“I’m not being stupid?”
“No, you’re not being stupid. Z, I knew I wanted to marry Amelie, like, two months after I met her, and we weren’t even dating yet. You and Isabelle have known each other since you were kids.”
“Yeah, but we lost touch for over a decade.”
“Okay and? You spent a good amount of time together when you went back home, right? And she lives with you now, right?”
“She was the only one around at home, and we’ve been living together for maybe a month.”
“Dude, are you trying to convince yourself you are in love with her or that you’re not?”
Trevor shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. Right.”
He hears Jack let out a sigh. “I know you’ve been burned in the past with relationships and stuff, but this is a good thing, okay? She’s a great person. Try not to freak out about it so much.”
“And do what instead?”
“I don’t know,” Jack says sarcastically. “Maybe tell her?”
“Absolutely not,” Trevor says.
“Why not?”
Trevor’s about to tell him that Belle literally was supposed to be married a year ago but clamps his mouth shut. He’s not sure if Jack knows and that’s not his story to tell. “It’s just not a good idea.”
“Lame.”
“I’m gonna hang up and call literally anyone else.”
“Do it,” Jack challenges the empty threat, before softening. “Do you have any idea if she likes you back?”
“No,” Trevor says. “But I also haven’t been thinking about that because I don’t wanna…scare her off? I know she likes me as a friend, otherwise we wouldn’t be living together. But that’s probably all there is to it.”
“Maybe,” Jack says. “Or maybe you’re making assumptions. I’m not saying you have to do anything now, but you’re not stupid, Trev. Especially with stuff like this. And hey, at least you’re in love with someone as awesome as she is. Ooh, can you imagine you two getting married? It would be full circle!”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Trevor says as Jack chuckles. “Thanks, man. Seriously.”
“Anytime. And Z?” Trevor hums to tell Jack to go on. “Don’t beat yourself up so much. You don’t know until you ask.”
Those last two sentences echo through Trevor’s head for the rest of the day, even when he’s at practice and going through the drills. After so many years in the league, he usually always can leave his thoughts at the entrance of the rink and just focus on hockey. But not today. He can tell Troy wants to ask something, but he refrains. It’s not like a distracted Trevor appears often, and Trevor’s thankful his teammate doesn’t push.
When the front door swings open that night and Belle calls out her greeting, Trevor is coming back from being outside the last few hours, where he sat and listened to the birds and just stared at the grass, lost in thought.
Then Belle comes into view, gray sweater over a cream satin dress, tote bag on her shoulder and a tired but bright smile on her face, and Trevor’s not lost anymore.
In fact, as she slides over to him in her socks across the hardwood floor and hugs him in greeting, immediately talking about what they should make for dinner tonight, Trevor’s never felt more sure of where he is and where he should be.
…..
Trevor’s on a long roadie during Valentine’s Day, but he makes sure that he delivers flowers to the house before Belle has to get to work. He had spent an ungodly amount of time selecting which bouquet he wanted to send, and Jamie, the saint that he is, had only blinked when he saw what Trevor was looking at on his phone on the bus home from the game before Trevor could lock his phone.
Imagine if it was Troy. Or Mason. Or fucking Leo, who’s just as much a menace as he was the first day Trevor met him. Everyone loves him and thinks he’s a darling, but Trevor knows better.
He ended up choosing a bouquet from Fresh Sends because the packaging looks sick with the newspaper and the bright colored box and the reviews are all high. Without hesitation, he had picked the largest bouquet, which he knew if Belle knew how much it cost, would probably kick him out of the house or something. But she doesn’t ever need to find out. On the bus, he had hastily typed out a custom note.
Belle,
Happy Valentine’s Day!! Wish we could be watching shitty rom-coms together but I hope this makes up for it. Thankful to have you in my life again. See you when I get back!
Z
It’s not overly romantic, but he can’t exactly confess his love for her over a note when he’s across the country. If he ever confesses, he’s gonna tell her in person, not hide behind a note like a coward.
He wakes up on February 14 in a hotel room with a bleary smile as he wipes the sleep away from his face.
Belle of The Ball
*picture of the flowers*
Trevor!!! these are so so beautiful thank you
You really didn’t have to
Good luck against the Rangers tonight! And tell your parents (and mine) that i said hello❤️
Trevor nets two goals and an assist. He’s on top of the world.
…..
He’s pleasantly surprised to see that he has an incoming call from Amelie on his way home from the rink a week later.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Hughes.”
Amelie chuckles. “Quinn’s gonna be devastated.”
“Quinner has nothing on you.”
“Flatterer,” she says dryly.
“What’s up?”
“Jack told me. About you and Isabelle.”
Trevor almost snorts. When he first met Amelie, way back when they were in their early twenties, she had been way more hesitant on giving her opinion among Jack’s oldest friends. But with time, her sarcasm and vivacity came out, and while Trevor had been initially surprised and amused, it made sense. Anyone who would choose to spend their life with Jack Hughes has to be able to hold their own purely to rival his constant need for attention.
“Did he now?”
“You’re the worst. I’m not gonna tell you the same stuff he did, which by the way, I’m actually pretty impressed by. From the recap he gave me, he actually said some useful stuff. But I will say something that he forgot to tell you.”
“And what is that?”
“That you’re wonderful, Trevor.”
That’s not at all what he was expecting to come out of the photographer’s mouth. All he can muster out is an “Oh?”
“Yeah. And obviously Jack believes the same thing. You know that. But you’re such a lovely guy, Trevor. I’ve known that since the day we met, don’t get me wrong. But I-I’ve talked to Isabelle a few times since the wedding, and she always brings you up. And it’s always positive.”
“What does this have to do with my feelings for her?”
“Do you feel like maybe you feel like you’re not good enough for her? Is that partially why you’re hesitating on telling her? Take out the fact that she was in a long relationship before and broke off an engagement.”
He blinks. “She told you about the engagement thing?”
“Yeah. She came out to Jersey to grab dinner with Jack and I, like, two weeks before she moved to California and told us then. That’s not the point.”
He doesn’t remember Belle mentioning that. But like Amelie said, not the point. “I-I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Trevor. You’re one of the best people I know.”
“That can’t be true,” he tries to protest.
“But it is,” Amelie presses on. “You’re loyal. You’re funny. You have the ability to make anyone feel comfortable, even if you just met them. Your infectious energy elevates every room you walk into. You care deeply about everyone in your life. You were the first of Jack’s friends to be so openly kind to me and you continued to be kind to me even when I didn’t deserve it.”
“I’m loud. Harsh. Always has to be on the go or I get bored. Life of the party maybe and a fun time usually, but that’s it.”
Amelie scoffs. “Respectfully, shut the fuck up. Okay, you’re all of those things, so what? You think she doesn’t already know? She probably knows better than any of us. I get being hesitant to do anything because she’s maybe on a different page, I get that. But it’s not because you’re not good enough. Get that shit out of your head.”
Trevor has to laugh, both at the abruptness of this call and unbridled honesty from Amelie’s voice. “I’m not gonna lie. Getting chewed out by my best friend’s wife wasn’t on the list of things I expected today.”
“If you think I’m chewing you out now, you’re lucky Clementine doesn’t know about this yet.”
Trevor actually shudders at the possibility of Clementine Sandoval (well, Clementine Hischier as of two years ago but old habits die hard), lecturing him about this. He still remembers Clem’s lectures she would give Quinn, Jack and Luke when they were all in Michigan. They would usually be over the phone, since she was already out in California for school by then, but even at 17, Trevor knew she wasn’t someone to be messed with. Who else in the world, besides Ellen Weinberg-Hughes, can somehow lecture all three Hughes brothers successfully in one breath?
“She doesn’t?”
“Eh, usually she would. But she’s in her last trimester and Nico would kill me if I stressed her out more.”
And well, Trevor thinks that’s fair enough. He quiets again, thinking. “You think we could be a good match? Belle and I?”
“Yes,” Amelie says with no hesitation. “And I’m not going to tell you why, because I’m pretty sure deep down, you already know.”
He kinda hates that she’s right. Damn, is he this easy to read? He hangs up, but not before promising to give her a call more often.
As they’re leaving practice, Jamie nudges him with his shoulder. “How’s Isabelle?”
“She’s good. She has a wedding in Santa Monica this weekend so I haven’t seen her that much this week.”
“She a good roommate?”
Trevor smirks and elbows him lightly. “Better than you ever were.”
Jamie’s jaw drops, indignant. “Hey! I was a great roommate, thank you very much.”
“You were, you were. Nah, she’s great. We did Christmas just the two of us and it was really nice.”
“Just the two of you?”
“Fuck off, Jimmy.”
“I’m just asking! She chose not to fly home and stayed here with you instead. Ever think about what that could mean?”
Trevor has thought about it a lot recently, actually. But Jamie doesn’t need to know that. He lets out an uncommitted noise, but the look on Jamie’s face tells him that he’s not fooling anyone. Least of all, one of his dearest friends.
Trevor needs to tell her soon. Or get over it.
…..
Trevor never thought to really ask Belle if she wanted to go to a game, which is weird, because why wouldn’t he want a friend out in the stands to cheer him on? But he also knows that Belle wouldn’t be afraid to just ask if she wanted to go, and that her ideal time to unwind after work isn’t necessarily to go into a rowdy arena. She’s perfectly content snuggling in on the couch and watching the game on TV.
But when he mentions that Cole and the Canadiens are coming into town to play, she perks up. During the whole wedding weekend, Trevor could tell that she got pretty comfortable with Cole. Which, to Trevor, makes complete sense. Cole has the ability to make friends quickly and genuinely anywhere he goes. He leaves a ticket on the counter before heading to morning skate, as well as a note allowing her permission to raid his closet for any Ducks merch she so desires to wear.
The game is a fun battle that goes into OT, but Leo gets the game winner with an assist from Trevor and the Honda Center goes nuts. Trevor has plans to grab dinner with Cole and Belle, and he’s in good spirits during media before he meets up with Cole and goes outside to where he told Belle to meet them.
The boys see her before she sees them. Belle’s leaning against the wall of the arena on her phone, one of his jerseys tucked into black jeans and a black blazer completing the look. Cole calls out her name and she immediately puts her phone away with a smile, letting Cole hug her tightly with a chuckle. Trevor trails behind, watching the scene in happiness. Trevor tells Belle where he made dinner reservations, and she gets into her own car to follow them.
As Trevor watches Cole and Belle talk at dinner, it’s overwhelming, his love for her. Cole’s pulling out some old-school stories from way back during their program days and Belle’s absolutely loving it, pulling out some of her own stories from her college days and Trevor feels so fucking lucky. There’s a particular thing that Cole says that has her coughing up her water and she’s laughing so hard and Trevor feels so fucking fond.
Tomorrow, he promises himself. He has to tell her tomorrow.
…..
He doesn’t tell her tomorrow. But in his defense, he has to go on a road trip and she’s busy at work.
Somehow, after dinner with Cole, he had gone to sleep earlier than she did but had woken up before her to a short but sweet note on the kitchen counter. In her cursive, he smiles at her words.
Trev,
Thank you for dinner and a fun game <3 Wanted to tell you tonight but by the time I got out of the bathroom you were already in bed (old man). Good luck on your road trip to wherever!!
Love,
Belle
He takes the note and folds it carefully, tucking it into his wallet.
…..
At the end of the day, he ends up just blurting it out.
He comes home from the road trip to the smell of something absolutely delicious floating through the house. He peeks his head around the corner to see Belle flittering around the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. The oven beeps and Trevor decides to make his presence known.
“Smells good in here.”
Belle looks over her shoulder and he realizes she’s wearing one of his Ducks hoodies he must’ve had lying around. She beams. “Hey! Welcome home. I felt like making some good old grilled cheese and tomato soup with some roasted vegetables because I guess we need those. Don’t tell your coaches if this fucks up your diet-”
“I love you.”
And well, shit, because that’s definitely not how he pictured this going. For a split second, he thinks he imagined it. But Belle freezes, her back towards him, and he has no idea what to do.
After what seems like a lifetime, she turns off the stove and turns around. “What?”
Trevor walks forward, “I love you. I’m in love with you. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way and that’s okay! I really don’t want this to change anything between us because I love our friendship. But I-I had to say it because it’s driving me crazy not saying it.”
“Trevor-”
“I know. I know. I’m sorry. Y-you’re such an important part of my life and I really hope this didn’t fuck everything up-”
Belle rushes towards him to put her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. He forces himself to take a deep breath and to stop his hands from shaking, staring at his feet. He’s breathing really fast, but Belle’s orange blossom perfume and touch calms him down ever so slightly.
“You good?”
He swallows roughly. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” she says softly. He gets the courage to look at her face. He sees her smile and he can’t help but smile too. She clears her throat. “I-I thought it was clear, but I guess I’m out of practice. I feel the same way, Trevor. I like you a lot. Maybe not…love. Yet. B-but you’ve become my favorite person. And these last few months have been so…lovely. I just-I haven’t said anything because I don’t know if I’m ready yet.”
“That’s okay,” Trevor rushes to assure. Because holy shit, she likes him back? This was farther than he thought he was going to get. He chuckles lightly. “I…shit. Sorry. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact you like me like that.”
“Trevor,” she trails her hands down his arms to grab both of his hands. “Of course I do.”
“Oh,” he says softly.
Belle’s eyes water, and Trevor immediately feels the surge to make her feel better. “But I don’t know if I’m ready, Trev. I don’t know when I will be. And I can’t be the asshole and ask you to wait.”
“Why not?” Trevor challenges.
Belle looks at him incredulously. “Because that’s unfair.”
“Well too bad. Because I’m not gonna listen to you.”
“What?”
“As long as you need. Take your time. I mean it. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I promise.”
She bites her lip, “Trevor, you can’t possibly promise something like that.”
“I can, actually. And I will.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it, before laughing. She squeezes her eyes shut as he places his hands on her cheeks to cup her face. “Okay.”
He raises an eyebrow playfully. “You’re not gonna fight me?”
She shakes her head. “You’ve never been the kind of person to back down.”
He laughs and he so wants to kiss her. But he doesn’t, instead just placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You’ll let me know when you’re ready?”
“If you’re still around,” she jokes.
Trevor grins, his heart growing four times its size. He feels like it might explode out of his chest. “I’ll always be around for you.”
#k writes#hockey fanfiction#hockey fanfic#nhl fic#nhl blurb#nhl fanfiction#anaheim ducks#trevor zegras#trevor zegras x oc#trevor zegras fic#nhl
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ILYMTYEK
A/N: Matty and Amelia’s first Valentines Day.
Warnings: none.
***
Matty could smell the scent of Amelia’s body lotion as she climbed into bed next to him, going through her bed-time skincare routine while he tried to make it to the end of the chapter of the book he was reading before she’d turn the lights off.
His subconscious has come to associate that scent with sleep, cuddles, and the intimate feeling of her body in his arms. He found himself inexplicably softening and relaxing any time that lotion would come out.
She leaned to the side and planted a quick, light kiss to his cheek as she slid her legs under the covers, pausing a moment to admire how beautiful he looked with glasses on, “night, Matty.” She whispered sweetly.
Fuck the rest of this chapter. He couldn’t wait to wrap his arms around her and get under the covers to nuzzle her. He set his book down, took his glasses off, and turned the light off.
She giggled, “tickles!” When he rubbed his beard against her skin, pressing their bodies impossibly close together.
“You’re so soft.” He whispered, sighing contentedly, as he settled into the bed. “And you smell so nice. Like passion fruit.”
“It’s my lotion.”
He already knew that.
“Did you have a good day, today?” She turned around in his arms to press her lips to his, tickling stray strands of hair behind his ear.
“It was alright.” He shrugged, “Slow work at the studio. Missed you loads.”
Amelia blushed, smiling, and wondered if she would ever get used to hearing him say that.
“What’d you do today?” He asked, sleepily, his eyes fluttering shut as her fingers ran through his hair.
“Not much. Just revised some designs. Might be coming to work for your label again soon.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Been asked to help out with the newer artists, and….i don’t know. Might say yes.”
“You should!” Matty said instantly, his eyes still closed, eyebrows raised expressively. “That way we’d see each other more. Might even be in some meetings together.”
She giggled. “I don’t know how wise it would be to plan career moves like we plan dates.”
Her words seemed to awaken him from the edge of sleep. He jolted in her arms. His eyes suddenly flung open. “Speaking of which!” He whispered loudly. “What’re we doing for Valentine’s Day?”
“Didn’t know you were the Valentine’s Day type. Thought you’d moan about how it’s some kind of capitalist scam designed to commodify the one thing that should remain sacred between humans or whatever.”
Matty laughed silently, shaking his head. “You make me sound like a joy to be around.”
“What can I say? I like my men like….like- wankers.”
“Oh fuck off!” He kissed her cheek. “For your information, I do think it’s a capitalist lie. But it’s an excuse to make time and effort to be with you. And I do love you. So, I will gladly participate in this dehumanizing corporate ritual.”
“How romantic.” She teased.
“Seriously, Amelia. I want us to have a perfect first Valentine’s Day. So, tell me what you’d like. Let’s do something together.”
***
Matty offered George his cigarette lighter, reclining his chair backwards and putting his feet up on the computer desk.
“And then she said,” he pulled the cigarette off his lips, “that she’s never celebrated Valentine’s Day before.” Matty announced, baffled, “can you believe that?”
George cupped the flame and tilted his head down to bring the tip of the cigarette to the fire. “Hmm.” He took a long drag, a puff of smoke filling his line of vision.
“She said she’s either been single most Februarys, or, in a new-ish relationship where it’s too early to do anything serious. So….” Matty’s hands flailed in the air.
“So, what’s the plan, then?”
“I don’t fuckin know! It’s why I’m asking you. It’s not just- our first valentines. It’s her first ever valentines.”
“Right.” George closed his eyes, his brows crossed, in deep thought. “Could go the classic route: dinner at a fancy restaurant. Get dressed up. Reservations. Nice piece of jewelry. Roses and chocolate and all that. Failproof plan.”
Matty groaned in disgust. “Cliche. Boring. Predictable. Trite.”
“Alright, alright. Fine. You don’t like it. I get the idea. Don’t have to piss all over it.” George shifted in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him. “How about….something more lowkey and intimate. Night in at home, perhaps? You can still do flowers and candles and all that shit. Just the two of you together the whole night.”
Matty shurgged. “So…average Tuesday night?”
George rolled his eyes. “Weekend getaway, then?”
“Too dramatic.”
“Fine, write her a song.”
“What are we? Fifteen?”
George scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know, Matty. Ignore each other on opposite ends of the couch and fall asleep in front of the tv like a retired old married couple? Do whatever you like! I’m sure it’ll be fine as long as you’re trying. That’s the point isn’t it?”
Matty scoffed. “Useless.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m asking Hann.”
“Sure. Ask the boring married man.”
“Well, he’s been married a while. He’s obviously done something right.” Matty shrugged.
“He’ll tell you to cook her dinner and stay in. Mark my words.”
“Sounds kinda nice actually.”
George stared at his friend, incredulous. “Isn’t it what I JUST suggested?”
“ still. Gotta check with Hann.”
“Well, you better do it somewhere else cuz Amelia’s coming to meet with me in a bit.”
Matty’s eyes darted from his phone screen to George’s face. “What? Why?”
“Told you she’s designing the thing for the album I’m producing.”
“Right….right. Text me when she’s gone?” Matty walked over to the door, placing the phone to his ear and waiting for it to ring.
“Mhm.”
***
“Well, so? Did you get it?” Amelia whispered, leaning in close, even though they were the only two people in the studio.
George rolled his chair away from the desk, to the other end of the room, unlocking a discrete drawer. “Yup. Here it is. One, extremely rare, 1973 recording of Donny Hathaway, ‘I Love You More Than You’ll Ever Know.’” He smiled, wide, “Matty’s gonna lose his fuckin mind.”
“You’re a lifesaver, George. I owe you one. For real.”
“Nonsense.” He waved her off. “Just, erm….dont forget to send me the video of his reaction. I need it for a….lets call it an ‘independent project’ of mine.”
Amelia giggled. “You got it. Thank you, seriously. You’re the best.”
George nodded, wheeling himself back to the desk. “So? Do you know how you’re going to surprise him with it?”
Her eyes twinkled with pride. “Fuck yeah. I’ve made a special reservation at his favorite place. I’m taking him to dinner. Wining and dining and all that. Just when he thinks the night is over…I’ll pull it out. He’ll have no idea what hit him.”
***
Matty winced as he brought the ladle up to his lips for a quick taste. “I know! I’m sorry! I know you’re at dinner. I’m trying to be at dinner, too. But I think- I think I might have fucked it.” He, sighed, exasperated. “I- just- don’t think the sauce is meant to be bubbling quite as- mum, please! Turn on your camera I’ll show you.” He tapped his own camera in return, focusing it on the sauce pan in front of him.
Denise laughed, saying something about how he should’ve turned the stove off fifteen minutes ago.
“It’s not funny! This never would’ve happened if you’d let me come over and practice last week like we said- fuckin hell….well- do I- start over- I-“
“Matthew, breathe. You’re going to hyperventilate.”
“Well….It’s a good thing the gift I got her is perfect. By the end of the night she just might forgive me for this d disgusting dinner.”
“Pop the chicken in the oven, and just re-make the sauce. It won’t take too long! Fifteen minutes. LOW heat. No more; no less.”
“Right, right.” Matty nodded. “Fifteen minutes.” He echoed his mother’s instructions. “Fuck! I think- I think I just heard her come in. I’ve got to go. Bye now. Lots of love. Have fun at dinner. Say hello to everyone!”
Amelia walked through the door, greeted by an arrangement of teacup candles that flickered warmly, shining her way into the dining room. Her heart melted at the bouquet of flowers that stood at the center of the table. She clutched the record inside her bag closer to her chest, smiling to herself. She set her bag down, pulling out a bouquet of her own, and blushing in anticipation.
“Matty?” She called out his name as she approached the kitchen, hearing, in response, the banging sound of pots and pans, followed by her boyfriend’s incoherent cursing. She rushed into the kitchen. “Matty? Are you alright?”
“No! No! No! I- I mean yes! Just don’t- fuck!”
Running inside, she was relieved to find him unharmed standing in the middle of the kitchen, with freshly washed pots and pans at his feet.
“Was just putting away some dishes and- oh.” He paused when he saw her walk in. “What’ve you got there?”
“These? Oh, these are for you.” Amelia straightened her posture, walking slowly over to him. “Flowers and chocolate.” She giggled, suddenly feeling foolish. “Gosh. Is that….stupid? I just- I don’t know. I figured men don’t usually get gifted stuff. They’re the ones doing the gifting on days like today, so- god that sounds so fuckin-“
“Perfect.” Matty blurted out, placing a hand on her arm. “It’s perfect. I’m- so- I don’t even know what to say.” He stammered. “Th-thank you.”
“Really? You promise you’re not just saying that to spare me the humiliation?”
He chuckled; shaking his head. “Not at all. Nobody’s ever gotten me flowers and chocolate before! Feels nice to be spoiled like that.”
He took the flowers and chocolate out of her hands, setting the bouquet down and instantly digging into the box of chocolates. “Does it say, on the thing, which ones are which? Or do I have to bite into them to go find out?”
“Wait! Don’t eat that-“
“Too late. I think this one’s got some raspberry in it or something… it’s good! Try it?” He brought the remaining piece up to her lips.
She accepted the taster, licking her lips. “I just meant don’t fill up on chocolate. We’ve got dinner plans.”
Matty’s brows furrowed. He wondered if they’d made a commitment that he’d somehow forgotten about. “We…hmm?”
She grinned, excitedly. “I made reservations!”
“What?! No! I- made dinner. Well, I’m making dinner…I hope I am, anyway… but- erm… if you’d rather go out- I guess I could just- it’s fine-“
“Oh- Matty.” She looked around the kitchen, finally, realizing what she’d interrupted. “You didn’t have to! It’s fine. I’m fine. We don’t HAVE to go out. I just figured you’d want to, that’s all.”
Matty felt conflicted. He’d been so caught up in trying to surprise her that he hadn’t considered whether or not she’d have different expectations.
“Oh. I mean- no. It’s fine either way. I guess I’d imagined that we’d just - have a night for just us, you know? Everyone’s probably out at dinner tonight- it’s-“
“No, you’re right. Let’s- you’ve already gone through the trouble of making stuff for us- let’s just do your thing. I’ll call and cancel.”
“Are- you sure?”
“Yeah, yeah. Of course. Wanna have dinner with you. Here. Now.”
She kissed him.
***
“Erm…Amelia? Darling? Have- have you made that call yet? Cuz if not….you might want to keep those reservations after all….i think- I might have burned our dinner.”
All the way from the bedroom, Amelia could only vaguely make out the word “burned,” but it was enough to alarm her and send her sprinting into the kitchen. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I promise. The chicken isn’t though….”
Amelia chuckled as she looked down at the dish that Matty had just pulled out of the oven. “What on earth happened to this poor chicken?”
Matty shrugged. “I feel like I did everything the instructions told me to. But, erm, I’ve obviously gone wrong somewhere.”
***
Amelia plopped down onto the couch next to him. “App says pizza is on its way.”
Matty looked down at his feet in shame, nodding in silence. “I’m sorry I ruined our night.” He mumbled.
“You did not! You’ve been so thoughtful and sweet-“
“Don’t have to lie to my face about it.”
“I’m not lying!” She placed her hand on top of his, squeezing it gently. “Look at all these candles you lit up for us. And the table that you set. The flowers? They’re so cute. Nobody’s ever done that for me before! I love it! Really!”
A weak smile gradually made its way onto Matty’s face. Those were still not the standards that he’d hoped to measure his success by, but he was glad that she felt appreciated.
“Besides! I still have one more trick up my sleeve.” Amelia announced.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhm. I got you a present!”
He laughed. “Well; so did I.”
“Shall we open them? To lighten the mood?”
The light finally returned to Matty’s eyes. “Yes, yes, okay! I’ll go get mine. You go get yours. We’ll meet back here on this couch, yeah?”
“You go first!” Matty squealed, his legs bouncing, barely able to contain his excitement.
Amelia laughed, kissing him softly. “You’re so cute when you’re excited like that.” She took the gift from his hands. “It’s fine either way cuz I’m pretty sure my gift is going to blow yours out of the fuckin water.”
Matty rolled his eyes, feeling his competitive instincts kick in. “No it won’t. Just open it and see for yourself!”
Amelia’s hands delicates untied the sleek ribbon, already thinking about how she planned to save the wrapping paper forever. She found the taped up corner to undo with as little damage to the wrapping as possible, slowly, cautiously, unveiling her gift. It only took her one peak at what’s inside to burst out into a fit of uncontainable laughter.
“What?” Matty demanded, eyes darting between her and the present. “What’s happened? What’s so funny? Why’re you laughin??”
Amelia attempted to swallow her giggles and straighten her face, several times, unsuccessfully. The longer this went on, the more impatient Matty became. “Just- just finish opening it! Open it would you?!!!” He grabbed her by the shoulders.
Finally, she found the self-restraint necessary and looked up at him. “Matty, I- got you the exact same thing.”
***
Donny Hathaway’s velvet voice crooned in the background behind the glugg of the wine as Matty pour them each a glass.
Said I love you
More than you'll ever know
More than you'll ever know
Amelia opened the pizza box over the duvet, pulled a cheese slice apart from the rest of the pie. “Sex, wine, AND pizza?” She giggled. “Best Valentine’s Day ever.”
Matty clicked his glass to hers. “Here’s to a million more, my love.”
She hummed over a mouthful of pizza. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Matty. I love you always.”
“Love you always. More than you’ll ever know.”
#matty healy fanfiction#matty healy writing#matty healy fluff#matty healy oneshot#matty healy fanfic#matty healy x oc
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Did I write a smutty little Derek story based entirely on this moment in Step 3 after you flirt with him and tell him he's probably super toned?
Yes, I did, and I'm not sorry about it.
This is smut-lite, I'd say, a little racier than the similar-ish Baxter fic I wrote but nothing super crazy. It also may be OOC for Derek but give the man something, OK.
If someone had asked you when you were 13 who you saw yourself with in the future, without a doubt you would have answered "Derek Suarez." He was the boy you were going to marry. There was no doubt in your mind.
Back then, you liked him so much it hurt. Sometimes he'd say and do things that made you think he might feel the same way, but he never said anything. Well, he did ask you to marry him, but only if you were both single in 10 years. And when you tried to point out that if you liked each other, maybe you could just start dating now, he shut it down so fast that you were forced to accept that your crush must have been one-sided.
That was five years ago. A lot had changed since then -- you were still friends with Derek and you definitely still had a soft spot for him, but it had been a long time since you'd realized he didn't return your affections. You'd long since stopped hoping for anything to happen with him.
But during a call towards the end of summer, just before he was leaving for college, he made a remark. Just one little comment, nothing even particularly notable, at least not to the casual observer.
After that, it was on.
During your chat, you'd exchanged updates on how your summers had been going, and you made some offhanded comment about how much more toned he must be after all the training you knew he'd been doing to get ready for college. It was flirty, sure, but nothing crazy.
His response was what had surprised you. He had flirted back.
You could still hear it. His voice had gone low and quiet as he confirmed that he was even more toned that he was the last time you'd seen him, and then, with a smirk instead of his trademark wide smile, he'd said "I hope you can see it in person sometime."
It wasn't likely -- whether it was because of his busy schedule or just by his own design, he was rarely free for a visit. But because he was leaving so soon, Cove had begged and pleaded with him to come to Sunset Bird for one last beach day before adulthood officially began, and he'd agreed.
That's how you found yourself sitting on the shore between your two best friends, holding a fruit tray on your lap as they steadily demolished it.
"What are we going to do next?" Derek asked, grabbing another piece of pineapple. "We already hit up the playground and the grocery store, now we're eating fruit on the beach."
It was a Nostalgia Day -- the three of you were doing things you'd done during that first summer together.
"I don't think we have time to go to the mall," Cove said. "I'll have to be at work before we would get back."
"I think that knocks the pool at Derek's apartment building out too," you said.
"We did pick up the lemons and water balloons," Derek offered. "We'll definitely have time for that."
You and Cove nodded in agreement. You spent the next half hour or so picking at the fruit tray, talking about what was ahead for each of you, then decided it was time for the next activity.
The lemonade was made in Cove's kitchen just as it had been five years before -- except with no knife wounds. It tasted as sweet as it did then, and when you were done with your glasses Cove went back into the house and came out with an empty laundry basket.
"Let's load it up," he said, his tone turning serious.
You and Derek worked together filling the water balloons, and Cove placed them safely in the basket. When you'd made enough to fill it, you carried it out to the street. The three of you stood around it, looking at each other.
Just as you were about to suggest some terms for the battle, Cove struck. He quickly stuck his hand into the basket, pulled out a balloon and hurled it at Derek.
When you were 13, Cove's strategy was to stay by the ammunition, not caring if he got hit so long as he had easy access to hit others, and it hadn't changed. You and Derek grabbed your own balloons as you could, darting away from Cove, but in the end, there was a clear winner, and the sopping wet clothes you and Derek wore were proof.
"No mercy, huh, Cove?" Derek asked. Nonchalantly, he pulled his shirt over his head and wrung it out on the street.
You tried not to stare, but you didn't exactly succeed. Feeling your eyes on him, he turned to you, starting to say something, but he stopped. Your own shirt was soaked and clung to your chest -- it was his turn to stare. He let himself look for just a second before he turned away.
He and Cove started picking up the little broken pieces of the balloons that littered the street, and you joined them. By the time everything was said and done, Cove announced that it was time for him to get ready for work. He gave Derek a hug -- his friend would be leaving soon, and he knew this was goodbye for a while.
Cove retreated inside his house, and Derek looked to you, smiling.
"We can keep hanging out if you want," you told him. "I don't have anything to do."
"Me neither," he replied. "Or at least nothing I would like to do more."
You'd had enough outdoor fun for the day, so you decided to hang out in your room, another familiar activity from back when you were younger. This time, you were in a different room, having taken over Liz's bigger one after she left for school herself, and Derek looked around as you went to your closet to pull out a new shirt.
"Don't turn around," you told him, seeing his back was to you as he looked at the photos on your wall. He gave you a thumbs up, and you quickly switched your wet shirt for a dry one.
When you were done, you went to stand beside him and looked at him, then to your wall. His eyes, you could tell, were on one specific picture: one your moms had took of the two of you at the summer soiree.
"We were so little," you told him, trying to focus on the photo and not the warmth that was radiating off his body, so close to yours. He still hadn't put his shirt back on, and you were trying not to think about that either.
"I know," he said. "It was the perfect night. I thought my little 13-year-old heart would explode."
"What do you mean?"
"It was life or death, remember?" he asked. You did -- he had said that that night.
"My very first date, a fancy party with you," he said wistfully. "I wish I could go back and tell myself how good I had it then."
You studied his face then, determined to figure out what he was getting at. He had a similar kind of tone that he'd had during that flirty conversation on the phone the week before, but there was something else there too. Something deeper.
He turned to face you then, moving his body to face you as well. You mirrored him, and you stood close together, neither of you saying anything.
"I really did, you know?" Derek said finally. "Have it good, I mean. I got to spend so much time with you."
"Growing up is hard," you shrugged, trying to keep your cool. "Things get busy."
"I shouldn't have let it get so busy that I stopped being so close to you."
Taking a steadying breath, you said, "We're close now."
He looked at you for a bit, and you could practically see a war going on in his mind. You imagined him imagining what you meant, what he thought was right, what you could do together here in your room while you were home alone. What he needed and what he thought he deserved.
It was tough to see him battling with himself. He'd been doing it for years, and you wanted to help him stop, if only for a little bit.
You raised a hand that you hoped didn't look as shaky as it felt and placed it on his shoulder. His muscles tensed under your touch. He looked down at your hand there, then to your face. You weren't sure how to tell him that it was ok, that he could be with you if he wanted, so you tried to convey the message with your eyes.
His flirty tone that had been on your mind all week couldn't have possibly been from this man that stood in front of you. Over the phone he's been assertive, forward, but now that you were actually in front of each other he couldn't make a move.
"Derek?" you prompted, stroking a thumb over his shoulder.
He inhaled deeply, then stiffly brought his hands up to your waist. He gripped you, testing the waters a bit, and you stepped closer to him and placed your other hand on the back of his neck.
"We are," he said. "Close now."
With a painful slowness, he brought his mouth closer to yours. He paused then, bringing his eyes from your lips to see if you were all right. You nodded, and he leaned the rest of the way in.
His kiss was, as you'd imagined, soft and gentle, like he was. It was careful and unassuming, and so sweet. You enjoyed it for a moment, taking in the fact that you were actually, finally kissing him. You pressed it into your memory.
But then you wanted more.
You pulled him in closer, deepening the kiss, and as timid as he was about this, he readily responded. His hands dipped a little lower, the tips of his fingers grazing over the curve of your hips before he moved them back up. With a little grunt of protest against his lips, you grabbed his hands and placed them where they'd wanted to go.
He laughed, and while normally you would delight in the sound, it wasn't what you were going for now, so you caught his lips in another kiss.
Slowly, he loosed up a little. He had more fun with kissing you, exploring your mouth for the first time. His hands freely roamed along your hips, down to your thighs and around to your back. A moan slipped from your mouth to his, and he pulled back.
"Is this ok?" he asked.
"Yeah. Is it ok with you?"
He smiled, placing another kiss on your forehead, and said, "I'm managing."
At some point, he slid his hands under the the bottom hem of your shirt, caressing the bare skin there. Figuring that it wasn't fair that he was the only one without a shirt, you hastily threw yours over your head and off to the side. It was his turn to moan.
Figuring that being the initiator here had played in your favor so far, you eventually started leading him over to your bed. You sat first, pulling him down with you, then you laid down on your back, hoping he'd fall into place.
With an ease that made you proud, he gently grabbed one of your knees and pulled it to the side so he could fit between your legs. He lowered himself down over you, letting your bodies touch while he still held his weight up himself. Instead of going back to your mouth, he trailed kisses all along your neck, across your collarbone and slowly -- always slowly, giving you plenty of room to pull back if you wanted -- down your chest.
You thought about how much you'd thought about having him here, exactly like this. It was better than you'd imagined, but of course it was -- actually being able to feel his warmth, see the sparkle in his pretty green eyes whenever he took a second to look up at you wasn't something you could duplicate in your dreams.
Then an unwelcome thought came -- he'd be leaving soon. In a matter of days, he'd be gone and who knows exactly when he'd come back, or when you'd get a chance to be like this again? Or if you ever would get the chance?
The thought made you a bit desperate, and you raised your hips to connect with his. His hands, which had been holding onto your hips as he kissed his way down your stomach, clenched. His breath was shallow against your skin.
"You would tell me if you wanted to stop, right?" he asked, almost bashfully. You assured him that you would, of course you would, and added, a bit bashful yourself, that you were a long ways from wanting to stop.
He slid his fingers just under the waistband of your shorts and looked up at you, wanting to be certain before he proceeded. Once again, you nodded, and he stripped you down to your underwear.
"I never thought this would happen," he murmured, coming back up to your lips. Between kisses, he said, "I wanted this for so long. Is that weird to say?"
"No," you said, "I have too. So if it's weird then at least we're both weird."
"I can live with that."
His hand started roaming again, but this time he found his way into your underwear and got to work.
As your sighs and groans grew louder and more frequent, so did his, although you weren't touching him, not yet. He kept kissing your cheek, your jawline, your temple -- anywhere he could get as he focused on moving his hand in the ways that seemed to please you most. You gripped onto his arm to steady yourself, feeling your release coming, and before he could misinterpret it you told him, "Please don't stop."
The gentleman that he was, he obliged.
When you were done -- when he was sure you were done -- he dragged his hand back up your body, confident enough now to touch you wherever he wanted. But, you'd decided, it was his turn. You nudged his shoulder, guiding him to lie down, then sat up and started pulling on his gym shorts. You took a page out of his book, going slow enough so he'd have time to tell you if he wanted you to stop.
Instead, he said, "You don't have to."
"I want to," you told him. "Is that ok?"
He thought about it, then nodded, shy again. But when you slid down his shorts, his underwear with them, and took him in your hand, the shyness was gone.
You knew Derek, and you know that he very rarely indulged himself. He always took care of everyone else and got uneasy when anyone tried to do the same for him. So you took your time.
Thankfully, he seemed to enjoy himself immensely. As you moved your hand, you started talking to him a low voice not unlike the one he'd used in that phone call that started all of this. You told him how good he was, how beautiful, as soon as a compliment popped in your head you showered it down on him, and it was impossible to come up short with words of praise when it came to him. His cheeks became as flushed as his chest, he was grunting and gasping and jerking, but when you moved to put your mouth over him, he put a firm hand on your shoulder.
"No," he said. "Don't, I didn't do that for you."
"It's not a contest," you told him with a laugh.
"Maybe not. But if it is, I want to win."
You hummed in thought, rubbing your free hand down his thigh, and after he was done with that particular moan, you said, "What if this is just the second quarter? Not even to halftime yet, plenty of chances to take the lead."
He grinned. "I can work with that, I think."
After he had finished ... well, it didn't seem like he was finished. With a passion he didn't have before, he pushed you back down to the bed and kissed you hard. His hand found its way back to your underwear, and this time you quickly took them off before letting him wrap you in his arms and pull you tight against him.
He was making the sweetest sounds, and you were breathless as he put his hand between your legs again. This time he was working quicker -- he was a fast learner. You felt him against your thigh, getting hard again already, and you found yourself trying to remember where you'd put those condoms your moms had given you, "just in case."
Before you could place them, there was a flurry of noise downstairs. Your family was home, and they weren't being quiet about it.
Derek froze and looked at you, starting to panic. Understanding that things couldn't go as far as you wanted them to put not willing to be done just yet, you started rocking your hips against his hand. He buried his face in the crook of your neck to hide the noise that move had brought out of him.
Once again, he brought you to climax, and it was your turn to muffle your cries again him. When your breathing slowed, he gave you a slow, easy kiss, then said, "We better get dressed."
You moaned, but it wasn't as fun as when you'd done it earlier.
"Come on," he said, giving you another peck before hopping out of your bed. "I'm not about to be caught in your room naked."
You watched as he quickly got dressed, and you felt his eyes on you as you did the same. Before, he wouldn't have dared to check you out like this. Now he was drinking it in shamelessly.
When you were both presentable, you saw his smile fade a bit. You raised your eyebrows, and he said, "I wish this wasn't over. I wish we had more time."
You could tell he wasn't just talking about this afternoon.
"Well, just remember what I said," you told him, stepping closer and gripping his arms for the pep talk. "This is halftime. The game's not over yet."
He smirked at your attempt at a sports metaphor, then surprised you by moving a hand down to squeeze your ass.
"Oh, it's not over by a long shot."
#our life beginnings and always#our life#olba#derek suarez#our life derek#olba derek#derek x you#derek x reader#derek x mc#derek suarez x you#derek suarez x mc#derek suarez x reader
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Surprise (M) ~Bang Chan
Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader
Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Established Relationship
Warnings: chubby/curvy MC, graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut)
Word Count: ~2k | AO3
Summary: Your boyfriend had been stressed with work lately, so you got yourself a pretty lingerie set to surprise him, hoping to cheer him up. [This story is part of my WereRoomies series, but honestly i feel like it can be read even if you haven’t read the rest].
Author’s Note: this adds absolutely nothing to the lore of this series, it’s just shameless pwp. especial thanks to @mistlitmoonlight, @incredulousquokka & @sstarryreads for encouraging me to post this when i asked about it lol
Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.
Smut Warnings: praising · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but the reader is presumed to be on birth control] · intercrural · cumshot · very lowkey body worship? or is it highkey? i can’t tell anymore you guys can tell me lol
Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.
“Look at you, baby… Taking me so well… You look so gorgeous like this, you know?”
All you could do in response was pathetically whine as you continued to bounce on your boyfriend’s cock. One of Chris’ hands held your wrists in place behind you, keeping you sat straight, while the other gripped your thigh, right under the elastic of your suspender belt.
You’d been at it for a while, you had honestly lost count of how many times this man had made you come in the last hour, but it wasn’t like you were surprised by this. It was exactly what you were hoping for when you got this lingerie set.
It was a last minute decision, to be fair, but now you were glad you did get it in the end. You’d gone to the store with Changbin’s girlfriend, she wanted to look for something cute for herself so you tagged along, and when you saw the plus sized matching set–bra, panties, stockings, and suspender belt–you were certainly intrigued.
Shopping for underwear in your size was always annoying, so finding something that fit was almost a guaranteed purchase. And when you looked at yourself in the mirror back at home you knew you’d made the right choice. The bra held your bust perfectly–which was already a rare find–the suspender belt was snug on your waist, the stockings fit your thick thighs just right, and that last one was the one that had you the most excited, because you knew Chris would absolutely love seeing these on you.
Your boyfriend had a thing for thighs, something you were always ready to let him indulge in, considering you had plenty to play with. So, when you got the text from him that he was finally on his way home you got into your pretty plum coloured set, draped his bathrobe over your frame, and patiently waited for him to come home.
As soon as you heard the beep, beep, beeps of the keypad you got on your feet, making your way to the hall so you could greet him. Chris made his way into the flat with a groan, dropping his keys in their designated bowl in the bureau and his bag by the umbrella stand as the door closed behind him.
“Welcome home, baby”, you wrapped your arms around his neck as soon as he opened his arms for you, pressing a soft kiss on his lips.
“Mmm… You smell so good, pretty…” Chris buried his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly by your waist, and pulling you flush to him.
“How was work?” Threading your fingers through his hair, you gently massaged his scalp as he waddled you both further into the flat.
“Hell-ish… Just wanted to be back…”
“How tired are you?” You whispered in his ear. Sure, you wanted to jump him, but if he was tired you could always leave this for some other night, it was important for him to get some rest, too.
Chris seemed to have picked up on your tone–or maybe it was your scent, he always knew when you were in the mood because of your scent, so it wouldn’t surprise you if that were the case. “Not tired at all for my pretty baby… Why?”
The hopefulness in his question made you smile, and you pulled yourself away from him enough to give him a brief kiss. “Because… I have a surprise for you…”
“A surprise?” Chris was clearly not expecting any surprises, but he looked like he wanted to find out what it was regardless.
So you gave him a nod, untangling yourself from his limbs and taking a couple of steps back as you undid the knot of your robe–his robe–letting it fall to the floor.
The gasp that left Chris’ lips certainly made it all worth it.
“You…” He licked his lips, and he brought both of his hands to his face, slapping his cheeks a couple of times. “Wow”.
“You like it?” You dragged your hands from your chest to your hips, eventually moving lower to find the elastic holding your stockings in place and snapping it against your skin, making Chris exhale an incredulous huff as he shamelessly stared at your thighs, focused where the skin swelled a bit over the lace welt.
“Like it?” Chris gave you a look from head to toe, that predator look that always had you wet for him in record time, and it had you shivering with excitement. “Baby, listen to me, and listen very carefully…”
You clasped your hands behind your back and nodded, an obedient gesture that you had come to know would get him even more worked up. You saw Chris’ Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and he brought a hand to his cheek again, softly massaging his jaw. “I’m gonna go wash my hands, freshen up a bit, and in the meantime you’re gonna go into our room, go on our bed, and patiently wait for me, okay? Can you do that for me?”
You nodded, understanding, so you turned around to make your way towards your shared room, relishing Chris’ gasp as he took notice of your thong. You couldn’t help but turn around, smiling playfully at him, and the smirk he gave you back was enough to let you know that you were in for a long night.
So that was how you ended up here, riding his cock after he had given you toe-curling orgasm after toe-curling orgasm–with his mouth attached to your sensitive chest, with his head between your legs, with his fingers between your folds…
The bra and panties had long since been discarded by the edge of the bed. ‘You look great in these, but if I don’t feel your skin I might actually die’, Chris had mumbled into the skin of your neck before he carefully undid the clasp of your bra to remove it off of your frame–even when he could get a bit desperate, you’d already given him an earful the first time he ever tore one of your bras, ‘good bras are hard to come by! Destroy all the panties you want, but leave my bras alone!’ and thankfully he’d been extra careful with that since then.
‘These are staying, though…’ he’d dragged his hands up and down your covered thighs once he’d removed your underwear, so you were left wearing only the suspender belt and the matching stockings, which wasn’t surprising at all, these were certainly the star of the entire set.
“C–Chris…” You weren’t really sure what you wanted from him, his tight hold on your wrists behind your back had your mouth watering, the feeling of your tits bouncing had your head spinning, and his cock so deep into your cunt was quickly building your next high at an alarming pace, even when you were anything but steady at this point–if anything, you were taking it quite slow, because your legs just couldn’t keep up anymore.
“What is it, pretty baby?” Chris’ grip on your wrists tightened, and the hand he had been keeping on your thigh moved to knead one of your breasts, making you whine when he pinched and rolled one of your already bruised nipples. “Want me to take over? Is my baby tired?”
You nodded weakly, holding his gaze as best as you could, getting lost in the dark haze of lust you could see in them.
“Come here, love”, releasing your wrists, Chris wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to lay your weight fully on him.
You let out a sigh of relief, stopping your movements altogether to simply enjoy the feeling of Chris’ lips on the heated skin of your cheeks. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, yeah? So good to me, wrapping yourself up in such pretty packaging…”
Sliding his hands down your back, Chris found purchase on your rear, holding you tightly as he started to effortlessly move you up and down his cock, making you moan with the sudden movement. “So fucking pretty… Always… Mine…”
“Yours…” You mumbled in his ear, revelling in the groan that left his lips, revelling in the feeling of his thick monster cock filling you up time and time again. “Only yours. Only–” His pace was quickening, and you couldn’t help but whimper against his shoulder. “Only my alpha’s…”
“Fuck… You always…” With a groan, he stopped his movements, keeping you flush to him. “Always clench so hard when you say that, you know?”
Before you could respond, Chris rolled you on your back, stealing the air out of your lungs as he resumed his thrusts with your legs over his shoulders, his hands at either side of your hips for leverage, tilting your hips just right to hit your sweet spot. “Do you like it, pretty? When I stuff you full? When your alpha takes care of you?”
You swallowed, nodding as you reached for his forearms at either side of you, gripping him tightly–although you knew that for him the strength of your grip was probably barely even noticeable. “Love it… Love you, Chris…”
The moan that left Chris’ lips as your words reached him did it for you, sending you over the edge. Tears gathered in your lower lashline as he kept fucking into you, helping you ride your high for a while longer until you savoured every wave of pleasure he could draw out of you.
“Love you. So much… My perfect girl…” Pulling out from your abused cunt, Chris held your thighs tightly, easing his cock between the supple flesh to fuck himself right on the sliver of skin exposed by your stockings, spreading your own juices all over your skin with his movements.
The sound of his hips hitting your skin was almost deafening, and you knew you were going to bruise where his hands tightly held you. Reaching for him, you cupped his cheek, softly stroking his skin with your thumb as he ruthlessly fucked your thighs. “Give it to me, Chris… My big bad wolf…”
Your voice was barely a whisper, but it clearly did it for him, too, because seconds later, he let out a borderline animalistic growl, just as thick ropes of his seed kept spurting from his tip between your legs and soiling your entire torso. He was always so warm, his cum was warm and tempting, and the way he kept fucking your thighs to ride his high as he stared deeply into your eyes while groaning and grunting and swearing was still to this day one of the hottest things you’d ever experience.
“Fuck…” Chris was panting a bit, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs. Hooking a finger under one of the elastics, he pulled on it so it snapped back on your skin, making you giggle.
“These… Good God, these were an excellent purchase, baby. Remind me to get you a pair in every single colour”, Chris chuckled, pulling away from you entirely with a ‘stay put’ so he could leave the room, returning a minute later with a warm washcloth to clean you up.
Once you were thoroughly cleaned, he laid down next to you, pulling you into a hug and smothering your face with soft, tired kisses, mindlessly mumbling into your skin. “Mm… Pretty…”
You chuckled softly, slowly caressing your boyfriend’s back once he moved your head to rest on his chest. “Hope this helped ease some of that stress you’ve been going through with work, baby…”
“Work? What work? I only know my precious girlfriend, and her delicious thighs…” Chris mumbled against your hair, pressing soft pecks on the top of your head.
He was quiet for a while, just massaging your scalp and your soft body, until he took in a deep breath, hugging you impossibly closer. “How was your day, though?”
You couldn’t help but smile against his skin, rubbing your cheek on his chest before you pulled back to look at him, finding him already looking at you with a soft smile on his lips. With one final peck on his lips, you started telling him about your day.
Author’s Notex2: if you made it this far, thank you for reading ! let me know if you would be interested in reading little drabbles like these for the couples of this series between the longer one shots ! i’m currently working on a bit of a longer piece to get more in depth in Chris’ character, and it’s from his POV, so look forward to that :) thank you for always being supportive of my silly little werewolf AU💜
Tagging: @raspbinniecreme @staaa96 @oiminho @dundullresident @honey-lemon-goose @straylightdream @carefully325 @lavenderxkies @starshine-moon @biribarabiribbaem @meowmeowhoon @100layersofdaddyissues @dearalice @alexis-reads-fics @xcookiemonsteer @knowleeknow @chanlovesme @cheniqee
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Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :) feel free to leave your comments in the caption/tags when you reblog, or by sending me an ask !
#stray kids supernatural au#stray kids fantasy AU#stray kids werewolf au#bang chan smut#bang chan fluff#stray kids smut#stray kids fluff#stray kids fanfiction#bang chan fanfiction#bang chan fic#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#skz fanfic#skz fanfiction#stray kids fanfic#werewolf chan#werewolf bang chan#✨🌙✏
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stay home ☆ you want to go out, but your step brother has other ideas.
ran haitani x f!reader
2k words | minors dni
cw / tw : stepcest, dubcon, fingering, oral (f! receiving, exhibitionism-ish, jealous/possessive undertones. — be so incredibly nice or i’ll deactivate.
“you’re not goin’ out in that, are you?” amethyst eyes peer over at you from where your step brother is sitting on the couch. it makes you stop for a second, pursing your lips while squinting at him, blinking a few times to hopefully convey your loss for words.
“now, why would that matter to you?” you tilt your head, shaking it. ran has never cared to speak on any decision you made before. not who you chose to hang around, when you chose to leave, and especially not what you wore. but ever since you came back from college, that seems to be all that comes out of his mouth.
“because ‘m older,” he shrugs. this summer is supposed to be for you, your dad and ran’s mom have vacations lined up back to back for the majority of it. so, you were going to do whatever the hell you wanted in your hometown before you transferred from your community college to the major university across the country—at least that was what you had been planning for the last two months. “and you should respect your elders.”
he doesn’t move from his seat, just spreads his arms along the back of the couch, rolling his head to look up at you, waiting for your eyes to meet his own before he gives you a small, disingenuous smile.
“and maybe ‘cause my mom told your dad i would keep an eye on you while they’re gone.” he turns back to whatever he had playing on the tv, raising his hips to adjust his seating.
“i dont need you to babysit me.” you grumble, walking towards where you lanyrd hangs by the front door to escape the conversation. only, of course, your designated hook is empty. “haitani.”
“oh, guess you need these to leave, huh?” he doesn’t look back as he holds up your keys, shaking them tauntingly before wrapping the lanyard’s material around his fingers and pocketing them.
“give me my keys.” you sigh, dragging the words out like a pleading child. you already know this is going to be useless, if you learned anything from the past six years you’ve spent as a stepsibling to the two toned haired man, it’s that he gets off on tormenting others.
“i’m just looking out for you.” he almost sounds sincere, but then you make the mistake of looking at him. and even with the distance between you and where he’s now standing beside the couch—you can make out the look of sadistic amusement written all over his face.
“you can look out for my foot when i put it up your ass.” you smile tighty, making your way towards him.
“nah, i’m not into that.” he shakes his head, clearly not bothered by your words or the intimidating look you’re trying to give him.
you give up on talking, finding no use when everything that comes out of his mouth is just to tease you. he meets you in the middle of the kitchen, as soon as he’s close enough you try to get your keys, shoving your hand in his sweats pocket, but you find nothing—well, not anything metal. you find warmth, something much rounder, softer than your keys.
“pervert.”
with wide eyes and burning cheeks, you draw your hand back, pressing it to your chest.
“i just—i want my keys.” you blink, face burning as you look everywhere but up at the deep lavender eyes you can feel staring down at you.
“i know you just watched me put them in my other pocket.” you can feel your stomach turn at how he speaks so coolly. “if you wanted to touch my dick you could’ve just asked.”
“what?!” you cringe, finally looking back at him. “you’re disgusting.”
his eyes are low, an eyebrow raised, long braided hair accentuates his face. you realize you haven’t stood this close to him since you’d arrived, only now recognizing how different his stature is. he’s always been tall, but the few inches he’d grown, plus the weight he’d put on—it’d made all the difference.
“you’re the one who grabbed my dick.” he does that stupid shrug again as he licks his lips, not bothering to fight the smirk that plasters itself on his face. no longer bothering to hide how much he was enjoying tormenting you.
“on accident.” you retort, eyes falling to his other pocket, hesitant to try to retrieve the keys again.
“aw, sure.” he nods his head, looking back towards the living room—glancing down at you for a split second before walking that way, and like a needy toddler, you pad behind him.
“i didn’t mean to.” you argue again, though you know, that he knows that you really didn’t.
“whatever you say.” is all you get back.
“just give them to me!” you nearly run into his back when he suddenly stops just before the couch.
“okay,” he turns back to you, keys in his palm, pulling them out of the pocket they definitely were not originally put in. “you can fuck me for them.”
your jaw physically drops. you can only blink up at him. he looks down at you, head tilted to the side as he wants for your answer. your lanyard stays wrapped around his hand—the metal resting in the center of his palm, just an arm away.
“eat shit, haitani.” you try to put more bite in your words—but they come out weak. your arm extending in an attempt to snatch the keys, but he pulls back that much faster.
“gross.” he sneers, “you into that?”
“you’re awful.” your face scrunches again in annoyance. “we’re related, you fuck.”
“hm, but we’re not?” he says it so cheerfully, like he’s so sure of himself. you’re sure he’s delighted you’ve been playing so far into his game.
“can i please just—” you try reaching for them again, to no avail. this time though, ran catches your wrist. you have no time to pull away before he bends it behind your back and uses it as leverage to push you down over the back of the couch.
“what was that?” you can feel his breath as he talks by your ear, body folded over your own. “please what?”
“ran—“ you cut yourself off with a gasp as you feel his dick rub against your ass.
“yeah?” he leans back, grinding his waist against yours. your tight clothing makes it easy to feel his hardening cock. “thought i was gross? you’re begging for me now?”
“as if,” you try to push yourself up, to jerk free from his grasp. but all that training has to be good for something. “just let me go ran!”
“aw, but you’re getting wet,” he notes out loud, his free hand coming between the two of you to adjust his cock so that it was pressing against your cunt with each roll of his hips. “‘can feel it through this stupid fucking skirt.”
it makes you pant, the warmth of it, the thickness—the dirty dirty thought of getting turned on this easily, and by him of all people.
“really want me to stop?” he asks softly, seemingly giving you an out. but the heat pooling between your legs, the image of his soft lavender eyes as you look over your shoulder at him, the way his eyelids hang low with lust, it clouds your mind too much for you to be logical.
you bite your bottom lip as you shake your head, keeping eye contact as the stupid god damn smirk reappears.
“yeah?” is the only thing you hear before the sound of ripping material.
“ran!”
“shut up,” he tears the skirt a bit more, right down the seams it feels, and all you can do is lie there. “hate this shit.”
you’re about to open your mouth to say something else, to chastise him more but the press against your slit steals the words from your tongue.
“now these,” he runs his finger up and back down, pressing the wet, soft lace into your skin. “i like.”
you close your mouth, biting your lips in an attempt to silence the pathetic sounds building in your throat the second ran peels your underwear to the side. but it almost immediately becomes impossible with the way his fingertips feel against the most sensitive part of you.
he takes his time, pressing small circles around your clit and making your knees wobble before retracting back to tease your entrance and watching as your hips try to push back on him.
“ran, please.” you drag out, impatience coursing through your veins right along with the small bits of pleasure he’s allowing you.
“now you are begging for me.” he chuckles lightly, but gives in and presses his middle finger into your cunt down to the knuckle. “thought i was mean? or was it disgusting?”
he adds another before you can even think to form a response. you can feel every curve of his slim, long digits as they drag out of you slowly before he presses them back in and rolls his wrist. nowy you do press back on them, trying to fuck yourself on them, desperate for what he’s not giving.
“so desperate, i thought you didn’t wanna fuck your step brother?” you hear his voice lower, feel his body crouch behind you. but the hold on your wrist, the fingers in your heat don’t move an inch. “who’s gross now?”
he nudges your legs apart with his knees, and however he does it—you can’t see anything but the black given to you by the couch cushion you've shoved your face into, you feel him lick up his own fingers, lick along your slit and attach his lips to your clit immediately sucking in pulses.
“fuck, fuck—” you can feel your legs about to give out, and he must feel it too because the hold on your arm is gone and is now bruising at the curve of your ass. he kneeds at the soft skin, as his other hand starts to rotate, fingers curling in against your soft walls in attempt to find that spot that’ll have you creaming on his face.
it only takes seconds for him to find it, even shorter for you to start chanting out his name as you grind down against him. doing all you can to hold yourself up, you can’t even think about the feeling of his stupid fucking lips smirking against your pussy as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. because even as your legs quake, your cunt spasms and gives him what he’s been working for, he doesn’t let up.
you attempt to move away but you’re far too weak in the legs, too weak everywhere to even really try. thank god your phone rings from where it somehow fell on the floor.
“yeah?” you hear him answer, though his fingers still push against your clamping walls languidly.
“no shit, this is mitsuya, huh?” he laughs darkly, pushing his fingers deeper, rougher inside you and it makes your stomach drop. “nah, my sister’s not coming out tonight.”
you hear silence behind the speaker between your overstimulated pants, and then ran is up again, fingers withdrawing from your cunt. and you try to catch your breath, but your sweet step brother doesn’t give you a chance before the phone is held up to your ear.
“go on, tell him you’re not coming out.” he says, moving behind you to drop his sweats.
mitsuya says your name through the phone hesitantly. you were supposed to drive across town to meet him and his friends, spend the night at his place. and you knew it was a bad idea the moment you agreed to it, that ran—even as nonchalant as he was about you before—would most definitely be pissed if he was to find out. and if you weren’t dripping down your thighs with arousal, your mind wasn’t fuzzy from the movement of ran loudly running the tip of his heavy cock along your slit; you probably would bite your tongue right now before giving away that you were fucking your stepbrother.
or maybe you’d question why ran didn’t have that much of a reaction to who was on the line.
but the feeling of him kissing your nape and lining himself up with your entrance pulls all thought from your head and you rush out something so you can just get the fuck off the phone and fully focus on pleasure.
“‘can’t come out—” you gasp as he presses the thick head of him past your entrance. “i have something to do at home.”
repost of a repost ! (my fic tho!)
comments + feedback appreciated !
#ran haitani smut#tokrev smut#tokyo revengers smut#tokyo rev smut#tokrev x reader#tokyo rev x reader#ran haitani x reader#ran x reader#ran haitani x you#ran x you#tokyo rev x you#tokyo revengers x you#tw stepcest#ran smut
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Would it be okay to ask for a bimbo ish reader who's super girly and puts stickers on the turtles shells or brings them sweet drinks from Starbucks? 🥺💕💓💓 and she loveees the color pink and all pastels!!
Pink (Bayverse! Turtles x hyperfem! slight bimbo! Reader)
BESTIE, THIS IS ADORABLE, YES DRCINJEICHJIR-
the boys are constantly questioning how they scored such a sweet friend like you
sure, april being a mutual friend was certainly helpful
especially since she lived adjacent to your cozy apartment complex
the one with a fluffy pastel blue welcome mat and incense that smells like various coffee flavors floating through the door anytime it’s opened 💞
but introductions were just so stunningly different than they had expected...
when you met them, with april and casey’s company on the roof of an abandoned warehouse, they had expected everything but your brightly colored clothes and an even brighter awe-filled grin that you just couldn’t wipe off of your face
you and mikey clicked first
within the first 10 minutes of being in each other’s company, it was all bright laughter and playful flirting and showing him pictures of your puppy, who he was hoping you’d let him hold eventually~
for once, leo was glad his little brother was so forward
the others warmed up soon enough, sooner than april and casey could have ever imagined
first, raph, when you had brought him brightly colored yarns for his knitting projects, and he just stared at you in fascination with his jaw on the floor while you excitedly skipped away 🥰
then donnie, not far behind after you brought coffee over for the first time and happily set it on his desk and quietly let him continue his work
lastly was the eldest brother, leo who approached you himself with the slight envy of his younger siblings getting your sweet affection and casually sparked up a conversation about face care routines
your warm aura just brings a smile to their face [3
any time you walk into the room, all sour moods disappear, replaced with vanilla-scented perfumes and heels clicking across the floor, and a whole new pastel-colored outfit that they get to study with curiosity
they’ve never seen a person who was the word ‘optimism’ personified, but there you stand, excited to tackle them in hugs and fill their hearts with enough fuzziness to make a faux rug
the boys, raph especially, appreciate when you come over with drink carriers of Starbucks, usually with their designated orders that you have down to a tee
that just makes them the happiest turtles to ever exist
leo loves all of their teas or matcha drinks, as long as they're warm, since the cold ones make his teeth hurt
(You always get extra strawberries in his, he likes the texture?)
Any iced, sweet drinks for mikey, no matter the weather, which isn’t really a surprise to anyone
donnie isn't particularly picky with his, as long as it’s got caffeine in it. he’s always open to try something different, and will often ask you to grab more than one so he’s got something new
raph likes warm drinks, preferably sweet since downing something bitter leaves a bad taste in his mouth
you’re also constantly restocking on so many stickers, which they get unexplainably thrilled for~
puffy stickers, holographic ones, any with bright colors, you’ve purchased online or at a fun craft store
it’s like a guilty pleasure to you, a perfectly sweet habit whenever you see a pack of them, it’s a must buy
that’s exactly why they’re constantly finding stickers all over the lair, and themselves, an indicator that you’ve been there at some point recently
all over the workout equipment are pastel rainbows, cute kittens, pride flags, which all make raph smile uncontrollably
you give leo the puffy stickers, mostly or ones with little inspirational quotes on them, because they’re his favorite to look at and touch
don gets all of the meme stickers, because he just deserves it (3
he keeps them above his bed to chuckle at in his spare time, and won’t let anyone else see
mikey gets the super bright and also limited edition ones so that he can keep them on his hoverboard and a few on his nun-chucks
on countless occasions raphael’s caught his brothers snickering at the back of his shell, only to discover your signature mark of flower and smiley face stickers scattered across the back :)
he wears them with pride, that king <3 👑
leo consistently wakes up with little red and pink hearts all over his biceps 💕
raph and mikey love giving free piggyback rides to you, and you only
probably april too~
any other human will be promptly turned down 💀
especially casey or vern, who are incredibly jealous
donnie loves watching your precise concentration while you do your makeup and hair, trying to understand how you have the patience for something that seems so unimportant to him
they let you have self care and face mask days with them and just eat up all of the pampering <333
those poor boys deserve every second and who better to ask than their expert friend?
and you bet they’ll let you paint their nails as well
you have all the colors
splinter may also participate and let you put some of his loose fur into mini piggy tails <333
you're always buying matching, pastel-colored accessories for the five of you
fun scarves, friendship bracelets, necklaces you name it!
and they all swell at the excited smile on your face everytime
raph especially loves the heart sunglasses that you got him to match yours, and it makes them all the more meaningful because it’s ‘just your thing’ (3
friendship bracelet making!!!!
it's fun because they have to make yours extra small and you have to make theirs extra big 😂💕💕
these boys love you and your energy
you’re the first human that’s made them feel like they're normal; like they’re human <33
thank you guys for reading!!!! <33 and thank you @mysticbear21 for the request lovely! it was so much freakin' fun to write!!
people who might enjoy!
[@raphsgrl @turtle-babe83 @leosgirl82 @thelaundrybitch @raphaelsrightarm @well-its-not-human-anymore @rheawritesforfun @post-apocalyptic-daydream @imthegreenfairy88 @aurora-the-kunoichi @angelicdavinci @raisin-shell ]
Love y'all!! Lemme know what you thought and reblog please!!! <333
#tmnt#tmnt bayverse#tmnt x reader#tmnt leonardo#tmnt donatello#x reader#tmnt raphael#tmnt raph x reader#tmnt michelangelo x reader#tmnt mikey#tmnt movie#tmnt 2014#headcanon#bimbo babe
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not just for kids
an: happy october! i am gonna make some halloween-ish fics i think. here is the first one!
pairing: timeskip!sakusa x fem!reader
warnings: food mention, candy mention, sakusa being a party pooper, fluff, lowercase intentional
-
"just turn off the lights, this is stupid," sakusa groans, flopping himself onto the living room couch. "there's plenty of other houses in the neighborhood."
"so what omi! come on, it's our first halloween here! i want to be the fun house," you plead, holding the first of many bowls of candy in your arms. "besides, it's only 7:00. they've barely even started!"
with a dramatic groan, sakusa attempts to throw a pillow at you. he isn't going down without a fight.
sakusa hates halloween. he always has. even when he was younger, he didn't care too much for it. he isn't the biggest fan of sweets, staying up later than he needs to, and especially hates costumes of any kind. it isn't just the night itself. oh no, he hates it all. the movies, the pumpkin carving, the endless parties.
he sat through two hours of pumpkin carving last night, carving the most basic jack-o-lantern face possible into his. it took him ten minutes. the rest of the time he watched you use the tiniest, cheapest knife he's ever seen, from the kit you just had to have, making the most intricate design. he only sat through that because he was very entertained at the furrowed brows, extreme concentration, and delicate work you did on the dumb vegetable.
he also just really loves you.
"don't be so lame, kiyoomi!" you shout from your front door. "why do you hate this! you don't even have to say anything,"
he flips through channels on the tv, rolling his eyes at every station. does everyone have to play some stupid halloween movie?
"why would i be excited about handing out candy to kids, let alone candy that we bought. and they're getting it for free."
you huff, stomping over to the living room where your husband is sprawled out, clearly set on not moving any time soon. you grab the remote and shut off the tv.
"babe, i was-"
"please, kiyoomi! just for an hour? after that, i promise you can go sit down," you plead, giving him the best fake pout you can muster up. he rolls his eyes, standing up as slow as he can. you clap your hands together, pulling him by the arm to place a kiss on his cheek. "i owe you, so big. i promise, just an hour,"
"trust me, you're only getting an hour. then i'm going to bed."
shuffling over towards the front door, you flick on the porch light and wait. sakusa fights the grin that comes onto his face. you're so excited, rocking back and forth on your feet. he finds it adorable, but he's really trying to get out of this.
"what's so fun about this, anyway?"
you gasp. "everything! the decorations, everyone is so happy and excited. and the best part is," you grab the candy bowl in preparation. "the costumes!"
"that's the worst part."
"i'm talking about the kids! it's so cute, kiyoomi! i remember being so excited to dress up, i begged my mom every day to let me wear my costume."
he snorts. "whatever makes you happy, sweetheart.”
you peek through the window and squeal when you see your first group of trick or treaters coming up to the door.
"move omi! here they come!"
he steps to the side, wincing as the doorbell rings. that's going to get old.
you open the door, beaming as all the children shout "trick or treat!" you coo at them and reach into the bowl, grabbing the biggest handfuls of candy that you can. sakusa wants to stop you, wants to warn you that this is the first group, but it's no use.
"what do we have here? a dinosaur, a princess, and what are you?" you bend down to their level, and the kids smile wide at you. one boy looks at you with a toothy grin, and points to his chest. "i'm superman!"
you laugh. "that is so cool! i love it. enjoy you guys!" you wave at the parents, and as the kids run down the steps, you hear another group approach them.
"now that you gave away half the candy, let's just wait for a bit,"
"shush omi! awh, look at them!"
he sighs and looks at the kids. it looks like siblings, one girl and one boy. the girl looks to be some superhero of some kind, and the boy looks like a lion. he will admit, they're pretty cute.
"wait for your brother!" sakusa looks up and sees what looks like the parents waving at their kids. the boy and girl stop, and wobbling behind them is another little boy, no older than a toddler.
his costume?
a MSBY jersey, number 15. he's wearing little kneepads over his tights, and even has arm sleeves. by the time he reaches his siblings, you have already dropped candy in their buckets. sakusa comes into the doorframe and bends down.
"oh my god omi! look, he's you!"
sakusa can't stop staring. it's the cutest thing he's ever seen. without a second thought, he swipes the bowl out of your hands and dumps it into the toddlers bucket. the boy is a little too young to understand, but his siblings cheer.
"you win for best costume, bud."
giving the smallest thank you he's ever heard, the boy wobbles back down to his family. the parents wave, kneeling down to the boy with excitement. as you shut the door behind you, you can't help but smirk.
"now that you gave away half of the candy," you mock, and his cheeks turn pink.
"oh please. i know how much candy you bought. we have enough for 50 more of those bowls."
you walk over to his spot next to the door and pull him down for a kiss.
"halloween isn't so bad, huh?"
he kisses you again and smirks.
"it's fine. hey, do you think there will be more volleyball costumes?”
#sakusa x reader fluff#sakusa x reader#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#sakusa kiyoomi fluff#sakusa kiyoomi#sakusa x reader imagine#haikyuu imagine#haikyuu oneshot#sakusa oneshot#hq fluff#hq imagine#hq x reader#sakusa x you
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Spray-Painted Spiders (A PunkFlower ficlet)
A/N: In my day job, I work not far from the Leake Street tunnel, a tunnel in London's Southbank totally covered in amazing graffiti. One day, I was walking through and couldn't help but imagine how Miles might react to the place, and this little fic started to write itself in my head...
Originally I was going to have Gwen and Pav join them, but I decided to keep it simple, just Miles and Hobie, and then it turned PunkFlower-ish ;) How to impress your artistic, graffiti-loving crush, by Hobie Brown: bring him to the Leake Street tunnel :D
Pics of the real tunnel after the fic!
---
Miles' whistle echoed around the walls of the tunnel, every inch of them covered in colourfully-painted portraits and landscapes and swirling abstract patterns.
"So people paint... this whole tunnel?" he asked, gaping at their surroundings. "Don't the cops stop them?"
Hobie shrugged fluidly. The two of them were in casual clothing, spider suits tucked away underneath, and the dim light illuminated the smirk on Hobie's face. "They try," he said. "But we're persistent. Besides, they don't like to come down here too much. It's considered an "unsavoury" area."
Miles was busy leaning back to marvel at the ceiling, which was covered in an intricate black and white design. "Woah, how did they get up there?"
The longer his eyes travelled over it, the more the geometric design started to resemble something... familiar. Something like a series of spiralling, interlocking spider webs. "Did you...?"
Hobie's smirk was decidedly wolfish now. Miles was glad that the dark concealed his pink cheeks. "It could use some flair, I think," he said. He unslung the backpack on his shoulder and took out a can of red spray paint, which he presented to Miles with a flourish. "You up for it?"
Miles reached out to accept the spray can, and their fingers brushed. He answered Hobie's grin with his own. "Yeah, man."
Under cover of darkness, masks pulled down to cover their faces, the two Spiders leapt lightly up the walls and clung to the ceiling. Miles stared at the black and white canvas that stretched out below him. It wasn't often that he built on someone else's work, but this design... Colour leapt into his mind's eye, weaving in and out of the spaces between the webs. He could see it so easily. Mesmerised, and not even aware of Hobie watching him, Miles shook the paint can and got to work.
Hours later, the faint glow of sunrise was creeping into the mouth of the tunnel as Miles and Hobie beheld their completed masterpiece. The webs seemed to glow, highlighted with bright shades of neon green and yellow, while in and around the strands crawled spiders in vivid blue and red. Down the walls, spiders crawled and hid in the crevices of the other artists' work, even scuttling across the floor.
Miles eyed his last strokes critically, adding some pale blue highlights to a hanging spider. It was Hobie's turn to give a low whistle, and Miles looked over to see him nodding slowly in approval.
"It looks good. It looks really good."
Miles thrilled inside, even as he tried his best to play it cool. "Not bad, right?"
He could no longer see Hobie's face beneath the mask, but there was a smile in the older Spider's voice as he answered, "Not bad at all."
Miles took a breath to say something more - and then a shout cut through the air.
"HEY!"
The two half-turned, muscles coiled to spring at the first sign of danger. A police officer stood at the entrance to the tunnel, mouth hanging open. "What the hell..."
Hobie reached out a hand, and Miles took it without a second thought. "Let's Scapa Flow," he said in an undertone, and though Miles had no idea what that meant, he got the message. He squeezed back, and Hobie pulled him along as they sprinted into the dark of the tunnel.
Footsteps sounded and a whistle blew, but the officer was no match for the two Spiders. As soon as they got far enough into the tunnel that they'd be hidden from view, Hobie fired a web and leapt into the air, and Miles followed him. Soon, they were out and swinging through the silvery grey London dawn.
There was no-one around to notice the two figures that alighted on top of the stationary Ferris wheel overlooking the river. Miles was panting a tiny bit from the sudden chase, and with a glance at Hobie, he raised his mask. Hobie followed suit a second later.
"So, d'you like it, then?" Hobie asked.
"Like it? It's amazing. Your world is amazing," Miles couldn't help but enthuse. Playing it cool had kind of gone out the window, but he was too suffused with adrenaline and the thrill of the moment to care. He saw Hobie smile, genuinely pleased.
"You know you can come here any time," Hobie said.
"You mean... like Gwen comes here any time?" Miles couldn't help cautiously checking. Hobie glanced over and raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe a bit different to that," he said. Miles looked at Hobie's profile, wondering if it was the pink glow of sunrise touching his face or something else. He thought he knew what Hobie meant, but he wasn't sure how to be sure. Looking back across the water, Miles was searching for the right words when he felt soft lips press against his cheek.
He turned, surprised, and Hobie drew back a tiny bit, but still so close, his dark eyes searching Miles' features. "Too much?" he checked.
Miles smiled, knowing that he didn't need to find the right words after all. "Just right," he said, and leaned in to kiss Hobie on the mouth.
---
A/N: Scapa Flow = go (Cockney Rhyming slang)
In the real Leake Street tunnel, graffiti is actually legal, and it's quite a tourist hotspot, but since this is Hobie's world I decided to make it a more underground, subversive spot. But I kept the London Eye so that they could have a romantic moment afterwards on top of the Ferris wheel ;)
The tunnel really does have artwork on the ceiling - probably not painted by Spider-people, but who knows :D Here are some photos from my recent visit (the artwork changes every time):
#ficlet#fic#Across the Spiderverse#Spiderman atsv#atsv fic#Across the Spiderverse fic#PunkFlower#FlowerPunk#Hobie x Miles#Miles x Hobie#Hobie Brown#Miles Morales#Spider Punk#graffiti#street art#Leake Street#Leake Street tunnel#does this count as bring your fandom to work
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Lil Inks official design (tw)
Warnings by the creator:
This contains some sensitive things like abuse, murder, and a hint of human experimentation, and maybe some things that might be disturbing. So if you’re disturb by these go look at my other art in my gallery. (I am not using them for clout or attention)
This is mostly fiction and concept of character none of the things are true beside the father part and having autism (not the murder and personal things) and she’s a mix of self insert but also OC.. All of this is just fiction and concept nothing else
Some little infos about her
Inky, is a cannibal but she mostly goes and feast on people that can’t have second chances if they done bad terrible things same with her friends too (they’re all in a group)
She uses her old costume from her old job to go and hunt, but it’s getting worn out, she’ll be getting a new on (coming soon… hopefully)
Like BV she mostly hunts on a Spooky Month night since it’s the day where you don’t know what is real and what is fake
Lastly there’s a rare chance in hunt she’ll be giving them somewhat a redemption
Almost forgot, Inks mostly don’t trust grown ups but mostly kids since she was a circus performer she manage to bond with kids and children are not always judge, and her close friends since they were all in the same place
Infos from the creator when make her
In the first concept when joining in the club of Spooky Month fandom, she was originally gonna be somewhat human ish with manipulation with Ink, but it was later than scraps once I draw her with Insani’s tail
She’s mostly a mix of Inky and Insanibeast in one character, when I was making her decided to fuse them
Lil’Inks story is based on Insanibeast story which is in progress with Mama Candy and Papa Clockbloom
that is all and here are some doodles and other art and Speedpaint
That is all have a lovely day
#spooky month#digital art#spooky month oc#spooky month fanart#sr pelo#concept art#spooky month au#speedpaint#youtube#art#my art#artists on tumblr#ocs#oc art#drawing#artist on tumblr
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tagged by @illithidactivities
Name: Velrith. No surname as of yet (& that's not some hint at any future matrimonial plans--finding a first name she felt comfortable taking on was already a feat in itself) but if it ever becomes an issue, she can address it at that time. She hasn't yet arrived at that bridge, though, and can't really forsee it being a problem any time soon.
Nickname(s): None, really. Technically, you could probably file Astarion's rolodex of endearments under this category, but she always had the impression those were more a result of his pre-existing speech patterns. (They were also very helpful in her nameless interim--Darling and Dearest sound much kinder than Hey, you there or Paladin.) She likes to her the petnames, though. They're mostly sweet, barring the Bhaal-themed variety she's expressed open disdain for ("If this is your attempt at reassurance and comfort, it's failing. Painfully so."). She likes the ones with a slight possessive ring to them--my love, my sweet, etc. It's an active reminder that she's still being chosen, despite her baggage.
As of now, she's never been given a nickname, and it's to her understanding that you aren't supposed to give yourself one--they come from your friends. She doesn't expect this, mostly because her chosen name is already on the short side with two syllables, but if anyone ever did decide to give her one, she would be genuinely touched by the gesture. Seemingly meaningless or "normal" acts of affection are things she can't help but take seriously, after all.
Pronouns: She/Her, but more in the sense that she accepts the designation by strangers & never actually put more thought into it past that. if pressed, she would probably admit to not feeling any particular kinship with masculinity, despite not really meeting the definition for feminine on paper either.
Star Sign: Whatever the in-universe equivalent of Capricorn sun/Virgo moon/Cancer rising is. Pragmatic, methodical outer shell, , perceptive, soft & sensitive inside.
Height: Average-ish at around 5"6. People tend to read her as taller thanks to a combination of horns and the most rigidly perfect posture the Sword Coast as ever seen.
Orientation: Again, not something she's put much thought into. Based on behaviours, she's likely demiromantic with a generally open attitude towards sex.
Race: Levistus Tiefling Bhaalspawn
Romancing: Astarion. You know those couples that have the vibe of "thank god you two found each other because neither of you should break containment into the general public"? Yeah. Turns out, there's a lot of compatibility to be found in someone else who is also deeply, deeply fucking weird. (Note: neither party is actually aware of the extent of this, and that's important to the emotional ecosystem.)
Fave Fruit: Pomegranates. This isn't a hidden symbolism thing, she just... really loves them. They're not too sweet, the seeds are pleasingly compact, and it's a pretty colour on top of everything. The first time she had pomegranate seeds, it was in Baldur's Gate. They were pre-opened and already in a bowl, which is the ideal way to enjoy a pomegranate. The second time was her attempt at opening the fruit itself, which is usually an ordeal at the best of times. She got at the seeds eventually, but not after looking like she'd witnessed a small massacre first.
(The third attempt featured a guest appearance by an agitated Astarion, who, despite scarcely thinking of her as a friend at the time, did not have the patience or self-control to sit quietly and watch someone be that terrible at opening a fruit. Armed with a knife & righteous irritation, the pomegranate was flayed open into a star-shape and dropped back into her hand before she could say anything. This was not an act of kindness; if he had to watch her perform the same hack job on it again, he was going to start throwing things.)
Fave Season: Winter. They're all nice, of course--she enjoys being outside in any seasonally pleasant weather--but the Levistus bloodline tend to fare well in the cooler temperatures. She can happily doze off under a gentle dusting of snow, if so inclined.
Fave Flower: Bleeding heart flowers. They're so wonderfully delicate, and she's fascinated by their intricate shape. She also thinks they smell just as beautiful as they look. She's also fond of fox gloves, heliotropes, & larkspur.
Fave Scent: She loves clean smells, like fresh sheets or soap. Ocean air can have its pleasant notes. The scent of caramel or toffee can often be enticing enough to make her enter a bakery she wasn't planning to stop at.
Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate: Peppermint tea is her favourite. Another recent, delightful discovery. Most teas aren't strong enough unless she over-steeps them, and that can sometimes make them too bitter, but the peppermint can counteract this (in her mind). She doesn't add anything else to the cup. It was the first thing she asked for after rejecting Bhaal, and oftentimes if she's been drinking earlier in the night.
(Now, if someone were to introduce her to peppermint hot chocolate, she might just find herself unable to choose which was the ultimate favourite.)
Average Sleep Hours: Post-worming, pre-heritage revelation, maybe two hours a night if she wasn't worried about the sleep-murdering or that wretched little creature calling himself her Butler haunting her consciousness. She was absolutely not doing well at this time but carried it as best as she could, and would at least allow herself something similar to a trance if real sleep was off the table. After rejecting Bhaal and ridding herself of Sceleritas (she's unsure which was actually the bigger victory here), she averages out to a more normal 6-7 hours.
(That first week after was the outlier, though. Velrith had no idea over-sleeping was a thing, or that her body would feel so bad after finally getting some desperately needed rest. By far, that was the most disorienting week in her recalled memory.)
Dogs or Cats: Scratch and the Owlbear baby have her heart, but she would probably love a cat too. Truthfully, Velrith has the capacity to enjoy all types of animals equally. There's something comforting about the presence of something four-legged and soft bedside her, who seems to understand her emotions without words (or even judgment).
She's not killing the spiders in the bathroom, she's getting a cup & paper and gently releasing them in the yard.
Dream Trip: Possibly cheating, but anywhere is an answer that works here. So far, her working memory is limited to the Sword Coast & Baldur's Gate. Those places are fine, really, but she's keen to see literally anywhere else if for no other reason than to say she's done it. Besides, how else can she verify if the disgust some of the public seems to feel towards Baldur's Gate is justified?
Amount of Blankets: She's either wrapped under enough blankets to match her own body weight, or nothing at all. As she's come to discover, she seems to crave sensations that exist as some sort of extreme. She's happy at either end of the spectrum, but probably won't be particularly comfortable under just one comforter. (Note: it's possible to replicate the effect of a tiefling's weight in blankets using the body of One (1) vampire. Unlike the blankets, however, he tends to move around more than a quilt, so mileage may vary.)
RandomFact(s):
Her hair is insanely long, thick, & very healthy, the soft white tresses hitting somewhere near her waist when loose. She didn't actually realize this could be a point of vanity until Haelryne (yes, yes, dual protagonist AU) teasingly expressed envy after catching her taking her braid out. Consequently, she discovered how pleasant it could be to allow someone else to brush & play with it. She's slightly self-conscious of this at first, but there's something pretty healing about experiencing your first 'girls nights' with people who seem genuinely excited to have you around.
Her threshold for registering pain is pretty high, and even when she's injured, she's typically pretty calm (life-threatening injuries notwithstanding). She's able to make herself sit for things like stitches or the resetting of bones, expressions of discomfort usually coming out in slight grimaces. There have been multiple occasions where she's alerted someone to needing help with a very even-toned "Oh, I'm bleeding," only for them to turn around & see her holding a cloth up to a wound that's absolutely gushing & would be an understandable cause for panic in literally anyone else.
If she's going to take a bath, it's either on the cusp of a boil, or there's a literal sheet of ice on the water surface. As you can imagine, the number of 'romantic couple's baths' she's partaken in is small.
She rarely raises her voice. "Soft-spoken" seems to imply a level of quiet, or a certain pitch that don't really apply to her (the closest comparison I would make is Katheryn Winnick as Lagertha in Vikings), but it's probably the most applicable shorthand term. While she doesn't typically have a lot of tonal expression, she speaks with a certain melodic quality that's actually fairly soothing if you listen. Of course, she's really only known to speak for extended bouts if she's genuinely comfortable, so it might be some time before you pick up on this. She'd make a wonderful singer, if she was ever so inclined (she will not be).
Her body temperature tends to run a bit lower than most people. Touching her doesn't feel uncomfortable, if anything she's pleasantly cool, especially if you're on the warmer side.
tagging: @ineed-to-sleep, @mybookswerealltome, @champagne-pain, @ysali
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 durge#durge#oc tag#velrith#you just Know astarion was disappointed as hell when she was like 'would you care to join me in the bath' & walked in on something that#looked like you could cook a lobster in it. (she was being thoughtful & didnt make it cold so like. she tried lmfao.)
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BLOGGIES 2023 BEST BLOG POST OF THE YEAR
On 31 January 2024, the tabletop-roleplaying-game community voted for the Best Blog Post Of 2023.
Contenders were drawn from the winners of four categories. Links, as well as their very excellent acceptance speeches---more exhortations and manifestos, really!---found here:
Theory
Gameable
Advice
Review
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Anyway---you voted. Results were very close; I was constantly worried about a tie. Nevertheless, a winner emerged:
Congratulations are in order, and an acceptance speech follows.
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(Like an idiot, I didn't plan for, and therefore didn't have the time to make a bespoke prize for the overall Bloggie winner. So they'll just get a full quadtych of lino prints. Fortunately these don't look too bad together!)
PLATINUM BLOGGIE FOR BEST BLOG POST OF THE YEAR:
🔮Re-inventing the Wilderness: Part 1 - Introduction🔮
from SachaGoat
Sacha:
As an (award-winning) blogger who only started 6 months ago - I want to use this "acceptance speech" to share the 5 steps that will start your blog:
1. You don't need a cool blog name. screenname(dot)blogspot(dot)com is probably available - you can move it later if you think of a cool name. The trick here is to set it up so your ideas can go live as soon as you're happy (or tired of editing).
2. Post something. Dust off your notebook (or note-taking app) and turn those musings into a structured post with paragraphs and context. Don't have anything ready to go? Take your latest game session and write a play report or spotlight a specific moment. This will take less time than your ttrpg prep.
3. Share it! With your gaming group, ttrpg friends, community discords, xwitter/bluesky, reddit, forums etc.
4. Don't worry about the rest. I don't have a fancy blog template. I've yet to compile a sidebar or blogroll. I don't have a newsletter or patreon.
5. Continue. Your readers will contribute with comments. You will be shared in community newsletters. Peers will write posts inspired by your posts. Your ideas will be used at another gaming table. (And if you're lucky, you can win the next BLOGGIES.)
If you've shared your prep with a fellow DM… if you've contributed opinions on a ttrpg discord or forum… if you've read a blog post and have a thought that builds on it… if you have any tabletop advice or ideas … 👏 Start 👏 a 👏 blog
This finally brings me to the "thanks". Winning the 2023 BLOGGIES is such a wonderful welcome to this creative niche. Many thanks to the creators who encourage the community to blog (especially around June 2023, I can actually see the thread that motivated me to start). I also want to thank a community whose collective enthusiasm and support nudge me to release the next post. And finally, everyone who voted for my post over the amazing nominations this year - a huge thank you.
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On a personal note: I am really thrilled at this final result.
The BLOGGIES can come off as clique-ish. Voting is public, but "public" on the Internet generally means a circle-jerk between subculture friends, a popularity contest.
This thing began as a jokey riff on those best-tweet-of-the-year polls over on Twitter. While Prismatic Wastelands grew it into a celebration of OSR blogging culture, it still has NSR / POSR inclinations---the specific community soil it sprung from.
As host this year I tried to extend the BLOGGIES' reach. Canvassing for nominations outside the OSR space got a couple of indie-RPG designers on the finalists list. Am proud of that; we have much to learn from each other.
I made prizes---hoping that, one day, with enough dangling carrots, these awards will eventually be tasty enough for non-POSR cliques / communities to attempt a takeover? We'll see.
Ultimately: I am glad to water this sapling and watch it grow slowly. Community is made by growing trees, not building greenhouses.
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SachaGoat snagging the final win is a vindication.
Sacha's blog is new. We don't share any Discord servers. We've never spoken, hitherto; the first time I messaged him ever was to tell him he'd won the Advice category.
The BLOGGIES fulfils its purpose: to introduce folks to quality blogs; to preach the gospel and importance of blogging. Its shade is spreading.
I'm glad to get to know Sacha and his blog. (Obviously it's been added to my must-read list!) I am honoured to be passing the torch: Sacha has agreed to host BLOGGIES 2024.
Thank you, everybody. Here's to growing trees.
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ethan x celly lore
hockey player x hockey player
owns a total of 5 shirts bf x aquires 5 new shirts a week gf
dog lover x dog lover
patient bf x commitment issues gf
not a single thought bf x overthinker gf
morning person bf x night owl gf
future njd player bf x future nyfw designer gf
they need a few months to get past the walk-of-shame-stage but as soon as she stays the first morning there's no getting her back home. she lives with three of her teammates that have pretty much turned into best friends but when she gets comfortable in the hockey boys' house she loves it. she does also feel obligated to help them keep things clean because boy is that house a mess but they pay her back by not teasing her about her and ethan being loud and they make her pretty okay pancakes (heart shaped when the house was particularly messy).
they're that one couple that everyone knows gets a little raunchy whenever one of them had a few too many drinks. her favourite jeans to wear to parties have a cut just below the asscheek and it is ethans weakness. his hands just gravitate towards the little sliver of skin all the time and when he's drunk there's no voice in his head telling him to keep his hands to himself.
since both of them are off for the summer they're basically inseperable. there's a few weeks spent at the hughes' lake house or with a few other friends but they do find a way to spend most of their summer together. there's just no way they could resist renting a house just the two of them, naked tanning and unholy things in the whirlpool.
he pays for her nails. always. she gets literally the simplest nude acrylic most times but he will pay for it. she breaks a nail at practice? he'll pay for the repair. he'll even throw a little iced coffee on top so she has something to drink while the artist is working. if he has the time he'll also gladly come with and sit in the salon for hours just watching and gossiping.
he doesn't want to get her a necklace because she already has the one she always wears. he doesn't want to get her a ring though because that seems so... proposal-promise-ish. nobody sees when she wears an anklet so that's off the table, too. he decides on making her bracelets, two because he loved the flower design but he's not sure if she will. they took him way too long and the flowers are a little wonky but she wears them non-stop.
#ethan edwards#celeste st. james#ethan edwards x reader#ethan edwards x oc#ethan edwards imagine#goldie's fuck it i love you au
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