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#but that's why it took me a week to figure out i guess lol

merylstryfestan · 1 year

Text

since some people asked, here's how i formatted the Trigun manga panels to be printable to make into a bound book! i'm not the best at tutorials, but hopefully this will be helpful.

gather your images and make sure each image is only one page. most of the time when you download manga for reading on a computer, any two-page spreads will be in one image file. locate any and all two-page images and split them down the middle into two separate files. i used GIMP to do this since it's free, but photoshop or whatever you have access to will work.

make sure your files are all PDFs. on a mac, it's pretty easy to right-click an image file, go to Quick Actions, then choose Create PDF. however, there's lots of other ways you can do it, just try to keep the same resolution (so if your original image is 600x1000 pixels, make sure the PDF is too! otherwise your final image won't be as sharp.

number all your files such that putting them in alphabetical order puts the pages in the correct order from start to finish. luckily the files i downloaded were already numbered correctly, so this wasn't as much a concern for me, but i wanted to point it out just in case.

from here i just followed this tutorial from youtube, and this guy does a great job explaining what to do, and your different options. some things to keep in mind though not in the video!

4a. make sure you put your pages in the correct order! remember manga goes right-to-left, so that will likely be backwards to what the software you're using is going to do automatically. if using acrobat, you should be able to sort the files in reverse-alphabetical order and combine them in that order.

4b. make sure your two-page spreads will end up next to each other. in acrobat, you can choose to view two pages of your document at a time. starting from the top (so at the end of the book) go through and check your two-page images. if you get to a point where they don't line up, go back up to the last chapter break and insert a blank page. this will then line them up. do that for the whole document. then, once you're done, go back to the top and either add or remove one blank page (very important!). this will mess up the two-page images in the acrobat preview, but remember that the first and last pages of a book are not next to another page. to be sure, once you format your pdf into a booklet, do a test print of one signature that contains a two-page image to make sure that it lines up correctly!

4c. when adding blank pages to match the page count you'll need for your signatures, if you're adding to the top of the document, be sure to do so two pages at a time. this will keep your two-page images aligned, assuming you followed what i said in 4b. you can also just add all the extra pages at the bottom of the document, which is fine too, but just remember that'll actually be the front of the book.

sorry if i didn't explain something well, but if you have any questions feel free to ask me! i'd be happy to clarify or go into more depth on anything.

#sorry its a lot #but that's why it took me a week to figure out i guess lol #i don't even know what to tag this it's not even trigun specific lmao #bookbinding #we have trimax at home

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ladysomething · 2 months

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Prompt: they didn't know they were dating lol

oh my GOD yes.

they're always eat each other's places. Charles has a toothbrush at Max's. Max has a drawer at Charles'.

They sleep in the same bed like half the nights of a week. when they're not together, they're texting. Charles sends Max pictures of everything that catches his eye, which is basically everything, and Max always shows the photos to whoever he's with.

"Look at the photo Charles just took," he says proudly to anybody who stops in front of him for two seconds. "Isn't he so talented?"

And it's like a slightly blurry, out of focus photo of a wilted daffodil crushed into the pavement.

and the thing is they're both going on dates with other people, but they always go badly and neither of them can figure out why, and then Pierre is like, "Well, what do you talk about on your dates?"

And Charles is like, "I don't know, just about racing and stuff?"

And Pierre says, "Hm. Does that mean you talk about Max?"

And Charles is like, "Uh, I don't know, I guess?"

And Pierre says, "And then after the date goes bad, what do you do?"

And Charles explains that he'll go back to Max's house and snuggle into bed with him - Max was waiting up, obviously, anxious and feeling sick to his stomach that this might be the time Charles likes the person, but not sure why he feels that way.

So Pierre says, "Mate, do you think maybe people are turned off because you're actually dating Max?"

Charles obviously goes into complete denial, and then he'll go back to Max's (where else would he go?) and take stock and then freak out and be like to Max, "Pierre has this insane idea that we're dating but we're not, right?"

Max immediately says that they're not, obviously, they're just two friends who are pretty close. And, "There's nothing wrong with two mates sharing a bed, Charles. So what if you haven't been to your house in a week?"

Anyway, they'd both then be a little awkward around each other for a while, because even though they agree out loud that they're not dating, secretly they're both like ... "Are we? And if we aren't ... can we be?"

It would all come to head because one of them actually does go out on date with somebody they like (lets make it Max) and then Charles is sad and anxious because Max didn't come to his apartment like he usually does after a date, and Charles feels SICK with jealousy because is Max fucking somebody else? He doesn't want Max to fuck anybody else.

So he rushes over, pounding on the door, all worked up, and then immediately launches into a tirade when Max opens the door and shoves his way in saying, "Kick the other person out, I don't want you to see them again, I want you to be with me."

And Max gently explains that he couldn't go through with it because he's already in love, and then they kiss!

#anon ask #lestappen fic #lestappen #lestappen fic ideas

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syd-vixious · 11 months

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“I Need a Big Boy!!”

now

(Picture credit to @akavendeta on twitter)

Pairing: König x gn!reader; “Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader; König x gn!reader x Simon “Ghost” Riley

Warnings: Groping, language, strong men being strong (not proofread)

2nd Person POV

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m so, SO sorry that this took so long. I’ve been having a lot of stuff going on and haven’t gotten the chance to finish this. Sorry if this sucks too. Also I was thinking about instead of doing just the biggest, sweetest boy, I figure I’d add the other big boy. This is definitely gonna be cringe but whatever, I need to get this out of my brain. My apologies if there’s any spelling mistakes, it’s been a minute since I’ve written anything lol. Also this is going based off of my personal headcannons for these guys, which I do plan on posting in the future. For now just a heads up König is Pansexual and goes by he/him pronouns. Simon is Bi and goes by both he/him and they/them pronouns. Obviously they’re in a poly! relationship with the reader. I’m going to try my best with making it gender neutral and not have it just be non-binary!afab!reader, which is fine on my end but I’m trying to be as inclusive as possible.

Anyway, enough of my ranting, I hope you enjoy!

(Btw italicized words is anyone thinking unless it’s in quotations.)

It’s been about two weeks since your partners have come home from deployment. Simon was out running errands for the house while König was getting the kitchen set up for dinner. Thankful for both of them letting you relax on your day off, you were watching the most recent episode of SNL that you missed last weekend on the sofa in the main living area. The episode had Keke Palmer as the host and SZA as the musical guest. After watching the episode for about 20 minutes, SZA and the other actors that were a part of the SNL crew began singing a song about wanting a “big boy,” or “big girl,” for the holidays. A brilliant idea popped up in your mind while you were reaching for your phone during the commercial break.

If I recall my bluetooth speaker should still be in the kitchen from this morning. Hm, let me check.

You went to the settings on your phone to see of the speaker was on to connect, even though it was on the charger.

It was.

You smirked, hitting the button to connect your phone to the speaker. König was still preparing everything when he heard the noise from the device.

“Schatz?”

Shit... “Yeah..?”

“Were you connecting to the speaker?”

You quickly turned down the volume on your phone in case it accidentally played anything. “Uh no, why?”

“It just made an odd.. boodoop noise? I guess you could call it...? I’m not really sure.”

You smiled softly at the curiosity in his voice, even though he couldn’t see your face from the other room, “It just makes that noise sometimes when it’s charging, babe.”

He shrugged and continued prepping any veggies that he wanted to add to dinner.

You sighed in relief and quickly pulled up Youtube on your phone and found the video within typing the artist’s name in the search bar. You turned your volume back up and began playing the song.

He jumped from the sudden song playing on the device, startled by the heavy beat it was erupting.

“Uhh... Schatz...?” He asked as he heard voices and heavy bass coming from the speaker.

You walked into the kitchen on the beat of the song singing out loud, “It’s cuffing season and now we got a reason,

To get a big boy,

I need a big boy,

Gimme a big boy!~”

You slowly made your way towards him while pointing at him whenever you lip-synced “big boy.”

Meanwhile König froze and looked at you with wide eyes. You could begin to see red spread across his face as he started to get flustered. “(Y-y/n)... w-what’s happening...?”

You smirked and continued “singing” the song,

“It’s cuffing season and all the girls are leaving to get a big boy, I need a big boy, gimme a big boy.~”

You couldn’t really remember the rest of the lyrics but kept on dancing as you made your way to him on the other side of the kitchen. He was flustered and began stammering, “W-What’s all this about..?”

You pulled a cheshire cat grin and simply hugged him, resting your head on his torso with your arms around his slutty waist. “Just singin’ about one of my big boys is all,” you slowly slid your hands down to grab his ass, causing him to yelp and jump slightly in your arms.

You could hear his heartbeat racing, it began pumping even faster when you two heard the front door open, signaling Simon was home. “Ohhh Siiii.~” You sang from the kitchen.

He heard you call and walked into the kitchen, not really paying any mind to the music, until you pointed it out...

“It’s cuffing season and everyone is leaving to get a big boy, I need a big boy, give me a big boy.~”

Needless to say he was confused, “how and where did they find a song like this?” he thought to himself as you sauntered over to him, once again wrapping your hands around his waist and slowly moving them down. He glanced up at König for some sort of answer, but the gentle giant only shrugged, red still tinting his cheeks.

“Love, have you been drinking? Are you horny? If so, it’ll have to wait because we haven’t even had dinner yet.” He asked, pulling off his face mask from running to the store earlier.

You sighed and smirked a little, pinching one of Simon’s cheeks, “No, it’s just a song that I heard on a show and it reminded me of you guys.”

He quickly snatched your hands off his ass, “Oi!”

He quickly picked you up and placed you on an empty part of the island countertop. He leaned over to your ear, “Love, you better watch it, or you’re just gonna have to watch us eat dessert tonight...”

#simon riley x reader #könig x reader x simon #konig x reader #könig x ghost x reader #cod x gn!reader #cod x reader #call of duty mwii

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daytaker · 3 months

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Oh! Oh! Spin the bottle with Mammon for the followers event!~

Thank you for your prompt, and sorry for the delay! Writer's block has been killing me but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things. Enjoy this little Mammon x reader drabble!

Spin the Smartphone

Mammon x Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1154 CW: Nothing, really.

[Part of my 250 Followers Mini Event!]

“Hey, how ‘bout a game of spin the bottle?”

Mammon made the suggestion, grinning at everyone. That is to say, grinning at Levi, Satan, Asmo, the twins, and you. You were all sitting in your room, trying to figure out what to do now that the Monopoly board was scorched after Satan’s brief burst of rage earlier. (He landed on Park Place again.)

“Ew,” was Levi’s response.

“Eh?” Mammon blinked.

“You do realize that if we did that, you’d have a 5 out of 6 chance to land on one of your brothers?” Satan asked, tilting his head with a small smirk.

“...EH?!”

“Seriously, how is our brother this stupid?” sighed Belphie.

“I ain’t stupid!” Mammon whined.

“Why can’t you just ask the human for a kiss instead of coming up with these convoluted excuses?” Satan rolled the Monopoly top hat between his fingers. “Are you really so full of yourself that you can’t admit that’s what you’re actually after?”

“W-What? Whaddaya mean ‘all these convoluted excuses’?! I said one thing!”

“Last week you wanted to try seven minutes in heaven,” sighed Asmo, shaking his head. “That was even worse.”

Levi laughed. “Not to mention all the times you’ve been like, ‘Guys! I have the best idea! Let’s play truth or dare!’ and then ‘Okay, Human, ask me truth or dare! I choose dare! Huh? …Can ya dare me something else? …Can ya dare me something else again?’ Lol!”

“He’s so obvious it makes me a little sad,” Beel added with a sorry frown.

You sat and listened to the exchange. They weren’t wrong, of course. You and Asmo had made a bit of a game of it; guessing what weird attempt at an excuse to kiss you Mammon might pull out next. Still, you weren’t completely heartless, and watching Mammon get dogpiled by his younger brothers wasn’t making you feel amazing, no matter how used to it he probably was.

So later that night, after you’d all agreed it was only fair that Satan should buy the replacement Monopoly board and the brothers had all cleared out, you pulled out your DDD and opened your texts.

> Hey. Mammon: Hey!!! Mammon: I mean, what’s up? > Could you come back to my room? I wanted to ask you about something.

Less than a minute later, there was a sudden, excited knock at your door. Mammon entered before you even invited him in and plopped down on the floor.

“So! Missin’ the Great Mammon already, eh? Can’t say I blame ya.”

“I have a proposition for you,” you announced, and you pulled a Demonus bottle from under your bed.

“I accept,” Mammon declared, snatching the bottle from your hands before you had a chance to get a word in edgewise. “...Hey, what the…? It’s empty!”

You took the bottle back and slipped onto the floor, facing Mammon. “We’re not drinking it, you doofus. We’re spinning it.”

You watched the gears turn in Mammon’s head in real time. He looked at you, then at the bottle, a complete lack of understanding on his face. Then his lips moved. You thought he mouthed the word “spin”, but you couldn’t be sure. He looked up at you again, decided that was a bit too intense, and returned to staring at the bottle as his cheeks turned red.

“Wait, you mean like…?”

“Spin the bottle. Yeah.”

Mammon looked around the room in an exaggerated fashion before raising a hand dismissively. “Uh, in case ya ain’t noticed, there’s only two of us here.”

“Is that a problem?”

“I’unno. ‘S meant to be a party game.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Finally, the last few gears seemed to click into place, and a look of recognition crossed Mammon’s face. “...Oh!”

“Yeah.”

You set the bottle down on the floor between the two of you. You both stared at it. Then you looked up at each other.

“You go first,” you said, and at the same time, Mammon said, “Uh, did you wanna–?”

Mammon gave it a spin. It was not an elegant spin either. The thing wobbled and rolled on its side and it took a few tries to get it to spin anything like how it always looked on TV.

When it stopped, it pointed unambiguously at the wall.

“Try it again,” you said.

He tried it again. This time it stopped facing your bed.

“You’re doing it wrong,” you sighed.

“The hell does that even mean?”

You ignored him and gave the bottle a spin. It went skating underneath the bed, and Mammon looked vindicated. “See? ‘S not that easy!”

Irritated to see your best made plans laid to waste, you opened up your DDD, typed a 🍾 emoji into the Notes app, and set the device down on the floor between you. You gave your device a little spin. This went far better than your last attempt, so you decided to quit while you were ahead.

Meanwhile, Mammon was attempting to decipher your actions. “The fuck is that?” he asked, squinting at the DDD.

“A bottle,” you answered with a shrug. “It’s pointing at you.”

Then you crawled across your wooden floor and pressed your lips against his, and Mammon just sort of tensed up and didn’t move, and it was awkward and kind of embarrassing and really nice. You hadn’t felt this much like a teenager since you were a teenager.

Once you crawled back to the far side of your DDD, he shook himself out of his fugue state and began protesting what had just occurred.

“H-Hey… Hey… Hey! Hey, hey, wait a second!” He seemed to be grasping at whatever he could to give himself an excuse for just how passive he was for that entire thing. “You said I could go first!”

“Spin better,” you shrugged.

“You spun worse than I did!”

“Creative solutions are rewarded.”

“...I see what’s goin’ on here,” Mammon said after a flustered pause. His confidence was suddenly back at full strength. “...You were just desperate for an excuse to kiss me, weren’t ya?”

You stared at him. Was this guy really trying to flip the scenario on its head?

“So desperate! Invitin’ me up here and pullin’ all this dumb crap with the bottle… Y’know, if ya really wanted a kiss, ya coulda just asked.” He was smirking now, smirking! “As my number one human, you should know ya always get special treatment, even when it comes to things like that. ‘Cause I’m so magnanimous and awesome and stuff.”

“Oh, Great Mammon,” you sighed, unsure if you found his schtick charming or irritating at the moment, “would you bless this poor mortal with a kiss?”

“N-Now you’re just gettin’ greedy!” Mammon scolded, cheeks flushing once again.

“Says the Avatar of Greed.”

“Exactly! I’d know!”

“Never mind then.”

“Ah, wait, wait, hold up.” Mammon grabbed the DDD that still laid on the floor between you. He gave it a spin. “Is that pointin’ at ya? Close enough, right? C’mere.”

#writing event #shywritersblog #ask response #250 followers event #i've got over 350 followers now and i still haven't gotten my fifth request for this event lmao #mc #mammon #demon brothers #fanfic #daytaker fanfic #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me x reader #obey me mammon x reader #fluff #obey me fanfic #just kinda silly #wholesome

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thegainingdesk · 5 months

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The Grommr Profile of Dorian Grey

Dorian finished the last chicken wing, delicately wiping his hands with a napkin, before dabbing at the sides of his mouth. “And one hundred!” He beamed at the camera, and rubbed his middle, not-so-subtly lifting his t-shirt to reveal taut, flat six-pack abs. “Guess that will sort me until dinner,” he said with a wink to his audience.

He looked at the comments on his livestream. Most were in awe, as usual, at how much he could eat while maintaining his stick-thin figure and classically handsome good looks. Others, frustratingly, accused him of being a fake - of using some contraption or camera trickery to make the food disappear, of editing in CGI food, of bullimia. He'd done live shows, week-long streams, streams in nothing but his boxers, but nothing would ever convince some of his viewers.

One in particular caught his attention: lol, why are you all commenting like he'll respond? everyone knows he films these over like a week and then edits it together after

Dorian gritted his teeth. “Actually, user WelcomeToMyFistedMind, comment at fifteen thirty-two and eighteen seconds, this is very much live. And actually, I don't think I am done quite yet.” He stood and walked to the kitchen, coming back with a box of two dozen donuts he'd bought for tomorrow's stream. He sat back down and pushed the first one into his mouth, grinning around the custard that oozed out.

Forty-five minutes and twenty-four donuts later, Dorian flashed one last smug grin at the camera and closed twitch. He leant back, lifted up his t-shirt and ran his fingers lazily up and down his treasure-trail, following the center line between his abdominals. Despite the literal pounds of food he'd eaten in the last couple of hours, his stomach was as flat as ever, his twinkish frame showing none of the effects of the food he ate day in, day out.

His channel, MukbangBangYoureDead, had exploded in viewers ever since he started it a few years ago, until he was now one of the most famous mukbangers on the internet. He could not only eat more than all of his competitors, he made it look easy, and all without gaining a pound.

Of course, he had something that they didn't - the deal. He'd been hesitant at first, didn't believe the strange visitor that had come to him one night could or would deliver on its promises. But here he was, years later, making tens of thousands of pounds a month, all without consequence.

Thinking about the deal, he opened Grommr on his phone and brought up his profile. He whistled as he saw the updated weight - 576 pounds. He'd been flirting with 570 for a while now, and was pleased to see how far he'd stepped over that threshold. Time, he thought, for an update for his loyal fans on that platform too.

He pulled his trousers off and threw them to the side, leaving his t-shirt on. He walked to the mirror and admired his toned, pencil-like legs, his lightly muscled arms, the way his t-shirt draped from broad shoulders and tight pecs over his narrow waist, and his large bulge constrained by a designer jock-strap in bright yellow. He raised his phone up and took a picture, and proceeded to take his shirt off. He raised one hand to a lightly-haired pec and gave it a squeeze as he took a second picture. Finally, he lay down on his bed, snaked some long-slender fingers into his waistband, and raised his phone to take another photo from above.

He uploaded the pictures to Grommr without even looking at them - he knew there'd be no point, that they'd look completely different in just a moment or two. They appeared one by one as they uploaded.

Each showed a behemoth of a man. In the first the man stood in a mirror, wearing a t-shirt that cut into fat hanging from his sides and strained to cover large, pendulous breasts. His gut hung out and down, covering his genitals - a small pop of yellow beneath his love handles was the only hint that he was wearing any underwear. The man's face was huge and round, his features almost amorphous. Small, piggy eyes sat above bulbous cheeks, which merged into a ring of fat around his head, his chin a mere dimple in the fat around his neck. Even in the still image, it was clear that the man's arm was straining against its own weight to hold the phone up.

The next photo was much the same. The same morbidly obese figure stood in the same mirror. This time, the pitifully small t-shirt had been discarded to reveal cascading flesh hanging to the side, lying on the mountainous belly. One hand grasped one of the tits, bloated fingers digging into the soft flesh.

In the next, the figure was laid prone. Gravity had pulled down on the soft flesh and caused it to drop down and pool around the figure. The moobs lifted up towards the man's non-existant neck and chin, his gut spread out, his face expanded in all directions. New rolls and folds had formed - where arm met shoulder, where joints bent, or where his gut bunched up against itself. In the brighter lighting, painfully red stretch marks bloomed across the man's skin, circling his thighs, his love handles like loaves, across his dropping breasts. The man's left hand struggled to reach around his gut to grasp at the waistband of a straining jock strap, within which a small bump suggested some long-forgotten nub of a cock, sunk deep within the fat that spilled out around the underwear’s pouch. The man’s face was red, and seemed to strain as he struggled to maneuver his own flesh.

Dorian watched on in boredom as the first few comments rolled in. The usual adoring fans, begging to know the secrets to his titanic weight, proclaiming they’d soon look the same, asking to meet up. He would wait until a few of his regulars sent their customary tips, then go on with the rest of his day. In the meantime, a couple of the comments caused a smile to spread across his angular face.

MayContainDonuts: MealWithTheDevil looking great as ever! I don't know what it is, but he always looks so much like that one mukbang guy? Obviously fatter, but just the eyes and nose and stuff? I wonder if they're related?

BloatGoat: Do you mean MukbangBangYoureDead? If you can find some of his old photos the resemblance is uncanny. People used to think they were the same person but obviously not. Definitely could be related!

Dorian smirked and went to close the app, stopping only to check a small notification that popped up at the top of his screen. There would be routine server maintenance the next day, and the site would be down for around eight hours, starting mid-morning for the UK.

Dorian sighed. He hated server shutdowns, and this would be the longest he'd experienced yet. Still, he had a while to prepare. He'd have to cancel some lunch plans, but he could make up some lie about being ill. He got dressed, stood up and left to go buy enough food for tomorrow.

Dorian paced around his flat nervously the next morning. He checked his watch - 10:01. He quickly tried to bring up Grommr - sure enough, he was met with an error message about the server being down. It would start soon enough.

The first sign of it was his t-shirt. Previously loose, after about five minutes he found he was having to fuss with it to get it to sit right. another five minutes and it had begun riding up around puffy lovehandles and a firm paunch, while his sweatpants were starting to slip down an expanding rear. Another ten minutes and he took the t-shirt off, freeing a large beer gut that bounced when he walked. His sweatpants had grown almost skin tight around hefty thighs and would soon be too tight for comfort. He knew that this was only the start.

The hunger started then; sickly, stabbing pains in his newly expanded gut. He put two pizzas in the oven and sat with a donuts while he waited, knowing that soon his body, and his appetite along with it, would soon be able to accommodate all the food.

Just under thirty minutes in, Dorian's gut started to rest on his lap when he sat. He leant back, the swollen sack of fat at his middle dragging along his lap as he did so, and his cock began to harden. He reached a hand up to scratch the pink stretch marks beginning to form below his budding moobs.

While stuffed to the point of breathlessness just five minutes before, his stomach was still expanding, and he could feel the gnawing hunger begin to creep back in. He belched and stood, tottering slightly at the near-total shift in center of gravity since he’d sat down. He peeled off his sweatpants, struggling past his wide arse and flabby thighs, then gathered as much food as he could in his arms, using the top of his gut as a shelf and cautiously made his way back to his sofa, where he collapsed down, put on a trashy movie, and continued to eat.

Dorian continued to grow as his pile of junk food diminished. He savoured the feeling of soft, supple skin sliding past skin as he swelled - his growing tits pouring out onto his behemoth gut, his underbelly coursing forwards across rotund thighs dimpled with cellulite, his fat pad oozing around his perpetually hard dick. He knew to wait though; the bigger he was, the hotter his eventual orgasm would be.

Dorian looked down and surveyed himself. His body was beginning to be defined by rolls upons rolls. He estimated himself to be around the size he reached last time there was some server downtime; his profile had put on at least a hundred pounds since then. He lifted a heavy arm and used a hand to probe his plush flesh, sighing at the way his newly chubby fingers sank into the fat.

Still, the hunger increased. Dorian tried to lean forward to grab his phone, but found his own sheer bulk resisted him, pushing him back. He spread his legs and allowed his gut to fall down between them, the shift pulling his body forward in his seat and causing a dull ache in his lower back. He picked up his phone and with clumsy sausage-like fingers brought up a delivery app. He allowed instinct and hunger to take over - spring rolls, beef, chilli beef, sweet and sour chicken, duck pancakes, chilli chips, everything he saw he was ravenous for. He'd not been this big before and the hunger was deep. He pressed order, only briefly worrying about how he'd answer the door when he had no clothes that could hope to fit him.

Dorian’s body continued to expand. There was an alienness to his new size; his thighs had to splay around his hanging gut, his arms sat uncomfortably on top of thick pillows of fat at his sides, each joint filled with lard, and most of all was the awareness of gravity, how it pulled at his body and how his body answered in kind by dropping down and down.

Half an hour of nagging hunger later, his doorbell rang. He threw himself forward, but fell back to the sofa. Even that unsuccessful effort left him winded. He rolled to the side, fat cascading over fat as he did so, and staggered to stand sideways, his arms shaking as he heaved with all his might against the sofa. He grabbed a blanket and draped it over him; it barely covered his torso, but it was the best he could do.

How had he never realised how easy walking was before? Now, every step needed to be purposeful and required a conscious effort to propel his weight forwards. He had to wheel each thigh out and around past the other, each one a lead weight to be lifted. Dorian reached the door panting and sweaty, his hips burning with the beginnings of pain. The delivery driver looked on in shock, and then in slow horror. Dorian didn't care, he just grabbed his bags and slammed the door, before making his slow way back to his seat.

As he fell back, the sofa made a loud crunching sound and he felt himself sink deep into the cushions. He shuffled over the other side as best he could, each movement sending shockwaves across his body. He piled his bags into the crater left on the other side of the sofa and ate directly out of them, the table now wholly unreachable.

Dorian suspected he stopped growing around the time that he'd finished his food. If nothing else, the hunger had stopped. His torso had become a series of rolls, each one wrapped around his entire body and piled on top of the next. His limbs had become huge sacks of flesh, spreading out beneath him, the only evidence of his joints small, soft dimples in the thick casing of his body.

Dorian knew he'd waited long enough now. He pushed a stubby paw into the deep fold underneath his gut, reaching for the hard nub of his cock not yet swallowed by his fat pad. It was no use however, the heavy weight of his belly pressing down and closing off his own groin from himself. He leant to the side and spread his thighs, freeing up access and shifting his weight off from his lap, but still his fingers had to squirm past sweaty flesh into the small crevice left of his crotch. He grasped at the hard head of his cock, finding it in a shallow depression of flab nestled in dense pubes. With two fingers he did his best to jerk himself off, but to no avail - there was simply not enough cock left and not enough space to handle it in. Desperate for release he began to thrust, rocking his pelvis back and forth, so that the thick shaft of his penis slid within his own blubber, fucking his own body. He closed his eyes and ignored the tortured groans of the sofa below him as his pleasure grew. It only took a few minutes for him to cum, semen coating his fat pad and thighs as he yelled out.

Dorian slumped back, gasping for air, and exhausted, drifted off into a sleep.

When he woke up, it was dark. He could still feel the weight of his body pulling down. This wasn't right. As slow as it took for the weight to pile on, usually it melted away in seconds once the servers were back online, which should have happened hours ago. He checked the time - 23:24. Had something gone wrong?

He checked Grommr - the site was back up. He tried to log in - nothing. App - no. Browser - no. He tried to type his password in again, fat fingers mashing against the keyboard so that he had to try again slowly, deliberately. Nothing worked. He felt his heart pounding somewhere beneath his bosom.

Finally, he noticed an email in his inbox.

Grommr admin team - lost profile

During our recent scheduled server update, a small number of user profiles were unfortunately lost. We are sorry to tell you that your profile was one of those that we have not been able to recover. We are doing everything we can to recover lost profiles, but we are sadly not…

Dorian stopped reading. He looked down at the acres of flesh that were now his body. He lifted an arm up and let it fall, watching it shake and wobble in the dim light. What would he tell his family? His friends? His fans? This couldn't be happening.

Through his panicked breathing and heavy heartbeat, another feeling began to grow - Dorian Grey was beginning to feel hungry.

#weight gain #gainer story #gainer fiction #male weight gain #gaining fiction #weight gain fiction #weight gain story #wg story #im very proud of the grommr usernames #the grommr profile of dorian grey #the title came to me out of no where and i knew i needed to write it #no offence intended to any grommr admins #im sure you dont regularly need to shut down the servers for 8 hours at a time or randomly lose profiles

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exeggcute · 5 months

Text

well it's been almost six months which I think is long enough to break my posting embargo, so, uh: guess what! I got liposuction lol. specifically hip/thigh lipo to quell some pretty wicked dysphoria that stemmed from having such a feminine silhouette… and I have to say I'm really, really pleased with the results.

tbh my initial plan was to keep things under wraps for good which is why I haven't said anything about it yet (and even as I'm typing this up I keep debating whether to post it or trash it)—partly because I was/am worried people might Act Weird about it and partly because I get a little embarrassed talking about bodygendershit in general. but here we are. one reason I do feel compelled to finally share, other than being super happy about how everything went, is that I haven't encountered a lot of discussions about body sculpting as a possible avenue of gender-affirming care (although, to be fair, maybe I just haven't been looking in the right places) and I figured at least one person out there would be interested to learn about what I did and where I've ended up so far.

anyway. pics/details under the cut—nothing even remotely risqué (or yucky), I just know that body image stuff is fraught + not everyone is eager to hear surgery talk.

to be precise: I got tumescent liposuction of the inner and outer thigh, plus this ultrasound thing to help the skin shrink. a different surgeon who I consulted (but ultimately did not go with for a number of reasons) said that even if I got the results I wanted from lipo, which he claimed was unlikely, the affected skin would look loose/baggy/weird forever... and that surgeon was wrong on both counts lol. my elasticity was great bitch!!!!

they didn't take out that much fat overall, only eight pounds or so, but it's way more about the Where than the How Much. my actual surgeon (who kicks ass btw) said lipo isn't that great for weight loss per se, and what it's really good for is sculpting targeted areas—so basically exactly what I did. six months post-op I actually weigh about the same as what I did pre-op, but the distribution has held steady; more weight goes to my stomach now and less, proportionally, goes to my hips since there are fewer fat cells in that area now. so my silhouette retains its new shape!

the overall change is admittedly on the subtle side, since I'm pretty short and have wide hip bones (and you can't change your literal skeleton) but it's still gone a looooooong way. the main thing I requested from my surgeon was "I want to fit in men's pants" and boy did he deliver.

also a good place to note that if you're in the las vegas area looking for a plastic and/or cosmetic surgeon—this guy is board-certified in both btw—then I absolutely have the guy for you. feel free to DM me for details. lipo is clearly his specialty (and it shows!) but he also does a lot of breast revisions/mastopexy (i.e., fixing implants that other surgeons did a bad job putting in), regular implants, and face work (particularly facial feminization surgery). one thing that sold me on this guy was an enthusiastic yelp review from a local stripper who said he hid the incisions for her breast lift in her armpits so none of her clients would notice that she'd had work done... a true master of his craft

okay you've scrolled enough so I'll give you what you're here for lol. I don't have many pre-op pics because I was obviously unhappy with how I looked and was not taking full-body selfies on a regular basis, but here's a few I took ~2 weeks beforehand:

these super thin men's joggers were my go-to dysphoria pants, to the point where I bought five pairs in different colors, but now they're so baggy on me that they have the opposite effect and make it look like I have wider hips than I do. so I retired them from my wardrobe...

...except not immediately because I had to wear compression garments 24/7 for the first three months post-op and these joggers were just loose enough to comfortably wear a medical girdle underneath them at all times, 110° degree temperatures be damned. (not that I was going out much for the first month since I was soooooooooooo fucking bruised and sore lol.) here's a few post-op pics in the same style pants:

(first pic is less than 24 hours post-op, about to go to my follow-up appointment, looking greasy as fuck because I wasn't allowed to shower yet; second pic two days post-op and also post-shower, thankfully; third pic is about a month post-op.)

so, like, CLEAR improvement already. I will not be posting pictures of my black-and-blue-and-swollen-all-over legs but considering how puffy I was from getting internally pummeled with a cannula it's wild that I still saw improvement literally as soon as I came home.

recovery was obviously not a blast in the moment but I got off easy, all things considered. I was supposed to get drains put in and was Not looking forward to that at all lol. the first thing I asked when I woke up after surgery was "how many drains?" because they weren't sure if I'd end up needing two or four, but it turned out the answer was zero. no drains!!!

I did have to lie with my feet elevated for the first two weeks straight, and had major bruising that receded over the first month (you could barely see my regular skin underneath all the mottled spots), but little to no nerve pain, no weird complications, and I was more or less back to normal after six weeks. also noelle took very very good care of me and was brave about injecting me with blood thinners so I wouldn't get clots and die :)

when I went into it I was fully expecting to get huge vertical scars up and down the sides of my legs (and had made peace with it!) but instead I wound up with four tiny incisions like this, each less than two inches long:

what's totally crazy is that the scars are basically Gone now. like even when I'm trying to find them I struggle to locate the ones in the front. I joked to noelle that if someone did an autopsy on me they might not figure out that I'd had cosmetic surgery, especially since the skin on my thighs is back to its normal color and texture. (in this scenario I like to imagine that it's dana scully giving me the autopsy and I'm in an x-files plot where instead of regular lipo I got alien lipo and mulder figures it out purely by accident.)

with lipo it can take up to a year to see the full results but I already feel so much fucking better in my body that seeing old pre-op pics throws me for a loop. and I can absolutely wear men's pants now—pants for short and stocky men, to be fair, but actual regular men's pants and not exclusively Pants For Men With Huge Butts And Legs. which is the only style I could even hope to fit in before. and even then it was a stretch.

big pic dump of shitty mirror selfies taken over the last few months:

(also I really debated sharing this one but I already included it in the yelp review I left my surgeon so fuck it: here's a tasteful before-and-after in my undies where you can see my bare legs for easier comparison. left pic is one week pre-op, right pic is about five months post-op. including it as a link instead of embedding it in the post in case your boss happens to be reading over your shoulder at this very moment. also this is the one and only time you will ever see me stripped down on tumblr dot com so don't get used to it lol.)

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writingonleaves · 7 months

Text

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!

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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lizzaneia-elizalde · 7 months

Note

Request: Inigo Dragonov scenario where we (his darling) didn’t cave into remarrying him. (I guess this is like an alternative timeline from the original storyline). He was thinking about bankrupting our family, so aside from that, what if we also didn’t want to remarry him because we found a new lover (that even his private investigators didn’t know about). And to make it even more soap opera drama like, our new man is Inigo’s old university rival (who’s still also his company’s rival). I’m sorry…I just love these tropes/cliches. What makes it even ❤️provokingly❤️ worse is if his rival were just to see Inigo across the street one day on an outing with us and our twin babies…and just kiss the babes while pulling us into an embrace…all while keeping a long deadlock stare with Inigo. Like DUSKGSJOSLHWJJJWJ!!!!!!!!! Unleash Inigo’s full yandere potential after being forced to witness this!

Yandere! CEO! Arranged! Ex-husband x AFAB! Ex-wife! Reader

WHAT IF: You refused to marry him?

Ooh anon, you're the worst (lovingly). You really want Iñigo to suffer huh?

Once more, I'm delving into Iñigo's lore because fun fact, Rowan may be my first yandere OC, but Iñigo had a whole novel just exploring him and his actual partner, Ykaidi! (I unpublished it on Wattpad though, it's so cringe lol. Also, there's so much stuff I changed so technically, the original timeline IS an au in itself) So this will be a good creative exercise to explore his personality more.

He's one traumatized bitch.

No?

Did you really say no?

Iñigo scoffed before tilting his head to the side, a bit bewildered.

"This..."

Words died down in his throat as he saw your resolute face.

"A-are you sure you don't want to marry me? I told you that the children needs a father figure in their life."

He somehow got a bad feeling about this. And that proved right as you gave him a soft smirk.

"They do, actually. It's not you though."

Iñigo felt his blood run cold.

His ears started to ring from the shock he received.

"You..." You have another man? That was not... Him?

How could that possibly be?! He always made sure that his private investigators would know each and every single one of the people that you spoke to back in New Zealand.

He should rethink his choices right now.

"But, Elise and Elliot needs their biological father. I am their bio father!" Iñigo yelled, his jaw ticking. But you only rolled your eyes.

"Did you think I would take into account on going back to you?!" You screamed, marching up to him and pushing him back. Your heart squeezed in pain as it pumped to accomodate the anger rising inside of you. "You neglected me. Insulted me in ways I don't even hear from my parents!"

You stomped one step, as if crushing his heart in pieces.

"Why would I come back to you?" Your voice, crackled with the pent up anger, gave a raw, intense tone of rage that echoed your beating heart. "You must think I'm stupid if I'll run to you."

Iñigo's vision swam, breathing heavily as he felt small, pressured....

Intimidated.

He never took account of you moving on and hating him to the point of getting another man. But you did. You did what he thought was impossible.

"Sweetheart... Please..." His tone was getting desperate, clawing at the seams to make sure he won't burst from the emotions he's feeling.

Iñigo is an emotional man. Yes, he may seem cold hearted and reserved, but when it comes to you, it's different.

His hand trembled, wanting to grab your hand to rest upon his cheeks and place a shackle on it.

"I'm going." You whispered before walking out of him.

~~~Two weeks later~~~

It's been hell in Iñigo's company. He's working his employees like dogs to create the best fashion company out there.

Whatever that means.

But all he knows he needs to outrank the Smith's when it comes to the Fashion influence across the world.

He needs to outrank you.

He needs to be more popular.

More rich.

More influential.

He drank another coffee, letting the coffee dribble down his chin and onto the hardwood table.

"Indigo, I think you need to take a break." Oliver said, using the nickname he's been using since he was a child. Iñigo looked up and saw Oliver holding up a mirror, reflecting how bad Iñigo looked.

"Wow, way too drive the nail further. Fuckhead." Iñigo glared at Oliver before shaking his head and standing up. "Alright. I'll go for a walk, Livi."

Iñigo went to the bathroom, fixing his appearance, shaving a bit, and adding light makeup to his face, just to hide the circles on his eyes.

Damn, he even knew how to apply makeup just to impress you, the fashion icon you are.

His tongue stung, remembering when he called you frumpy.

He got down through the elevators and walked towards the park. His steps heavy and straightforward. He ignored the stares he got, some shocked, some flirty, but he didn't mind them.

Because once he looked up to cross the street, his eyes widened seeing you and...

"Steven..?"

Steven. He knows him so well.

He's an academic rival back then in highschool and college, and now a business rival too.

He also can't believe he's now a love rival also?

Iñigo always remained victorious between them, with Steven simmering in second place.

But Steven only laughs, rolls his eyes and moves on.

He hated that part of him.

But now, it seems that Steven is leading in one aspect.

And it's you.

Steven looked around, sightseeing before landing on Iñigo.

Both froze, unsure of what to do.

But this time, Steven smirked and pulled you close, kissing your temple lovingly then scooping Elise and Elliot into his arms, laughing as they giggled in Glee.

People awed at the sight, seeing this "father" play with his children and being openly affectionate with his "wife."

The perfect family.

Iñigo feels like he's looking into the spotlight, looking into a pedestal that looked too far from his reach.

He wanted to break the hands that affectionately caressed your hips, to tear the lips that kissed your temple, to break the ankles that dared walk up to you.

He felt something crack inside him.

Sure, he won't use violence.

On you.

But, the prospect of Steven dying in his arms, torturing him for hours sounds delightful.

He finally snapped.

He's not afraid of blood, nor guts nor any of that gorey stuff.

He got his yandere side from his biological father after all, not Allastor. It was never Allastor, after all, he's a really sweet man.

He could never spawn a devil in hiding.

And, as Iñigo walk away to buy the necessary items to torture Steven, he smirked.

"Business be damned. I'm taking what's mine."

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere drabbles #lizzaneiaelizalde

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harrywavycurly · 2 months

Note

Is Dorothy gonna be a trouble maker? I feel like she’s going to want to fight everyone like her mom but be a big softy like Eddie 🥹🥹

Hiii babes!! So I feel like she’s a mixture of both of them as in she’s gonna say what’s on her mind but also really fun to be around😂 I’ll give you some examples!💖

-find all things It Was Just One Night here✨

*in these Dorothy is around 7/8 and the nicknames Reader gives Dotty are ones my mom used for me lol*

“So wanna know what our darling little girl did at school today sweetheart?” “Uh let me guess she…learned something?” “Well…she learned what the inside of the principal’s office looks like.” “Ohh dot…Is it tacky? She strikes me as being very beige.” “Yes mom you’d hate-” “uh excuse me…why don’t you tell your mother why you had to go to the office?” “What’d you do sugar butt? Who’d you make cry today?” “Uhm…well it was…uh…my…teacher.” “Your teacher? You made your teacher cry?” “Not cry but she was…upset but all I asked her to do was look at me when she was talking to me because that’s what you always tell daddy when he’s not listening to you and…she wasn’t listening to what I was saying so I asked her politely…I used my manners and everything…I just asked if she could just please look at me while I’m speaking….” “Well…what did the principal say to you?” “She said that I need to talk to my teachers with respect and be patient with them since there’s twenty of us and only one of her…” “and did you apologize to your teacher?” “No….I didn’t think she deserved an apology since I didn’t do anything wrong and you’ve always said don’t say things you don’t mean…” “right…yeah okay uh…why don’t you go work on your homework while your dad and I talk about this okay?” Okay…” “how the fuck done handle this Eddie? We can’t punish her for asking for her teacher to pay attention to her and she’s right…we do always tell her not to say things she doesn’t mean.” “I say we let this issue slide but if she’s a regular in the principal’s office then we’ve got to be a little more…stern…or…something.” “Right because that’s us…super stern and strict.”

“Uncle Steve is getting married? To someone we don’t know?” “No sugar he’s just going to a wedding.” “With someone we don’t know? What if she’s mean? Or doesn’t have good hair?” “I’m sure she’s nice…now the hair thing I’m not sure anyone is going to live up to your uncle Steve’s fabulous hair.” “Mom be serious…he can’t go with a stranger…we should go with him.” “Sugar he didn’t ask us to go…what if he brings her by so we can meet her would that make you feel better?” “Yes…I’ll go call him.” “Okay…go call him and ask if he’d like to bring her to dinner this week but don’t you dare call her the stranger you hear me? That’s not nice.” “Then what do I call her?” “His girlfriend…just say hey uncle Steve do you and your girlfriend want to come have dinner with us this week? And go from there…” “okay but he’s not coming over on chicken nugget night…”

“Dad can I ask you a question?” “Sure princess what’s up?” “Did you really have your head in your ass?” “Excuse me? Where did you hear that?” “Granddaddy…he said that when you met mom that it took you a while to get your head outta your ass and ask her out…” “I’m gonna kill-” “oh you’re not gonna kill anyone…now sugar no your dad didn’t actually have his head in his ass that’s just a figure of speech…like when someone says it’s hotter than hell outside or when your grandaddy says he’s as full as a tick…does that make sense?” “I thought so…because that’s not physically possible.” “Also you know those are no no words….” “Sorry dad but mom said I’m allowed to say bad words if it’s part of a story or repeating what someone said…” “did she now?” “What? It’s logical…I didn’t know Wayne was gonna go and tell her something like that.” “That’s fine Princess but just don’t say that phrase outside of the house okay?” “Okay dad.”

#one night stand convos #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #dad!eddie x mom!reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie and wayne munson #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby

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allbark-no-bite · 1 year

Text

who are you mad at.

topper thornton x reader (wc: 3.4k)

summary: Topper doesn’t appreciate John B’s friendship with his girlfriend. sometimes all it takes is a blowjob and a little bit of forgiveness

warnings: 18+ smut, blow jobs, mentions of blood, over possessive boyfriend

author’s note: not me actually writing something with plot lol. i cannot believe all of the support i got on my last post, thank you all! i’m know that this isn’t Rafe lol, but i hope you’ll all give it a shot!

————————————————————————

As a little girl, I could never understand why the sheriff and the judge always drank coffee on my grandads front porch. It took me a few years to realize that it was probably for the same reason that the judge's grandson was always so sweet on me.

Politics in a small town like Kildare run deep on family ties and favors. It's all about who's blood is running through who and who's bed you wake up in when the sun comes up. As my best friend Sarah has often laughed about, it's all about how you know or who you'll blow.

Speaking of which, Topper's zipping up the fly on his jeans, fingers fumbling as he misses the hole for the button and has to try again. His cheeks are noticeably flushed, blue eyes distracted as he fidgets with his shaggy but nevertheless, neat crop of hair. No one would expect anything less of Figure Eight's golden boy.

I can't help but smile, biting my lip in an effort to conceal it from where I'm knelt on the floor. He's stupidly pretty. Blue eyes, straight nose, chin that dimples when he smiles.

He must feel my gaze on him because he catches my eye as he's buckling his belt and looks back at me. "What?" he laughs, breaking out into a bashful smile that matches my own.

"I don't know," I say, still smiling, and accept the hand he offers to pull me to my feet.

I don't remember when exactly Topper and I stopped being friends and started actually dating. It all happened so naturally that I don't know if we ever really distinguished between the two. One day we were just friends hanging out, getting drunk at the Boneyard, and then the next week he's kissing me at a party for everyone to see, like it wasn't a big deal that my best friend was kissing me. In some ways I guess it wasn't. It had never occurred to me that I would date anyone else. Sure Topper had dated Sarah for a while, but even that was short lived, and he had always been very upfront with me about it.

"Just you, I guess," I propose, grinning wider as he circles his arms around my waist, pulling me into him.

He's dressed up nicer than usual this evening for the Carrera's anniversary party in a billowy blue and white button up and khakis. The light colors pale in comparison to his bronzed skin, a likely permanent feature that the Carolina sun has given him.

"Really?" he hums, pecking my lips as my head tilts back to look up at him. My lips purse pliantly in response. Topper brushes aside the hair from my shoulder and hums, immediately pleased with the amount of exposed skin that he is rewarded with. The tank top that I'm wearing gives him the opportunity to ghost his lips along my shoulder until he settles on placing a kiss to the crevice of my neck.

My fingers curl into the brunette roots at the base of his neck at the attention. "It's not often I get you to myself."

With Topper's mom being the overbearing mother that she was, and the pressure that came with being the Judge's grandson, it was hard to get him out of their sights. However, if either bothered him, he never confessed such qualms to me. Such reasons are also why I think he was more privy to the political concept of our relationship than I was.

I remember being sixteen when a neighbor called the cops on one of Kelce's parties well after midnight. Of course no one knew this until Shoupe and a couple of his deputies showed up, sirens blaring. Most definitely a little buzzed and close to sobbing in the backseat of Shoupe's patrol car, I couldn't understand why Topper was so calm at the time. He just kept repeating, 'Don't worry about it, baby' and 'It'll all be fine'. At the time I hadn't noticed we were the only ones not in handcuffs. I thought for sure I was going to spent the night in jail and then my parents were going to kill me the next morning. He obviously knew something I didn't because twenty minutes later the patrol car was pulling into my driveway, Judge Thornton waiting on the porch with my grandad to take Topper home. The three of them shook hands and not a word was uttered about the incident again.

Topper dips his head to capture my mouth again, his teeth catching on the pout of my bottom lip.

Pressed to the front of my body, I feel his dick twitch in interest. I'm half compelled to drop to my knees and suck him off a second time just for the hell of it. The only problem is that he's got lipstick smeared on his mouth and his shirt is wrinkled and he's going to be late.

"Topper—" I begin.

"I know—I know—I know," he stresses, leaning down to kiss behind my ear again and then my cheek. "I'm going, I'm going."

Just when he pulls back and I go to step away, he grabs my face again, drawing my mouth back for another kiss.

"Topper—"

"I love you," he mumbles quickly after what is probably his hundredth kiss. "Okay. I'm going. I'll see you in a minute."

I watch him slip out the back door of the pool house we'd escaped to momentarily. I look over at the clock. What was supposed to be a quick five minute make out had turned into nearly half an hour. Thankfully, no one had been sent to look for us — namely my friends. Besides Kie and Sarah, the boys were off treasure hunting with Big John.

With all of the craziness going on in the past week, I was glad for the occasion to celebrate and enjoy the party. The evening air is cool and people are chattering excitedly, laughing and enjoying drinks. I spot Kie with her parents as I move throughout the crowd and she waves me over with a smile. Once I’m close enough, she latches onto my arm.

“We’ve got to get out of here. Big John was kidnapped, the boys are running off to South America to save him, and my parents won’t let me out of their sight,” she whispers through gritted teeth.

“Shit,” I whisper.

“Yeah, shit,” Kie stresses.

“Okay, okay. Don’t worry, I’m on it.” Turning to her dad with the brightest smile I can muster, I link arms with Kie. Thankfully, I fit in the with standard of friends Kid’s dad wants her to have, and he seems to be thankful I hang around.

“Hey, Mr. Carrera. I’m just going to steal Kie away for a moment. I promise we’ll be right back!”

He blinks, as if thinking about it for a moment before nodding. “Okay, just stay out of trouble you two.”

“We will!” I take off, dragging her with me as soon as the words leave his mouth. We haul it through throngs of tipsy guests, dodging anyone who might think to stop us.

“Wait!” Kie yelps snagging my arm before we reach the dock. Out of breath, I skid to a stop beside her.

“What—”

“Oh God,” she breathes.

Heart racing with adrenaline, I take another step towards the dock, dragging her along with me. “Kie, whatever it is, we have to go—”

“It’s John B. He’s talking to Topper.”

Straight ahead of us, I can make out John B’s wild head of hair and dingy yellow shirt. Him being the taller of the two, I glimpse the familiar white of Topper’s shirt just in front of him. Their voices are escalating by the moment, and I can make out the sound of Topper saying, “I want to know why you’re looking for my fucking girlfriend—”

“Oh God,” I repeat this time.

“(y/n), you need to go,” Kie stresses.

I take off before she even finishes her sentence, not even excusing myself as I dash past unsuspecting guests. People have started to stare and a sizable crowd has formed around them.

“— just because she’s your girlfriend doesn’t mean she can’t have friends without you.”

Topper scoffs. “Oh I see. This is about your little treasure hunting bullshit. So you think you can just run around with my girlfriend, do whatever the hell you want with her without me knowing?”

John B shoves him backwards, hard. “That’s not true!”

“John B, stop!” I shout, shoving my way to the front of the crowd as Topper catches himself. But it’s too late, John B is already grabbing the front of Topper’s shirt and yanking him to his feet.

The thing is, it’s not that Topper can’t defend himself, he’s more than capable of holding his own. It’s that he won’t. He won’t ruin his reputation in front of half the town. All he does is sneer, breathing hard as his blue eyes glint with hate. Topper had never liked my friends, only tolerated them for my sake — up until now.

“You think I don’t know?” Topper jeers. “All you’ve ever wanted is to get with (y/n).”

That’s all it takes for John B to swing. I scream as Topper stumbles backwards to the ground. Chaos erupts around us. I see Mr. Carrera hoist Topper to his feet, and my heart clenches at the sight. Blood is leaking from his nose and a dark rouge colored ring has already begun to form around his eye. When I move forward to help him, John B grabs my arm.

“We have to go. Now.”

My feet planted into the ground, I glance down at his split knuckles, and then back at Topper. Who do I choose? My best friend or my boyfriend?

Voice strained, I turn to John B. “I can’t just leave—”

“HELLO!! Now or never, guys!” JJ is on the dock with Kiara, and Sarah. Pope and Cleo are already in the boat.

“Go!” John B urges, shoving me in front of him. With one last look over my shoulder at Topper’s bloody face, I take off running down the dock with John B behind me.

—

I know he's mad before he even yanks the passenger side door open and drags me by my elbow to the car. Although his scowl and matching black eye are pretty heavy indicators, it's the stalk from the drivers side and around the front of the Jeep that tips me off.

"Get in the car, (y/n)," he barks without so much as a second glance at me.

John B and Pope glance at each other apprehensively. JJ and Kiara share similar looks.

With the passenger side door now open and Topper waiting for me to march myself over there, I hesitantly stand my ground. Anxiously, I swallow back the swell in my throat. "Go home, Top."

He throws his hands up in exasperation and shakes his head. "This—this is fucking ridiculous. Get in the car, (y/n)."

When I don't make a move either way, Cleo speaks up. "Leave her alone, man. She ain't gotta go nowhere wit' you." Her thick accent rings out loud and clear, but Topper pretends as though he doesn't hear her.

Having enough of our back and forth game, Topper strides over and grabs a firm hold of my elbow, intending to move me himself. Although I take a reflexive step backwards, I don't fight him off. At the same time, John B steps forward, ready to give Topper a black eye to match the other.

"John B, no," I immediately blurt out, twisting as best I can in Topper's grasp. "It's fine. It's fine." Sighing I turn back to Topper. "Okay," I relent. "Let's go."

We drive in silence for a while, waiting for the other to speak. I'm half hoping he won't and we'll make the entirety of the trip without uttering a word. Across the seat, we make eye contact and I scowl at him for the split second our eyes meet. Then I turn away and cross my arms with an air of defiance.

When I glance sideways at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes fixed on the road. I know him well enough to know that he's weighing out his options on what to say, determining what kind of conversation we're going to have.

He opens his mouth, starting to say something, then closes it and drags a hand over his jaw. "How many times did I call you?"

I shrug. "I don't know—"

"God dammit, (y/n). How many times did I call you!??" He slams his hand down on the console this time.

"I DON'T KNOW, TOPPER."

I do. Twenty-seven. He called twenty-seven times in addition to the missed texts and multiple question marks. I don't admit that though because it's easier to scream back at him than to admit that I was purposely avoiding his calls.

"You have got to stop hanging around with the wrong people. Start making better decisions." He's lowered his voice to a more appropriate volume now.

I glance over at him, a narrowed look on my face. "Who are you mad at, Topper?" I question. "Because I don't think it's me."

In the drivers seat, he continues to stare ahead at the road. "It's always fucking John B, isn't it. You always have to go to his rescue."

I set my jaw, knowing where his mind is and where this is going. "I didn't sleep with him, Topper."

Topper scoffs as if to make light of the situation. "Oh, for sure. You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's not like that. He's my friend."

We pull into his driveway, and Topper finally turns to me after parking the car. "Yeah? Well I'm your friend too, (y/n). You ever fucking think about that? Why do you think you're not sitting in jail right now with the rest of your so called friends?" He jabs a finger into his chest. "Me. Because I care about you!"

My back pressed up against the passenger side door, all I can do is blink in surprise. I'm not used to Topper yelling at me, and I'm not so sure I like it. I'd never thought about it that way before and guilt begins to creep into the pit of my stomach. My eyes suddenly sting and my nose burns with the threat of tears.

"I'm sorry," I whisper barley audible, my voice cracking.

Topper falls back heavily into his seat and sighs, running a hand over his face. Without a word, he gathers his keys from the truck's ignition and steps out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Teary eyed, I watch him take the steps up the porch and pace up and down the length of it while repeatedly running a frustrated hand through his hair. I get out of his truck and walk up the steps after a few minutes. Confident that he's done yelling but unsure of where we stand at the moment, I stop just short of him.

Hands in his pockets, Topper runs his gaze over me from head to toe after coming to a stop in front of me before he emits another heavy sigh and curls his hand around my jaw, forcing me to look upwards at him. "Answer me when I call you, alright?"

Nodding, I swallow under the weight of his hand as his fingers travel down to my throat. His blue eyes are focused and yet lack their usual jubilance. I nearly whine in relief when he leans down to kiss me.

He tastes fresh, like he always does, a mix between peppermint gum and mint toothpaste. The taste resonates within me a type of unspoken forgiveness that I sense is being granted as his other hand presses my body into his. I can feel the rigid outline of his cock through the thin fabric of his shorts, and it sends my heart racing in anticipation.

The thing about Topper is that he's always been able to read me impossibly well, and so when he disconnects our mouths by using the leverage of his hand on my throat to hold me back, he chuckles airily. "Feel me? That's what you do to me, you little tease."

I paw at him, grabbing at the waistband of his shorts to pull his body closer. Topper is nearly a foot taller than me, and I have to crane my neck to look up at him.

"I'm sorry, Top."

He hums, the thumb of his hand moving to tug at the swollen pout of my bottom lip. "Are you? He's only giving me a hard time now, not even allowing me to answer before his thumb slips into my mouth, pressing down on my tongue. "Going to be good for me then?"

The weight of his thumb is so soothingly familiar that I forget to respond in favor of suckling around the digit.

"Baby." He's quick to remind me, drawing his thumb from my mouth and swiping it wetly across my cheek to grip my jaw again.

My flushed cheeks forced into a pout, I nod as much as his hold on me will allow. "Mhm."

Topper glances over his shoulder, briefly surveying the closed blinds of the windows looking out on to the front porch, and then back to me.

"Alright, on your knees, pretty girl."

He doesn't have to ask twice. He's undoing his belt with one experienced hand and gathering a fist full of my hair at the back of my head with the other. Once removed from the confines of his boxers, his cock bobs at the freedom.

If there's one thing myself and multiple other girls in the Outer Banks can attest to, it's that sucking off Topper Thornton is a pleasure. I'd heard the rumors whispered around school even before we started dating. It was weird at the time, having to hear that kind of thing about my best friend, but once we started dating, I understood where they were coming from. With some guys, blowing them is an outright chore, but not Topper. He knows exactly what he's working with and how to use it.

Once again, he's heavy in my mouth. This time in a pleasurably aching way. His tip nudges the back of my throat, and I have to remind myself to relax and breathe through my nose as tears spring to my eyes. He swipes away a stray tear before it can fall.

"There you go, baby. Good."

He doesn't buck up into my throat, forcing me to gag and sputter as I try to accommodate his length — at least not this time. Topper just fists my hair and rocks slowly back and forth, eyes rolling as my throat clenches around him. My nose nearly digs into his pelvis by the time he's satisfied that his cock is nestled as far as it can get into the heat of my throat.

With the makeshift ponytail, Topper pulls almost all of the way out of my mouth before guiding himself back in. Each time the mushroomed tip kisses the back of my throat, he pulls his cock out of my mouth again. All it takes is a few good strokes before he's spilling into my mouth, moaning while I struggle to take him all. He pulls out when he's finished.

"Swallow," he instructs, tilting my jaw back so that I have but one option. Not that I would argue with him anyhow. I'm used to how he tastes, salty and strangely satisfying, His hot release slides down my throat. At first I would have wrinkled my nose at the thought of such a thing, but strangely, I've become accustomed to the taste. It's uniquely Topper, as odd as that sounds.

He helps me to my feet and plants another slow kiss to my swollen lips. I keen at the attention, my brain feeling sluggish and wishing he would just wrap his large hand around my throat again.

"I love you," he finally murmurs, pressing a find kiss to my forehead; a stark contrast to his manhandling moments before.

"Love you too."

Around us, the porch goes dark for a split second and I bolt into Topper's arms before the lights flicker back on. This repeats a few more times; long enough for us to realize that his dad is likely on the other side of the front door.

Topper groans. "Shit."

"Shit."

#rafe outer banks #outer banks #obx3 #obx x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron #topper thornton #topper thorton smut #topper thorton imagine #topper x reader #topper thorton x reader #topper obx #topper smut

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yoisami · 8 months

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˚₊‧୨୧˚ TASTES LIKE VANILLA !

[૮₍ ˃ࡇ˂ ₎ა]: you and reo’s second anniversary is coming up, and he makes an attempt to bake you a cake.

tags. reo x gn!reader, 2050 wc, pure fluff, established relationship, mentions of food, reo and reader are aged up, use of profanities, not rly proofread bc i wanted to finish this to get it out of my drafts lol, forgive me if any grammatical mistakes, i love reo.

there were a few reasons why mikage reo always bought gifts rather than making them.

firstly, he’s the literal heir of mikage corporation—the company is an insanely fierce competitor in the japanese and global markets, with sales that regularly skyrocket up and rarely ever drop. the mikage family had billions of yen sitting in the vault of their bank account; hence, reo never had to personally make something from scratch because he could afford anything with the millions that he carried, coming in the form of a black credit card that was wonderfully polished and only obtainable by the ultra rich.

secondly, reo was absolutely shit at cooking and activities alike. with the reputation that he was the physical embodiment of perfection, his peers in his extensive social network had established it in their heads that the nineteen-year-old excelled in everything—calculus, japanese literature, soccer, flirting—you name it, he’s good at it. on the contrary, he wasn't good at everything (obviously). it was on one regular afternoon (when reo was still in high school), all the students in hakuho discovered a flaw in mikage reo—his culinary skills was fantastically terrible. somehow, nagi’s plate of half-assed grilled mackerel looked relatively decent when it was placed next to reo’s fully burned tamagoyaki that could not be salvaged.

which was why, since two years ago, all the gifts you’ve received from your beloved boyfriend, were all strictly bought from high-end quality stores, because he knew you deserved the best of the best, and because he supposed that it made up for his inability to make you a meal like other boyfriends do.

as your second anniversary approached the corner, reo’s mind was busy browsing through the gallery of ideas he had for your date. a surprise week-long trip to milan? or would you prefer the romantic ambience of athens more?

he was stumped, and his social media page was, as expected, unhelpful. his feed was teeming with posts of couples surprising each other with the simplest things that had little merit, like a new bottle of perfume, and these things could never succeed as a candidate for reo’s anniversary gift for you. it was simply not enough for someone like you—if it was possible, reo would have liked to purchase every single constellation known to astronomers, just so he can remind you that his love for you was as expansive and immeasurable as the universe.

but two evenings ago, reo was left baffled when he saw you giggling at your phone, hands covering your mouth and everything.

“honey, are you okay?” he asked, eyebrows raised as he approached your figure, leaning in to see just what exactly elicited such a dramatic reaction from you. when you passed him your phone, reo gave you a confused look.

“her boyfriend baked her a lunchbox cake! see—it’s so cute, and you can obviously tell he put a lot of love and effort into this!” you exhaled, looking up at the ceiling with your hand on your heart. “doesn’t this just give you butterflies?”

“i mean, i guess it’s cute. but it’s such a little thing—why are you so giggly about it? there’s nothing special about it.”

if the boyfriend had baked a cake that held eight tiers, then reo would be impressed. except, this cake had a measly diameter of four inches (he thought there was no ‘wow’ factor in this).

you shook your head as you propped yourself up on this lounge. “it is special! it’s from her boyfriend, so she’d obviously be appreciative of it! plus, it’s not about how expensive or exquisite his gift is. the fact that he took time out of his day to bake his girlfriend a cake is really thoughtful and cute. if you were to bake a cake for me, i’d honestly be over the moon.”

reo’s ears perked up at your hypothetical scenario. “really? wouldn’t you prefer a vacation or something as a gift?”

a laugh slipped from your lips as you turned off your phone. “to be honest reo, if we stayed at home in our pyjamas and shared a tub of ice cream together, i’d be just as happy.”

and since that day, reo has been determined to bake you a cake as your anniversary gift. since he was still worried that a cake would be of too little value, he had completed his shopping for your other gifts a couple days ago—a new pair of diamond earrings that were ridiculously overpriced and a designer-branded coat because winter was approaching—plus a reservation made under his name for a dimly lit dinner at a luxurious restaurant that owned shelves of delicately tasting champagnes.

he had returned home particularly early today, making sure that it was at a time where you were still at work, busy wiping down tables and serving coffees and teas for six hours straight. reo dropped the grocery bags on the kitchen island, with their contents on the verge of spilling out because, once again, he had bought more than what was necessary. for a single cake that was not going to be larger than a regular dinner plate, he had bought two packs of flour, two dozens of eggs, three cartons of milk, four bottles of thickened cream, and a collection of other materials.

in all honesty, the reason he went overboard with the ingredients was because he was prepared to face some legitimate baking failure. if he couldn’t even cook rice without turning it into a gruel-like texture, then he definitely couldn’t bake a dainty cake that needed to be edible and pleasing to the eye.

reo, as the son of a japanese billionaire who could obtain anything with the mere reach of his fingertips, would have never thought that he would be standing behind the kitchen counter in you and his shared home, tilting his head at an online recipe for a vanilla sponge cake that was to be made for his dearest, you.

as reo tied his hair up, he scanned through the recipe, smiling at how easy this seemed.

this could work, he thought as he grabbed out the ingredients. with a large bowl placed atop the scales, reo ripped open the packet of flour, pouring the appropriate amount over the sieve before he set it aside. he then added the remaining dry ingredients (baking powder, baking soda, and salt) into the bowl before stepping back, smiling at how smoothly things were going.

“[name]’s gonna love this,” reo hummed in delight, with a smirk that could cost a million yen. “i’m the best boyfriend.”

and as he continued to diligently follow the steps outlined on the website, his excitement was growing taller and taller by the moment. ideally, he hoped to present you with a cake that was perfect to the point where no other cake could compete with his. but reo was an ambitious man—he was too hopeful with this.

‘fuck’ was the first thing that came out of his mouth when reo knocked over the contents of his bowl. he frowned at the flour particles that flew into the air, and reo let out an exasperated sigh at the spill. it didn’t take him long to recover from the minor annoyance he felt as he wiped down the counter with a wet cloth, and swept away the remaining flour that was on the floor.

this was bound to take him a while.

three hours have passed since he commenced his baking debut, and the disappointment was blatantly expressed in reo’s facial expression.

on the kitchen counter of your apartment were four deformed sponge cakes that were either dry and burned, or somewhat undercooked. even with four cakes, neither of them was fit to be the cake that was supposed to be the ultimate gift that exudes nothing but delight from you, given your reaction towards the boyfriend’s cake in the video he watched.

you were going to return soon, and reo’s in trouble.

there was no humanly possible way that he could whip up a cake within fifteen minutes, let alone an hour.

after a single glance at the time that passed way too quickly, reo reached for his phone in his pocket. scrolling through his lengthy list of contacts, he hastily clicked on his attendant’s caller id. the pace of his heartbeat picked up, and reo’s impatience was conveyed through the tapping of his foot as he waited for ba-ya to pick up.

after what seemed like minutes (it was only eight seconds), reo was greeted by the familiar voice of his attendant. “young master reo? how may i help you?”

“ba-ya! i need you to run to the bakery and get a cake for me. preferably a smaller one, please—and i need it in a couple minutes,” reo instructed, a sigh escaping from his lips as he sat down on one of the high chairs. glancing over at his failed cakes, he grimaced. “it can be any flavour. just... make sure it looks nice.”

“of course, young master reo. i’ll bring it to your apartment within a couple minutes.” with that, the line was cut, and the apartment was silent again.

pulling the hair tie out of his hair, reo noticed that his apartment now had a distinctive scent of burnt cake. even if he were to hide the evidence of his fruitless attempts at baking a cake now, the odour was enough to let you know that in the past few hours, your boyfriend was caught up in some baking disaster.

and reo figured that you would probably get mad at how he’s made the whole apartment smell like a vanilla cake that was unfortunately burnt (literally).

ambling to turn on the ventilators in the kitchen, reo froze at the unwanted sound of your house keys jingling. at this moment, he was unable to move—it was almost like the soles of his shoes were glued to the floorboards. at this moment, as he watched the doorknob twist to the right, reo forfeited.

“reo? i'm ho— oh my god...”

the sound of your footsteps patted closer as a part of your cardigan peered from the wall. “why does it smell burnt here?”

innocently blinking at you, reo watched you enter the kitchen as he winced at your expression that clearly said ‘what the fuck happened in here?’. he quickly plastered a wide smile on his face. “baby! well, aren’t you early today?”

“reo, what happened—”

once your gaze averted to the counter, reo grabbed your hand. he carefully studied your face, expecting a scolding from you, but was pleasantly surprised when a smile broke from your lips. “w-wait, you’re smiling?”

soon after, you let out a string of laughter as you pulled your confused boyfriend into a soft embrace. “b-babe—”

“did you try to bake, reo?”

“i mean... yeah. it just failed horribly, though.”

your hands cupped reo's face as your grin widened. “i can tell. why else would we have four burned cakes on our kitchen counter?”

sheepishly rubbing his neck, reo nodded. “the other day, you said you’d be over the moon if i baked you a cake, so i tried. but as you can tell, i’m shit at this.”

you gently guided reo into your arms again as your giggles returned. “yeah, i agree. you are pretty bad at this.”

reo pulled away as he pouted. “sorry. and it was supposed to be one of my presents to you for our anniversary.”

“my love... don't be sorry! honestly, right now, i’m over the moon. the fact that you wanted to make my day by baking me a cake is a very sweet gesture, and i’m flattered.”

reo’s hands landed on your sides as you spoke. “these cakes show your hard work, and even if you weren’t successful, you still achieved your goal—i’m really happy right now. so thank you, reo.”

with a sweet kiss on his cheek, reo relished in your touch. “you’re welcome, my love. i’m glad that you’re happy.”

“great! now clean the kitchen.”

“what?”

“just kidding! i’ll clean with you.”

as the two of you wiped down the spills and crumbs on the kitchen counters, reo recounted his entire baking journey to you, forgetting that a new cake was on its way to your apartment.

#૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — ୨�� by saki #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #bllk imagines #reo mikage #mikage reo #reo x reader #blue lock reo #bllk reo #reo imagines #reo fluff #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #the more i reread it the more i dont like this #i dont want a bf if hes not like reo

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tonberry-yoda · 10 months

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Dewdrops - Asra

notes - Asra brainrot bad dudes. He is so fine and I have been wanting to kiss him all week, so here's a lil fic lol. I hope you enjoy and stay hydrated!! <33 @thearcanagame yall should hire me to write arcana stories haha jkjk... unless tee hee word count - 538 ~~BUY ME A KO-FI (COMMISIONS ARE OPEN)~~

You woke up delirious, blinking rapidly to get the bright sun out of your eyes. The air felt different than usual. Humid. Cold.

You felt that you were somewhere familiar, but there was also something strange about it.

A dream. Yeah, that was the best way to describe it.

You still couldn't see, so you tried to sit up and block your eyes from the brightness above you. When you sat up, you felt something fall from you, like a weight. But it sounded like you were under water.

What was going on?

You were finally able to see a little bit better after a couple more blinks and saw that you were definitely somewhere dream like. And you looked like you were just lying in a pond.

You tilted you head and tried to stand up, but your legs were much to weak for that.

The water you were in, you noticed, changed from shades of purple to blue and even looked like there was glitter swirling at the bottom.

But what shocked you the most is when you turned next to you to find Asra fast asleep in the pond. There were dewdrops in his hair and falling from his lips.

How the heck did you two end up here?

"Asra." You tried lightly shaking him to wake him up, but nothing. "Asra! Hey, wake up!"

You watched his white eyelashes flutter open until they shut again, probably from the brightness of the sun, if that even was the sun.

You blocked it nonetheless and cupped Asra's face, wiping the water away from the corners of his eyes. "Asra."

His eyes finally opened and he smiled when he saw you. As he sat up - holding you in his lap - water dripped from his clothes and his body.

There was a dewdrop on his lip that looked rather kissable...

"Where are we?" he asked sleepily, rubbing his eye.

"No clue. I thought you would've known, almighty Master Asra."

"Ew," he giggled. "Don't call me that. Just... let me get my bearings. I should be able to tell."

You got off of his lap and tucked his wet hair behind his ear while he looked around.

You both knew where you were. A sprit realm of some kind. But how you got there was beyond you.

"A spell..." Asra slowly began to remember. "Hm. Must've hit us hard."

"You don't think it was me, do you?" you asked frantically.

"No, I don't think so. And even if it was, I guess fate was telling us we needed a nap. Either way," he stood up and stretched, reaching his hand out to yours. "We'll figure it out along the way. Let's get going, yeah?"

You nodded and took his hand, letting him help you up. Your legs were still weak, but with Asra's help, you would be fine.

"You have water on your lips." you told him cheekily.

"Oh? Than why not help get it off." he smirked.

You pressed your lips to his, licking of the water lightly. He held you by the waist and pressed his chest to yours smiling in the kiss.

He didn't have the heart to tell you that you messed up a spell.

~~~~~

the arcana masterlist | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

#writing #my writing #jesus he's so hot #help #i love this game #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #the arcana #arcana #the arcana x reader #arcana x reader #asra #asra x reader #asra alnazar #asra alnazar x reader #<3

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starlostastronaut · 6 months

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━ PAS DE DEUX

PAIRING: lee minho x reader

GENRE: fluff (i guess), ballet au

WC: 1.15k

CW: some curse words, ballet lingo?

SUMMARY: when your dance partner gets injured, he recommends you his friend to take his place

this one had been in my drafts for some time haha. it's inspired by titania and oberon pas de deux from a midsummer night's dream. i tried to cut down the ballet terminology as much as possible, but there's still some, so don't hesitate to ask if it's unclear :) btw this story is supposed to be set in sydney, don't ask me why lol. anyway, hope you enjoy <3

masterlist here

You walked into the empty studio, throwing your bag near the wall. After fixing your hair and changing your sneakers for a pair of ballet slippers, you walked over to the barre. You figured you might as well warm up before your partner arrives. You placed your hands lightly on the barre for extra support and began with a simple set of pliés and relevés, thinking about your current situation.

When you heard that a part from A Midsummer Night's Dream was on the list for your dance program's showcase, you immediately signed up for an audition, hoping you would get to dance the pas de deux. The odds were in your favour, because you ended up getting the role of Titania and your Oberon turned out to be a boy from the year above, Chris. You never really talked to him properly outside of class, but the rehearsals have been going fine. He was an easygoing person and you worked together really well, becoming somewhat good friends during the first few rehearsals. Until he came to you earlier this week with his hand in a cast, apologizing that he wouldn't be able to dance with you. He told you he fell from his skateboard and broke his wrist.

So there you were, waiting for your new dance partner. Everything you knew about him was from Chris. This guy was apparently a new transfer student from Korea and Chris was helping him to get used to everything. According to Chris, the new guy was an excellent dancer and he convinced him to dance the pas de deux with you. You were hesitant at first, you never even met him, but it was either that or getting cut from the showcase completely, because everyone else had their own numbers to prepare.

Just as you looked at the clock for the third time, debating with yourself if it is worth waiting here any longer, the door opened. A guy in a grey hoodie walked in, his face covered by the shadow of the hood. "Sorry I'm late," he muttered, dropping his bag on the floor before he joined you at the barre.

"You're Minho, right?" you asked after introducing yourself, because the dancer didn't seem to start talking. To your disappointment, this didn't start a conversation either - Minho just nodded and muttered a simple "Yes". The rest of the warmup was spent in silence.

When the time came to actually practice, you went to your bag to get your bottle of water first, while Minho finally took off his hoodie. You saw only his reflection in the mirror, though it gave you the option to secretly properly check him out. And he was beautiful, you had to admit that. Sharp, cat-like eyes that looked both mysterious and welcoming were what you noticed first. Then it was longer, dark brown hair, kept out of his face by a white bandana. Even in his comfortably loose clothing he wore to practice, he looked like a faerie prince. Oddly perfect for the role of Oberon, your fae husband.

“Do you know the steps or do you need me to walk you through it?” you asked when you were both ready to practice.

“I watched the videos Chris gave me. I'm good with the solo parts and I know the rest too, but I only practiced on my own, so…” He shrugged. You couldn't help but look at him with admiration. It had only been a few days and he claims to have learned it? If that was true, then he must be really talented, you thought to yourself.

“Okay, so let's try the first part? Until my first arabesque.” Minho agreed and got into position while you prepared the music. He was the one starting the number, while you were supposed to join in a bit later.

As you searched through your playlist, for a moment you considered putting on your pointe shoes. Ultimately, you decided against it for now. You already knew most of Titania's steps on pointe and besides, Minho was learning it. It was very likely you would go over tiny details over and over again and you reached the conclusion that it wasn't worth it.

After you found the song, you confirmed with Minho that he was ready and you pressed play. As soon as he began dancing, you were mesmerized. His moves were light and fluid, but there was a certain sharpness in them as well, perfectly embodying the essence of a royal. He had a concentrated look on his face, but still found a way to portray emotion. You could only stare with your mouth hanging open. This boy was good. Amazed by Minho, you almost missed your cue and registered his outstretched hand towards you at the last possible second.

Placing your hand in his, your eyes met and you saw mischievous sparks in them as he pulled you along, guiding your movements just like the choreography instructed. His grip on you was firm but not too tight and you managed to get through the part without any troubles.

When the time for the next steps came, you began to feel a bit nervous. After all, this was the part with penché en pointe and the only thing stopping you from falling onto your face and breaking your nose would be Minho. He had not given you a single reason to think he would let you fall. In fact, you knew it would be okay, but the tiny voice of doubt in your head persisted. It was like that with Chris too, though.

“Come on, we have to practice,” Minho said. Waiting for you to come join him, he fixed his bandana using the wall mirror. In order to do that, he had to untie it, letting his hair fall over his eyes. In a moment he, with a prince-like gracefulness, brushed them away and readjusted the headband on his head. “What, worried I'll drop you?” he asked, smirking. You rolled your eyes at that, but he was right. That was your main concern, apart from his beauty, but you decided there would be time to unpack that later.

Anxiously, you assumed the correct positions as Minho stood behind you, gently helping you balance the arabesque. “I'll never let you fall,” he whispered into your ear as his strong arms circled around your waist, sending butterflies into your stomach. And when he safely guided you into the penché, you believed him. Somehow, you knew you could put all your trust in your new dance partner. He made you feel safe.

All that was left on your mind as he helped you through the move back into an arabesque was a single word. Fuck.

The next rehearsals were going to be hell, you thought, already making a mental note to both thank Chris and curse him for getting you Minho as a dance partner.

#lee minho x reader #lee minho #lee know #lee know x reader #stray kids fanfiction #fluff #(i guess idk what genre this is)

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marchsfreakshow · 7 months

Text

Cigarette Tension [Michael De Santa]

You and Michael De Santa; you're friends with Tracey De Santa, and she brings you home one day when Amanda and Jimmy are out.

Moodboard made by @lilthbunny

Sort of a self insert fic cause I'm down bad for this man. (And as gender neutral as I could make it lol)

Could be suggestive. -18 be warned; Addiction to smoking is referenced.

Your perspective.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tracey pulled up in the driveway, and I stared wide-eyed at her house. It was a mansion, let alone one with a pool and a tennis court of all things! She got out of the car and my jaw was slack. "Y/N c'mon! Fame Or Shame is gonna start sooonnn!" She wiggled a bit as I brought myself out of my trance and stepped out of the car.

I had become friends with Tracey De Santa recently after accidentally bumping into her when I was shopping. We apologized after a while, but at first, she was telling me off, annoying me with 'what's your excuse?!' And 'im from money you know?! Daddy can kill you instantly!' I rolled my eyes a bit before picking up her stuff.

"lemme pay you back."

"This was $100..?" She asked, staring at the broken perfume bottle on the ground.

"Okay? I have $200 to spend still." She just smiled and I took her back into the perfume shop.

A few weeks later, and more asks later, I was finally stood by her front door. "I think Jimmy and Mom are out. Daddy's being lazy still in the living room." She grinned. I chuckled in response and walked in with her. "Daddy! My friend Y/N is here."

I followed the chirpy girl into the living room. It was magnificent, and much more than my small apartment. But the man sitting on the sofa took my attention. He was in his 50s at least. Chubby... but attractive. He looked over with a drink of whiskey in one hand.

We made eye contact immediately, and it was like I was captured by him, even though I was just looking into his eyes. I couldn't let my thoughts run wild here, I just couldn't. No one said anything, but Tracey could tell I was staring. "Y/N. Eugh. I'll be in my room sorting this shopping out. Be right back."

I sort of mumbled an okay and leaned against a wall awkwardly. Michael went back to the TV. "you can come and sit down."

"oh I'm okay, thank you though."

As soon as I said that, the man stood up. He turned off the TV, and quietly went outside, holding out a cigarette box behind him. I stared hungrily at the box while it disappeared. The debate and war in my head were eventually won, and I nonchalantly joined him outside. "You smell like you smoke inside."

"You smell like an addict."

"And look at that, you lured me out here." I felt so confident now. My own guess was the cigarette between my fingers, and the lighter I was about to light for the both of us.

We made eye contact again as the cigarettes were lit and we took our breaths.

Tracey clearly was busy sorting out my own shopping compared to hers. I bought barely any expensive things, but it seemed she got everything that was expensive. "How did you meet my angel then?" The word 'angel' came out like sarcasm, but I felt the love within it.

"I broke her perfume by accident when we bumped into each other. I decided I was nice that day, and bought her a new one." Michael raised an eyebrow, side-eyeing me for a second. I fidgeted around a bit as we took our time to smoke.

A few minutes went by before he stomped his cigarette out, I wanted to take my time. I already fucked up my cigarette sobriety, why not enjoy it? Michael's eyes found mine again. A war was happening in my brain again. He was attractive, for a 50-something-year-old. But god he was married! With two kids my age, a bit younger. Clearly.

I was finishing my cigarette up, and I stomped it out soon after. He stood in front of me barely blocking the bright sun. "Michael."

"I can tell..."

"Tell what?"

He placed a kiss on my cheek, then my neck. I was confused and turned away. "You got it figured out.", Michael winked at me, then headed back inside.

I was standing there, against a wall, in my friend's backyard, questioning why her dad just kissed me after a cigarette. He smelled vintage. Old cologne, worn-out suits, and the cigarettes.

When I figured he was back to watching TV or something, I walked in awkwardly. The man was distracted with making a bowl of chips in the kitchen. After taking a deep breath, I headed up the stairs and found Tracey's room right in front of the stairs. She was sleeping. I wasn't sure for how long, but she was asleep. The other door, I assumed was Jimmy's by the sign on it. "Welp, fuck Fame or Shame I guess," I muttered, grabbing my own bags, that held my shopping.

"Why don't you stay for the evening? You're nice. And you seem like a good friend to my girl." Michael said suddenly. The tension I felt last time had come back.

"oh no, I really couldn't. I have all this, and I wanna get it all home quickly." I stuttered out, feeling embarrassed for no reason. I barely knew these people! Why was this middle-aged man so attractive and why did I have to make friends with his daughter!? It seemed like the war in my brain never stopped. My nerves calmed when I was on my own. Or I was drinking. So many things calmed me, but staying the night wasn't one of them.

"No seriously. C'mon. I'm ordering Chinese food tonight. D'you like Chinese food?" Michael just smiled and patted the seat next to him. The TV was playing some sort of old film. A noir film.

As I sat down next to him, awkwardly, I nodded. "I get takeaway a lot."

"oh?"

"I'm not incredibly well off, but I got 400 from my aunt recently. So, I paid my rent for a few months, and y'know. Met Tracey-." My mouth blabbered. I waffled a lot before Michael cut me off.

"You're staying then?"

"Mhm."

"Good! I'm sure Amanda will take to you." His eyes stuck to the movie. It was intimate. I leaned my chin on my knees while attempting to watch the movie too.

Time passed. Movies and shows went by. We ate, and drank, and he had one last cigarette. I wasn't sure where Amanda and Jimmy were, and Tracey was a deep sleeper. "Where is everyone?"

"Jimmy'll come back soon. And Amanda probably found somewhere else to sleep."

"That... sounds bad." My tone was slightly guilty. Not like I had done anything anyway, but it was 4 p.m. at this point, and no one had come back to Michael's place.

"My relationship is fucked. Might as well keep it up."

"What happened? If you don't mind talking about it.."

"I fucked another stripper. She decided her tennis coach was the best person to go to after. Because of course, she did. In my own house, on my own bed. Of all fucking places."

Michael kept going about their relationship, but I could tell he was leaving some details out. Like he couldn't tell me every part of the story. When he stopped and looked over at me, I held his hand softly. He used his hands a lot clearly. Rugged, short, dirty nails. My thumb softly rubbed over his thumb. Empathy wasn't my strong suit, but I could try. The man's eyes softened for once and placed the same hand on my thigh.

I was feeling something. But I was so, distracted by looking at him, I couldn't tell what he wanted. Whatever it was, I didn't know if I should give it to him. The concentration on my face became obvious, and he backed down a bit, moving his hand away. "You didn't..have to.." I whispered, inching closer to him and his alcoholic breath. He kept his silence and went back to the position we were in a few seconds ago. It was like a clock was ticking. A time bomb about to explode.

This was lust. Not love. I didn't want to be known as the one who fucked my best friend's dad. Not particularly. But, he held me captive when I stared at him. Why was he fucking me with his eyes? That look I didn't see often, I knew it. All he did was hold onto my waist as I faced him, sitting on my knees. I didn't know what I wanted. I didn't know who was around. All I knew was that I just wanted him. For some fucked reason. Daddy issues I guess.

His hair was a bit messed up after being inside all day. The red shirt, the baggy trousers. His hands. His eyes, and his 5 o'clock shadow that was still there at 7pm. Everything about this feeling was fucked. Everything. But god he was so handsome. At any moment, his wife could come through the door, or his son, or Tracey could wake up, and kick me out of the house for being weird with her dad. My eyes screamed nervousness apparently.

"We'll be okay."

He kissed me gently, and he held me gently. This felt insane. What was I doing?! Kissing a married man!? While I kissed him back, my thoughts were like a race track. Where did I drop off my shopping? Nothing sounded like it broke, but maybe something did. "Are you alright?" Michael rested his hand on the side of my face, looking concerned.

"You're distracted."

"I suppose so."

"Nothing matters right now. Calm yourself."

We were entangled in each other again. I sat on his lap, straddling him. He held the small of my back. I gripped his shoulders. Our breaths mixed when we pulled away from each other. The TV was still playing noir movies. It didn't distract him, thank god.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

oh. shit.

I went wide-eyed and got off Michael immediately, my embarrassment now noticeable. Tracey stared shocked at her dad as I hurried behind her, grabbed my stuff and headed for the door.

"Y/N!"

"Tracey, angel.. listen."

"DAD! I can't fucking believe you! You're worse than Mom sometimes, Jesus!"

She stomped out into the backyard, so I took this opportunity to move away and go home. Thankfully, Michael didn't follow. Not until I got out the gate anyway. He stopped the car next to me and stared apologetically at me. "Just let me drive you home,"

Awkwardness filled the car, my bags in the back, and I was sitting in the passenger seat, looking out of the window. I refused to look anywhere but the window. I just couldn't look over to him. The man driving me home. The man who I was making out with a few minutes ago. Clouds went past quickly, and the bags were the only noise coming from inside the car.

The drive almost killed me inside it was so long. But we got there, eventually. Taking a deep breath, I just opened the door quickly, grabbed my stuff and closed the car door behind me.

He lingered.

"Don't linger, Michael..." I mumbled. The car window was open, and I knew he wanted to say something. My front door opened, my foot entered the hallway, and I didn't decide to look back. He stood there, by my front door. "I'm home now. Thanks.."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's my fault." I kept walking away, into the living room, but because he was in the doorway, I couldn't close it.

"Alright. But you know you can come back."

"I think Tracey's opinion of me has drastically changed. I doubt it." My mutters continued. I acted uninterested and bored. But I wasn't mad at him, not really.

"Just...come back soon okay?" The door shut. Finally. My chest felt less heavy now, so I almost slid my way into the kitchen.

A creak.

Not my footsteps. They couldn't be.

"Michael please.."

"I don't think anyone will realise."

We just stood there, staring at each other. "How about a smoke?"

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

The only tag today: @beetleblunt

#gta 5 #GTA V #michael de santa #michael de santa x reader #gta fanfiction #im such a simp #Michael de Santa x you #fluff #x reader fluff #suggestive #gta #grand theft auto v #might make a part 2 #big Michael simp help

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cowboyjigen · 1 year

Text

when the wind blows aka roger comforting his daughter when she needs him

warnings: fem reader obvs by the title lol, this is really just a self indulgent fix cause i’ve been feeling bad recently and watching the roger flashbacks

the sea was quiet: a rare sight especially on the grand line. but still there was a certain silence filling the oro jackson. it was painful almost. the normally jolly crew had been shushed as soon as the smile on their captains face dropped, also a rare sight.

“something’s wrong.” roger finally spoke up.

“what’s could possibly be wrong, roger?” rayleigh quipped a small laugh leaving his mouth. roger was not amused by his best friends joke. “roger, everything is fine. it’s just a quiet night is all.”

roger huffed, “maybe i’m just tired.” as if they knew something everyone else didn’t, shanks and buggy shared a look before silently skittering away. taking another sip of his drink, roger glanced around at his crew.

“they head in for the night, not like anything is jumping for your attention right now, captain.” roger nodded in agreement to what gaban had said, setting his mug down and pushing himself up.

“right, i’ll head in then.” with a final nod, he moved towards his cabin.

when he finally approached the door to his quarters, there stood shanks and buggy firmly blocking the door. “can i help you two?”

“sorry captain we can’t let you in here.” shanks was the one who spoke up, not to much surprise on rogers behalf.

“and why is that?”

“strict orders captain.” buggy nodded while speaking

“stricter than those of your captain?”

the blue haired boy paled a bit but shanks stood his ground, “yes sir, she said she’d kick our asses if we let anyone in until she said we could.”

oh. oh.

it made sense to roger now. not just the boys standing unwavering in front of his door but also why it felt so quiet. “i’m afraid you’re just gonna have to have your asses kicked boys.” they shared a look, “or if you let me in now, i’ll put in a good word for you.”

the two nodded at eachother before splitting ticket roger through. “but if she asks, you fought us to get it! we didn’t give up easily!”

roger laughed slightly and nodded, pushing the door open. “sweetie?” stifled sobs rang out from the corner of the room.

they belonged to a lump in the sheets that quivered every few seconds when a particular loud cry would sound. “no one’s here, go away.”

humoring her, roger sat himself on the floor next to his own bed. “hmm we’ll if no one is here then i guess i can crawl in my bed and sleep then.” he emphasized his words by pressing down onto the wood boards below which let out a strong creaking noise.

“go away, dad.”

“oh so there is someone in here! i got worried there was a ghost for a second!” turning around on the floor, roger lifted the blankets covering his daughter. “what’s got you like this, kid?”

he crawled in next to her, holding her close. she shook her head into his chest. “no. it’s embarrassing.”

“cant be too embarrassing right? would it make you feel better if i told you something embarrassing first to make it feel better?”

“maybe, it depends.”

roger smiled before pretending to think hard about what he was going to share. “let’s see, back when it was just me and uncle rayleigh i spent a dumb amount of time trying to figure out what outfit would be the best to wear incase the marines took my mug. well one day i was take a bit longer than normal and uncle rayleigh walked in on me half naked in this ugly frilly shirt.” Y/N sat there giggling in his arms, “see? makes you feel a bit better about you right?”

she nodded slightly before frowning again, “i miss mom.” roger stiffened. he too missed rouge, it had been a few weeks since they had last seen each other. “see it’s embarrassing!” tears once again threatened her eyes but roger just held her tighter.

“it’s not embarrassing sweetie, i miss her too.” he combed his fingers through her hair, “but we’ll see her soon. we’re on our way back right now remember? and then she’ll be on the ship with us for a while.”

“i know, it’s just. sometimes i just feel like i need someone to talk to and she’s not here and,” she continued to ramble on before roger interrupted her.

“you know you can always talk to me right?”

“well yeah but you’re busy, i don’t want to distract you because of my dumb troubles.”

“nothing you say could be dumb to me sweetie. you’re still my daughter.”

she nodded, “thank you dad.”

“of course.” the pair sat there in each others arms for a few minutes before a knock came from the door. it opened to reveal shanks, buggy, and rayleigh. “how much of that did you guys hear?”

“say Y/N, do you want to see the picture of your dad in that shirt?”

“don’t you dare rayleigh.”