#Smart Watch Assembly

[mariocki]

Friday the 13th (2009)

"Jason. My special, special boy. They must be punished, Jason. For what they did to you. For what they did to me."

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

sleepover. l Joel Miller

Summary:  the house was quiet and you missed each other very much

Warnings:  +18, smut, swearing, unprotected sex (remember - safety first), oral sex (getting f), oral sex (m receiving)

A/N: I wasn't planning on writing anything today, but here it is. I hope it brightens your day. Your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

You couldn't remember the last time your house was this quiet. It was a strange, but quite pleasant feeling. 

You made yourself a big cup of tea, lit a scented candle and started on the mountain of freshly done laundry that was waiting to be folded and sorted. It was already getting dark outside and you could hear the cicadas through the open kitchen window. You liked moments like this.

You pulled a small pink t-shirt with the words "Daddy's little girl" written on it from the pile and smiled. Nothing had been the same since Sarah had appeared in your lives. Five years had passed and you had the impression that you had only come back from the hospital with her a week ago. She was your dream child - smiling, smart and beautiful. And totally in love with her father.

You put her t-shirt on one pile and reached for another one. This one was bigger and more worn. It was definitely your husband's t-shirt. Joel Miller was the man of your life. Even though everyday life wasn't all colorful, you were grateful that you had someone so stable and caring for you, and the little one, next to you.

You were lost in your thoughts and assembling the next parts of your family's wardrobe when you heard the slam of the front door and the sound of keys being thrown on a nearby table.

"Hi, honey!"

Heavy footsteps headed to the kitchen, the fridge door slammed and Joel soon stood in the living room door sipping a can of cold cola.

"Rough day?" you asked, looking at him from behind a pile of clothes.

"Yeah." he mumbled taking off his shoes "This project is killing me, but it's getting closer to the end."

He looked around the room, frowning, and then leaned back, glancing towards the stairs and listening carefully.

"Sarah is asleep already?" he was surprised, glancing at his watch "It's only seven."

"Our daughter is at Susan's birthday party today." you replied, smiling "I feel sorry for her parents. Six kids at home, and they have sleepovers."

"Crazy people." Joel finished his coke. "A year ago I had to fix her bed when her friends visited. They turned it into a trampoline."

"You'll miss it when she disappears from home for the whole evening and comes back drunk."

"No fucking way! Sarah won't leave this house until she's 21."

You looked at him with pity. For a moment, he turned the empty can in his fingers. He also noticed the silence in the house.

"You know..." he began after a moment. "This is probably the first evening, I don't know how long, since we've been home alone."

"Yeah, I noticed that too."

"Alone." Joel repeated the last word with great emphasis.

"Are you suggesting something?"

He raised an eyebrow and smiled mischievously. You knew perfectly well what he meant. The last few days have been quite hard for you. Household chores, work, Joel's project, shopping, a five-year-old girl with a ton of questions and ideas. In the evenings, you were literally falling on your face. Any tenderness was at the bottom of your "to do" list.

"I dream of a hot bath." You stuck out your lower lip like a sad child "Candles, scented bubble bath..."

"Really?" he approached you "What else do you dream of?"

"About food that I don't have to make by myself."

"I'll order something for us. Chinese? Or maybe pizza?"

"I don't know."

"So let me take some of your time, and then we'll think about it together."

He took your face in his warm hands and kissed you tenderly. He tasted like cola and mint gum. You could smell the wood and the remnants of his cologne, the scent of your husband.

His tongue slipped between your lips, deepening the kiss, and soon you were purring with pleasure. You got up from the couch and moved closer to him, sliding your hands under his shirt.

It was starting to get nicer when you suddenly heard the sound of his phone.

"Fuck!" he cursed, pulling the phone out of his jeans pocket. "It's Tommy. It can wait."

"Are you sure?"

Joel cursed again under his breath and answered the call. You didn't listen to their conversation, but your hands started wandering over his body again. You moved closer.

"I'll sort it out. Tomorrow." he moaned quietly as your lips began to caress his neck, Joel rolled his eyes. "Nothing. I stepped on a fucking block, Sarah leaves toys everywhere." you giggled, his hand squeezed your buttock warningly. "The delivery will be tomorrow, I already talked to the driver." Your lips caught his earlobe and you sucked it lightly "Fuck, Tommy! Can we do this tomorrow? It's not that important. Yeah, I'm really busy! Bye!"

He threw his phone on the couch and gave you a reprimanding look.

"You really don't know how to behave when someone's talking, do you?" he asked.

"I don't know." You smiled as both of his hands found their way to your buttocks, kneading them "Maybe you should teach me."

Joel growled and you felt the cock in his jeans twitch restlessly. You tried to remember the last time you felt him inside you and it wasn't a quickie. Soon you felt a pleasant arousal between your thighs.

"Do you want to go to the bedroom or are we staying here?"

"Let's stay."

You kissed him and felt him lead you to the couch, you hit it with your legs. Your clothes quickly and efficiently found themselves on the floor. You sighed quietly at the sight of his hard member, the glistening precum on its red tip. Your husband was definitely generously endowed by nature. Your lips became wetter at the sight.

"Do you like it?" he asked, smiling slyly, "Go ahead, take it."

You sat down on the couch and had Joel's cock at eye level. The perfect position. He grabbed your hair, pushing it away from your face so it wouldn't get in your way, and you gave his soft belly a few kisses.

You took his cock in your hand and gave him a few strokes. Joel watched you carefully and let out a breath when you put it in your mouth. You felt its weight on your tongue, the slightly salty taste and the delicate skin. You purred quietly, sending vibrations into his core. You started moving, teasing the tip with your tongue, sucking as if you had a favorite toy in your hands.

"Baby, deeper, please..."

And you did. His tip hit the back of your throat, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you began to choke. Joel held your head and began to move himself, thrusting in and out of your mouth. Loud moans left his throat.

"Fuck... I love your mouth, baby. If I didn't love your pussy so much I'd spend every free moment there. Jesus, just perfect!"

You liked it when he used you like that. He was never too rough, always knowing what and how to do to make you feel comfortable.

"Baby, I want to feel you." he whispered feverishly, withdrawing from between your lips. "I want to be inside you so bad. C'mon! Will you ride me, baby?"

You nodded, and he took you in his arms, kissing you deeply. He slid his hand between your thighs.

"Fuck, you're so wet already." he remarked, delighted. "I guess I need to take better care of my wife."

"You'll do it later." you mumbled, pushing him onto the couch and straddling his hips. "Now I want you inside. Damn, Joel! Don't make me wait any longer."

He positioned his cock so that it was just below your entrance. You held your arms on the back of the couch and let Joel's hand on your hip guide you lower. The tip slid in smoothly and soon the entire cock was inside. His length wonderfully stretched your walls and filled you completely.

"Jesus..." you sighed closing your eyes "I missed this so much."

"I know, I know baby." Joel showered kisses on your neck and collarbone "We work too much. You take care of Sarah, the house and me. We don't have enough time for each other..."

You stroked his rough cheek and looked into those wonderfully sweet eyes. He was such an amazing man. Even though he worked hard himself, he always thought of you first. You pressed your lips to his wishing that this kiss would take away at least a little of the burden from him.

When you started moving up and down, you both pulled away from each other. You rested your forehead against his, squeezing your eyes shut. Every movement of his insides was captivating, you needed him so much, your body was hungry for closeness.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and your breaths filled your ears. Joel grabbed your breast, squeezing it tightly. His fingers teased your nipple, rolling it. Finally his mouth engulfed it and he began to suck it, teasing it with his tongue.

Your thighs were already aching, but you didn't slow down. You wanted to feel him more, harder, deeper.

"Fuck! Joel!" you gasped, "I'm so close!"

"Me too! Damn, you can break me, but don't stop!" he groaned, "I love your pussy! After all this, I'll eat you out so hard you'll scream out loud."

"You promised me a bath." you noted, smiling.

"After the bath." he corrected himself, "Shit! I'm gonna... Fuck!"

His cock was hitting exactly where you needed it. Strong hands held your hips tightly as he pressed you even harder. Your legs were already starting to go numb.

And then it happened. You squeezed your eyes shut as your body tensed, an incredible shiver ran through your body as your velvet walls tightened around Joel's cock, sending pulsating spasms into your core. A loud moan escaped your throat.

Joel was right behind you. He used your body, after a few deep and frantic thrusts he came with a loud and deep groan. His cock poured streams of white cum into you, filling you to the brim.

"Fuckfuckfuck...."

"I know, baby. I know." you kissed his sweaty cheeks, eyelids, nose and lips. "Damn, we have to do this more often if we want to think about a sibling for Sarah."

"Don't talk about it." Joel lazily opened his eyelids, looking at you with dreamy eyes. "The thought of putting a baby inside you... Your swollen belly, your big breasts... I'll get hard again soon, but… I promised you a bath."

You giggled, hiding your face in the area of ​​his neck and inhaling his scent. You could feel his heart beating, his hands stroking your back. 

It was a perfect and peaceful evening. Your thoughts wandered between a bath, the food you would eat together and even more sex with your own husband.

"I think we should buy a bottle of wine for Susan's parents." Joel stated after a moment. "Maybe they'll have sleepovers more often."

"You think so?"

"If it means I'll have my wife to myself more often too, it's worth considering."

You lightly patted his shoulder and sat up. Brown eyes moved over your breasts with admiration.

"C'mon, handsome." you said. "You promised me so much, and time is running out."

Joel really wanted to fulfill his promises. And most of all, the one where his head was supposed to be between your thighs.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[lovelyiida]

(NF) Hey lovely, I saw that you want requests. Could I request a iida x fem!reader fluff? I even have a prompt! You know how in MHA it’s winter break and everyone is bored at the dorms? Someone gets the idea to throw a whole fake wedding and invite all first years/the whole student body. The girls of 1A vote the bride and the guys vote the groom and reader is the bride and iida is the groom, which is good because they secretly like each other, y’know the drill. Iida and reader do the ceremony with vows and the rings and the kiss and all that. Also, there’s lots of cake and a huge party at the end with fireworks!!

That’s the cutest shi I’ve ever cooked up and I want someone talented to write it. If you could tag me to, that’d be awesome!

Love, psi kid ���

OHHHHHH MY GOD I FUCKING LIVE FOR THIS, this is seriously so cute. God, why can't I think of these ideas by myself??

꧁★𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝟏-𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆★꧂ — afab

Snow falls gently outside, the world a picturesque white. The students of class 1-A lounge around, boredom plastered on their faces. It's a snow day, just great.

Ochaco twirls a strand of hair and glances at her friends. Even the lively Kirishima looks lethargic on the couch. Denki was about to sink into the floor if he couldn't find a way to annoy his fellow comrades.

Then, an idea sparked.

Ochaco's eyes spark with a twinkle and her lips curled into an intriguing smirk. "We need to do something fun, how about a fake wedding?"

The class exchanges intrigued looks, murmuring amongst themselves. Mina's eyes spark in excitement at the idea. "Yeah! We can vote and groom for our class. It'll be totally adorable!" She squealed.

Everyone nods in agreement as chatter bursts across the common space for today's event.

The entire Class 1-A along with various first years assemble outside, enveloped by the festive atmosphere. Electricity fills the air as the class has been sectioned into two groups to help figure out who will be the bride and the groom.

And out of the corner of your eye, you noticed IIda standing awkwardly in the midst of all this, glancing quick looks at you with a light blush. You couldn't help but chuckle to yourself and your friends at the act.

Later into the evening, the room now transformed with makeshift decorations and fairy lights strung everywhere (you can thank Momo for that). The class sat excitedly as Ochaco and Tsuyu held envelopes, ready to announce the lovely couple in waiting.

Standing at the improvised altar (standing on top of a table), they spoke with a grin.

"The results are in! The bride-to-be is... Y/n!"

The class erupts in cheers as you sit in shock of the results, slowing picking yourself off your feet, you stand in front of the "altar," as your face flushes in excitement. Tsuyu then spoke:

"And the groom-to-be is...Iida!"

Iida goes stiff, and his face turns crimson. The boys laugh and nudge him forward. Standing from his feet, he nears himself towards you and bows politely. You send him a wink of encouragement before whispering, "don't be so nervous. I bet you'd make a great husband."

Iida smirks at your words before whispering back, "and I know you'd make a wonderful wife."

As so, a makeshift ceremony begins!

Iida and you stand at the altar with hands intertwined. Wedding dress and suit on (thanking Momo once more!), looking like a match made out of heaven. Everyone watches eagerly as the both of you stand awkwardly, awaiting each other's vows.

"Don't chicken out, four-eyes," Bakugo chuckled. Iida side-eyed the blonde before clearing his throat and pushing up his glasses. "Y/n, ever since the first day we met. I knew you were a woman who I could spend the rest of my days with. You're kind, smart, beautifully-spirited, and one of the best teammates I could see fighting with me to the death..."

The class is swooned by Iida's words, you couldn't help but stand there in shock at the blatant confession thrown in your face.

"Y/n, I vow to always support and protect you...in sickness and in health...even in this mock wedding."

The class erupts in cheers as they hear Iida's beautiful poetic vows.

You chuckle, softening the moment once more.

"Iida, you're someone who I trust and care for deeply, you are a pinnacle in everyone's life and without you, I would be nothing. Your presence keeps me motivated and ready to take on whatever is ahead of me...because that's what you are and I deeply admire you for that."

"You're smart, you're hardworking, and super handsome..."

Iida quickly reddened at your words, your voice sounding like music to his ears. Oh, how he wished this was real.

"And I vow to always support and protect you...in sickness and in health...even in this mock wedding, or out of it."

As you finish, the class erupts in laughter as Iida and Reader exchange playful glances. Holding out your paper-made rings, you change and slide them onto each other's fingers. Ochaco and Tsuyu, beaming with joy, declare them fake husband and fake wife.

"You may now, fake-kiss the bride!"

You'd begin to go in for a simple kiss on the cheek, but suddenly Iida grabs a soft hold of your waist and scoops you down. Planting a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

A respectful man, we love!

Claps were heard around the room, but the moment between the two of you felt as if no one was there and the room was fading into black. As if nothing mattered but the to of you.

Mina teasingly claps before yelling, "I now pronounce you fake husband and fake wife! You may now fake-party!" The room transforms into a lively celebration, with music playing and students dancing joyfully.

Iida and Reader sneak glances at each other, their fake smiles turning into genuine ones. Photos and videos were taken throughout the night of the heartwarming moment between the class.

And as the night grew young, and the slow subsides. The both of you stand outside and look at the breathtaking array of stars that light up the night sky. Your hand tangled into his, as your head fell softly against Iida's broad shoulder.

Iida couldn't help but play with his makeshift ring, smiling to himself about what the future holds, and how he wanted this future to be a potential reality. Your head suddenly moves from his shoulder, which earns a soft hum from Iida.

You look at him with a light blush as you speak, "this was amazing... thank you, Iida." You spoke softly with a warm smile. "No thank you, Y/n, this night wouldn't have been the same without you."

You hum in response before placing your head back on his shoulder.

You share a quiet, perfect moment as the stars illuminate your faces as a "newlywed couple." Only for the moment to be laughed upon in the future, when your real wedding comes to fruition.

When someone who gives me a tenya rec tells me to jump, I'm gonna JUMP!!!!

— 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ𝓁𝓎𝒾𝒾𝒹𝒶 ❤︎︎

[dilatorywriting]

“I will love you forever and when ‘forever’ ends, I’ll love you some more.”

For the event, can I request Malleus for this? I need to send ALL my love to him ASAP. Although for this, feel free to have him being the one saying it to reader.

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 1.2k

Prompt 51: "I will love you forever and when ‘forever’ ends, I’ll love you some more."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

There was something about being in love with a fae that would always be at least a little intimidating.

No, it wasn’t the unearthly powers that could literally rip through the fabric of time and space with a snap of his fingers. No, it wasn’t the cold, serpentine stare or the sharp fangs in his mouth that shined like well-polished knives under the right light. It wasn’t even the horns. Even though they added an extra foot onto the dragon’s already stupidly impressive height.

But there were other things, sometimes. Less tangiblethings.

You tried not to think about it too much, because you loved Tsunotarou. Really, you did. And you didn’t want some… some creeping thing at the fringes of your consciousness to ruin that.

It was cold tonight, and you puffed warm breath onto your fingers. Normally Malleus was the one waiting for you to arrive at your usual Gargoyle Filled haunts, but he’d had a meeting with his retainers today. And you weren’t surprised he was running a bit late in the aftermath.

‘Man, I’m surprised Draconia is ever on time for anything,’ Ace had complained, during some mandatory assembly or other. Watching as Malleus floated into the room a solid two hours after scheduled.

‘He’s usually very punctual,’ you’d answered, confused.

‘Sure, sure. But don’t fae have, like, super fucked up senses of time?’ the redhead mused. ‘Like I bet you could tell him to meet you in an hour and he’d show up a week later or something.’

“Child of man,” a familiar timbre called out over the snow, and you perked up immediately, hopping from foot to foot to get your circulation going again before trotting out to meet him halfway.

“Tsunotarou!” you chirped. “How was your day?”

“Dreadful,” he answered, deadpan, and bent his arm neatly so that you could tuck your fingers into the crook of his elbow and snuggle yourself into his side. He was like a walking furnace, what with the roaring, emerald fires in his belly. And the snowflakes seemed to melt before they’d even touched his skin. “Nothing but paperwork. Perhaps I should turn them all into enchanted quills, and then they might finally be fit for their positions.”

You snorted into your glove. “You’d need to turn some of them into ink then, too.”

“Ah, of course,” he intoned. And then shot you a smirk that was just on the right side of besotted. “Whatever would I do without your wise guidance?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you teased, and then smiled right back in that stupidly, soppy way. “But you seemed more than smart enough to manage on your own before I came along. And I’m sure you’ll go back to being brilliant when I’m gone,” you added on a laugh.

But Malleus didn’t join in your giggling.

The fae stopped in place, and you were dragged to a halt with him. You blinked up at him, confused. His expression was… complicated.

“You are leaving?” he asked, each word sounding like it had to be pried out of his mouth with a crowbar.

“What?” you blinked. “Of course not.” Crowley never having bothered to lift a feathery finger to find you a way home aside, you had more than enough reasons to stay here for as long as your meager, mortal life would allow. Going home… it soured something in your stomach that you didn’t even want to consider. So you just tightened your fingers around his arm and shot him as reassuring of a smile as you could muster. “Even if I had the choice, I’d be staying right here.”

But that just made Malleus’s brow pinch up tighter.

“Then what did you mean?” he questioned, perplexed. “When you said ‘when I’m gone.’”

Ah.

You fought a guilty wince. You hadn’t wanted to drag your own little terrors into his worries as well. You really needed to get a better leash on the poor quips that managed to tumble out of your mouth.

“Well, just that, uhm…” You waved your free hand awkwardly. “You know.”

More furrowing.

“I do not,” he said, sounding grumpy. It was a bit adorable, seeing an almighty prince and near God pout at you. But you fought off the urge to coo over his pursed lips and scrunched nose. Time and place, self. Time and place.

“I’m mortal,” you said finally, hoping that would cover it.

“And?”

Ugh. Come on, dude. Give me something here.

You shrugged, tight and awkward. “Just that, well, you know. Your lifespan is near infinite right? And mine is sort of set to be…” You held up your fingers and pinched them close together. “Uhm. Not that.”

“And you think that such an inconsequential factor means that you will be leaving me?” he asked, and you blinked at him in outright confusion.

“It’s pretty consequential,” you squeaked out, and averted your gaze. “And.. and besides. I knew that from the beginning. And I just want to be able to make the best out of the time with you that I have,” you said, hoping it sounded properly reassuring and not like the start of a particularly peppy obituary.

“…I see,” the Prince said, low. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll be gone, I’m sure.”

You blinked again, owlish and slow.

“Pardon?”

“What is the human expression…?” he hummed, tucking your arm back tightly against his side and starting up your leisurely stroll once more. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder? Almost so much as time itself.”

Yeah, you wanted to amend. But not from beyond the grave.

“I guess so,” you shrugged.  

“Can you imagine then,” he hummed. “How much I’ll love you in a thousand years?”

“I—” you swallowed, feeling tears prick at the back of your eyes.

But rather than give your poor, fluttering soul a chance to recover, he just pushed onwards.

“I will love you forever, and when ‘forever’ ends, I suppose that I’ll just love you even more,” he said, perfectly level and serious, like he hadn’t just absolutely pulled your heart out of your chest and set the whole of you on fire.

You stared up at his regal, handsome face from beneath a soft veil of falling snow. With those cold, emerald eyes, the pointed fangs, the horns. You felt like your stomach had fallen out at your toes, like the whole of you was bound to float away like a balloon lost in the breeze. Because he’d said—he’d really—

“And of course,” the dragon shrugged. “I’ve always intended to extend your lifespan to begin with.”

You gaped at him wordlessly for a moment, before letting out a hideously embarrassed squawk and pounding at his chest with your gloved hands.

“You could’ve told me that!” you shrieked, practically steaming in the cold with the heat pulsing off your cheeks.

“I suppose,” he smirked, catching your flailing fists easily in one of his own large hands. “But then I wouldn’t have been able to see your reaction to my declarations, would I?” he cooed, all smooth, dark chocolate and smoky embers. “And I had to work so hard to memorize those lines. Fitting as they are, I was told that the moment to use them would have to be perfect, and—"

“Did Lilia set you up for this?” you choked.

Malleus snorted and turned to tug you further down the path. “Only a little.”

.

.

[ophelisstuff]

hiii! could u write some head cannons for Caitlin?

DATING CAITLIN CLARK HEADCANONS

authors note : i’ve actually been wanting to do this for a while but procrastinating smmm. But thank you to the person who requested this ! And i’m making a tag list ! dm me to be apart of it <3

requested by : anon

caitlin clark x reader headcanons

warnings : none

• Overprotective girlfriend who hates when you give anyone else your attention.

• “Well it seems like your friends company is better than mine.”

• Her mind is full of smart remarks, always giving an attitude whenever something doesn’t go the way she planned

• You always catching her mid eye roll and scolding her for it.

• Caitlin would try and teach you every sport she’s good at. Or trying to teach you the basics so you’d understand them.

• You two most definitely have a secret handshake, which Caitlin spent hours perfecting

• You help her pack for away games because she has absolutely no idea how to pack a suitcase the right way

• Her camera roll being full of pictures of you, and her lockscreen being a photo of you two

• Caitlin gifting you a necklace with her initials for your birthday, never wanting you to take it off.

• Always having her arm around your waist when in public, giving every stranger that looks your way an intimidating look.

• Hating when you aren’t able to attend her basketball games because she considers you to be her good luck charm

• Caitlin would refuse to talk to anyone except you after loosing a game, too upset to conversation with anyone else

• She’s always quick to shut down any hate targeted towards you, not caring who’s feelings she hurts.

• Caitlin giving you unnecessary attitude for no reason

• “Well no duh. Who didn’t know that already?”

• Her bringing you up in interviews and loving to showcase your beauty during special events

• An absolute sucker for naps, she falls asleep on your chest while watching movies

• The two of you clearing your schedule to have saturday rest days, to just stay home and cuddle all day long

• Caitlin refusing to let anyone touch her hair except you. Not trusting anyone else to do her signature ponytail except herself or you

• Always trying to take you on surprise dates no matter what day of the week it is.

• Always buying you shoes that’ll match hers.

• When she gets a new pair of sneakers, she’ll see if you want them too

• Caitlin having you wear her jerseys at almost all of her games so people know you’re taken.

• Her trying to assemble every piece of furniture you guys own by herself and refusing help

• You two would definitely have promise rings that would never come off of your fingers.

• Caitlin refusing to let you open the car door yourself and always wanting to open it for you

• Asking you to do her makeup for special events, because she doesn’t want anyone close to her face except you.

• You two definitely being dog moms and spoiling the pets like they’re real children.

• Caitlin hating when it’s her turn to doing the dishes, and procrastinating when it’s time to do so.

• “Well, it’s not my fault the sink isn’t getting hot enough!”

• You buying matching pajamas for the two of you and Caitlin pretending to hate them when she loves them.

[cass1dyyy]

bloody and bruised

contains: angst (not between the reader and mattheo), mostly fluff

summary: your boyfriend mattheo ends up in a fight, and you help him clean up afterwards.

warnings: injury, injury detail, swearing, reader playfully hits mattheo, mentions of blood, a nose breaking, fighting, beating up mattheo

you rush around the corner, and you scan the scene infront of you. mattheo is on the floor, on top of a hufflepuff boy who’s face is bruised badly. a crowd gathers round the violent scene, blocking your view.

suddenly, you hear a sickening crunch. the students crowded around gasp, backing away and exclaiming in disgust. some even shudder. you gasp, running forward and see the hufflepuff huddling back against the wall, his nose clearly broken and blood pouring from it, trickling down his face and off his chin, onto the marble floor.

just as you’re about go grab mattheo’s arm and pull him away, you’re launched back with the crowd, and flung onto your ass on the cold, hard floor. a large, transparent, blue circle enveloped your boyfriend and the unlucky hufflepuff’s three other friends.

the injured boy had been hustled off to madam pomfrey, leaving mattheo in the hands of these furious-looking guys. mattheo’s grave expression didnt falter though, as one threw a punch to his stomach, as he doubled over, clutching the place he’d been hit, as you watched helplessly.

then, a few punches to his face, mostly the nose, and some more to his stomach and eye. you scream out for the guys to stop, but they just smirk at you, and deliver the punches harder, as mattheo winces and groans in pain.

you start racking your brains for a complicated spell, which would break the force-field. you knew it, but couldnt think of it off of the top of your head. you were smart, but panic was set like cement in you, and your mind went blank. two boys appeared next to you, draco malfoy and theodore nott, mattheo’s closest friends. their expressions turned cold and angry.

suddenly, the spell clicked in your brain like assembling a puzzle. you figured it was because of the distraction where you noticed draco and theo, but there wasn’t time to focus on that now. you thanked them in your head and raised your wand, screaming the incantation.

A/N: i wanted to put a proper spell here, and i researched, and thought i found one but turns out it wasnt quite the right one so just imagine the spell or make one of your own!

the force field shattered, large shards of the forcefield floating down and fading once they hit the floor. theo and draco immediately pull out their wands, shouting

“petrificus totalus!”

the hufflepuffs froze like statues, as mattheo slumped against the wall, his face bloody and bruised. you rush over to him, helping him up and dragging him to the nearest empty classroom, which wasnt too far. you sit him on the teacher’s desk, while he pants and groans heavily.

“i’ll be right back, okay? stay here.” you say, rushing out of the door and into the caretaker’ filch’s cleaning closet. there were multiple of these around the school, due to the vast size of hogwarts.

you stepped in, quickly shutting the door behind you and rummaging through the shelves in the small space. the top shelf usually has the medkits and bandages and stuff, and sure enough, you found multiple medkits, bandages, plasters, anything you could ever need!

you grab plasters, disinfectant, wound spray, rubbing alcohol, and a medkit. you probably didnt need all of it, but it was just incase. you hurried out of the supply closet, paranoid that filch would turn up out of the blue, like he usually does.

you walk back to the classroom. mattheo was still in the same spot, beads of sweat dripping off his forehead. his nose was blue and bruised, blood trailing down from his nostrils.

you sigh, sitting down next to him, as you wipe the blood off of his nose and chin. then you rub disinfectant to the nose wounds.

then, you wipe away the dried blood from around his right eye, and also disinfect that.

“unbutton your shirt.” you say.

he smirks, looking at you and wiggling his eyebrows.

“not in that way you perv!” you exclaim, hitting him on his arm and giggling.

he chuckles, unbuttoning his white school shirt, as you examine the brown and blue bruises on his stomach. you frown, kissing mattheo on the cheek comfortingly. you show him a soft, but sad smile.

“there’s no blood or anything i need to tend to, but you’re definitely going to need ice.” you state, looking at him.

“okay.”

“why’d you even beat him up anyway? this could’ve been avoided.” you sigh.

“he was chatting shit about you, and my family. he’s the biggest dick known to mankind.” he murmurs, his tone laced with anger.

you place a hand on his arm, rubbing up and down soothingly.

“thanks for breaking his nose.” you say, breaking into a grin as he chuckles.

he kisses you, for longer this time, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you in. you break apart and he hugs you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, as he exhales.

“cmon, let’s go get ice from madam pomfrey.” you say, kissing his forehead and grasping his hand.

A/N: yes i know that the hufflepuff would be with madam pomfrey and definitely snitched on mattheo, but i feel like mattheo doesnt care and also doesn’t care about getting in trouble.. im trying to be more active and frequently posting 😊

next im going to post my masterlist and introduction x

[teleit]

Sometimes I hate this show, and then I come to my senses and just despise it

I'm a feminist because I'm a woman and deserve all rights and opportunities. But this show, I swear to God, does everything it can to make me feel like a terrible person.

The show's adult Rhaenyra is just…ugh. There were a thousand ways to transfer her personality, actions, and decisions from page to screen, and the writers chose the worst possible one. Somehow, they managed to strip her of her personal qualities while simultaneously filling her to the brim with other people's accomplishments.

Young Rhaenyra was practically perfect, given the changes the writers made to the book plot. She was a young, capricious, selfish girl whose world collapsed in an instant, and she had to find her way on her own. She was unpleasant, nasty, mocking, charismatic, charming, sweet - and very real. Her actions could be condemned or supported, she was interesting to watch, and I loved her. Not everything Rhaenyra did was to my liking, but when she was on screen, I watched her without taking my eyes off.

Adult Rhaenyra is literally Frankenstein's monster, assembled from incomprehensible junk from the attic of Condall and Hess. She does not have a drop of the charm that young Rhaenyra had, as if they were written by completely different people. Every questionable action of hers is whitewashed, 90% of her decisions and achievements are recycled and reused plots of other characters from the books, any actions are extolled to the skies. It's like eating cold unsalted French fries, you feel punished for some unknown sins by tasteless crap.

I want to love Rhaenyra, I really tried the entire half of the first season and whole second to feel at least a little love for this homunculus, but it is simply impossible. Just when I'm starting to sympathize with Rhaenyra grieving so heartbreakingly for her son and wanting justice, and getting involved in show, the writers decide to indulge their nun fetish and have Rhaenyra dress up as a septa and go talk to Alicent about some useless bullshit. One minute she's not afraid to defend her opinion, the next she's playing Mother of Dragons 2.0 (Vermithor scene was indescribable cringe, as was posing with a goofy grin with three dragons while Aemond scampers away with his bloodthirsty granny). Here's Rhaenyra having a great dialogue scene with her son, and here she is kissing a SA victim who just shared her tragic backstory, but don't worry, it's very romantic and everyone is happy.

And it wouldn't be nearly as bad as it feels if Rhaenyra were like young Rhaenyra, whose flaws were real and not smoothed over by the constant reminder that this woman was the best thing to happen to the world since the invention of latte macchiato. Young Rhaenyra, if she were in the sept with Alicent, would have yelled at the woman, risked getting caught, and wouldn't have been shy about reminding Jace who was in charge and that he had no right to scold her. Would she have been right, or smart in her actions? Still no, but she wouldn't be hailed as fair, peaceful and perfect - she'd be a selfish, confused, grieving woman who'd lost so much and was desperately trying to figure out how to salvage what was left and take back what was taken.

The show does everything it can to make me despise Rhaenyra. She's selfish, self-righteous, smug, arrogant, delusional, self-important, dumb as a rock, spineless, one-dimensional cheap knockoff of Daenerys from the early seasons of Game of Thrones. And the worst part is that all of these qualities would be interesting if the show would just stop holding me by the balls and demanding that I must love and adore her for every little thing because Rhaenyra is always right, the best girl in the world, worthy of all praise, and perfect to the core. Let me decide for myself whether I want to like a character or not, because unlike some people, I have an IQ above room temperature and can empathize with a complex, ambiguous character with adult morals, not just Bloom from Winx in a white wig.

I constantly have to remind myself that it's okay to dislike a female character if she's written terribly, and that doesn't make me a bad person.

Ps. Still not native speaker and dgaf about mistakes, english can suck my imaginary dick; apparently somehow part of text was translate in my native language wtf

[sketches4mysw33theart]

Dead Poets Society: Some Thoughts and Analysis

Essentially a stream of consciousness I had while rewatching the movie today. In chronological order as I was making notes!

✒️ Charlie talks so much with his eyebrows

✒️ Todd is tasked with taking minutes of the meetings, but I don't believe we ever see him actually do so (although it would have been nice if he did)

✒️ Cameron looks so much like a fisherman when he's smoking his pipe

✒️ Cameron's distaste for Charlie (and often for the rest of the boys) is evident super early on (e.g. when they walk out of Mr Keating's first class and Cameron says "do you think he'll test us on that stuff?" And, when he gets shut down, he throws a very angry look at Charlie and the poets. This happens several times, but as far as I remember we never see Cameron retaliate.) From this, while I don't like it, I understand why Cameron did what he did at the end of the movie because I think he felt undermined by the others and he was considered 'useful' and 'smart' for the school

✒️ Also, I do not accept that Cameron's name is Richard Cameron, he's pulling a Zendaya and goes by one name only

✒️ Mr Keating looks so disappointed in Charlie when saying "Thank you, Mr Dalton, you just illustrated the point"

✒️ I think Knox kissing Chris at the party, while somewhat gross, is necessary to show that Carpe Diem isn't always the right thing to do, as is Charlie putting the article in the paper  - i think maybe Chris not ending up with Knox would have hammered this home, especially because she seems perfectly happy with Chet. Of course, Chet's response to what happened at the party isn't fair, but it is definitely what I can see a teenage boy on the high school football team in the 50's doing. Don't choke on the bone, Knoxious!

✒️ Is Charlie trying to get thrown out of school? With the article in the paper stunt, he must have known how serious the repercussions would be, so maybe already he was considering getting out of school because he felt it wasn't the right path for him

✒️ "You made a liar out of me, Neil" - Mr Perry, I hate you

✒️ Did all of the poets, minus Neil and Knox, really squeeze into Keating's car?!

✒️ Neils little face when he comes out of the curtain, and how quick it falls when he sees his father - he's like a little kid showing a finger painting to a parent who insults it, he just wants his Dad to be proud of him

✒️ Mr Keating's face when Neil drives away after the play - I think he had an idea what was coming

✒️ That zoom in on Neil's face when his father's saying "more of this acting business, you can forget that"- he knew, then, that his dad would never change and what he was going to do

✒️ I want the doorknobs in the Perry house, specifically Neil's

✒️ The first time I watched this movie, I was so on edge when Neil was standing in front of the open window, thinking he was going to jump, and when he didn't I was like 'phew', and then the thing happened and my blood sugar spiked way up

✒️ Mr Perry saying 'my poor son' - i don't know, it rubs me up the wrong way, he has a name, he is not simply an extension of you

✒️ Cameron isn't there when the poets tell Todd what happened to Neil

✒️ The lingering image of Charlie with a tear down his face is so beautiful

✒️ Knox just clinging to Todd in the snow

✒️ The comparison between the deleted scene of Neil and Todd running lines by the lake when it's sunny and Todd running towards the lake screaming Neil's name 💔

✒️ Similarly, the comparison between Todd not wanting to speak at all in the meetings, and then the deleted scene where he reads a poem after Mr Perry takes Neil away

✒️ Charlie not singing during Neil's assembly

✒️ Ave means farewell in literature, and Charlie closing his eyes when it's sang is beautiful

✒️ Charlie carries on smoking when Cameron's coming into the attic meeting - he either knows it's Cameron or doesn't care who tf catches him doing anything bad anymore

✒️ I don't think Cameron ever actually 'believed' in Mr Keating, definitely not to the extent the others did - he never called him captain, for example, except when he realised everyone else in the common room was, and air quotes the word 'captain' in the attic. So, it raises the question why he went along with everyone even so?

✒️ While I do somewhat sympathise with Cameron, that is one of the most satisfying punches in movie history

✒️ I think Todd's parents weren't that different from Neil's, Todd's dad is clearly very authoritarian from the minute or so he's on screen (and the fact that Todd signs the paper) and his Mom says nothing in his defense, but the way Todd mouths 'Mom' breaks my heart

✒️ In what universe does acting = what Neil did? All those theatre kids and their evil, satanic rituals, forcing our kids away from school 🙄 I hate you, Mr Perry and Mr Nolan

✒️ Todd's the last one to stand up when Nolan walks into Keating's classroom

✒️ Mr Nolan complimenting Mr Pritchard's introduction is so ridiculously funny to me considering what Keating made them do to it

✒️ Mr Keating's smile to Todd through the door in the classroom has the same energy as "All my love to you poppet. You're going to be alright."

In conclusion, I adore this film.

Robin Williams, O Captain, My Captain 🫡❤️

[yallthemwitches]

The Sound of Silence

Minerva always had a soft spot for Potter. Maybe that's why when it was time to choose a Head Boy alongside Lily Evans, he was was clearly the only option--- A series of vignettes of James and Lily's seventh year through McGonagall's POV.

AN: Posting this one a day early because I won't have time tomorrow (sorry) Written for Jily Week 2024, Day 5: Matchmaker (hosted by @kay-elle-cee and @sunshinemarauder)...Fully dedicate this one to the many teacher meetings I've sat through where we all devolve into gossiping about students. AO3 Link Here

I.

They sat around a circular table which always reminded Minerva of a story she heard as a child. Her colleagues had shuffled in slowly, still rosy with summer and the ever rejuvenating feeling of silence after a school years worth of endless noise. 

Filius sat next to her, pulling out a pipe and stoking it with a flame emitted from his short stubby finger. He sighed and a puff of smoke wafted into the middle of the table. 

“Here we are again—” he said to no one in particular. Minerva just clasped her hands on the table and waited for the final stragglers to trickle in.

Albus sat on the other side of the sphere and regarded his staff with half-amusement. Many of them had been long friends—giving centuries of their lives to the school. How many powerful witches and wizards had they watched slip out of these doors with their collective spirit within them? If the thought wasn’t so saccharine, Minerva would have perhaps felt a little proud. 

Albus cleared his throat and the staff settled. At this point they needed no commencement speech on why they all were called from their little parts of the castle to assemble, nor did they want one. The golden rule was short meetings were the best ones.

Horace spoke first. He always did. 

“Obviously I think there’s no arguing that Lily Evans should be the first pick.”

There was a rumble of agreement. Even Filius made a reluctant nod. He never willingly wanted to agree with Horace on much of anything.

“That’s a fine choice Horace, but are you not worried about the matter of her blood status? I’m sure you are not ignorant of the current news and I can imagine your house is quite…vocal about these happenings.”

McGonagall heard a snort from Filius which was hard to miss seeing as it bounced his whole body slightly off his chair. 

“Oh, Albus, must we always make these things so political,” Horace whined, “Evans is a brilliant witch…the best of her year—I’m sure we can—we can—” He teetered off, not knowing how to finish. It wasn’t a secret that despite his affinity for the muggleborn, his house was not so keen to accept her. They all would be idiots to disregard the dangers of putting someone of her status in charge in the current climate. 

But Albus didn’t press further. It was never his nature. “Then it’s settled. Lily Evans is Head Girl.” There was another mumbled agreement. Horace’s face was pink and slightly sweaty, but he nodded all the same.

“So onwards to—” 

There was a shuffle of teachers. Sybill spoke first:

“Oh, Oh! I choose the Delile boy. His tea leaves have always shown potential.” A couple seats down, Pomona snorted. 

“Colin Delile? That boy tried to eat a handful of nightshade thinking it was mint last year—”

“Well, I vote for Ambroise Cunningham: smart, good quidditch player (“mediocre quidditch player,” Minerva thought) and has a good head on his shoulders!” Interjected Rolanda.

There were some nods in agreement but Filius started to tut. 

“Are you all forgetting that Cunningham and Evans dated two years ago? They’ll kill each other!”

“Oh, I would hardly call that dating,” Horace scoffed.

“They certainly looked like they were dating when I found them in the charms broom closet that October!” Filius shot back. 

He had a point. She wouldn’t call Filius her friend per se but she had a fond appreciation for him being insightful when it came to the students’ lives. He was very discreet, perhaps with the help of his size, but he always was up to date on each of their lives. 

Minerva mulled a thought around for a minute while drowning out the verbal quidditch that was occurring for the rest of the staff. It was a gamble, certainly. But she had never been the one to shy away from a challenge. 

Raising her voice above the riffraff she called out, “I say James Potter should be Head Boy.”

The room went silent. Around the table, every set of eyes peered at her with mixtures of shock.

Chaos erupted. 

“Potter can’t keep himself out of detention to save his life,” screamed Aurora.

“That and his little group were growing muggle drugs in the west greenhouses!” Pomona chimed in. 

Albus didn’t even try to get order. He just continued to stare at her with an expression that twinkled beyond the room.

Minerva huffed. “Well, can any of you deny that he is brilliant?” Everyone paused. A wave of indecision rushed through the group. 

“And we know he’s a good leader. The Gryffindor team has won every year since he became captain.” Horace grumbled something under his breath but she ignored it. 

“---And, we are going to need someone who is willing to help, Hecate forbid, if there is an attack of some sort due to all this Dark Lord bunk. He might be scrappy and a fool sometimes, but he’d be able to hold his ground for the others.”

There was a hesitant noise of agreement around the table. People shifted in their seats, not able to find fault in her logic but also not enjoying its outcome. 

“And what about Evans then?” Horace had his arms crossed against his chest. “Potter has been tormenting the poor girl for years. They would be rubbish, absolute rubbish—”

“Ah, shut it Horace,” Filius scoffed, “We all know those two have been clouding up this school with sexual tension for a better half of a year now.” More nods all around. 

Minerva had hoped that no one would make the romance argument, but it couldn’t be helped. Potter and Evans had been making all of their lives unbearable, with their oblivious pining and rowing. It was like watching an ouroboros eat itself the way the two provoked each other. There was a small part of her that even hoped that matching the two together would end their purgatory. 

“Ah, the ancient magic of young love,” Albus mused to himself, stroking his beard. “I won’t deny that I like the idea. Are there…any others who seriously denounce the decision to make Potter Head Boy?”

Horace made a few grumbles, but ultimately kept quiet. He knew once Albus made a decision, he wasn’t easy to sway. 

“Then it’s settled, Lily Evans and James Potter.”

“Hecate help us,” Pomona mumbled under her breath. 

II. 

She watched as they shifted next to each other uncomfortably. Both of them dawned golden badges with encrusted initials on them that looked too heavy to be pinned to their robes. She had honestly expected more hiccups on the first day back, but something had already seemed to have shifted between them. Evans actually smiled when Potter offered her some dessert, took it from him and blushed when their hands grazed. She said something and James let out a laugh that made her smile as well. 

“Now, that’s interesting.” Filius whistled, sitting next to her at the great banquet. “Maybe your little matchmaking stunt was unneeded.” He side-eyed her and she didn’t entertain his amusement.

She looked back at the young couple. Potter had begun to explain something with extreme animation. He waved his hands around and Lily actually laughed at his antics. When he finally finished whatever he was saying, his hand rested on the bench between them and Minerva swore she saw Evans place hers on top of his.

“Oh Merlin, what have I done.”

III. 

“I think we have Miss Evans to thank for his rehabilitation. That girl can do anything,” Horace chortled at lunch a week later. 

“What are you talking about? He blew up the Slytherin bathroom just yesterday.”

“Well—he would have done it six more times already if it wasn’t for her influence!”

No one could argue that there was a great change between the two Heads. Horace wasn’t wrong, Potter was being better behaved this year and in turn Evans had started to cozy up to him more and more. Even at that moment, they entered the great hall together. Potter had both of their bags slung over his shoulder and his eyes were glued to her. As they sat, Evans pulled his glasses off in a fuss, cast a cleaning charm on them, then put them back on his face. Her hand lingered to push some of his unruly hair away and he made a dopey swooning smile. 

“It's like watching a dead body be reanimated,” Filius nodded towards the two. 

“You’re being dramatic.” 

“Don’t act like you aren’t seeing this. At this rate they’ll be married by graduation.”

She looked over again. They were sitting so close that their shoulders were touching. Black was engaging them in conversation with a lively reenactment of some muggle movie they had watched, but the couple seemed to be hardly listening. Slowly, like attempting to touch fire, Evans leaned her head onto James shoulder—slightly hovering it in indecision for a moment before putting her weight fully on his. Potter perked up, then dared to place an arm around her waist.

Filius let out a low whistle. Horace moaned.

“I was really hoping she would get with one of the Black boys..” Horace mumbled, “ blood purity aside, I do think they would be better suited…”

But he got cut off by Pomona who came half sprinting down the table. 

“Are you seeing this?? Potter! Evans!” 

VI. 

Christmas break was already upon them, which meant all of the professors were stretched too thin to think. Heads of house always had the worst of it. On one hand that meant she didn’t have to see Horace chortling around the castle half as much, but on the other she now had the Gryffindor house and the two Head students to preside over. As she walked, she mumbled to herself about how she would never offer up a Gryffindor into the Head position again. 

She mounted the stone steps towards the Heads’ office, trying to balance all the rolled parchments in her arms. Entering the small elaborate passage, she could see the light of the office was on. 

As she approached the image of them became more clear. Potter was elongated over the couch with his feet dangling lazily over the edge of the armrest. Evans laid between his splayed legs and over his torso. Using her forearms, she propped up on his chest and seemed to be drawing small circles into his shirt. Potter fiddled with her hair, twisting it through his fingers as though it was a snitch evading being caught. 

They spoke in low tones so she could hardly make out what they were saying. Potter said something to make her laugh tinkle into the cavernous room before tugging lightly on her to become eye level. Minerva watched with a sinking feeling as her two Head students locked lips, and proceeded to not break away from each other for a long time. 

She stood there in the passage, feeling a bit sorry for herself for being in this position: busy, overworked, trying to teach a class while helping Albus get a counterforce together...and now apparently being too sheepish to tell her Head Students to stop snogging long enough to take some of the work off her hands. 

With a little shriek from Evans, Potter flipped them over so he was now hovering over her while a hand disappeared somewhere Minerva did not want to guess. Admitting a sort of defeat, she spun on her heel and left the way she came. 

V.

The morning of the last day of school started like all of the other 200 times she’d done it. She woke up, made herself some tea, shifted into her cat form and curled around her bedroom window. 

A knock rattled the door. She lifted her head and hoped that whoever was bothering her would take the hint. Another set of knocks, and distinctly not Albus’ typical rap. She did a cat’s equivalent of a sigh and changed herself human again. 

She opened the door to find Potter looking out of breath and somewhat sheepish. Not a good start. 

“Good morning Minnie,” he beamed at her. 

“Mr. Potter, can I help you? It’s 6am…”

Potter ran a hand through his hair. On a glance over he looked suspiciously put together for the time of day. 

“Er, yes actually. I’m hoping I banked enough goodwill with you to ask for a favor?” Even he sounded unsure of himself. She didn’t know what it was about him, but he always knew how to hit her soft spot. 

“I don’t know about this goodwill, but I’m listening.”

He let out a relieved huff then suddenly became very animated. “Brilliant—ok. I can’t really tell you right now, because it's kind of a secret, but I would really really love it— and be forever grateful to you— if you kept students away from the lake this afternoon.”

Minerva blinked at him. There was no bone in his body that was not being sincere, she could see that, but how often had he looked the same when he wanted to do one of his little stunts. 

Seeing her pursed lips, he continued. “I swear. I solemnly swear it's not a prank. Just please.”

“Ok.” 

“Wait, what?” he blinked at her like she had grown two heads.

“Don't make me regret this decision Potter.”

“I won’t— would never. Ah, Thank you Minnie! You’re a doll!” He turned and bounded down the stairs.

XXX

It turned out to be quite difficult to keep students away from the lake, but she managed. The clock was ringing 3pm and she was starting to wonder how long she was supposed to keep things up when she spotted them. Potter and Evans were walking hand in hand. They both hadn’t changed into their regular clothes yet and Evans was talking softly. Potter looked like he wasn’t hearing a word of it. Honestly, he looked wrecked. Whatever was on his mind was clearly eating him alive—not at all the same collected boy that had knocked on her door that morning. 

The lakeside was cleared as promised and they walked beside it before stopping and looking out at the mountains far away. It struck Minerva this would be the last time she would see these two in this setting. The next time they would meet they would be equals, fighting what now felt like an impossible war. She savored the moment of seeing two people in love, unaffected for perhaps the final time by death and sadness. 

Potter turned to Evans looking like he was about to combust. Evans must have noticed because her brow furrowed and she placed a hand on his chest, which he immediately grabbed and held in both hands. Very shaky, he lowered himself onto one knee. 

She waited for noise. For some sort of big show that Potter and his mates set up for the occasion, for students to come bursting at the seams of the castle to ruin the moment, for even just the sound of a yes.

Instead, there was silence. A blissful, pure silence. She must have blinked and missed it because Potter’s arms were wrapped around her now, lifting her off the ground. Tears poured from both of their eyes as they in turn tried to wipe the other's face—opting finally for kissing each tear off each other’s cheeks. There was no noise—just sweet relief. 

For a split second, the two reverted back into their eleventh year selves. Small, unsure, and holding onto each other tightly against the weight of a world still unknown to them. It was the first time in a long time she wanted to cradle something in her arms. To tell them it was going to be alright; to keep them whole.

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Twelve: Justice

Chapter WC: 11,285

Chapter Tags/Warnings: war stuff, description of blood/injuries

A/N: angst? happening. plot? developing. romance? uhhhhh

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

Saleucami, 21 BBY

Dorin, Geonosis, and now Saleucami. It's been a series of defeats and close calls, and the losses have been mounting. You're running on fumes, and the exhaustion is starting to catch up with you. 

The plan to rescue Master Koth from General Grievous had fallen apart as soon as the mission started, and now, you and Obi-Wan were racing to make things right. Anakin was still in orbit, fighting off the Separatist fleet, while you and Obi-Wan were on the ground in pursuit of General Grievous. Somehow, you'd been given command of the 501st, and even though it was technically only temporary, it still felt good to have his presence at your side again. Especially after the last few missions.

Tracking is tedious work, and your body was still thrumming with adrenaline from the naval battle. You stand off to the side as Obi-Wan's men sift through the wreckage of the landing transport, but you know as well as he does that neither Grievous nor his droids are among the debris.

You stand on the back of an AT-TE, binocs in hand, scanning the horizon for signs of movement. But, the area is eerily quiet, and there's no sign of the enemy. Even the wildlife is silent, as if sensing the danger. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you take in a shuddering breath.

"Thermal housing intakes are still warm. This couldn't have happened too long ago," Cody announces, and the men murmur in agreement.

"The crew compartment's almost entirely destroyed," Rex adds, his gaze shifting up to meet yours. You leap off the walker to stand beside him, the ground uneven beneath your feet, and his hand comes up automatically to steady you.

You ignore the tingle of warmth where his gloved hand touches yours, and you turn your attention to the wreckage. "They can't have gotten far on foot."

"We'll split into teams," Obi-Wan announces, his gaze sweeping over the assembled men, and you nod.

"Rex, take Jesse, Hardcase, and Kix and search the wetlands," you order. "We'll stay on this path and cover more ground."

"Yes sir," Rex says. He signals the other clones, and the four of them break away from the group, heading toward the land speeders

"Be careful," you call after him, unable to stop yourself.

He looks back, and there's a faint smile on his lips.

"Always, sir," he promises before he turns and climbs into a speeder, securing his helmet over his head. The engines roar to life, and the three speeders zoom off. You watch as they disappear over the crest of the hill and let out a long breath.

Rex is more than capable, but you can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. The ominous dreams of golden fields and smoke have grown worse over the last few weeks, and it's only a matter of time before the visions begin to manifest in reality.

The feeling doesn't go away. It only grows stronger the further you get from the wreckage. Something is wrong. You can feel it, and it makes you uneasy.

Obi-Wan must sense your unease, because he stops and turns to face you, his eyes searching your face. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, and he squeezes gently. "Don't worry, my dear. They'll be fine."

"Rex is a smart man," Cody adds. "He knows how to handle himself."

"Indeed." Obi-Wan nods, and he gives you a reassuring smile. "Always thinking on his feet."

"Yeah."

You let out a sigh, and Cody gives you a knowing look. He tilts his head, and his voice drops low. "Sir, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

"No," you say, and his brow furrows, his expression skeptical. You scowl at him, and he just smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You sure about that?"

"Yes," you retort, your voice firm. You fix him with a flat look, but you can't quite stop the flush creeping into your cheeks. Cody raises an eyebrow, and his lips twitch. You roll your eyes. "I don't know. I can't explain it, but I have a bad feeling about this."

"Well, that makes two of us," Obi-Wan remarks dryly.

"Three," Cody adds. He shakes his head and shrugs. "We should get moving. We don't have time for a debate."

"Agreed," Obi-Wan replies. Cody gives a nod and moves off, leaving the two of you to stand and watch as the men poke through the wreckage. He sighs, his expression grim, and he glances up at the sky. "I hope Anakin is alright. He was in quite a mood when we left."

You huff. "He doesn't like losing."

"No he doesn't. And neither do you," Obi-Wan says, his expression thoughtful. He's silent for a moment, his brow furrowed, and his gaze shifts back to you. "How are you feeling?"

"What?"

"Well, it's been some time since we've had a chance to talk," he starts. His eyes are sharp, his expression serious, and he tilts his head, scrutinizing your face. "I know the past few weeks have been...difficult. We've all been under a lot of strain. But I haven't had the chance to check in with you."

"I'm fine, Obi-Wan," you say, trying to reassure him, but the words feel hollow. He gives you a long, doubtful look, and you let out a heavy sigh. "Okay, I'm tired. Really tired. But, I'm fine. Honest."

"Good."

"How are you doing?"

"Fine."

"Fine," you echo. You tilt your head and give him a wry smile. "Are we ever going to actually talk about how we feel?"

"We did," he points out. "And if I recall, it did not go well."

"No, it didn't," you admit. You snort, and you lean against the walker, resting your elbows on the metal hull. Not going well was generous.

"Do you think we should try again?" he asks. His mouth twitches, and he gives a pointed glance at Cody, who's standing a short distance away. The Commander's back is to the two of you, and his gaze is fixed on the men. "Now might be a good time."

"You're joking." At his raised eyebrow, you let out a groan and run a hand through your hair. Your voice drops to a low hiss. "You want to talk about一about the kiss? Here?"

Obi-Wan's eyes widen, and his cheeks flush pink. He glances at Cody again and clears his throat, lowering his voice. "No, no, that's not what I meant."

"Oh."

"I mean, if you'd like to talk about that, we can. We should," he adds quickly. "But, that's not why I asked."

"Then, what did you mean?"

"Well, it's just that—”

A shout from one of the men draws both your attention, and you stand on the tip of your toes, trying to see what's going on. You can't quite make out what they're saying, but they're excited, their voices loud and eager.

"General, we found something," Cody shouts. He jogs over to you, and Obi-Wan steps forward, meeting him halfway. You follow after, trying to keep up, and you push down the unease that's rising in your chest.

"What is it?" Obi-Wan asks.

Cody points down to another escape pod. Behind the glass lies a droid, frozen and lifeless. "Still intact."

"We'll interrogate it on the go," Obi-Wan says. The Commander gives a quick nod and signals the men, who move forward and begin to batter the glass with the ends of their rifles. He glances at you and offers a tight smile. "Well, at least we have something to work with."

"Yeah."

"Try to stay positive, my dear," Obi-Wan says. The glass shatters, and two troopers move to drag the droid out. It's disassembled and shoved into a pack within seconds, and the two of you give the order to the battalions to set off once more.

The landscape is barren and bleak, and the heat is oppressive. It's a stark contrast to the cold of space, and the wind blows your hair as the AT-TE rumbles along.

You stare at the horizon, hoping that, maybe, you'll see the other team, but the sight does nothing to ease your anxiety. The weight of your armor feels heavier than usual, and your body is aching, your muscles tense and sore.

Your gaze drifts down to the ground, and you can't shake the feeling of dread that's beginning to creep over you. It's the same feeling from Felucia, from Geonosis and from a dozen other battles. A touch of something at the back of your mind, a faint ripple in the Force that threatens to pull you under.

You close your eyes, and you let out a slow breath. You don't need the Force to tell you something is wrong. Your instincts are more than enough, and right now, they're screaming at you.

"Perhaps we should split up," you suggest suddenly, opening your eyes and turning to Obi-Wan.

"Split up?" he repeats, his eyebrows arching. He looks amused, but there's a flicker of apprehension in his eyes, and his brow furrows. "Whatever for?"

"We could cover more ground that way," you say, trying to keep your voice light. You shrug and turn away from him, your eyes on the horizon. "A small team could move faster. More discreet."

"I suppose that's true," he muses, but his tone is dubious. "But, I don't want to risk一"

"Risk what?" you press. You look at him, and his lips press together, his expression tight. "It's not a terrible idea, and you know it. We're running out of time."

"I know," he says with a reluctant sigh. "Fine. I'll take the western sector, and you take a squad to the east."

"Understood," you say. Your shoulders slump with relief, and you offer him a smile. "Thank you, Obi-Wan."

He nods and smiles back, but it doesn't reach his eyes. There's a tension in the lines around his mouth, and you can feel his worry.

"Just, please, be careful," he warns. "Don't take any unnecessary risks. And if you encounter General Grievous, do not engage. Understood?"

"Yes, yes," you say, waving a hand dismissively. You leap off the walker and land, dirt flying up around your boots. You cup a hand around your mouth to shout up at him. "I'll see you soon!”

"Make sure you're not followed!"

"I'm not a complete idiot," you mutter under your breath, and you glance back to see Obi-Wan watching you, his arms crossed over his chest. You know he heard you, and you can feel his frustration through the Force.

You consider giving a rude gesture, but you salute instead, and he shakes his head, his expression resigned. You smirk and turn around, looking for a familiar pair in blue armor. 

"Fives, Echo, you're with me. The rest of you, go with General Kenobi. We'll rendezvous at dusk."

The men nod and move off, leaving you alone with the two troopers. They're standing at attention and waiting for your orders, their rifles at the ready.

"Let's move."

"Sir," Fives starts, and he gestures at the walker lumbering past you. "Wouldn't it be easier if we stayed with the main group?"

"Maybe," you admit, and Echo tilts his head.

"Then why send them away?" he asks, confused. "This isn't a stealth mission."

"Because we have a better chance of finding the General if we split up," you explain. "And I can't just sit still and do nothing. We're running out of time, and every minute we waste is a minute Grievous could be getting farther away."

"Fair point," Fives says. He lets out a long sigh, and he rubs the back of his neck. "Well, where to, sir?"

"We're going to search the eastern sector," you tell him. "Stay close, and keep your eyes peeled."

"Yes, sir," he replies, and Echo nods his agreement.

You head off in the opposite direction of Obi-Wan and his men, and you're glad to have some distance between the two of you. It's easier to think when he's not hovering nearby. You can't deny that his concern is touching, but it's also distracting, and, right now, you need to focus. Besides, the sooner you find Grievous, the better.

You keep a brisk pace as you walk, the sun beating down on your shoulders. The landscape is flat, and the horizon is a blurry, shimmering line through the strange-shaped plants jutting up from the ground around you. You can feel the sweat trickling down your spine, the dust sticking to your skin, and the tension knotted in your muscles.

You manage to come across another pod, but just like the rest, it's empty, smashed to bits, and there's no sign of the occupants. You let out a frustrated huff and continue on your way. You're not sure how far you've walked or how long you've been moving, but the sun is starting to dip low on the horizon, and your body is starting to tire, the worry gnawing at you. You know Rex and the men can handle themselves, but the longer they're out of contact, and the longer you don't know where Grievous is, the more anxious you're becoming.

The only thing you can do is keep moving forward, and so you do, Fives and Echo at your heels. The heat is finally fading, and the breeze is beginning to pick up, the air filled with the sound of chirping bugs and the rustle of leaves.

"It's quiet," Echo observes, an edge to his voice. "Too quiet."

"That's a good thing," Fives counters, and his helmet tilts, his gaze scanning the horizon. "Quiet means easy. We can handle easy."

"Something tells me easy isn't in the cards for us today," Echo mutters.

"Hey," Fives laughs, "don't be such a pessimist. We can handle whatever this place throws at us. Right, sir?"

"Right," you say absentmindedly as you scan the area for any signs of life. But, everything seems calm, and you let out a deep breath, trying to shake the anxiety from your mind.

"Well, it's certainly not the worst place we've been," Echo sighs, and you can almost hear him rolling his eyes. "Remember Dorin?"

"How could I forget?" Fives groans. "Ugh, the fog. And the mud. And the giant worms."

"And the slime," Echo adds, and the two of them laugh.

"You're both lucky," you chime in, shaking your head. "I missed all the fun trying to keep Obi-Wan and Anakin from killing each other."

"Trust me," Fives says. "You weren't missing much."

"The swamp planet, however," Echo points out. "That was a disaster."

"Oh, yeah," Fives groans. "We all got sick, didn't we? Well, except for Rex."

"He always was immune to the worst of it," Echo chuckles. 

The mention of Rex's name catches your attention, and you look back at the two of them over your shoulder. It's been months since you've seen him, and even longer since the two of you were alone. You miss him. And his laugh. And his smile.

"Is that so?" you ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. You tilt your head, and your voice takes on a teasing tone. "Immune to what, exactly?"

"Everything," Fives says. "Nothing ever fazes him. He's tough, that one. Always has been."

"That's why they made him captain," Fives adds, pride clear in his voice. "He's the best we have. No one's better suited for the job. After he saved some Jedi during the first battle on Geonosis, they gave him the 501st, and there was no turning back."

You feel your heart skip a beat, and you nearly trip over a root snaking along the ground in front of you. You quickly regain your footing and try to ignore the way your stomach twists into knots. There's a strange mix of pride and guilt welling up inside you, and your throat tightens.

"Really?" you say, trying to sound casual. You keep your eyes fixed on the path ahead of you. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah," Fives replies. "Some crazy, reckless Jedi who was too stubborn to listen to reason."

"Sounds familiar," Echo says dryly, but you ignore the quip, suddenly overcome with the need to know more. Rex had let on very little about how he felt the day he saved your life, and now here was your chance to get some answers. You slow your pace and glance back at the two men, unable to hide the eagerness in your voice.

"What happened?" you ask, and they glance at each other, clearly surprised by your sudden interest.

"Well," Fives starts. "He was supposed to stay put and man the ship for the retreat from the arena, but instead, he charged into the fray, taking on a horde of clankers by himself."

"Risky move," Echo comments, his tone appreciative, and Fives nods in agreement.

"Very," he agrees. "But, he pulled it off. He managed to save the Jedi's life and earn himself a promotion in the process."

"A Jedi?" you repeat. "Which one?"

"Don't know," Fives replies with a shrug. "Rex never told us."

"He said she was incredible," Echo offers. The feeling in your chest eases a little, turning into something else entirely, a strange mixture of regret and hope that you can't quite identify. "Told us she fought like a demon, and that he wouldn't have survived without her. She saved his life too."

"She must've been one hell of a fighter," Fives says.

"True," Echo agrees. "He has a lot of respect for her."

"Respect," Fives scoffs, and Echo shakes his head.

"What?"

"Oh, come on, vod," Fives says, nudging his elbow against Echo's side. "I think it’s more than that."

Echo nudges him back, hard, and Fives stumbles, hissing in pain. "Ow.”

"Sorry," Echo says. His tone is insincere, and Fives snorts, rubbing his side. "My hand slipped."

"Uh huh," Fives mutters. He steps closer to Echo and dips his head, lowering his voice. "I'm just saying, he's never talked about someone the way he talked about her. Ever."

Echo glances over in your direction, and his voice drops even lower, but not so low that you can't still hear them. "You can’t be serious. It's Rex."

"So? Rex can have feelings, can't he?"

"Of course, he can, but, come on, it's Rex," Echo repeats. "He's the most dedicated clone in the entire army. He'd never allow himself to be distracted like that."

"Who said anything about being distracted?" Fives retorts, his voice rising. "Don't tell me you didn't think the same thing."

"No, I didn't. And it's none of our business," Echo retorts sharply. He looks back over at you, and you quickly avert your gaze, pretending to be interested in a large conical bush. "Besides, even if Rex did have feelings for her 一 which he doesn't 一 it wouldn't matter anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because," Echo starts, and you can't help but watch him out of the corner of your eye, a strange, tight feeling in your chest as your heart races in anticipation of his words. "She's a Jedi. They're not allowed to have relationships."

You swallow hard and bite the inside of your cheek, and you turn away, focusing your gaze on the path ahead. A hollow pit forms in the center of your stomach, and the warmth drains from your body, replaced by a cold chill that makes your bones ache.

"So?" Fives argues. "That doesn't mean they can't."

"Yes, it does," Echo counters, his voice rising. He looks at you. "Right, sir?"

"Hm?" you mumble, turning around and pretending like you hadn't been holding your breath and listening to their entire conversation. You try to look like you have no idea what they're talking about, but it's a losing battle. You can't focus, not with all these thoughts swirling around in your mind. 

The two men are staring at you expectantly as the silence stretches on, and you can feel their eyes boring into you. You shift your weight, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. "What was the question?"

"You know," Echo presses. "About the rules."

"The rules?"

"The Jedi code," Fives clarifies, and you let out a heavy sigh.

"Oh, that." Your hands twist behind your back, and your palms are sweaty as you struggle to maintain your composure. Forcing the words out takes all the effort you can muster. "Um, yes. That's correct. Jedi are forbidden from developing attachments."

"See?" Echo says, his voice smug. He turns to Fives and folds his arms across his chest. "I told you."

"Okay, okay," Fives concedes. "I was just saying, that's all."

"Well, don't," Echo warns. "It's rude."

"Fine," Fives sighs. He looks back at you and dips his helmet apologetically. "Sorry, sir."

"It's alright," you tell him, trying to give him a reassuring smile, even though your heart is pounding and your head is swimming.

Fives is wrong, of course. He has to be. It's ridiculous to think that Rex would be interested in you in that way. The two of you are friends, and that's all you'll ever be. It's a miracle that you're even that, after everything that's happened.

It doesn't make sense. None of it does. The very idea is preposterous. 

But...if it's true...what then? Would he ever act on his feelings? Would you? And if you did...what would happen? Where would you go from there? 

It's not like you could have a normal relationship, not that you even know what that feels like. Not to mention the fact that it's illegal. And frowned upon. Very frowned upon.

And yet...

"Sir," a voice crackles on your comm, startling you out of your thoughts. For a moment, you're staggered with a wave of relief, but then you realize that it's not Rex, but Jesse that's speaking. "We're on our way back. No sign of Grievous."

"Where's Rex?" you demand, the question tumbling out before you can stop yourself. Your grip tightens on the device, and you can feel your pulse quickening.

There's a pause, and the line crackles with static.

"Rex was injured, sir," Jesse reports.

Your stomach lurches, and your legs are suddenly unsteady, threatening to buckle beneath you. There's a cold pit in the bottom of your stomach and a lump in your throat as the blood drains from your face, and your hand shakes as you lift your comm back up.

This was what you were afraid of. You should've never let him go without you. This is all your fault.

"How bad?"

"He'll be fine," Jesse replies. "But we had to find him shelter for the night."

"What do you mean?" you snap. "Jesse, what happened?"

"A sniper took a potshot at us," he explains, and there's a grimace in his voice. "The Captain got hit."

"Where are you?" you press. You can hear your pulse thudding in your ears, and your voice is rising as you fight to keep yourself calm. "I'm coming."

"No, sir," Jesse argues. "We're on our way to reconvene with the rest of the unit. We're close. Rex is fine. He's just resting."

"Resting," you repeat numbly. "Jesse一"

"We'll see you soon," he cuts you off. "Don't worry. The Captain will be fine."

"He'd better be," you mutter as you close the channel. The two men are still staring at you expectantly, and you take a deep breath, trying to get your emotions under control. You can't afford to lose it, not now. Not when Rex is counting on you.

"He'll be fine," Echo assures you. His hand rests on your shoulder and squeezes gently. "We've been through worse."

"Of course he will," Fives agrees, his tone light. "He's the Captain. Nothing can take him down."

"You're right," you murmur, and you take another deep breath. "Thank you."

"Of course," Echo says. "Just try not to worry, sir. Rex can handle himself."

"Yeah," you sigh. "I know. It's just...this whole mission has been a fucking mess."

"Aren't they always?" Fives laughs. "You gotta learn to roll with it."

"I'll try," you say.

"Come on," he says, gesturing towards the horizon. "Let's get going before we lose the light."

You nod and start moving again, and the two of them fall into step at your side. The rest of the journey back is tense and quiet. You can't get the thought of Rex lying somewhere hurt and alone out of your mind, and the guilt is threatening to consume you. If he hadn't been out there on your orders, if you'd stayed together, he wouldn't have gotten hurt. You should've known better, should've anticipated the danger, should've protected him.

It's your fault that he's injured, and that knowledge eats at you.

By the time you return to Obi-Wan's position on the western front, the battle has already begun. You can hear the sound of canons and blaster fire, and the ground is trembling under your feet. There’s a downed escape pod surrounded by swaths of droids, and you can see the glint of green and blue lightsabers in the hands of the looming figure in front of it. It appears Obi-Wan has found Grievous after all, and he’s closing in quickly.

"Looks like they've started without us," you observe wryly, and the two troopers glance at each other, amused, before nodding in agreement.

"So, what's the plan, sir?" Fives asks. "Do we rush in and save the day?"

"Something like that," you reply, and he lets out a low whistle, his posture relaxing slightly, his helmet cocked to the side.

"Sounds like my kind of fun," he says, and Echo nods his agreement.

"Stay behind me and stick close," you order. “We’re not letting him get away this time.”

The two men nod and you draw your lightsaber, igniting the blade with a sharp hiss. The three of you begin running, your pace quickening as the sounds of the battle grow louder, and the smell of ozone fills the air. 

When the scene comes into view, it's an absolute disaster. There are pieces of droids everywhere, and the wreckage from the crashed ship is scattered around the base of the cliff. The walkers are firing their cannons, and the blaster bolts are flying thick and fast, ricocheting off the rocks and sending sparks shooting up into the sky. 

You'd hoped to see Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase among the men, but they're nowhere in sight. Still, the 212th and the remainder of the 501st is holding its own, and for once, you’re optimistic that this is a fight you can win. If you can get close enough to Grievous, he'll fall, and the rest will scatter like the rats they are.

Obi-Wan is poised on the bow of a walker, deflecting blaster fire with ease. You catch his eye and gesture to Fives and Echo to stay close, and you leap up to join him on the top of the vehicle, landing beside him with a soft thud. 

"Nice of you to join us," Obi-Wan quips, his attention shifting from the battle to you. When he sees your expression, his brows knit together. "Everything alright?"

"Peachy," you mutter. Your lightsabers ignite, and you deflect a blaster bolt that comes too close for comfort. "Sorry we're late.”

He stares at you for a beat longer. It’s obvious that he can feel the worry coursing through you. He knows something is wrong. He always does. But, this is a conversation that can wait. Grievous is the priority, and, as usual, Obi-Wan seems to know exactly what to say to calm your nerves.

"No apology necessary," he says gently. "Though it would seem our dear General Grievous is in a bit of a hurry to leave. It's rather rude of him not to say goodbye."

"Oh, I think we can persuade him to stick around," you reply, a smile tugging at your lips, and Obi-Wan returns it with a smirk of his own.

"My thoughts exactly," he agrees.

The two of you move as one, jumping off the walker and racing towards the group of droids, deflecting their bolts and slicing them to pieces as you go. You split off to the right with Fives and Echo flanking you, and, together, the three of you cut a path through the sea of metal bodies, heading straight for Grievous. 

Obi-Wan takes the opposite direction, and you can hear his lightsaber humming as he makes short work of the droids in his path. The walkers are firing steadily now, the sound deafening, and the explosions rock the ground beneath your feet. 

The Republic has the upper hand here, but Grievous is a formidable opponent. If you want to win, you'll have to bring the fight to him. And, you know that's exactly what he wants. He's a tactician at heart, and he knows when to retreat, which means you have to push him, and quickly. It's risky, but you don't have much of a choice.

You keep moving, not stopping for a moment. A blaster bolt glances off the side of your armor, and the impact is enough to send you reeling, but Echo’s hand on your back keeps you upright. You surge forward, determined to reach Grievous and end this battle once and for all. There are more than enough troops to keep the droids distracted, and they've begun pushing them back, using the cover fire from the AT-TEs to drive the clankers towards the cliff.

“Sir! We can take him!" Fives yells over the din of battle as you throw your shoto, the blade embedding in a nearby droid. 

When you turn and pull it back into your hand, you can see him pointing at Grievous, and you nod sharply. It's the best plan you've got. 

Grievous is still standing in front of the pod, his body hunched over, his cape fluttering in the wind. You can feel his rage as he stares at you, his yellow eyes piercing through you. The flash of his stolen lightsabers makes you grit your teeth in anger as you race forward, Echo and Fives at your heels, the blaster fire whizzing past your ears, and your heart thumping in your chest.

A ship buzzes overhead, and you look up to see a transport attempting to land behind enemy lines. There's no doubt that the droids are attempting to extract Grievous, and you know the opportunity is too good to pass up. If you can cut them off, then you can end the battle, and capture the Separatist leader.

"Concentrate your fire on that ship!" Obi-Wan orders, and you repeat the command to your men. The walkers adjust their aim, and the cannons pound away, narrowly missing the hull.

"We can't let him get away!" you shout. "Keep pushing!"

Fives and Echo grunt their acknowledgement, and the three of you continue charging towards Grievous, your lightsabers whirling around you. You can hear the men shouting, their voices muffled by their helmets, and the blaster fire is a constant buzz in the air. The sound is punctuated by the explosions, and the dirt is being thrown up around you as the walkers blast the droids.

"Sir, that ship's coming around for another landing attempt," Jesse says in your ear, and your eyes flit back up to the sky, searching for the enemy vessel. You find it easily and curse under your breath when you realize it's too far away to hit with the cannons.

"Keep firing," Obi-Wan commands from behind you. "Don't let that ship land."

You glance back at him. You're closer to Grievous than he is, and you can't pass up the opportunity. If the cyborg manages to escape, then it's over, and you'll be damned if you're going to let that happen again.

"I'm on it," you say into your comm.

"What? No, wait," Obi-Wan protests, but you're already running, your eyes fixed on the ship. “Wait!”

"Sir, where are you going?!" Fives calls after you, and you can hear him and Echo struggling to keep up.

"Taking care of Grievous!" you shout. You launch yourself over the bodies of fallen droids and the wreckage of their machines, the Force pushing you forward. The air crackles with energy, and you can feel the adrenaline surging through you as you jump, twisting your body to avoid the blaster bolts streaking past you.

You hear the men shouting behind you, but the sound is distant. The only thing that matters is catching Grievous. You're not going to let him slip away. Not this time. Not ever.

Your blades sing through the air, and he turns just in time to deflect the blow. His mechanical breathing rattles through the air, and his yellow eyes glow menacingly as he leers down at you, the lightsabers in his hands hissing and crackling with energy. 

He's a mountain of metal and wires, his claws curling into fists as he swings one of the weapons at your head, but you're ready for him, and you duck beneath the blow. You bring your lightsaber up in a wide arc and manage to score a glancing hit on his leg, and the metal sizzles as the blade cuts through it, sending sparks flying.

Grievous roars, and he descends on you with a flurry of blows that leave you reeling, but you're able to parry each one, the blades singing as they clash against each other. Your arms are shaking from the effort, and you can feel the strain in your muscles.

Obi-Wan barks another order over the comm, but you don't listen, too focused on the fight. The transport is closing in above you, and you watch as a rope descends from the open hatch and falls towards Grievous. You know you have only seconds before he's gone, and you have to act fast. Your lightsabers twirl, and you block his next strike, but he lashes out with an unarmed claw as you do.

A yelp of pain escapes your throat as the razor-sharp points rake across your arm, catching underneath your plate and ripping it off your shoulder. The sudden movement throws you off balance, and the blow is enough to send you stumbling backwards, blood dripping down your arm. 

The sight of your own blood soaking through your white robe fills you with a new sense of urgency, and you can feel your rage bubbling up, threatening to consume you. The Jedi Code is the furthest thing from your mind, and, as your eyes lock on the Separatist general, all you can think about is ending him.

You raise your arms to block as he descends on you again, his lightsabers flashing through the air as he moves faster than any human should be able to. The pain in your shoulder is forgotten as you parry his attacks and counter with your own. The sounds of the battle fade away, and all you can hear is the roar of your pulse, and the crackle of his lightsabers as they slash through the air around you. 

After a particularly hard blow sends you stumbling, the cyborg takes the opportunity to appraise you, his yellow eyes narrowed as he studies you. His claws twitch as he looks you up and down, and a strange noise escapes him between labored breaths.

"Ah, I know you," Grievous croaks, and you realize the noise is laughter. "The angry little Jedi from the arena."

"What?" you hiss. Your hands grip the hilt of your lightsabers tightly, the muscles in your shoulders tensing. You feel like you're a spring coiled so tight that it's about to snap at any moment, and a shudder runs through you. "What did you just say?"

"Yes," he chuckles again. "You are the same. How amusing. Dooku will be pleased."

"What do you mean?" you ask, and your voice trembles with anger. You know he's trying to distract you, but you can't help yourself, desperate for any answers you can get.

"You are a fool," Grievous laughs, the sound echoing through the canyon. He raises his arms, his metal body towering over you. "If you knew what happened to your master, you would not be here."

"Tell me," you growl, taking a step forward. You can hear Obi-Wan shouting, but the words are lost in the haze of your rage, and the ringing in your ears drowns him out.

"Why would I tell you?" he sneers. "You are nothing."

His words hit you like a blaster bolt, and the anger burns hotter than the sun, consuming every thought in your mind. Your vision goes red, and your muscles tense as you let out a primal scream and charge, throwing yourself at him, your lightsabers swinging wildly.

It's a reckless move, and a stupid one, but it's all you can do. Your blades strike again and again, the sound deafening. You're barely aware of anything else. Not the blaster fire. Not the walkers. Not even Obi-Wan yelling. All you can focus on is Grievous, and the fury inside you.

"You are weak," he taunts, his voice low and gravelly. His words only make you angrier, and your body shakes as the emotions overwhelm you.

He blocks the next swing of your lightsaber, and the impact is enough to nearly knock the blade from your hand. You scramble to keep your grip, barely managing to hold onto it. You're panting now, your lungs burning, and sweat dripping down your brow.

"You will pay for what you've done," you snarl, and you raise the blades again. "For the lives you've taken."

“What about you?” he snarls, his mechanical breathing labored as he twirls his sabers. “Will you pay for the lives you've taken?"

His words stop you in your tracks, and, for a moment, the world seems to slow down around you. You feel like you're falling into the depths of an abyss, your mind spinning. You know he's toying with you, trying to provoke you, but the images from your past come rushing back faster than you can push them away. He can't possibly know...can he?

The sound of a cannon exploding nearby jerks you back to reality, and you look up and see the ship hovering just above Grievous. He’s staring at you, a sick satisfaction in his eyes. The rope has been lowered almost all the way now, and you can see the droids inside the transport waiting to haul him up.

"You will regret this day, Jedi," Grievous taunts, his eyes flitting to the transport. He knows he's won, and it's the last thing he'll say to you before he's gone, leaving you with nothing but the memory of his voice and the knowledge that he has answers you need.

The anger surges up inside you again, and, before you can think twice, your lightsaber is flying towards him. He barely manages to catch it with his own, and the blade skims the edge of his arm, slicing through the metal and causing the wires beneath to spark. Satisfaction floods you as the smell of burning wire fills the air, and his lightsaber drops to the ground with a thud.

A scream tears itself from his throat, and he lashes out with his other blade. You whirl and parry, but you’re not prepared for the hand that snaps out. Clawed fingers catch around your neck and lift you off the ground, and you kick and struggle, but his grip is like a vice. Grievous squeezes hard, and your lightsabers fall from your hands as your vision blurs and your lungs burn for air.

The pain is searing, and you can feel your pulse pounding in your head as he lifts you higher, until you're looking him straight in the eye. Your hands wrap around his wrist, trying to pull yourself free as your legs kick frantically, but it's no use. You try to call your lightsabers back to you with the Force, but he kicks them away, and the sound of them hitting the ground rings in your ears. 

Grievous lets out a wheezing laugh as he tightens his grip on your throat, and you gasp, your mouth open, desperate for air, your mind screaming in agony.

"This is where we part ways," he growls, and you can hear his mechanical breathing getting louder as his claws squeeze the last of the life from you.

“Leaving so soon?” 

Obi-Wan’s voice comes from behind you, and you can't turn to look, but you hear the hum of his lightsaber and see a flash of blue in the corner of your eye. Grievous roars and releases you, and you crumple to the ground, your body colliding painfully with the dirt.

You're gasping for air, your head swimming, and your vision blurred. You can hear Obi-Wan shouting orders, and the sound of a lightsaber clashing against another. The ground is shaking, and there are shouts and screams, but the world around you feels so far away.

When the haze finally clears from your mind, you look up to see Obi-Wan and Grievous locked in a duel, their lightsabers clashing in a fury. You can barely keep track of the two combatants as they circle each other, moving faster than should be possible, their blades a blur of light and color.

Obi-Wan is the best swordsman in the entire army, and he has more experience fighting the cyborg general than anyone else, but even he can't take on Grievous without help. If you want to win this fight, you need to get involved. You push yourself upright, trying to shake off the fog that has settled over your mind, and you search for your lightsabers, desperate to help, but they're nowhere to be found.

"Come on, come on," you mutter, turning back towards the battle.

"Sir!" 

You feel a pair of hands wrap around your waist, lifting you up and away. You fight, trying to pull free, but the arms are unyielding. You struggle uselessly against them, the panic setting in as you watch the duel unfold. Obi-Wan is starting to tire now, and you can tell he won't last much longer, not without your help.

"Stop!" you cry out, and the sound is strangled and raspy. You can feel the bruises forming around your throat, and the pain is radiating down into your chest as you squirm and thrash. "Let go!"

"Calm down, sir!" the voice orders, and it takes you a moment to recognize Jesse. His helmet is pressed close to your ear, his voice strained with effort as he tries to keep a hold of you. "Calm down! It's me!"

"Jesse," you rasp.

"Yeah, it's me," he repeats. His grip loosens, but only slightly. "Don't move."

You can see the transport closing in now, and Grievous is backing away from the fight. He's retreating. It's the opening he needs, and Obi-Wan won't have a chance.

“Jesse, let me go.”

"What? Are you crazy?" Jesse demands. "You can't fight like this."

"I don't care!" you yell, and the volume of your own voice sends a shockwave of pain through you.

"Sir, I'm trying to help," he pleads, his grip tightening again, the armor pressing into your ribs.

"Jesse, let go!" you repeat, and your voice cracks. "Please!"

He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he's going to refuse. But then, his hands release you, and the sudden change in position throws you off balance. You stagger, your hands flailing, and you're certain you're going to fall, but his arms steady you and hold you up.

"Thank you," you pant, and you can feel his eyes on you, even through the helmet.

"I hope you know what you're doing, sir," he sighs.

You both look up to see Grievous scaling the side of the downed escape pod, the transport hovering overhead. Obi-Wan is struggling to stand, his body hunched, his lightsaber dangling loosely in his hand.

The cyborg is still laughing, his metal frame glinting in the moonlight as he reaches for the rope, his claws wrapping around the end and pulling himself up. 

If you can buy Obi-Wan more time, stop Grievous from boarding the ship...you can still end this. This won't be for nothing. Rex won't have been hurt for nothing. None of it will have been for nothing. Not if you can take Grievous down before he can leave. It's the only way.

"Get back," you order Jesse, your voice dark. "Now."

"But, sir一"

"That's an order!"

"Yes, sir," he replies, his voice flat.

Jesse releases you, and the relief is immediate. You can feel the cold air filling your lungs, and the weight has lifted from your chest, but the pain in your throat is still searing. Your hands tremble as you try to gather the Force around you, drawing on every ounce of strength left within.

You expand your mind, reaching out for the Force to guide your path, and you feel a jolt as you grasp onto the ship. You hold tight, focusing on keeping it in place, and the metal groans as it strains against the invisible bonds holding it there. The effort makes your head pound, but you ignore it, pouring everything you have into the movement.

"Sir," Jesse yells behind you, "what are you doing?"

"Something stupid," you grunt, wincing as a sharp pain lances through your skull. The strain is enormous, and you can feel your control slipping, your body shaking from the exertion, but you can't stop now. Obi-Wan is climbing up after Grievous, and if you could just hold the transport for a few more seconds...

The air around the vessel ripples, and the engine shudders. The ship is groaning under the strain of the Force pushing against it, and it's all you can do to hold the craft still, your heart pounding in your chest, the sweat running down your forehead, and the ache in your head growing by the second. Obi-Wan is halfway up the pod now, but Grievous is ascending, lifting higher into the air.

The ship begins to pull away, straining against the hold you have on it, the metal groaning and creaking as the engine whirs. Your body shakes as the ship rises a few meters, your grip slipping, your mind screaming in agony. 

You're struggling to stay conscious now, your vision blurred and the world around you beginning to spin, and you know you won't be able to maintain control much longer. The ship is too big, too heavy, and your head is pounding so hard you can barely think straight. But, you have to hold on. You have to keep fighting. You have to save the men. You have to save Obi-Wan. You have to一

Suddenly, the ship lurches, and the metal buckles. There's a loud popping sound, and you fall to your knees, the breath rushing out of your lungs as the weight of the vessel releases from your mind. The world is spinning, and your heart is hammering in your chest. And the ship...

The ship is flying away.

You watch through the fog in your mind as the ship rockets up into the sky, and the darkness swallows it whole. 

There's a moment of deafening silence as you realize what's happened, and then the crushing weight of defeat sets in. Grievous has escaped. Again. All of this was for nothing. You've failed.

"Sir?" Jesse asks gently, and you look up.

You meet his gaze through the visor of his helmet, the tears stinging the corners of your eyes and the lump rising in your throat. He places a hand on your shoulder, his grip gentle but firm, and you let him lift you to your feet. Your head is spinning, and the nausea is creeping up the back of your throat, but you keep moving as Jesse guides you back toward the others.

"Is the General alright?" Fives calls as he and Echo rush towards you, their blasters raised and their heads turning back and forth, searching for threats.

"She's fine," Jesse replies curtly, his tone brooking no argument.

"I'm fine," you whisper, and the words taste like ash. You're far from fine. In fact, you're pretty sure this is the farthest thing from fine that you could possibly be. Grievous has escaped. Rex has been injured. Obi-Wan nearly died because of you. How can any of this be fine? How can it ever be okay again?

"Sir?" Fives says, concern bleeding through his voice modulator, and the sound makes your stomach twist into knots.

"We...we need to regroup. We...have to...the men..." you say weakly, and the exhaustion is beginning to creep in, the adrenaline fading and the pain taking its place. The words are a jumbled mess, and you're not even sure what you're trying to say, but the others nod their understanding.

"Sir, you're bleeding," Kix says as he comes running over with Hardcase close behind. His hands are immediately on your arm, his fingers probing the wound, and the pain makes your stomach clench. 

You wince, pulling away from him as best you can, the tears stinging the corners of your eyes again. You're not sure if it's the pain or the humiliation that's causing the burning sensation in your throat, but it doesn't matter, because both are making you want to disappear.

"I'm fine," you reply, the words coming out more harshly than intended, and Kix takes a step back, his hands raised in surrender. You know the injury is severe, but the sting of your pride is stronger. "Help the wounded."

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think一"

"That's an order," you snap, and the medic flinches at the venom in your voice. "Do it."

"Yes, sir," he replies quietly, his tone resigned. "Just...take it easy. Please."

He nods to Hardcase and they hurry away. After another long look, Echo and Fives move off with them, leaving you alone with Jesse. You stand there for a moment, watching them, the shame and the anger mixing into a sickening cocktail that's making it difficult to breathe. 

You can feel the eyes of the other men on you, but you refuse to meet their gaze. They must hate you for failing them, for putting their lives in danger, for letting their brothers die. You don't deserve their concern. You don't deserve their care. You're a failure, and they deserve better.

"Sir," Jesse says quietly, and the guilt rises up in your chest, choking you. He shouldn't be worried about you. He should be worrying about the rest of the men, the men that are lying dead on the battlefield, the men that are going to die because of you. 

"Let me help you," he continues when you don't respond. He lifts his hand, showing your lightsabers clasped within it. You didn't even realize he had picked them up. "You're going to need these."

"Right," you mutter, taking the hilts from him, the metal cool and smooth against your palms. You look down at them for a moment before clipping them to your belt. "Thank you."

"Anytime, sir," he replies, his voice warm and comforting. "We should go check on the General. See if we can't help him and the men."

You nod, and the two of you set off towards the wreckage. The sounds of the battle have faded now, and the only things that remain are the moans of the wounded and the crackling of the fires burning across the field. The sight is one that's all too familiar to you, and you know you should be grateful that there are so few casualties, but the feeling of defeat is overwhelming.

Obi-Wan stands, his hands on his hips, his head bowed. You can tell by the way he's holding himself that he's exhausted and sore. Still, he turns when you approach, a small smile on his face. 

"Well done, my dear. Though, I have to admit, you gave me quite the scare."

The brush of emotion through the Force is almost overwhelming, and you have to fight back the urge to cry. He's not angry. He's not disappointed. He's just...relieved, proud even. It's enough to make you break down and sob right then and there, but you manage to hold yourself together. There will be time for that later.

"Thanks," you mutter. "You alright?"

"Just a bit banged up," he says with a shrug. "It'll pass. How about you? How are you feeling?"

"Like a complete and utter failure," you answer honestly, your voice catching in your throat. You force out a laugh, but there's no humor behind it. "But what else is new."

Obi-Wan's smile falters, and his gaze slides from you to Jesse, who's standing silently beside you. "Give us a minute, please."

"Of course, General," Jesse replies, saluting before walking off to join the others. 

You watch him go for a moment before turning back to Obi-Wan, and the tears threaten to spill over. You can feel his compassion, his concern, his love. It's enough to bring you to your knees. 

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" he asks softly.

"I...I failed. I should have一"

"Enough," he cuts you off, his voice firm but kind. "You did the right thing. It was a calculated risk, and it could have paid off, but sometimes that's just how things work out."

"But I...Rex. And the men. If something happens..."

"Stop," he orders, and his voice is hard, the compassion gone. "You're spiraling. Listen to me: we will find Grievous. We will capture him. We will win this war. And, we will do it together."

The certainty in his voice is enough to convince you, and, for a moment, you believe him. You feel the anger fade and the shame abate. You know he's right. You know you have to stop letting the failures eat at you. You have to learn to let go. You have to trust. 

"I'm sorry. I'm trying. I really am."

"I know you are," he says gently. "And, I'm proud of you."

Obi-Wan steps closer, and he takes your face in his hands, his thumb tracing the scar on your forehead. His touch is soft and warm, and the contact is enough to make the tears fall. You look up at him, your gaze meeting his, and you know the emotion that passes between you is the same. "It will be alright. I promise."

"You can't promise that," you whisper.

"No," he replies, his voice low and his expression serious. "But I can try. We won't let him slip through our fingers. Not again."

The words are like a balm on your soul, and, for the first time since Rex was injured, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. You nod, and Obi-Wan's smile returns, though it's tinged with sadness.

"Now, please go see a medic," he says. "You're bleeding everywhere."

"Right," you laugh, sniffing and wiping the tears from your cheeks. "Will do, General."

"Good," he replies. Obi-Wan drops his hands and turns to leave, but he pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. "There is one more thing, though. I know I'm not your Master, and that's not my place, but I would advise caution."

"What?" you ask, confused, and Obi-Wan smiles sadly at you.

"I saw how you fought today. How you lost yourself to the rage. I felt it," he says softly, and the words are enough to send a shiver down your spine. "I know you don't want to hear it, but it's the truth, and I won't stand by and watch it destroy you again."

You stare at him for a moment, stunned, your heart pounding in your chest. Of course he noticed. He's always noticed. But, this is the first time in a long time he's said anything. "Obi-Wan..."

"Don't say anything. Just promise me you'll be careful," he says. "We can't lose you. I can’t lose you. Not to the dark."

"I promise," you reply, the words sticking in your throat.

"Good," he replies, his expression lightening. "Now, go get yourself checked out. Our pickup should arrive in the morning."

"Yes, sir," you reply, and the words come out more strongly than you feel. You roll your eyes at him, and he chuckles, turning and striding away, the smile still on his lips.

You watch him for a moment before turning and looking across the battlefield. The fires are starting to die down now, and the moon hangs low in the sky. There's so much left to do, but, for the moment, you let yourself breathe, the air cool and sweet in your lungs.

You close your eyes and exhale, and then you start walking. You make your way across the field, your eyes searching for a familiar face. You see Cody in the distance, helping the men, but Rex is still nowhere to be found. Panic surges in your chest, but you take a deep breath and steady yourself, pushing the emotion away. It will do no good. You'll just have to trust that he'll return, safe and whole, when he's able.

As you walk, you pass the 501st. They're sitting in the dirt, their armor stained with dust and smoke, and their faces streaked with sweat. They're exhausted, but their morale is high. Fives is laughing with Hardcase, and Jesse is teasing Echo about the reg manual he keeps in his pocket. The sight fills you with warmth, and the tension eases from your body. Maybe you haven't failed. Not entirely.

"General!" Fives shouts as he catches sight of you. The others turn, and a chorus of greetings follows.

"Are you okay?"

"What's the word, sir?"

"Is General Kenobi alright?"

You blink, a little overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught. They're all staring at you, their eyes full of hope and concern, and, suddenly, you feel like you might burst into tears again. Instead, you smile, and you count off the questions on your fingers. "He's fine, we should be out of here by morning, and yes, I'm okay. How are you all holding up?"

"Better than you, by the looks of it," Fives replies, and then grins. "Nice work with that ship. That was some crazy Force stuff. Very impressive."

"Oh, it was nothing," you mutter. You move your arm to rub the back of your neck, failing to consider the deep gash in your shoulder, and the pain explodes across your skin. You let out a sharp hiss and close your eyes, waiting for the wave of agony to pass. "Ow."

"That's definitely not nothing," Jesse says dryly, before he turns his head and cups a hand over the side of his mouth. "Kix! Get over here!"

"I'm fine," you insist, and you open your eyes, glaring at him. "I've been through worse."

"Yeah," Hardcase replies. "We know, sir. We were there."

You can't help but laugh at the comment. "Fair point. Okay, you got me. It hurts. A lot."

"No shit," Kix snorts as he approaches. He's carrying a bag full of supplies, and his expression is stern. He grabs onto your uninjured shoulder and guides you to a fallen log, gently forcing you to sit. "Can I take a look now, or are you going to keep arguing with me?"

"Fine," you grumble. "Go ahead."

He kneels beside you and sets the bag down. The others hover nearby, pretending not to watch as Kix helps you remove your damaged chestplate. Your vambraces and remaining pauldron come off next, and together, you pull off your bloodied white tunic. Kix cuts into the grey bodysuit you wear underneath, and his deft fingers begin to peel the torn fabric away from the wound. The motion sends a jolt of pain through you, and you can't stop the grimace that twists your mouth.

Your shoulder is a mess of torn flesh and blood. It's an ugly sight, and the wound burns as the cool air hits it. Kix presses a clean cloth to it, and you wince. 

"Damn. That looks painful."

"It is," you hiss through gritted teeth. "But not as bad as it looks."

"Of course not. That's why your face is white as a sheet," he huffs. He glances up at the others. "Can someone get me some water?"

Hardcase is off like a shot. You're sure he’s just as eager to be helpful as he is to be anywhere but near Kix. You're glad. You don't need any more witnesses to the humiliation of this moment. Still, there's no denying the fact that you need medical attention.

"You should have said something," Kix grumbles as he begins cleaning the wound, his movements slow and gentle. The medic does his best to keep his emotions in check, but the occasional wave of irritation washes over you. He's upset, he feels helpless, he doesn't like it. You don't either. "It's been hours."

"Sorry," you murmur. "I was worried more about the men."

"You're always worried about the men," he sighs. "We're clones. It's what we do."

"Not always," you protest. "You're people too. You matter."

"So do you," Kix says firmly. "You know that, right?"

You shrug and immediately regret it as the motion sends a sharp spike of pain through your arm. "It's just...the war...you can't 一 fuck, that hurts 一 it's hard."

"Yeah," he says softly. "It is. But that's all the more reason to take care of ourselves. We have to stick together."

You nod. "Right. Sorry."

Kix shakes his head and continues cleaning the wound. He's quiet now, and the silence hangs heavy in the air. The others are still close by, but they're keeping their distance. It's probably for the best. You don't want them to see the tears forming in your eyes.

"Rex is going to have my head," Kix mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you. You blink and look down at him. His expression is grim, his mouth twisted in a line as he ties off the last of your stitches. "He told me to watch you."

"Where is he?" you ask. Your heart leaps into your throat as the thought that he might have died flits through your mind. "Is he一"

"He's alive," Kix says quickly. "He's stable."

"He's resting," Jesse adds. He's not looking at you, but there's a grimace on his face. "We left him on a farm nearby. Some local family agreed to take him in and look after him."

"Oh, good,” you reply softly as the relief washes over you. "What happened?"

"We were ambushed by commando droids," he says, his tone dark. "One of the bastards got the jump on the Captain. Shot him clean through the chest."

You nearly fall off the log in shock. "What?"

"He's fine," Jesse insists. "Kix fixed him up. It's just...well...it was touch and go for a minute."

"But he's fine," Kix repeats. "The shot missed his heart by a few inches."

"And the other wounds?" you ask quietly. Your head dips down, but you don't miss the way Fives and Echo glance at each other. There's something unspoken between them, but you don't dwell on it, too focused on Kix's answer.

"Minor. Mostly bruises from the crash," Kix replies. "Hold still."

"Sorry," you mutter. The relief is making you a little woozy. You'd been so worried about him, but he's going to be fine. Everything's going to be okay. You're still alive. You're all still alive.

For once, everything is going to be fine. The buzzing of the Force in the back of your mind, the one that has been growing ever since you left Coruscant, seems to settle and calm, and you find yourself letting out a long sigh.

"Thank you, Kix."

"What for?" he asks. He's wrapping a bacta patch over the freshly sutured wound now, his movements quick and practiced. "For saving his life?"

"Yeah," you answer. "And for taking care of me."

"That's my job," he huffs. "I don't need thanks for doing it."

"Well, thank you anyway," you insist. He nods, and you can't help but smile at the faint blush that colors his cheeks. "I mean it."

"Okay," Kix says gruffly. "Enough chit-chat. Let's get this bandaged up."

He pulls out a length of gauze and starts wrapping it around your arm. The bacta is working its magic already, and the pain has eased. You can feel the exhaustion starting to set in, and your eyelids are beginning to droop.

Without the pain and the anger, and the fear, to keep you going, you're starting to crash. You know you should probably eat something too. You can't remember the last time you ate anything. Was it yesterday? The day before? It's hard to tell anymore. The days have begun to blur together.

"How are the others?" you ask, trying to stay focused. "Any serious injuries?"

"Mostly minor scrapes and bruises. Nothing we can't handle," Kix replies. He ties off the gauze and sits back on his heels, surveying his handiwork. "There. All set. That should hold until we can get you back to the ship."

"Great," you sigh. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Kix says. He stands up and brushes the dirt off his knees, and then he picks up the bag of supplies and turns to the others. "Don't let her sleep until she's eaten."

"I'm right here," you grumble, though there's no heat behind the words. You know they're just trying to look out for you, and, right now, the care and concern feels surprisingly nice.

"Right," Jesse snorts. He leans over and taps you on the forehead. "You still with us?"

"Yeah," you sigh, rubbing your eyes. "I'm awake."

"Good," Kix says, nodding his approval. He turns and heads towards the nearest group of clones, stopping to tend to a wounded trooper on the way.

Hardcase returns a few moments later, and you manage to drink the canteen of water he brings you, though the liquid threatens to come back up. You fight the urge, forcing yourself to take deep, even breaths. The food isn't any better, and you struggle through a few bites of nutrition bar before giving up. The taste is too much for your stomach, and you can't bring yourself to eat any more.

The boys don't seem to notice. They're talking about the fight and what they hope will happen next, and their voices are a steady, calming rhythm in the background. They're safe. They're alive. And, right now, that's all that matters.

You sit there for a while, your head resting on the tree behind you, listening to the sound of the clones laughing and joking around, the tension and fear finally fading.

Your eyes grow heavier and heavier, the exhaustion pulling at your limbs and lulling you into a state of relaxation. You can't remember the last time you felt this calm, and it's a relief to finally let go. You let yourself sink into the warmth of the Force, the energy swirling around you and wrapping you in its embrace.

After a few minutes, the darkness of unconsciousness swallows you whole, and the world fades away.

You dream of golden fields, but this time, the sun is shining, and the air is filled with the scent of wildflowers. The wind is cool and gentle, the sound of children's laughter echoing through the trees. It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, and, for the first time, you let yourself feel hope.

thanks @lordofthenerds97 for beta-ing this chapter!

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[cubixcontrols-blog]

[tired-biscuit]

Step-dad bakugo breeding kink part 2.

cw: stepcest, breeding kink, daddy kink, age gap, infidelity // 18+ mdni, fem!reader

part 1

ever since filling you up that drunken night on the couch, bakugou becomes addicted to fucking you completely sober, too.

some may call the first time it happened an unfortunate mishap, perhaps even an accident to some extent, however katsuki is already hooked after a single taste.

and much to his surprise, it seem that you are, too.

it's the way how you offer him the googly eyes not a moment after you step foot out of your bedroom the next morning, that has him thinking that. how hearts are literally lighting up inside your pupils like that damn effect which you've shown him trending on social media a while back, your pretty eyelashes fluttering; driving him batshit crazy every time your gazes meet as he drinks his coffee and eats his breakfast instead of taking the fuck off like the smart man he claims to be.

it's how you bend over as dramatically as you're able whilst rummaging through the fridge then, dressed in the tiniest pyjama shorts he's ever seen a woman wear before turning to smile at him over your shoulder because you just know he's watching. it's all of that.

you're insufferable, you make him want to claw at the walls even if his nails are blunt. and god, you're just so young. so ditzy and vigorous that you make him feel alive again by turning him into a leech for the thrill only young pussy can give to a man like him. i mean, how can he possibly resist slamming you again, when you're right there; throwing yourself at him in the middle of his fancy kitchen?

so he doesn't resist. no, instead, bakugou sighs as if it's a chore to indulge you as he pushes up from his favourite chair that he never allows you to sit on and walks over to where you're standing; still smiling that wretched grin that makes him want to slam his cock down your throat deep enough to wipe it off your lips. he shakes his head as if it's a bother to bend you over the kitchen counter and give you exactly what you're so shamelessly asking him for. he grunts as if it's a burden for him to fuck you stupid and make you cry for your daddy by the end of it.

but that's not what he actually thinks of the entire thing, of course not. no, because weeks pass, and yet he spends them all by continuing to slam you stupid on every single flat surface inside his home - the big, enormous house with plenty of room, and tables, and desks, and sofas, and counters, and beds; all of which he pays for with his sky-high pro hero salary and doesn't mind breaking at all.

and speaking of that, he also doesn't particularly care if you're on birth control or not either - never even asks if you are. the fact that there is a possible risk of him knocking you up is not important, because all that matters is taking you raw over and over again; getting the full experience of just how sickeningly sweet his little girl's cunt can be.

how your walls can squeeze him in a way his wife's can't as he fucks you amongst the stupid plushies in your new bedroom; how your grip turns so fucking tenacious that it feels like you're going to milk him dry whenever you become undone and he has to use those skilled, scar-riddled hands to paw at all of your trembling pieces before assembling you back together. how he gets to leave a mark behind after it - gets to watch his cum leak out of you, as well as the way you frantically squeeze your thighs together to keep it from spilling out of your abused hole every single time.

and fuck, he smirks whenever you do that: panic and try to push him off the moment he pulls out. you're nasty and filthy - letting him pound the shit out of you with zero protection and stuff you full with his cum, sure, but you're also weak; easy for him to manipulate you into letting him do just that, and to tease you about it, too.

especially when you're scared of your own mother coming home to find you like this, when you're so fucking afraid of the possibility of having to explain the mess on your bed sheets to her, because there's never a boy there to cause it in the first place. the only man that's allowed inside the house is your handsome stepdaddy, after all.

and much to your misfortune, he's more of the provocative sort.

[passivenovember]

(sharing again because I'm so proud of this one)

When Billy Falls in Love

--

Max's hair is twisted into a rough pink towel when she answers the door. She’s got a berry sorbet sunburn peeking through the angry red flush on her cheeks, freckles looking like they could peel off at any moment. It’s the same way Billy gets in the summertime, but he turns gold in seconds.

Max stays angry red. 

She wasn’t at the pool today. Steve knows because he was at the pool fifteen minutes ago, and Billy wasn’t there. And if Billy’s gone so is Max, and if Max is here-- 

“He’s not here. What’s with the flowers?” Max wonders, with her teeth pulling at the wrapper of a Scoops brand popsicle as she eyes the poorly picked and assembled bouquet of daisies and weeds Steve managed to convince the gardener to let him snag. 

Steve can tell she doesn’t really want to know what the deal is. Maybe she already knows. 

Max is fourteen and a perpetually bored pain in the ass, already moving to shut Steve out of the house when he jams his foot so the door won’t close. 

Max tugs on it. Groans. “Steve,” Max says, sounding tired.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know because we don’t keep tabs on each other, you psycho.”

“Bullshit,” Steve says. Neil’s car isn’t in the driveway, he almost points out.

Doesn’t.

Max almost cracks a smile, seeming to hear him anyway. If Neil’s gone that leaves Billy to play guard dog. “If you care so much about my stupid brother all of a sudden--”

“--All of a--”

“Get in your stupid shitty car and go drive around until you find him,” Max says, like. Get lost.

They’re so similar it burns. Chars licking over Steve’s skin in the shape of how they sneer and heckle the same, and they’re both so smart that Steve has to do math and study chemistry, and perform mental gymnastics just to keep up.

There’s a lot to latch on to, Steve’s hands slip over it like a gymnast missing the high bar. 

The way she’s looking at him, the way Max said all of a sudden like Steve’s done something wrong--

“He used to drive you around,” Steve says, like. Aha. “Don’t you give a shit?”

About him? 

About his bones and blood. 

Max shrugs. “Why should I?”

And. Steve’s an idiot but he remembers how it was before, back when this whole thing started. His lips, red and tender from sucking on any piece of Billy he could find. His fingers, tugging on worn belt loops and begging for a night on Loch Nora and that dull, exhausted phrase gotta watch my sister sinking a hole in Steve’s hope.

“It’s summer,” Max says after a minute, irritated, “We have an arrangement in the summer. June to Labor Day I do what I want, Billy fucks off for a bit, and we always show up here right when--”

“His car's gone,” Steve says. Because she owes it to him and his months and months of blue balls at her lack of self-preservation. She owes it to Billy.

“His car’s gone because he’s not here, Steve, we just went over this--” 

Max moves to slam the door and Steve holds it open, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through his stomach. “Why are you acting weird?” Steve demands.

“I’m not acting weird, you’re the one who’s trying to break into my house because Billy stepped out for five minutes,” Max tugs on the door, groaning dramatically, “C’mon Steve--”

Steve clutches the bouquet of flowers close to his chest. “We’re supposed to go see a movie.”

Max stops pulling on the door, all the attitude cut from her with something dull. 

Steve swallows. His nails dig into the palm of his free hand. Steve feels blood swell, but it’s probably just sweat. “Billy. He’s not on a date--”

“Look, Steve,” Max says suddenly, sounding. Much older and wiser than she did five seconds ago. “I like you. You’re cute and dumb but you’re annoyingly sweet and thoughtful. You’re tall, too. You’ve probably failed freshman biology a couple of times.--”

“--I--”

“Shut up,” Max tells him, and Steve swears there’s a bit of green swirling in all that red, embarrassment mixing like watercolor. “Can I be honest with you, Steve?”

Steve nods. He takes his foot from the door jam and rubs his hand on his jeans. Shudders as the feeling in his stomach ebbs and swirls and gets so much worse.

“You’re not his fucking boyfriend,” Max says, and slams the door in his face.

--

“Well. To be fair, she’s not wrong.”

Steve grips the steering wheel. The leather crackles and squeals with the skin of his palms, giving way to the rumble of the engine when he turns the car onto Park Avenue. 

“Jesus,” Eddie snaps, his free hand scrambling to brace against the passenger door while the bouquet teeters dangerously on his lap, “You don’t have to take the turns so fast, Harrington--”

“I can’t believe she said that.”

“--Fucking Evel Kenevil--”

“I mean. I’m practically his boyfriend, right?”

“Sure, and you’ll still be ‘practically his boyfriend,’ even if you drive at the speed limit.”

“Thought you said Max wasn’t talking out of her ass, Munson?”

“Look, I’m allowed to take things minute by minute. I’m just saying,” Eddie tightens the seatbelt against his chest, “You haven’t exactly popped the question.”

“You think Billy’s the kind of guy who--”

“Yeah,” Eddie says casually. “He’s exactly the kind of guy who wants to be asked out. I’ve seen the way he picks flowers and puts them in his own hair when he thinks no one’s looking.”

Steve snorts. “When has he ever done that?”

“We hang out, you know,” Eddie tells him, in lieu of an answer. “When you’re not around, we hang out loads--”

“Maybe you’re Billy’s mystery man,” Steve says only half serious. Mostly joking. 

Eddie flushes deep red, “Anyway. This bag of weeds is a good start,” He mumbles, twisting the fat head of a dandelion gently between two fingers.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to unpack any of what that might mean.

They’ve been driving for what feels like hours. The sky has turned hazy, floating in that honey-dipped place between dayglow and starlight. The world will be gold, soon, and then dark. Midnight black. 

Hawkins is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it affair. A shithole. Billy only has a handful of places to hide.

Steve presses a little harder on the gas, knowing in the very pit of himself that this is crazy. This is insane, driving around like a bat out of hell with Eddie Munson, but Billy likes Eddie Munson. Steve tolerates him. And Robin’s at camp, so.

Eddie clutches the door again with another sharp, sudden turn. “Harrington--”

“I’m not dropping you off until I find him.”

“Alright,” Munson grumbles. He lights a cigarette and stares out the window for half a neighborhood block and then says, “How do you know he’s not at home, already?”

Steve grips the steering wheel, convinced Eddie wasn’t listening the first time. “Maxine said--”

“That was an hour ago.”

“Neil doesn’t get off until seven, if Billy’s gone he wont be back until six-thirty at the earliest.”

Eddie checks the dash. “It’s six-thirty now.”

“Do you wanna die today, freak?”

“God, you’re so unpleasant,” Eddie says, handing his cigarette over, anyway, “You’re the worst, actually. Worse than I ever imagined and I’ve imagined it a lot when Billy and Dustin yap their fucking gums about how great you are.”

Steve takes a harsh pull from the cigarette. Coughs and hands it back. 

Eddie takes it from him. Ash gathers on the cherry but he’s got no self-awareness. 

“If you get ash in my flowers, Munson--”

“Jesus Christ, would you give it a rest? He’s gonna love them. He’ll probably cry, once he’s done beating the shit out of you.”

Silence falls, lurid and uncomfortable, and Steve realizes Munson is watching him. Staring at him, 

“This is insane boyfriend behavior, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“So, you admit I’m his boyfriend?” Steve tries weakly, in lieu of what he means. Why Should I Take Advice from You?

“I’m saying this is boyfriend behavior but you won’t be a boyfriend for long, once he finds out what we’re doing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve grits his teeth. “What are we doing that’s so wrong, Munson?”

“Hunting him. Like a couple of crazy fucking bloodhounds.”

“We had a date,” Steve tells Eddie again. For the eightieth time. “Billy’s never missed a date so he’s either dead or dying or riding some other guy’s--”

Eddie bangs his head against the window.

Steve rolls the window down for him if only to protect the integrity of the Beemer. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know Billy. And he wouldn’t just disappear without--”

“You’re not his dad,” Eddie tells him, and Steve.

Steve doesn’t have time to get into all the reasons that’s spot -fucking-on. He’s not Billy’s dad, because Steve loves Billy. To his bones and beyond, a little knob of heartache swirling around each nucleus of every atom in the very core of him.

Steve loves Billy so much it gets him into trouble.

Eddie sucks down his smoke again, like, “You’re really doing all this for a missed date?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “I heard stories about you and the Wheeler chick. Seems like she missed a lot of dates at the end and you never did anything like this for her.”

“Billy’s not Nancy. Billy’s not like anyone, he’s--”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, coughing. “You. You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass, you’re serious about him.”

And.

Munson says it like it’s a shock. 

Like Steve Harrington’s not capable of loving anything but himself. His hair and his house on the hill and this stupid fucking car and maybe that’s what the losers at Hawkins High think, but they’re wrong. 

Way wrong. Stuck four years in the past.

Steve has to bite down against every harsh word on the tip of his tongue, tear the sentences apart and swallow them down because of course he’s worried.

Steve’s worried all the time about a lot of things when it comes to this crush he’s been nursing for a year and a half. Steve worries if Billy sleeps enough, for one. If Neil was in a good mood today. How many new bruises Steve will have to cover with hickies the next time they see each other, paint all that hurt over with something good.

It makes him crazy.

Steve worries all the time if Billy loves him. If actually saying it makes a difference.

Steve wonders most of all how much money and begging it’ll take to get Billy out of that house on Cherry Lane. Steve’s spent many restless nights doing the math in his head, staring at the popcorn ceiling as he imagines taking Billy away from here. And if Steve’s taking Billy home, to the coast, then he’s taking Max, too.

So whatever number, whatever dollar amount Steve’s gotta hoard to make it happen--he’d better take it and multiply it by seven, because. Steve’s going to lasso the moon and give it to Billy in a bouquet of yellow daisies. 

If it kills him. 

He’s going to find Billy tonight and tell him the truth if it kills him--

“We’ve gone down this street, already,” Eddie says.

“You’re not helping.”

“I'm just pointing out the obvious.”

“And I’m just pointing out--”

“Look, if you care about Billy so much, why don’t you respect his privacy?” Eddie demands. Somewhere, along the way, he ashed his cigarette on the dashboard.

Steve wants to check the flowers. 

Can’t find it within himself to be angry about that. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. If something happened to him and I wasn’t there to make it better and figure out how to stop it from happening again--”

“God, you’re such a brownie,” Eddie snaps, turning from the window. “What if he ditched you because he’s not into you anymore, Harrington?  What if Billy got tired of waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and stop obsessing over him where no one else can see it? What if he’s sick of being the plaything you fuck in the dark?”

Steve swallows. Feeling so, so small.

“Everyone says you’re a changed man,” Eddie gets closer, somehow. Looms. “What if Billy thinks you’re bullshit?”

Steve pulls the car to the side of the road. In front of them, hazy with the dregs of the afternoon, a coal brown sign announces that Hawkins will soon be a spot on a map left somewhere far, far away. 

Everything in that shitty little town hangs over him. Feels so huge. Max and Neil and his parents and graduation and the last month of summer, sitting bigger than the sky. 

The engine thrums underneath them and Steve swallows, turning against his seatbelt. “If Billy doesn’t love me,” Steve says, easy and slow, “He can say it to my face.”

Eddie blinks. 

Steve can sense the cogs turning, underneath all that hair. Brown like his, curly like Billy’s. “It won’t change how you feel about him?” Eddie asks. 

And Steve realizes, like a punch to the gut, that Eddie Munson cares about this.

About Billy.

He’s worried, too, in his own twisted, guard-dog best friend kinda way. It reminds Steve of Robin. Dustin, too, always baring their teeth at Billy because they’re not fully convinced that this thing between them will survive the summer.

That Steve would survive losing this. 

He wishes, a deep ache thrumming in his chest, that everyone would either get it or fuck off.

“I love him,” Steve says easily, “Love isn’t something that stops just because the other person’s come to their fucking senses about how much of a loser you are. It isn’t something you say because you want to hear it back. I’ve loved him for a year and a half and I’ll love him even when he realizes I’m not half good enough.”

Eddie smirks. It’s slow and terrible.

“Alright, Harrington,” He leans back in his seat and nods, satisfied. “I think I know where our boy is hiding.”

--

Duane county used to house to the only mall within a hundred miles until Starcourt. 

It’s a small and bustling and annoyingly progressive city, compared to Hawkins, and Steve isn’t the least bit surprised that Billy would run to a place like this to hide for a while.

What surprises him is that Billy knows how to skateboard. 

He’s riding the half pipe, so focused on the concrete that laps like waves under the wheels of his long, colorful board that Billy doesn’t notice when the Beemer’s engine cuts and Steve opens the driver’s side door. 

Eddie doesn’t move. 

“You coming?” Steve asks, frowning when Eddie sparks something too pale and skinny to be a cigarette.

“Nah, you go ahead.”

“You don’t wanna give me your blessing?” Steve wonders, suddenly terrified that Billy won’t go steady with him if he doesn’t see the irritatingly awful face of his best friend giving the thumbs up. 

Eddie hands Steve the bouquet. It’s crushed and it smells like dope.

“Billy’s gonna take one look at these sorry fucking flowers and break up with me,” Steve grumbles, his nose scrunching, and.

Eddie smiles at him. 

It’s soft and real, and kind of beautiful, and Steve gets why Chrissy Cunningham is apparently head over heels for the guy. 

“He loves you, too,” Eddie says, like, “Go on. Quit stalling. Don’t think your big love confession will feel the same if I have told your hand through it.”

Steve slams the door, and Billy floats to the top of the half-pipe with the echo of it. He looks like an angel in the clouds, shirtless with his skin golden in the setting sun, jeans slung low on his hips. The curly, bronze tendrils of hair Steve will always remember the feel of are swooped back in a scrunchie.

Max’s scrunchie.

Billy squints across the parking lot and recognizes Steve, his expression clouding over immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands.

Steve waddles across the parking lot, “Eddie’s here,” He calls, like an idiot.

“So?” You fucking him now?”

“No, I--”

“What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve almost trips over himself, knees with with nerves. Billy does that to him, always. Forever.

The half-pipe is huge up close, looming like the mast of some ancient, terrible ship and Billy is the pirate waiting to throw him overboard. “We had a date,” Steve says.

Out of breath.

Weak.

“I had to get out of that house,” Billy shades his eyes with one hand, holding the long board aloft with his bare foot. He doesn’t say anything for a long, terrible moment and then he says, “Whatcha got there, pretty boy?” 

“Flowers,” Steve tells him.

“Flowers,” Billy mocks softly. There’s no bite.

He considers the moment. The Scene. Steve Harrington, with flowers clutched to his chest and the dingy little park beyond that and Eddie Munson, probably, hanging from a cloud of marijuana smoke as the afternoon crashes into nightfall.

As Steve crashes and burns.

Steve holds his breath. Billy glides down the half pipe, seeming to ride on the wind until he comes to a delicate, perfect stop in front of him. 

He smells like peaches. 

He’s been eating peaches. Billy’s hands are sticky when he grabs the bouquet, and Steve’s skin lights on fire from his touch. 

It’s so usual. It’s brand new every time.

“You bought me flowers?” Billy asks, pinning Steve with a clear, vibrant stare. 

His eyes are so blue. So beautiful--

“I didn’t buy them, I. I picked them,” Steve says dumbly, “The gardener was going to clear them away, but. I wanted to pick some for our date. I always pick you up on the way but I never bring anything, and I thought. Maybe Neil wouldn’t notice who they were for if it seemed like someone just picked them from a garden. Or the side of the road,” Billy snorts, and Steve nearly breaks an ankle trying to recover, “But I’ve thought about it, and they’re almost out of season, so the gardener--”

“--Right--”

“And. I see them every morning, from my bedroom window, and they remind me of you. Pretty and. Golden, so. I caught the gardener just in time, and i had to pay him $5 to let me pick ‘em before he cleared them away. They’re pretty. Right? I wanted--”

Billy sniffs the daisies first. His eyes close, lashes casting long, noir shadows over the cinnamon freckles on his cheeks and Steve aches to live forever in this moment. To scrape the image into his mind so it can live there, in a house made in Billy’s image. 

“Some of these are weeds,” Billy tells him.

“I--”

“Are you in love with me, Harrington?” Billy rubs the petals of one flower with his thumb, watching as the stems knock together. He’s holding the bouquet like it’s made of glass. Like it might shatter and crumble away if he’s not careful, and Steve.

Feels that way about Billy.

“I,” Steve tries again,

“Thanks for the flowers,” Billy says, and he turns to go.

“Wait,” Steve says. Begs. He almost reaches to stop Billy but he doesn’t want to hurt him. 

Billy stops. Waits. 

Something sharp and fragile sits there, just under the layer of indifference Steve was always too stupide to notice before, but.

“I love you,” Steve says. He sounds strangled. Drowning. 

It hurts.

It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Billy flushes red. “I love you, too.”

And. 

Steve’s going to catch on fire at any moment. “You love me,” He repeats, testing the words. He doesn’t trust them to hold his hope. Doesn’t think Billy means it how Steve aches and dreams he does. “You love me, like. How you love Max? Or Eddie? Like a friend who you want to suck off sometimes--”

“Eddie and I are just friends,” Billy says, quickly. His gaze is steady on Steve’s face. “I don’t need anyone else for that, I have. You.”

He does. 

He really does.

Billy’s watching Steve like he’s expecting him to say something else, and maybe he is. Has been, for as long as they’ve been sliding inside of each other. Steve was just too dumb to get it before now. 

So he straightens his spine. Clears his throat. Says, “Well. I love you like I want to take you on dates. And introduce you to my parents. I want you to go steady with me and wear my letter--”

“We can’t do that sort of stuff, Harrington.”

“I know.”

“Well, then, why’d you say it?”

“Because it’s what I want,” Steve snaps. Like, “You’re so annoying.”

“It was your idea,” Billy smirks. It’s beautiful. It’s Steve’s second favorite thing, second only to his laugh. And the soft curve of his lips. Billy fiddles with one of the weeds and says, “You don’t even have a letter to give me.”

“Neither do you, asshole,”

“So now what?” Billy demands, his arms flaring wide, “You’re gonna say you want to go steady with me and we’re not gonna do it? Tease.”

Steve rolls his eyes to the heavens, grumbling as they plop wetly on the sun-warmed earth. Billy’s still barefoot and Steve wonders how his toes aren’t burning. “How are your toes not burning?” He demands.

“They are,” Billy tells him, annoyed.

And then. 

Steve gets an idea.

He sits on the ground and pulls both shoes off.

“What are you doing?” Billy snaps, but Steve can hear a smile in his voice, curling tendrils through the teasing annoyance that has made him so different from anyone Steve has ever loved before. “Steve--”

“Here,” Steve says, standing to hold the shoes out in front of him. He hops from one foot to the other as his heels start to burn.

Billy stares at the Nike’s as if they’re coiled snakes. Like if he takes them, they’ll burrow under his toenails and poison him from the inside out. “I don’t get it--”

“I don’t have a letter, but. People might see you in them and get it, right? When has anyone ever seen Billy Hargrove in a pair of Nike’s?”

Billy blinks, confused.

“You’re mine,” Steve says. “So they’re yours. Take them,”

Billy considers him for a long moment and then sets the bouquet on the ground. “Wait here,” He says, and skates off around the bend in the half pipe.

Steve’s feet are on fire.

He’s hopping dramatically, and in the distance he can hear Eddie laughing, and Steve’s going to kill him, but then.

Billy’s back and he’s holding his boots in his hands. “Here,” He says, “Eye for an eye, right?”

And Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips into the worn leather, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they are. His feet thank him, the raging fire finally simmering.

Steve watches Billy. 

The careful way his fingers lace the Nike’s onto his feet. How his hips shift his weight when he stands. Billy walks in a slow, timid circle, “Shit, Harrington,” He says thickly, “I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend before.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, before.”

“Think we’ll be any good at it?” Billy asks. He squats deeply, popping back up with a wide, beautiful smile planted pretty as a forest on his face.

It beams itself, magically, onto Steve’s. Startles a bright, hysterical laugh from somewhere deep inside of him. 

“You’re perfect,” Steve says. Nothing has ever felt more true.

[thmles]

| You're Losing Me. (2)

- I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore.

[pairing: miguel o'hara x spider-person!reader]

[warnings: sweet to angst, mentions of physical fight, blood, bruises, mention of deaths]

[a/n: this has been a long time coming!! i've tried to write these past few days but never really finished writing this but i was feeling a lil sad tonight so i managed to focus my motivation on writing this! i also went through some theories on reddit and twitter about miguel's canon theory bc i honestly question it?? anyway i hope i did the first 'you're losing me' fic justice with this, since i tried my best writing this. hope y'all enjoy 🫶🏻]

You were smart enough to leave the watch that was issued to every member of the Spider Society at your apartment. Miguel had been tracking your location only to see ‘you’ in your apartment. He blocked you from creating portals and tracking the location of him, Jess, and Ben. It was for your own good, anyway. He was looming over Brooklyn on a rooftop as rain lightly poured over the city. He looks down at his hand, the very same you returned your promise ring he had given you a year prior. Miguel figured that he’d talk to you after he brings in Miles, that he’ll try to make you understand his side. Miles was a kid, he doesn’t know better. He doesn’t understand how astronomical the consequence of letting his father live. With the help of his suit, Miguel is able to store the ring on the right side of his hip. The hunt for Miles had just begun.

-

You on the other hand managed to get to Gwen’s dimension. A somehow colorful yet gloomy version of Brooklyn. With a few taps on your (much better) watch, you located the apartment complex where Gwen lives. The watch even gave you the exact number of their apartment. Brooklyn was glowing in the dark of the night as you swung through the city. It reminded you of your Brooklyn. A beautiful city that never sleeps.

You approached the rooftop of the apartment and gracefully landed on it. After a quick change (which really just consisted of you taking off your mask and slipping on a jacket you managed to grab before you left your apartment), you slowly descended the stairs from the rooftop to their apartment.

A knock on the door pulled Gwen’s and his father’s attention. It was a long time coming, talking about their feelings, the truth, and being Spider-Woman. “Captain Stacy? I’m uh, a friend of Gwen,” The voice called out. Gwen smiled knowingly at her dad as he stared back at her in confusion. “She said she’s coming back home today and she left something in my house.” The voice continued.

Gwen let out a laugh and quickly opened the door before her dad could do it.

“You came.” Gwen beamed at you. You returned a smile and pulled her in a hug.

“You really think I’d leave you by yourself?” You mumbled in her ear.

She hugged you tighter before pulling away. Her dad looked surprised as Gwen seemed to forget she was in her Spider-Woman attire. Gwen looked between you and her father before exclaiming, “Oh, dad! This is my friend! They have been uhm, a really good friend of mine!” Her dad motioned at her attire. Gwen laughed as you waved at her dad. “Don’t worry, dad. They know.”

-

After a quick goodbye, you gave Gwen the watch you had made similar to the ones issued by the Spider Society. After a few dimension hopping, you managed to assemble a team of Spider-People who hoped to help Miles as Gwen looked for the latter. Gwen detected that Miguel, Jess, and Ben were at Earth-1610 to search for Miles but Miles wasn’t in the dimension. After a quick talk with the team (consisting of Margo, Spider-Noir, Peni, Pav, Peter B. and Mayday, Peter Porker, and Hobie) you were quick to realize that Miles was sent to Earth-42. The group agreed that they should rendezvous with Gwen, but were reluctant at your decision to go to Earth-1610 as a distraction for Miguel.

“What do you think Miguel’s going to say after seeing you’re going against him?” Peter B. asks as you both stand before a portal to Earth-1610. The night sky was cold and you were jealous of Peter’s robe. Your eyes softened as you looked at Mayday looking up at you curiously. You booped her nose and it made her giggle.

“Well, I’m about to find out.”

-

It wasn’t hard to find Miguel. Looming across Miles’ house, scanning if Miles made it home. Silently landing behind him, your heart ached as you stared at his back. It doesn’t even feel like it’s your Miguel anymore. It’s almost as if he’s out of your reach, that no matter what you’ll say will go right through him.

Shakily you called out, “You know he’s not here.” You approached him slowly until there was a reasonable distance between the two of you. The rain pattered on your body as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. You were shaking from nervousness, sadness, and the cold rain.

“I know. I was waiting for you.” Miguel turned to face you. His mask came off, his eyes bore into yours and you swear you could feel your heart drop to your stomach. You took your mask off and threw it in front of him. He looked at your discarded mask before looking at you in confusion.

“I’m sorry it had to end this way, Miguel.” Your voice softly said, getting in a fighting stance. You knew you had to help Miles. You would do anything to help if it were anyone in that situation. You owe it to your own father to help save everyone, to help save someone’s father. Growing up without one was one of the hardest things you ever went through. You didn’t want that for anyone else.

“So, you’re ending everything we went through for a kid?” He scoffed as he approached you, You were quick to back up to maintain the distance you guys had.

“Miguel, that is the point! He is just a kid!” You exclaimed. Miguel rolled his eyes and replied, “A kid who knows nothing about the damage he is causing!”

“It was your fault! You didn’t have to create the Spider-Society or replace someone’s identity! Isn’t that the very reason that universe collapsed!?” You yelled, leaning towards him as he looked at you in shock. “That you willingly replaced someone, and continued to do so? That your actions were the very reason that everyone died in that universe?” Miguel could only look at you as his eyes turned scarlet. You knew he was seething with anger.

“And that you, Jess, and Ben, of all people,” You scoffed as you glared at him. “Have the nerve to tell Miles that he doesn’t belong. When the three of you were never bit, right?” You finished. “Oh and your ‘canon theory’ is bullshit. What if that Spider-Person isn’t close to a police captain or doesn’t have an uncle who needs to die? What then?” Honestly, you were shocked at how much you had told him. Truth be told, the things you said were things you kept to yourself for months.

Miguel didn’t know what to say, but he knew you were right. His supposed theory was only based off of most Spider-People, but it doesn’t guarantee that those events happen to every single one. To him, it felt like an attack on him and his ego. That you questioned his every move despite those actions were done to protect you. Because he can’t risk losing you.

-

The next thing you knew, Miguel launched at you. Thankfully, you had your ‘spidey-senses’ and were quick to dodge him. Before you knew Miguel would rather die than hurt you himself. But when he saw your bruised and bloodied body on the rooftop, he finally realized that he let the anger get the best of him.

“You lost me, Miguel.” Those were your final words before you slipped into unconsciousness. He brought you back to the Spider-Society to get you proper medical attention before he had to leave to hunt Miles. Miguel took your left hand and slipped on the promise ring on your ring finger. He gave the back of your hand a kiss.

“I hope you forgive me, mi amor. I’m sorry.”

[writingonleaves]

it's so hard to watch everything i want (everything i was spinning down the drain) - trevor zegras

pairing: trevor zegras x original female character

warnings: swearing, angst-ish, mentions of cheating (not between the two main characters), self-loathing, fluff

based on: "bleach" by 5 seconds of summer + "the archer" by taylor swift. title from "bleach"

word count: 15.6k

author's note: tried my hand at writing trevor's pov and it was Hard. this one means a lot to me personally so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! takes place at least five ish years from now so future fic alert!! trevor is finally employed again and that motivated me to finish this LOL

*****

Trevor Zegras is good at a lot of things. Remembering names and faces is at the top of the list.

It kinda makes sense. He’s been meeting and shaking hands with people ever since he was a teenager, most of them wanting something from him in one way shape or form. It’s not completely a bad thing. He wouldn’t have gotten this far without knowing who he was talking to. 

So that’s why it’s such a surprise that it took him a whole damn hour to figure out why the wedding planner for Jack and Amelie’s wedding looked so familiar. Isabelle, she introduced herself as, and he keeps racking his mind to see if he knows an Isabelle, but he comes up empty.

As a groomsman, Trevor was expected to come to the venue earlier. He didn’t have to come a whole week earlier, but he had nothing else going on and the wedding’s in Michigan, so it wasn’t completely inconvenient for him. He just crashed at Jack and Quinn’s, to which the latter rolled his eyes at. But the soon-to-be-married couple were thrilled that he was coming early so they could put him to work, and he was more than happy to help out. 

It’s halfway through assembling floral centerpieces when he shoots his head up to the wedding planner across from him. “Belle Holloway?”

Belle looks up with a small smile. “Been a long time since anyone’s called me that.”

“Holy shit. I knew you looked familiar. It’s been so long.”

“Z, are you bothering Isabelle?” Jack calls out from another table. “Please don’t scare her away. She’s been our lifesaver the last year.”

Belle chuckles. “You don’t need to worry, Jack.”

“Yeah, Hughesy. Belle and I go way back.”

Amelie is passing by and hears that comment, raising her eyebrows. “You two know each other?”

“We grew up in the same town,” Belle explains, tying a ribbon around a bunch of flowers. “My brother was in Trevor’s grade in school. They played hockey together for a bit before Trevor got too good and left.”

“Belle was probably the smartest girl in school,” Trevor adds with a hint of pride in his tone. “Can’t say the same about her brother. Where did you end up going to college?”

“University of Michigan.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jack smirk. Weirdo. He literally didn’t even go to Michigan. 

Trevor whistles. “Still smart. Where is Connor these days? He went to UConn, right?”

“Yup. He’s with his wife in Chicago now. Doing something with finance.”

Trevor makes a mental note to reach out to his old friend the next time he’s in Chicago. “And little Lily?”

Belle chuckles. “Not so little anymore. She graduated from Parsons last year and works at Michael Kors as a designer.”

Trevor smiles knowingly. “Guess her styling Connor all those years paid off, eh?”

“Guess so.”

(Amelie and Jack are at another table working on centerpieces, overhearing this conversation. They give each other a knowing look as they keep eavesdropping. This is why Belle didn’t seem surprised during their initial consultation when they had to explain Jack’s hockey schedule and why he wouldn’t be able to adhere to the traditional timeline if he wanted to be at all the appointments. Little did they know, she already knew someone in the NHL)

She then asks about his family, because while Trevor was always her brother’s friend, their parents got to know each other pretty well to the point where they would go over to each other’s for dinner enough for her to remember. Trevor talks about how Griffin is off doing God knows what in Florida but having a good time at his sports marketing job and how Ava, who’s the same age as Lily, graduated from Elon and is now in the Philly area as a nurse. 

They’re now moving pots of flowers around as they venture into their lives post-grad. “So have you been in Michigan this whole time?” Trevor asks.

“Yeah, though I had a brief stint in Santa Ana. This wedding is my last one here, actually, so a fun one to end on.”

Trevor follows her eye-line at the soon-to-be-newlyweds, who are now decorating the photo station but more fucking around then decorating. Amelie’s slapping Jack’s shoulder as he laughs loudly. Trevor smiles at the sight. “They’re great, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Belle admits. “I’ve worked with a lot of couples, but they’re one of my favorites. From the fact that they’re organized and flexible and so kind and understanding to the fact that they seem to be super in love with each other.”

“You said this is your last wedding here?” Belle nods. “Where you off to next?”

Trevor notices her stiffening a bit, and he immediately wants to take the question back. But the discomfort leaves as fast as it came. “Not sure. Gonna do some last minute packing up and then go home to New York next week to reset and figure it out from there. Connor offered his guest room in Chicago so I might take that. I have some friends that are dispersed around the country as well.” She shakes her head and switches topics and he makes a mental note of her vague answer. “Enough about me. How about you, Mr. NHL? Not gonna lie, when I saw Jack’s list of groomsmen, I had to brace myself mentally when I saw your name.”

“Brace yourself? What does that mean?”

Belle chuckles and his smile widens at the sound. “It’s been awhile, but not everything is different. I’m sure you’re still the life of the party everywhere you go, which means you’re at high risk of intruding on my meticulous plans on the day. Mind grabbing those shears for me next to you?”

He passes her the shears, standing up straight. “Jack’s conned you. He is way worse than I am.”

“Jack is also the groom so he knows that he has to listen to what I say if he wants things to go well,” Belle says. “How have you been, though? Has Anaheim been treating you well?”

“It has. The team’s great. The weather’s great. The beach is right there. Very different from Bedford.”

“Congrats on a great season. The playoff run was fun to watch.”

His eyebrow shoots up. “You watched?”

She shrugs a bit sheepishly. “If a game is on, I’ll usually watch. It’s like white noise to me now, after going to Connor’s, and I guess your games growing up. I went to a couple of Ducks games during the two years I lived in Cali.”

“And you didn’t reach out?”

She wipes her hands on her jeans. “I…you were always more Connor’s friend than mine. Didn’t want it to be weird.”

“It wouldn’t have been,” he assures. “Next time, let me know and I’ll get you tickets. You still have my number?”

“I do.”

“Perfect,” Amelie then comes up and seems like she has a question. “I’ll let you ladies be. Where’s your fiance?” He asks the bride-to-be.

“Quinn just arrived, so probably making sure the bar is all good, since you guys have your weird ass drink preferences,” Amelie says. “We should be almost done here though. Just have a couple last questions for Belle and then we’ll head back.”

Trevor snorts. “Typical. I’ll go find them.” He turns back to Belle with a grin. “Good to see you, Belle. Don’t be a stranger.”

Belle smiles. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior.” Trevor promises, before walking away. 

When things finally settle down a couple of hours later and he settles into one of the guest rooms for the night, he reflects back to his own childhood and memories of Isabelle Holloway, or Belle, as everyone used to call her. Brunette and green-eyed, Belle was decently quiet compared to him and Connor’s wild teenage boy energy, but she was talkative with her own friends and Trevor’s parents adored her. She loved Taylor Swift, and if Trevor looked into it deeper, her blasting her music around all the time probably got Trevor to like it purely through osmosis. She was always clean, happy to do the dishes and Trevor often caught her organizing the living room and basement without being asked. She was incredibly smart, always had her homework done before hanging out with her friends and seemed to always ace her classes with minimal difficulty. Even when Connor gave her shit just because he was the oldest sibling, she rarely dished it back. That kindness extended to all of Connor’s friends as well, including Trevor, even when they were loud and playing video games when she came home from school. Every memory he has of Connor growing up, Belle’s right around the corner.

Belle Holloway had always been too good to them. It’s a no-brainer that her profession is based on giving something to others.

He still follows Connor on Instagram, so he goes to his old friend’s page to find his sister’s page. She’s private, but he doesn’t hesitate on requesting her account. He goes to take a shower and brush his teeth and when he comes back to his phone, he’s delighted to see that she’s accepted his follow request. 

Thus begins his stalking. 

There’s not many posts to stalk — she only has 47 — but it does span the amount of years he lost touch with the Holloways. There are posts from her later high school years when Trevor had already left Bedford, and he smiles to himself when he sees the post from her high school graduation, with Connor, Belle and Lily all cheesing in one photo. There are various posts from her college years — she must’ve spent a semester or a summer abroad in Barcelona — mixed with some various travels from Yellowstone to Sweden to Miami. Then it gets less frequent after she graduates college, posts of the Michigan landscape, posts with friends on a night out, at a friend’s wedding, the rare photos of just herself. She notices there’s a guy in some of those posts, but no one’s tagged and the caption doesn’t reveal anything, so he figures it must be a friend or ex-boyfriend of some sort. 

One thing that hasn’t changed much, he thinks, is how beautiful she is. As he scrolls on her Instagram and thinks back to seeing her earlier today, he kinda can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.

The day of the wedding comes by and it’s an early start for the bridal party. Trevor rolls into the Planterra Conservatory at 8:47 a.m. with coffees for himself, Quinn, Luke and Jack while Cole had gotten coffees for himself, Nico and Alex earlier. The suits are already hung up by the window of the spacious room and beers have already been opened. 

“Starting off early, eh?” He sets down the coffees on the table. 

“It’s a big day,” Luke calls out from steaming everyone’s suits.

“That it is,” he stops by the chair Jack is sitting in and gives him a hug. “Congrats, man. You nervous?”

“Nah,” Jack smiles. “More excited than anything.”

Quinn grabs his coffee and sits down. “I stopped by the bridal suite just a few minutes ago. Amelie said the same thing.”

Jack lights up at the mere mention of her. “I’m just anxious to see her, to be honest.”

Belle walks in then, clad in a light green jumpsuit and a tan blazer, with a bright smile on his face. “Oh good, Trevor made it. Everyone all good in here? Do you guys need anything?”

Jack grins. “We’re all good here, Isabelle. Thank you. I’ll holler if we need anything. Promise.”

She shoots the groom a semi-skeptical look before nodding. “Okay. I’ll check back in, in 30 minutes.”

“Do you need any help at all?” Nico asks. 

She shakes her head with a thankful smile. “You all are too kind. I’m good. Michelle and I are manning the floor. She’s kinda doing my job better than I am, when she has her own bridesmaid duties to worry about.”

“Impossible.” Quinn remarks. “You’re fabulous at your job.”

Belle rolls her eyes fondly, and Trevor’s reminded that even though she’s the one running the show, she’s younger than a majority of the bridal party. “Flatterer.” She takes her phone out of her pocket and clicks her tongue. “Alright. I’m out.” She looks at Trevor with a pointed look. “Zegras. You better come find me if anything goes wrong.”

“Why are you entrusting that responsibility onto me?”

“Because I have so many stories about you that I could tell everyone if you don’t listen to me.”

Trevor gasps in mock offense. “Belle, oh Belle! Resorting to blackmail?”

The whole room laughs as she grins. She stops in front of him, a more serious look on her face. “Call me if anything goes wrong?”

“I gotcha.” He assures her with a firm nod and she shoots everyone one last grin before walking out. If his eyes linger on her, no one has to know. 

(Everyone in the room knows. He doesn’t notice them all giving each other knowing smirks)

Jack speaks up first. “Z, if you end up hooking up with my wedding planner, give her a good time at least. She deserves it.”

“Jesus Christ, Jacky.” Trevor groans as everyone cackles. Thankfully for him, they drop it after that. 

The next time he and Belle get to interact is after the ceremony — to which he couldn’t stop smiling watching one of his his long-time best friends marry the girl of his dreams, proudly watching at the front as they exchanged vows to love each other forever — when it’s time for pictures and Belle and the photographer are working together to direct everybody where they need to go. Belle stops directly in front of Trevor and focuses on fixing his boutonniere. Her tongue pokes out as she focuses on making it straight after several attempts. Even amongst a crazy day, he feels a sense of calm surrounding him. 

She huffs. “Why won’t your boutonniere stay still?”

He smiles down at her cheekily. “On my worst behavior.”

She snorts, before softening. “Thank you for earlier.” He knows she’s referencing when there was a minor mix up with the rings right before the ceremony was about to start and Trevor got it under control within 10 minutes. 

“Of course.”

She puts a piece of stray hair back on his head away from his forehead and he feels his heart flutter at her light touch. She smirks a bit. “On your best behavior today, actually. Like you promised.”

“Don’t count on it once the open bar hits.”

She laughs before moving on to fix Luke’s collar and Trevor gets a second to finally take a normal breath.

The next time he spots Belle is well into the reception, when the dance floor is full and the drinks are flowing and everyone is enjoying themselves. She’s nibbling on a slice of cake in the corner, eyes sweeping through the crowd with a small smile on her face

Trevor, who ditched his blazer after ‘Mr. Brightside’ brought the place down at least 7 songs ago, strolls over, hands in his slacks. “Haven’t seen you in a bit, Belle of the Ball.”

Her nose wrinkles. “No one’s called me that since I was 6.”

“A good wedding to end off on?” 

“I think so,” she smiles, staring at Amelie giggling as she pours a bottle of champagne into Jack’s mouth. “You having a good time?”

“The best. And I’ve been to a lot of weddings. You did beautifully.”

Belle waves him off. “All in a day’s work.”

“Do you still have fun at weddings? Since you have to work them?”

“Yes and no,” she admits. ‘Yes, because the end result is always worth it and seeing the happy couple live their day is always worth it. No because now when I go to weddings of my friends and family, it’s hard to turn my work brain off.” 

“Are you allowed to dance at your clients’ weddings?”

“I usually wouldn’t,” she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Make an exception for an old friend? To celebrate your last wedding in Michigan?”

She looks away for a second. “I don’t want to make Jack or Amelie feel weird.”

“Those two couldn’t care less. I’m sure they’d actually encourage it.”

He shoots what he hopes is an encouraging smile as he offers a hand. She looks at him for a couple of seconds before letting him help her up. 

It’s perfect timing as ‘Lover’ by Taylor Swift comes on and the once rowdy floor is calmer, with couples dancing with each other or families dancing with their kids. It’s a dance floor filled with love.

He guides Belle to put her arms around his neck as he carefully places his on her waist. 

“I told Connor about seeing you again.” She starts

“Oh yeah? What did he say?”

“He told me to tell you to hit him up the next time you’re in Chicago.”

“Was already planning on it.”

“He also said and I quote ‘if the next thing I hear is that Zegras is dating my sister, I will kill him.’” Trevor tips his head back in laughter as Belle chuckles. “He’s lucky I never dated any of his friends. He had some cute ones.”

“Was I one of them?”

“Nice try. I’m not blowing smoke up your ass, Trevor.” She says dryly. “Besides, I was kinda kidding. It’s not like you or any of his friends would’ve gone for me anyways.”

Now he’s confused. “What?” He thinks she’s joking, but from her face he realizes she’s not. “You do know that like, half of the hockey team had a crush on you, right?” She tips her head back in laughter as he squeezes her waist. “I’m not kidding. It annoyed Connor to no end.”

She snorts. “There’s no way.”

“Up to you whether to believe it or not. Just know that I never lie, Belle.”

She hums, and the way she’s looking at him makes his hands start sweating. He hopes she can’t feel it through her jumpsuit. “What you’ve done with your hockey career and everything, it’s really cool. I’m happy for you, Trevor. You deserve it.”

And he’s heard so many compliments about his career throughout his whole career, but it’s different coming from someone from his hometown. Someone who knew him before he left and knew what he was like before the NHL — before his days at the NTDP, even. Someone who has nothing to gain from complimenting him. 

“Thank you, Belle. That-that means a lot coming from you.”

She just smiles back before they fall into a comfortable silence and keep dancing. He twirls her and does an exaggerated dip that has her giggling. They keep dancing and dancing, even as the songs change tempo.

(Amelie, who’s resting her feet right by the dance floor, nudges Jack and gives him a look. She picks up a disposable camera and points it at them, before taking her phone and also taking a picture. She has an inkling that Trevor and Isabelle may want these someday)

“What are you up to before the season starts?” 

He shrugs. “I’m not sure, actually. I just need to be back in Anaheim for pre-season in three weeks.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Quinn and Jack have been letting me crash at their place. Don’t have an exact date of when I’m leaving yet.”

Belle snorts, though it’s paired with a smile that seems fond. “Still the same, huh, Trev?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your spontaneity used to stress my parents out, even back then. The reason they still liked you is because you could charm your way out of it.”

“I stressed Kurt and Susan out?” He says, actually worried.

“Oh, hush. It’s not that deep. My dad loves watching you play. There’s been many a family call where I hear a Ducks game on in the background. Unless it’s against the Rangers, of course, in which you don’t matter.”

“To be expected,” Trevor says, heart lifting at the fact that two people who used to drive him around so much still support him, even from afar. “Do they still live in Bedford?”

“Yup. Though with the amount of time my dad spends in White Plains golfing, you’d think they lived there now. He’s loving retirement, clearly.”

Trevor laughs. “I’ll have to hit up Kurt when I’m back for a couple rounds. Does Susan still make the best apple pie?”

“Yup. And everyone still raves about it when she brings it to parties.” 

“You think she’d make me a slice?”

“She’d bake you three pies and send you home with them to Julie and Gary.”

He grins. “Never knew little Belle was this sassy.”

“Because you wasted all your time with Connor.” She shoots back with a laugh. 

(Honestly, he thinks as he twirls her again, maybe she’s right. Who knows what could’ve been if he had seen Belle as more than just Connor’s quieter, talented sister.)

“You said you’re leaving next week?”

“Yeah. Just need to sort out some boxes to move to storage before driving back to New York.”

“You’re driving all the way back to Bedford?”

She laughs at his slight disbelief. “Well, yeah. It’s only a 10 hour drive.”

Suddenly, an idea pops into Trevor’s head, and before he can overthink it, he blurts it out. “What if I came with you?” She blinks, and he forges on. “I mean, I don’t have much going on and it’d be nice to go home before pre-season. I’ll help you load your car and pay for your gas and meals and-”

“Trevor, I-are you sure? You don’t have to…we literally just reconnected after not seeing each other for over a decade.”

“I know I don’t have to do anything,” he says, now trying everything to convince her. “If I’m overstepping, you can tell me and I’ll immediately lay off. But it just seems like…maybe some company could be nice. And we could switch off driving too.”

She bites her lip and tilts her head curiously, trying to find something in his face. It only took her a couple of seconds to chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but sure. Why not? Come join me on my drive back home.”

He lights up, grinning widely. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“When are you planning on leaving?”

“Monday.”

In two days. Perfect.

“This is gonna be so fun. Just you wait.”

“I don’t doubt it. Fun seems to always follow you wherever you go.”

He has to let her go, since she has some last things to do as the wedding planner. He kisses her cheek quickly before he leaves the reception, to which Quinn raises an eyebrow at but doesn’t say anything. The next morning, during the quick and informal thank you breakfast for the bridal party at a nearby, fancy-ish brunch place, Jack throws him under the bus (“Saw you getting pretty comfortable with Isabelle yesterday,”) and he reveals their plan for the next day. 

It might be one of the most TV show worthy reactions from every single person, bridesmaid and groomsmen. Luke chokes on his mimosa, Quinn shakes his head, Alex blinks, Nico has a shit-eating grin on his face, Jack smirks and Cole lets out a bark of laughter. The girls have all been filled in and equally have similar reactions. Amelie immediately says “you’re joking,” Michelle, at the same time as Amelie, says “ain’t no way,” Kaia, like Alex, just blinks. Nicole and Sarah’s jaws drop wide open, Annemarie starts cackling and Isla drops her fork. 

“What?” Trevor responds, munching on his bacon. “Why all the reactions?”

“Z, are you sure about this?” Quinn asks, ever the voice of reason.

“Yes? It’s just a drive. Everyone needs a car buddy for that long of a drive. Gives me an excuse to go home too.”

“Trevor,” Amelie starts. “I think we’re all just a bit confused because this is…not that we don’t like Isabelle! She’s wonderful. But this just seems out of the blue.”

Jack snorts. “There’s nothing confusing about this at all.” Everyone, Trevor included, turns to look at the new groom, who just shrugs while taking a sip of his coffee. “He likes her.”

“For real?”

“Oh my.”

“Okay, Z! Atta boy.”

“Haven’t you not seen her for like, 10 years?”

“Have you liked her this whole time?”

“That’s crazy.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Trevor says above everyone’s exclamations. He waits until everyone’s settled. “I don’t like her. Not like that, at least. She’s just…I don’t know. It was good to see her again after so long. It felt like going back to old times. Simpler times.”

“It’s giving childhood friends to lovers,” Michelle says, making everyone laugh. Trevor rolls his eyes again and the subject is dropped. 

Jack volunteers to drive Trevor to Belle’s before him and Amelie’s flight to Greece tonight for their honeymoon. He doesn’t leave Quinn and Jack’s place without chirps from every single person still there, gathering their things and cleaning up. He makes sure to leave with giving Amelie a tight hug and a fond kiss on her cheek before playfully glaring at everyone else as he leaves.

He climbs into the passenger seat. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“We’ve known each other since we were 16, Z.” Jack says, starting the car. “Nothing you do fazes me anymore.”

Trevor just hums, staring at one of his dearest friends who is now a husband. “Congrats, Jacky. I know I’ve said it a lot recently, but I’m really happy for you.”

A small smile spreads across Jack’s face, as he automatically goes to touch his wedding ring. “Thanks, man.” Silence falls between them. “Did you ever, even just the slightest, like Isabelle as more than a friend? And be honest with me.”

“No,” Trevor replies honestly. “I always knew she was kind and thoughtful, but she was always just Connor’s little sister and kept to herself and her own friends most of the time.”

“And now? Do you like her now?”

“I don’t know,” Trevor replies honestly. If Jack is shocked, he doesn’t show it. Trevor clears his throat, “We haven’t seen each other in over 10 years. I don’t know her enough anymore to know if I like her.”

Jack just hums. “Look, I…”

“You what?” Silence. “Jack.”

“Amelie and I got pretty close with Isabelle beyond her being our wedding planner. Maybe it’s because she’s close to our age or just easy to get along with. I think…she never told us directly, but I think something happened, Z.”

“What do you mean something happened?”

“Well, I wasn’t there, but her and Amelie went out for casual drinks once to plan some stuff out and Amelie was, you know, casually asking her about relationships and if she ever dreamed of her own wedding, and she got super…not defensive. But Amelie said it was like a switch turned on. All she said is that at some point she did, but she’s not at that point of her life anymore, and then she immediately changed the topic. It’s none of my business, I get that, but she’s also my friend, Z. Just…look out for her, okay?”

“Of course I will,” Trevor promises as Jack slows down in front of Belle’s house. They both climb out of the car and Trevor grabs his backpack, duffle and garment bag from the backseat.

“Thanks for driving.” Trevor embraces his friend in a tight hug.

“Anytime,” Jack says. “Thanks for everything this last week. And just in general. I love you.”

“Love you too, man. Have fun on your honeymoon.”

Jack smiles. “Thank you. You two drive safe, eh? Let Amelie and I know when you're back in New York.”

Trevor just nods, before walking up to the front door and knocking. Within seconds, Belle opens the door with a wide smile. She looks beyond Trevor’s shoulder and waves at Jack as he drives away.

“Hi!”

Trevor can’t help but smile at her energy. It’s infectious. “Hey, Belle. Are you sure you don’t mind letting me crash for the night? I can always get Quinn to come get me later.”

She opens the door wider to let him in. “It’s not a bother at all. As long as you’re good with sleeping on the floor.” He just waves her off, setting his duffle and backpack down and looking around at the barren household. “I would give you a tour, but there’s really not much to see anymore.”

“You need any help?”

She smiles at him sweetly. “I have some boxes in the garage that you could help me move?”

He’s eager to help, until he lifts the first box, grunting about how heavy it is. Belle just chuckles, because why else had she not moved these in her car yet? If she has a professional hockey player volunteering to help her move, then she might as well put him to use, right? Trevor just rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but let a smile peek through at hearing Belle’s giggles. Once the car is packed (it takes longer than usual, as they stand out in the driveway and in the garage inbetween moving, chirping at each other and catching up), they realize it’s getting close to dinner time especially if they want to get an early start in the morning. Trevor asks what she wants to have (“as your last night living in the state of Michigan”) and she lights up, dialing up the place of her favorite Asian fusion takeout place. Trevor tries to hand over his card but she smacks it out of his hand, glaring at him while still on the phone. 

It’s a nice day outside, so they decide to venture out and have dinner on the front porch that she’s going to miss very much, leaning their backs against the panels of the house, sitting a comfortable 4 feet apart, Trevor’s knees pulled up and Belle with her legs outstretched and ankles crossed. He watches as she looks out at the sunset painting the quiet residential street, which is even more stunning than usual. If you listen closely, you can hear the sounds of kids gleefully screaming and dogs barking here and there. For a moment, Trevor feels like he’s intruding as Belle continues staring out, lost in her own world. Her focus only shifts a few minutes later when a car rolls up with their take out, as she jumps up and accepts the food with a gracious smile.

He helps her open boxes and suddenly there’s a generous spread of food between them as they start eating.

Trevor breaks the silence. “You never told me why.”

“Why what?”

“Why you’re leaving Michigan.”

She’s in the middle of stuffing a crab rangoon in her mouth. She chews and swallows for a couple of seconds. “It’s a long story.”

“I have nothing but time if you want to share.”

“I lied. It’s not really a long story. Just a sad one. That’s just my go-to when people ask.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. Ever. But you also don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

She lets out a deep sigh. “I was supposed to get married earlier this year.”

He blinks. Once. twice. And he’s speechless for once in his life. She barrels on. 

“Nate and I…I met him at UMich my junior year. I had full plans to leave Michigan right after college. Not that I don’t love it here, but I just wanted to go home. But he got an offer here after graduation and I found a gig working for a great wedding planner so I stayed. And it was good. The brief stint in Santa Ana I mentioned was because of his job, so we moved out there. But I really didn’t mind. I actually really enjoyed California.” She picks at her fingernails, “He proposed to me the beginning of last year, a week before we were gonna move back to Michigan. And I was happy. Really happy. So many years I had been planning other people’s weddings and I was finally going to have my own with someone I loved.”

“Belle, you don’t have to-”

She waves him off. “The day of our cake tasting, we were running late and he was in the shower and I grabbed his phone to put in my bag. And there was a text that flashed on my lock screen. ‘Missed you, baby. See you tonight’ and that was it. He had been cheating on me for almost a year. I moved out that night and crashed with a friend for a few weeks before finding this place. Grabbed my shit when I knew he was gone during the day at work. Canceled all of the deposits. Gave the ring back.” She chuckles, albeit sadly. “Funny. The week after I found out, I had my first consultation with Amelie and Jack and honestly, throwing myself into their wedding planning may have saved me, not that they know that. Anyways, yeah. That’s why I’m leaving Michigan. I honestly would’ve done it sooner but I had to stick it out for those two. They deserved it.”

Trevor’s silent for a couple more moments. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“If we see him out and about, point him out so I can kick his ass.”

Her chuckle comes out broken but genuine. “Connor was real close when I told him. I was afraid he’d just start driving here. So you’d have to get behind him in line.”

“Gladly,” he scoots closer to her and offers an arm. She collapses into his side. “God, Belle. I’m so sorry. No one deserves that, least of all you.”

She sniffles. “It’s okay.”

“No, Belle. It’s not okay. What an asshole.” He can feel tears on his shirt and he starts rubbing her back in soothing circles. “You deserve someone to love you just as much as you love them. Someone to put you above all, who views your love and presence as a privilege. Because it is a privilege. I would know.”

She snorts, still sniffling. “You made fun of me all the time when we were younger.”

“Nah ah ah. Connor did. I didn’t. And that doesn’t mean I didn’t know how lovely you were even back then. Why do you think Connor and I were so against you going on a date with that guy…what was his name?”

“Trent.”

“Yeah. Trent. First of all, just sounds like a douchebag.”

“And Trevor is so much better?”

“Second, because he was an ass. We didn’t terrorize you about it just because. We terrorized you about it because we knew he had cheated on his ex-girlfriend.”

“Maybe if you had ever met Nate, you could’ve sniffed out his bullshit right away. Took me around 6 years to figure it out.”

“You’ve always had good judgment, Belle. No need to blame yourself when you did nothing wrong.”

“Did I though?” She whispers. “Do nothing wrong, I mean. What if-what if I was working too much or I wasn’t attentive enough or I didn’t-”

Trevor shakes his head adamantly. “Belle, no. Stop. Absolutely not. You did enough. You were enough. I’m not gonna sit here and let you pick apart yourself unfairly. You stayed in Michigan for him. You moved to Santa Ana for him. You gave all you had. And he’s the one who fucked it all up. That’s not on you.”

She signs, a bit defeated but musters a small smile. “Thanks, Trevor.”

“Of course.” He stuffs a piece of sushi in his mouth.

She shoots him a small smile that has him swallowing roughly. “Nonetheless, I’m really happy we ran into each other. It’s been nice to have a slice of home back in my life again.”

Trevor just smiles, staring into her warm eyes. “Me too.”

…..

It’s hour two into the 10 hour drive when she breeches the subject again. 

“Connor never liked him.” Trevor turns to look at Belle, who has one hand on the wheel casually. He automatically turns the music down as she continues. “He tried to get along with him, for my sake. But Connor was never sold. I always thought it was just him being a protective older brother. When I asked why, he always just gave some vague answer. Didn’t like his vibe, or whatever. It’s been hard not to agonize over now. If I should’ve just listened to him from the start.” Trevor doesn’t know what to say, but just faces her fully so she knows that he’s listening. She lets out a heavy breath as she puts her sunglasses atop her head. “I never asked. How’s your love life?”

Trevor snorts and the playfulness is back in the air again. “Well, not married like Connor is. I’ve had a couple things here or there. Clearly nothing that’s stuck.”

“Any particular reason why?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling a bit small even though he knows that’s not her intention whatsoever. “I think when people date me, they don’t necessarily want all of me, you know? They want the jokester and the charmer. They don’t want the shifts in mood or the obsession of figuring out why I’m in a scoring drought or the insecurities.”

Belle hums sympathetically. “I think you just haven’t found the right one yet.”

“You sound like Quinn.”

She laughs. “From the small amount of interactions I’ve had with him, I’d say that sounds pretty on brand.” She shrugs. “You have time though. We all do. If that’s something you even want.”

“What? Marriage?”

“Yeah.”

“I do, I think. Want that, I mean. It���s just…hard. And scary. The thought of giving someone all of you? That’s giving them a lot of power.”

“I get it,” she says. “God, I really get that.”

“Is marriage not something you want anymore?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. I think I still do. It’s just…it’s still too soon, you know? And I don’t know if I have the energy to, like you said, give someone all of me again. I got hurt once. I don’t know if I can afford that again.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re one of the best people I’ve ever known. So anybody would be lucky to love you.”

And shit, that kinda slipped out. His heart starts racing as she looks at him briefly in surprise. “That’s…that’s very kind of you, Trevor. Probably too big of a compliment.”

“Not too big of a compliment,” he automatically responds, digging himself into a deeper hole that he can’t even decipher. If he thinks about it too hard, he would realize that this is the most open he’s been with someone outside of his tight circle in awhile. And a week ago, she hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“You know, you were my favorite out of Connor’s friends back then.” 

A pang of satisfaction touches his heart and he’s grinning. “Yeah?”

Belle rolls her eyes at his slight smugness. “Don’t let that get to your head.”

“Too late.”

“I don’t know. I just..liked how friendly you were to everyone you encountered. I don’t think there was ever a time when you came over and didn’t strike up a conversation with me. Even though I was quiet and shy, you still always treated me like a person.”

“I feel like that’s the bare minimum, no?”

She shrugs. “Now that we’re in our late twenties, sure. But back when we were 12, 13 years old? You’d be surprised.” 

He watches her drum her fingers against the steering wheel, the patterned bandana in her ponytail swinging with the wind, wispies from her ponytail framing her face. If he looks hard enough, he can see 10 year old Belle sitting on the sofa in the Holloway’s living room, a sketchbook on her lap and a glass of apple juice next to her. If he listens hard enough, he can hear her humming to ‘Love Story’ as he leaves Connor’s room to walk past her room in the hallway to the bathroom. Maybe he can even smell her vanilla body spray that used to always filter out of her room if he breathes in deeply enough. 

All he can see and hear and feel is his childhood self. Looking at her makes him feel blissfully young, a bit naive and incredibly out of his depth. 

She casts him a casual glance. “You good?”

Trevor grins easily. “Never better.” 

It’s hour five after stopping for lunch. Trevor’s behind the wheel now and her legs are up on the seat with her as she stares out the window, her chin on her knees. He has an urge to put a hand on her knee. To comfort her or to let her know that he’s there, he doesn’t know. But he refrains. 

“Belle?”

“Hm?” 

“Can I ask you a question?”

She turns to face him, chin still on her knees. “Should I be nervous?”

He snorts. “No. I’m just a dumb hockey player. What could I possibly say that would catch you off guard?”

“You’re not dumb. And plenty. You knew me when I was 13 and in my awkward phase. That’s longer than most of the people I’ve seen in the last five years. What’s your question?”

Okay, Trevor can dissect all of that later. ““Are you going to miss Michigan?”

She lets out a thoughtful hum. “I’ll miss parts of it. I loved going to college at Michigan, made a lot of friends from college and work. And I grew up a lot here. Not to mention, Michigan’s almost unfairly beautiful. I’ll also weirdly miss my porch a lot. But also, it’s tough driving around with thoughts of Nate at every corner. Because he’s present in practically all the memories I have here. So I’m glad I’m leaving because I know I need to.” He turns to her quickly and sees her lip quiver. Almost as if he had imagined it, she offers a small smirk. “That’s the question you were so afraid to ask me?”

He sputters out a laugh. “What does that mean?” He asks defensively. 

She shakes out her hair to redo her ponytail. "You never had a problem asking anything to anyone back in the day.”

“Things change.”

She pauses for a split second before tying up her hair and looking at him. “They do. I’m sorry for assuming they don’t.”

Hour eight and they’ve been in a comfortable silence for a bit now. One can only talk for so long, even someone as chatty as Trevor. Belle’s behind the wheel again and her phone is plugged in playing music. The playlist he had put on initially has cycled through and without asking, he plugged her phone in and shuffled a random playlist of hers.

He vaguely recognizes Taylor Swift’s voice and looks to see what song it is. ‘The Archer.’ His ears perk up as he listens to her softly sing along, and then, he’s actually listening to the words. 

Belle’s eyebrows are pinched together as she sings about people seeing right through her and how all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put her together again. He wants to offer her a hand to squeeze, a touch for support, but he doesn’t. 

He clears his throat. “So. Santa Ana. What was your favorite part?”

She automatically grins. “All of it? I don’t know. I liked my job. I liked the area. I liked the weather. It felt like a breath of fresh air, in a way.”

“Would you consider moving back?”

“Maybe. I honestly haven’t really thought of anything but leaving Michigan recently.”

He stops asking her questions. He doesn’t want to keep bringing up the pain. 

By the time she rolls into the driveway of Trevor’s childhood home, it’s almost 8 pm. Almost as soon as she kills the engine, the front door opens, revealing both his parents. Julie runs out, only barely letting Belle step out of the car before throwing her arms around her. He smiles fondly as his mother puts her hands on Belle’s cheeks as the younger woman chuckles, before turning to Gary and giving him a quick hug as well. Trevor drags his stuff out of the trunk and shuts it, smiling to himself as he listens to his mother invite Belle and her parents over for dinner the next night and watching Belle nod enthusiastically. 

She then turns to him and it feels like someone has reached into his heart and punched it. She smiles. “Thanks for the company.”

He puts down his duffle and scoops her into a tight hug, only letting her go after giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Anytime. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

(And if he catches his mom giving him an inquisitive look as they all watch Belle back out of the driveway, he doesn’t say anything)

Tomorrow comes and Trevor’s content with mostly being lazy, adjusting to being home and around his parents. It feels weird to be in these walls without Griffin and Ava, but then again, he’s sure it’s one-sided. He moved away when he was so young, leaving behind his supportive parents and his even-more-supportive siblings. They got used to Trevor not being around. 

He’s recapping Jack’s wedding to his father on the patio while his mom is preparing pies in preparation for the Holloways, the mouthwatering smell filtering through the screen door. He smiles as he recalls the week leading up when he went early and was roped into helping out, how beautiful Amelie looked and how he had never seen Jack that excited and happy before, not when he was drafted first overall, not when he won the Eastern Conference Final. He talks about how their vows made Trevor tear up and just how fun it was to celebrate two people he loves. He talks about reconnecting with Belle and briefly brushes over their drive back. He gives vague answers when his parents — mostly his mom — try to pry more, partially because it’s so much that he’s still trying to decipher it himself and partially because some of it isn’t his place to tell. 

An hour later, he can’t help but beam as Belle’s parents greet him similarly to how his greeted Belle the day before. He helps Susan bring in the pasta salad and shakes Kurt’s hand, his slight nerves settling as the first thing Kurt says is how proud of Trevor he is. Belle is the last one who walks through the door, listening to the moms talking animatedly in her ear. She’s wearing a pink floral maxi dress with a denim jacket over her shoulders and she’s glowing. He itches to give her a hug but just settles for a grin instead before turning his full attention to Kurt. 

It’s when the parents are filtering outside does he get a chance to say hello to her as they both hang back in the kitchen. She bumps her hip with his. “Long time no see.”

He pulls her into a side hug. “Hilarious. Want anything to drink before heading out there?”

She eyes the few bottles of wine in the mini wine cabinet. “White wine if it’s not too much of a hassle?”

He opens the fridge and grabs a wine glass. “My mom put a bottle in the fridge earlier. It’s her favorite, so if it’s bad, it’s not my fault.” She takes the glass from him graciously and he grabs a bottle of beer for himself as they both head outside. 

“It’s weird being here without Connor.”

“I was just thinking earlier how it’s weird being here without Griffin and Ava.”

“At least we have each other, right?”

He hums. “Good thing.” She then gets roped into a conversation with his father and he happily takes a backseat, answering when a question is directed towards him but perfectly content in watching her. 

(Julie and Susan, who had never really considered these two as a pair, nudge each other and exchange a few words, watching as Belle laughs while sipping her wine and Trevor just stares at her.

“She was supposed to get married last year. To a guy she met in college.”

Julie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is that right?”

“Yup. Until she caught him cheating.”

Julie sighs. “I wish we could protect our kids from everything that could hurt them.”

“I do too.” Susan watches her daughter wistfully and lovingly. “She’s always thrown herself into work, But especially after the break-up. You have no idea how relieved I was when she told me she was coming home.”

“Does she know where she’s going next?”

“Not that I know of. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t know.”

“She’ll be okay,” Julie says confidently, rubbing her old friend’s shoulder. “I’ve never had any doubt about Belle.”

“But you had doubt in the others?” Susan teases as Julie snorts. “All our kids are doing well for themselves, but you have one who is the definition of achieving their childhood dream.”

Julie sighs thoughtfully, looking at Trevor. “He’s done well for himself, I think.”

“You think?”

Julie just smiles, clinking her glass against Susan’s.)

Meat is grilled, salads are tossed and food is eaten as the sun fades away. Sometime between sunset and when the sky becomes black, the fireplace is lit and the outdoor lamps are turned on. Trevor switched to water after his second beer, liver still trying to recover from the wedding festivities. 

Trevor finds Belle sitting by the edge of the pool with her feet dipped in, sandals to the side of her. Her hands are folded on her lap as she stares down, occasionally kicking her feet a bit to make the water ripple. He clears his throat so he doesn’t startle her. She looks up and her lips quirk up at seeing him, but they soon fall, as she turns back to the water and tilts her head to the side, taking a deep breath. 

Trevor licks his dry lips. “Come with me?”

“Where are we going?” She asks, accepting the hand he offers as she gets up and slips on her shoes, adjusting her dress. 

“You’ll see. We won’t be long.” Wordlessly, they go around the side of the house to go to the driveway. He catches his mom’s eye and just offers a small smile. Julie’s eyes flicker between him and Belle before she nods. Belle doesn’t say anything as Julie tosses her son the keys to her car, letting Trevor lightly tug her along by loosely intertwining their hands. He opens the passenger door for her and she gives him a grateful look as she slips in. 

He hasn’t been to his intended destination in at least five years, but he knows the route all the same, easily driving the seven minutes. He sneaks a glance or two at Belle as the minimal streetlights light her face aglow for a few seconds at a time. Before he overthinks it, he reaches out and grabs her hand gently, waiting for her to pull away. She doesn’t, instead lacing her hand with his and squeezing once. 

“I haven’t been here since I was in high school,” Belle says as Trevor kills the engine, the tranquility of the small lake and lookout everyone who grew up in Bedford called “Pink Sun” due to the incredibly beautiful sunsets one could see if they were lucky, no one knowing that it’s actual government name was. He’s almost confident that this specific lookout is private property, due to the string lights adorning the trees meticulously that seem to always be on, but whoever owns the property clearly doesn’t care. He would come in the summers from time to time with friends like Connor after he moved away for hockey, but he knows he didn’t experience it the same way as others did.

“Which tree did you have sex under?” Trevor asks as they get out of the car and open the trunk. He quickly fluffs up the two pillows his mom has in the car at all times and pulls the blanket over them both as they get comfortable.

She chuckles and Trevor immediately smiles at the sound. “Gross.”

“What? Isn’t that what people did?” She just lightly slaps him before they both fall into a comfortable silence again. She takes her hand from under the blanket and reaches out to find Trevor’s. He offers his hand immediately. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

She starts sniffling, and when he turns to her, concerned, he sees tears rushing down her face. He immediately wraps his arms around her and maneuvers her so that she’s crying into his chest. He tries to be steady for her shaking body, rubbing her back and muttering sweet nothings to assure that he’s here and she’s not alone. He places a couple of kisses on top of her head without thinking because there’s a split down the middle of his heart that’s widening everytime she whimpers.

She cries. The water ripples. Trevor holds her close. 

…..

The entire time Trevor’s back home, he doesn’t go more than a day without seeing Belle. They get ice cream, sitting in the chairs that haven’t been replaced in at least 30 years and giggling as the ice cream drips over their fingers. They go back to Pink Sun to watch the sunset. Because this whole month has him feeling nostalgic, he goes back to his old rink in Stamford and she tags along, indulging him as he pulls up his hoodie over himself as they watch the last 15 minutes of a game the AAA team that Trevor used to be a part of is playing in. Some of the front office staff is still the same and they all immediately beam when seeing Trevor. He chokes up a bit when talking to some of them. He’s missed it here more than he thought he would. 

After training sessions, he just shows up to her house without any warning. They take a lot of drives, passing by landmarks they know well and ones they don’t know at all. They spend hours chatting on the porch of her parents’ place, waving at neighbors as they walk by and petting their dogs. She doesn’t cry in his chest again, but there are stretches of silence where she craves a comforting shoulder. Trevor doesn’t hesitate to offer his. 

He learns more about why she enjoys wedding planning and her time in Michigan. She learns more about how his goals have changed the longer he’s been in the league and his time in Anaheim. They both talk about times they feel like they’ve had their heart ripped to pieces and he finds himself admitting things he’s never admitted out loud to anyone — not Jamie, not Jack, not Cole, not Alex. 

He wonders to himself how he’s lived this long without her in his life. 

The day Trevor has to leave for Anaheim, she offers to drive him to LaGuardia, smiling as he hugs his parents goodbye in the driveway, promising to see them soon when the Ducks are playing in New York. 

She shuts the trunk at the departures drop-off area with a wistful smile. “I’ll miss you, Trev.”

“I’m gonna miss you too.” And then he practically manhandles her into a tight hug, his chin resting on her shoulder, rubbing her back before pulling away. “If you ever wanna come out to Anaheim, there’s always a place for you to stay.”

“I’ll think about it.” With most people, it’s an empty promise. But with Belle, he knows she means it. “Good luck this season. Score some goals, yeah?”

He rolls his eyes, arms still around her waist. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? You have my number. Use it.”

She nods, tilting her head to the side. “Okay.” She presses a kiss on his cheek before he forces himself to let go. She sticks her hands in her jean pockets. “Text me when you land?”

“Of course. Bye, Belle. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye. Travel safe.”

Trevor forces himself not to look back as he walks through the automatic doors. 

…..

The first roadie of the season includes a stop in Chicago, and Trevor doesn’t hesitate to text Connor. He feels the familiar pang in his heart again, guilty that he hasn’t reached out until now. But when he and Connor meet up for a quick coffee the morning of the game, it washes away quickly. They fall right back to where they were when they were 16, even though they’re both over a decade older and a bit wiser now. Trevor practically shoves two tickets for the game for him and his wife, even though Connor is trying to bat his hand away. 

After the game, the three of them go to dinner and he gets introduced to Ashley, Connor’s wife, who is peppy and fun and he loves seeing her and Connor together. After dinner, Ashley excuses herself to go home as the two of them migrate to a nearby pub. They have years to catch up on. 

“Belle tell you about the break-up?”

Trevor scoffs, taking a hefty sip of his beer. “Yeah. Fucking asshole.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. When she decided to get the fuck out of Michigan, I was relieved.”

“Yeah?”

Connor sighs. “Yeah. I know she says she stayed because of the Hughes wedding, but I also think it’s because she had a hard time letting go. Which, you know, who can blame her, right?” Trevor just nods sympathetically. Connor leans back, eyes flickering elsewhere for a moment. “Thanks, by the way.”

“What for, man?”

“For looking out for her.” There’s a hint of relief in Connor’s tone. “She’s always been independent, I’m sure you remember. And she has a hard time letting people know that she’s struggling, even if we all see it and want to help. Whatever you did, thank you, man. It’s appreciated.”

Trevor bites his tongue. He wants to say that he doesn’t have to thank him for being a good friend, but Connor is adamant. So Trevor just smiles.

…..

The season’s in full swing, but Trevor makes the effort to keep in contact with Belle frequently. Whether it’s sending a meme or calling on his way to practice, Belle becomes a part of his daily life. 

A month in Bedford now and he can tell she’s getting a bit restless. She’s taken up crocheting, which Trevor loves to make fun of her for. Until he finds a little box on his doorstep and opens it to find a crocheted Wild Wing. He hands it on his rearview mirror in the car. He doesn’t fully realize she’s watching his games until he sees a text from her after a game against New Jersey (“Don’t let Jack hang the win over your head too much. That slapshot was insane.”) and that has him grinning much too widely for someone who just lost.

On Thanksgiving Day, after one of the guys’ families hosts a Friendsgiving for the whole team, he’s back at his place on the couch when she calls him. 

Her face comes up on the screen and he has to smile. “Oh. Hey.” she says gently. “I didn’t actually expect an answer.”

“You just caught me. I just got home from Friendsgiving with the team. Happy Thanksgiving, by the way.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

He doesn’t recognize her background. “Where you at?”

“My aunt’s. They’re all watching the game in the basement so I decided to take a break up in the living room.”

“Good food?”

“I’m fucking stuffed,” she admits, making Trevor laugh. “I’m not bad in the kitchen, but nothing beats a good homemade turkey and stuffing.”

“I feel you. So what’s been happening? Haven’t called in a bit.”

“It’s been, like, a week, Trev.”

“Exactly. A bit.”

She rolls her eyes, before leaning back further into the couch. “Actually, I do have news. Kinda.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I, uh, heard back from two people about a job. My old boss from Santa Ana said there’s a spot open for me if I want it. And then my boss in Michigan recommended me to someone in Manhattan, and she called me yesterday and also said I had a job if I wanted it.”

He grins. “Belle. That’s amazing! Congratulations. I’m not surprised though. I know firsthand how damn good you are at your job.”

He sees her blush slightly and he thinks it’s adorable. She twirls her hair around her finger. “Thanks. I’m, yeah. It’s pretty exciting. I’m excited to get back into it again.”

“So. California and New York. Those are two pretty different places.”

She sighs. “Yeah. That’s partially why I called you. Kinda want to get another opinion.”

Before he can stop himself, he snorts. “You’re telling me you haven’t made a pros and cons list already? Don’t think I don’t remember you forcing me to make one when I was deciding if I should go to Avon.”

She tilts her head to the side. “You remember that?”

“There’s not a lot of memories I have from growing up here that don’t have you in them. Of course I remember.”

She bites her lip but Trevor can see the smile peeking through. She clears her throat. “I do. Have a list.”

“So you’ve already made your decision.”

She opens her mouth. Then closes it. “Yes and no. I really do want your opinion, Trevor.”

“Floor’s all yours.”

“I love New York, but I don’t know if I can stay here. If I go back to Santa Ana, is it going to be like Michigan again? I don’t know what Santa Ana is like without Nate.”

“No,” he responds immediately. “It won’t be.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because Santa Ana is yours, Belle. No one else’s. You said it yourself. You loved your time there. If Michigan doesn’t feel like home anymore and New York feels too much like your past self, California is waiting for you.”

A couple seconds of silence before a small chuckle erupts from Belle. “You take a creative writing class at BU or something? That was actually eloquent.”

If he were next to her, he’d shove her off the couch. He just huffs as she keeps laughing. “My point is, is that you can make fresh starts in familiar areas. Plus, not that I have anything to do with this, but Santa Ana is pretty damn close to Anaheim.”

“Knew you’d say that.”

“I mean, can you blame me? ” He leans back on the couch. “I don’t think you’re incapable of moving on. I think, in a way, you aren’t ready to, and that’s why Santa Ana scares you. You have to and are inevitably going to make new memories wherever you are, but you just have to do it. Take the leap. Dive in the deep end. Whatever the fuck they say.”

And well, that came out a bit harsher than Trevor intended, if the slight flinch on Belle’s face is an indication. But she sighs, “You’re right. I know you’re right. Fuck, Trev. Maybe I shouldn’t have quit and stayed in Michigan.”

“Stop,” he says. “We’re not doing that. Now you have to come out to California. Who else is gonna tell you to get your head out of your ass?” His goal is achieved as she laughs. “Seriously though. Whatever choice you make, you have my full support.”

Four days later, he sees that Belle left him a voicemail in the middle of the game. She’s coming to Santa Ana. Trevor starts organizing the guest room.

…..

Three days into the new year and Trevor finds himself running out of morning skate to drive to LAX. Belle’s staying with him while she looks for her own place, at Trevor’s insistence. He told her she can stay as long as she needs. He hopes she takes that offer seriously. 

He rolls up to the arrivals terminal and idles his car, seeing a text from Belle indicating that she’s still waiting to pick up her luggage. He leans back in his seat, taking a deep breath adjusting the baseball cap on his head, bopping along to the latest playlist that he made for this season.

He’s about to do a drum solo on his steering wheel when he spots Belle come out of the double doors, rolling two suitcases, backpack on her back and a tired but genuine smile on her face. He immediately leaps out of the car, running to lift her up in a hug, making her chuckle. 

“Hey Trevor.”

He kisses her cheek before putting her down. “Belle of the Ball. How was your flight?”

“Good. Long,” she reaches to get her suitcases and he waves her off, lifting her suitcases easily into his trunk as she slips into the passenger seat. She sags into the seat and turns to him with a bigger smile as he turns on the engine. “It’s really good to see you.”

He reaches to ruffle her hair to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach. “Missed you too.”

They catch each other up on what’s been happening since the last time they talked, so only really the last week. Once he turns off the highway, he opens the windows and he periodically glances at Belle, who’s leaning her head on the seatbelt strap as the houses blur by. She tucks her hair behind both her ears and Trevor feels his throat start to close up. 

“Hungry?”

“A bit.”

“Enough to wait a bit so I can cook something up?”

She looks toward him in subdued delight. “You cook?”

“Decently, I’d say.”

“What are you gonna make me?”

Whatever you want, he thinks. “I make a pretty good steak.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to a personal chef.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he points at her jokingly. She laughs, but honestly, Trevor doesn’t hate the idea. 

Belle’s car got shipped yesterday to Trevor’s place the week prior, so two days later, when Belle starts work and Trevor has to go to morning skate, they leave the house at the same time after cups of coffee and climb into their own cars, Belle wearing a red sleeveless blouse and white jeans and Trevor wearing a Duck t-shirt and shorts. 

Before she can fully get into her car, Trevor runs around and squeezes her, making her squeal. “Good luck today. You’re gonna kill it.”

“Thanks Trevor. Have fun at morning skate.”

“Are you still cool with a couple of the guys coming over for dinner?”

“It’s your house, dude. You can invite over whoever you want.”

“It’s also your home too,” Trevor insists.

She rolls her eyes fondly. “It’s not. But of course you can have your friends over. I’m excited to meet them.” She gets in her car, but before she shuts the door, she puts her head out. “Do you mind grabbing some orange juice? I think you’re running out and I drink more of it than you do. Just Venmo request me.”

“Yeah, I gotcha. Won’t Venmo request you though,” she opens her mouth to protest but he just taps the roof of her car twice. “We can talk about splitting stuff later. Bye now!”

“Dick,” she mutters as she shuts her door. He chuckles. He lets her back out of the driveway first.

That night, Mason, Jamie and Leo come over and the four of them are finishing up cooking dinner when Belle walks in. A bit flushed and sweaty, she’s nothing but smiles as she slips off her shoes, putting down her bag and introducing herself. She hugs each of them with a sweet smile before finally reaching Trevor. She hugs him like she did with the other three, but he thinks she holds on a bit longer. He smacks a friendly kiss on her cheek, but he catches Jamie’s eye as she pulls away and he knows he’s going to absolutely be grilled about this tomorrow. 

Dinner’s practically ready and the guys just shoo Belle away to the dining table, Leo pouring out a glass of wine for her. They chat and swap stories over chicken alfredo and salad, and Trevor’s content sitting back and watching two different parts of his life come together, not even jumping in to defend himself that much when she recalls some shenanigans from Jack’s wedding. Sure, they at least know of Jack, Alex, Cole and other various members of the NTDP crew who knew him when he was 17 and stupid, but Belle’s known him since they were children. Whether she — or Trevor even — realizes it or not, Belle and Trevor know each other in the purest way. The way only childhood allows, where filters of judgment, insecurities and expectations cease to exist. 

Even with almost two decades lost in translation, Trevor thinks, in a way, Belle might know him better than most. And he might know her better than most.

Which is why he can sense that an hour after dinner, that Belle is exhausted, so he takes the initiative and the guys immediately pick up on it, bidding Belle goodbye and making her promise that she’ll come to a game soon. Once the door shuts, Trevor goes to start washing the dishes, batting her hand away when she tries to help. 

“Trevor. You cooked. I’ll clean.”

“Nope. Go to take a shower. You’ve had a long day.”

“You have too.”

He waves her off. “Go. I got this.” Her shoulders sag in defeat, but she shoots him a thankful smile and heads to shower. 

He’s just about finishing up the dishes and wiping down the counter when she walks back in, an old Michigan t-shirt and flannel pants on. She has her book in her hands but comes by next to him. “Are you sure you don’t need help cleaning up?”

He puts the kitchen towel back on the hook and swings an arm around her shoulder, bringing her against his side. “I’m sure. Where you unwinding for the night?”

“Probably the living room, if you don’t mind?”

“Belle. My home is your home. I mean it. I’ll probably join you after I shower.”

And he does, coming back in afterwards with only the living room light being on. He sees Belle curled up on the couch, engrossed in her book as one of the candles he rarely uses is lit up on the table in front of her. The air smells faintly of pine. 

“Do you mind if I put on some football? I’ll put the volume low.”

She hums. “Not at all.” With her feet in his lap, blanket tucked over both of them, Trevor thinks that he could get used to this. 

…..

Two weeks later, they’re finishing up their takeout when Belle clears her throat. “So I found a place that seems promising.”

Trevor stiffens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s about 10 minutes from here. Just renting for now, which isn’t ideal. But it’s so soon, you know? I don’t wanna buy yet.”

Trevor understands the latter part, absolutely. But he’s still stuck on the first part of what she said. “When would you think of moving out?”

“At the start of the month.”

“That’s next week.”

She grimaces, washing their utensils. “Yeah. I just…I want to get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

“Belle,” his voice lowers into a serious tone that doesn’t come out of him that often. It works, because it gets Belle to look at him. “If you want to move out, I can’t stop you. It’s ultimately your decision. But I love having you here. So please don’t…don’t think you have to move out to get out of my hair. Because you don’t. I’d love for you to stay and live with me. Full time.”

Belle swallows, searching for something in his face. “You mean that?” She whispers. 

“Of course I do.” He pushes on. “And you know I’m a shitty liar.”

She chuckles as she finishes washing the dishes. On her way to the bathroom, she stops and just hugs Trevor. He welcomes it with a big smile. “You 100% sure?”

“Yes.”

She pulls away with a smile. “Okay. Your porch is better anyways.” 

Trevor laughs, his mind briefly flashing to an image of this place that had been only his for so long one day becoming theirs, with her throw pillows on the couch and fairy lights on the porch and photos of their friends and loved ones hanging on the walls, some they share, some they don’t.

…..

Trevor fully admits it to himself when Christmas rolls up and Belle refuses to go back to New York. 

(“There’s no way I’m leaving you alone for Christmas, Trev,” she insists with an eye roll. “We’ll start our own tradition here. It’ll be great.”)

He doesn’t even try to hide his fondness as he watches Belle teetering at the edge of a chair to hang up lights around their living room. Some random Christmas playlist he had queued up at Belle’s prodding is playing through his speaker, and he doesn’t think “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” deserves the grin plastered on his face. 

Belle, though. She might deserve it. Be the origin of it, really. 

They make too many cookies that they'll have to gift his teammates and her coworkers just so they don’t end up eating all of them. They have holiday movies on in the background for three days straight, some they pay attention to, some they just leave on for background noise. On Christmas morning, after two cups of coffee on Belle’s end to deal with Trevor’s incessant rambling, they’re sat in the front of their tree. The curtains are drawn, offering minimal lighting into their living room. Yet, the twinkling lights on the tree and around their living room paint Belle in the warmest of lights. The blue fluffy blanket wrapped around her shoulders only adds to her softness and Trevor has to excuse himself after they exchange presents to go in the bathroom. 

He splashes cold water in his face and stares at himself. He’s fully in fucking love. Shit. 

…..

After that realization, he does the only thing that makes sense to him. Two days later, on the way to practice, he calls Jack. As the phone rings, he thinks that he probably should’ve checked to see if the Devils were playing today, but he also couldn’t be bothered. 

Three rings later, Jack’s scratchy voice is projected through Trevor’s car. “Hello?”

“Hey dude.”

“You’re cutting into my pre-game nap. This better be fucking good.”

“I think I’m in love with Belle.”

Silence. A rustle on Jack’s end, before, “Jesus Christ. I knew Amelie should’ve taken the day off today.”

“Jacky,” Trevor practically whines. “Be helpful.”

“Give me a second to think and I will be,” Trevor stops at a light. “Dude. I mean, not completely out of left field. But in love love? That’s big. Considering you only reconnected, what, three months ago?”

“Yeah, I know. Am I being stupid? And I need you to be real with me and tell me if I am.”

“No.”

“I’m not being stupid?”

“No, you’re not being stupid. Z, I knew I wanted to marry Amelie, like, two months after I met her, and we weren’t even dating yet. You and Isabelle have known each other since you were kids.”

“Yeah, but we lost touch for over a decade.”

“Okay and? You spent a good amount of time together when you went back home, right? And she lives with you now, right?”

“She was the only one around at home, and we’ve been living together for maybe a month.”

“Dude, are you trying to convince yourself you are in love with her or that you’re not?”

Trevor shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. Right.”

He hears Jack let out a sigh. “I know you’ve been burned in the past with relationships and stuff, but this is a good thing, okay? She’s a great person. Try not to freak out about it so much.”

“And do what instead?”

“I don’t know,” Jack says sarcastically. “Maybe tell her?”

“Absolutely not,” Trevor says. 

“Why not?”

Trevor’s about to tell him that Belle literally was supposed to be married a year ago but clamps his mouth shut. He’s not sure if Jack knows and that’s not his story to tell. “It’s just not a good idea.”

“Lame.”

“I’m gonna hang up and call literally anyone else.”

“Do it,” Jack challenges the empty threat, before softening. “Do you have any idea if she likes you back?”

“No,” Trevor says. “But I also haven’t been thinking about that because I don’t wanna…scare her off? I know she likes me as a friend, otherwise we wouldn’t be living together. But that’s probably all there is to it.”

“Maybe,” Jack says. “Or maybe you’re making assumptions. I’m not saying you have to do anything now, but you’re not stupid, Trev. Especially with stuff like this. And hey, at least you’re in love with someone as awesome as she is. Ooh, can you imagine you two getting married? It would be full circle!”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Trevor says as Jack chuckles. “Thanks, man. Seriously.”

“Anytime. And Z?” Trevor hums to tell Jack to go on. “Don’t beat yourself up so much. You don’t know until you ask.”

Those last two sentences echo through Trevor’s head for the rest of the day, even when he’s at practice and going through the drills. After so many years in the league, he usually always can leave his thoughts at the entrance of the rink and just focus on hockey. But not today. He can tell Troy wants to ask something, but he refrains. It’s not like a distracted Trevor appears often, and Trevor’s thankful his teammate doesn’t push. 

When the front door swings open that night and Belle calls out her greeting, Trevor is coming back from being outside the last few hours, where he sat and listened to the birds and just stared at the grass, lost in thought. 

Then Belle comes into view, gray sweater over a cream satin dress, tote bag on her shoulder and a tired but bright smile on her face, and Trevor’s not lost anymore. 

In fact, as she slides over to him in her socks across the hardwood floor and hugs him in greeting, immediately talking about what they should make for dinner tonight, Trevor’s never felt more sure of where he is and where he should be. 

…..

Trevor’s on a long roadie during Valentine’s Day, but he makes sure that he delivers flowers to the house before Belle has to get to work. He had spent an ungodly amount of time selecting which bouquet he wanted to send, and Jamie, the saint that he is, had only blinked when he saw what Trevor was looking at on his phone on the bus home from the game before Trevor could lock his phone. 

Imagine if it was Troy. Or Mason. Or fucking Leo, who’s just as much a menace as he was the first day Trevor met him. Everyone loves him and thinks he’s a darling, but Trevor knows better.

He ended up choosing a bouquet from Fresh Sends because the packaging looks sick with the newspaper and the bright colored box and the reviews are all high. Without hesitation, he had picked the largest bouquet, which he knew if Belle knew how much it cost, would probably kick him out of the house or something. But she doesn’t ever need to find out. On the bus, he had hastily typed out a custom note.

Belle, 

Happy Valentine’s Day!! Wish we could be watching shitty rom-coms together but I hope this makes up for it. Thankful to have you in my life again. See you when I get back!

Z

It’s not overly romantic, but he can’t exactly confess his love for her over a note when he’s across the country. If he ever confesses, he’s gonna tell her in person, not hide behind a note like a coward. 

He wakes up on February 14 in a hotel room with a bleary smile as he wipes the sleep away from his face. 

Belle of The Ball

*picture of the flowers*

Trevor!!! these are so so beautiful thank you

You really didn’t have to

Good luck against the Rangers tonight! And tell your parents (and mine) that i said hello❤️

Trevor nets two goals and an assist. He’s on top of the world. 

…..

He’s pleasantly surprised to see that he has an incoming call from Amelie on his way home from the rink a week later. 

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Hughes.”

Amelie chuckles. “Quinn’s gonna be devastated.”

“Quinner has nothing on you.”

“Flatterer,” she says dryly. 

“What’s up?”

“Jack told me. About you and Isabelle.”

Trevor almost snorts. When he first met Amelie, way back when they were in their early twenties, she had been way more hesitant on giving her opinion among Jack’s oldest friends. But with time, her sarcasm and vivacity came out, and while Trevor had been initially surprised and amused, it made sense. Anyone who would choose to spend their life with Jack Hughes has to be able to hold their own purely to rival his constant need for attention.

“Did he now?”

“You’re the worst. I’m not gonna tell you the same stuff he did, which by the way, I’m actually pretty impressed by. From the recap he gave me, he actually said some useful stuff. But I will say something that he forgot to tell you.”

“And what is that?”

“That you’re wonderful, Trevor.”

That’s not at all what he was expecting to come out of the photographer’s mouth. All he can muster out is an “Oh?”

“Yeah. And obviously Jack believes the same thing. You know that. But you’re such a lovely guy, Trevor. I’ve known that since the day we met, don’t get me wrong. But I-I’ve talked to Isabelle a few times since the wedding, and she always brings you up. And it’s always positive.”

“What does this have to do with my feelings for her?”

“Do you feel like maybe you feel like you’re not good enough for her? Is that partially why you’re hesitating on telling her? Take out the fact that she was in a long relationship before and broke off an engagement.”

He blinks. “She told you about the engagement thing?”

“Yeah. She came out to Jersey to grab dinner with Jack and I, like, two weeks before she moved to California and told us then. That’s not the point.”

He doesn’t remember Belle mentioning that. But like Amelie said, not the point. “I-I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Trevor. You’re one of the best people I know.”

“That can’t be true,” he tries to protest. 

“But it is,” Amelie presses on. “You’re loyal. You’re funny. You have the ability to make anyone feel comfortable, even if you just met them. Your infectious energy elevates every room you walk into. You care deeply about everyone in your life. You were the first of Jack’s friends to be so openly kind to me and you continued to be kind to me even when I didn’t deserve it.” 

“I’m loud. Harsh. Always has to be on the go or I get bored. Life of the party maybe and a fun time usually, but that’s it.”

Amelie scoffs. “Respectfully, shut the fuck up. Okay, you’re all of those things, so what? You think she doesn’t already know? She probably knows better than any of us. I get being hesitant to do anything because she’s maybe on a different page, I get that. But it’s not because you’re not good enough. Get that shit out of your head.”

Trevor has to laugh, both at the abruptness of this call and unbridled honesty from Amelie’s voice. “I’m not gonna lie. Getting chewed out by my best friend’s wife wasn’t on the list of things I expected today.”

“If you think I’m chewing you out now, you’re lucky Clementine doesn’t know about this yet.”

Trevor actually shudders at the possibility of Clementine Sandoval (well, Clementine Hischier as of two years ago but old habits die hard), lecturing him about this. He still remembers Clem’s lectures she would give Quinn, Jack and Luke when they were all in Michigan. They would usually be over the phone, since she was already out in California for school by then, but even at 17, Trevor knew she wasn’t someone to be messed with. Who else in the world, besides Ellen Weinberg-Hughes, can somehow lecture all three Hughes brothers successfully in one breath?

“She doesn’t?”

“Eh, usually she would. But she’s in her last trimester and Nico would kill me if I stressed her out more.”

And well, Trevor thinks that’s fair enough. He quiets again, thinking. “You think we could be a good match? Belle and I?”

“Yes,” Amelie says with no hesitation. “And I’m not going to tell you why, because I’m pretty sure deep down, you already know.” 

He kinda hates that she’s right. Damn, is he this easy to read? He hangs up, but not before promising to give her a call more often. 

As they’re leaving practice, Jamie nudges him with his shoulder. “How’s Isabelle?”

“She’s good. She has a wedding in Santa Monica this weekend so I haven’t seen her that much this week.” 

“She a good roommate?”

Trevor smirks and elbows him lightly. “Better than you ever were.”

Jamie’s jaw drops, indignant. “Hey! I was a great roommate, thank you very much.”

“You were, you were. Nah, she’s great. We did Christmas just the two of us and it was really nice.”

“Just the two of you?”

“Fuck off, Jimmy.”

“I’m just asking! She chose not to fly home and stayed here with you instead. Ever think about what that could mean?”

Trevor has thought about it a lot recently, actually. But Jamie doesn’t need to know that. He lets out an uncommitted noise, but the look on Jamie’s face tells him that he’s not fooling anyone. Least of all, one of his dearest friends. 

Trevor needs to tell her soon. Or get over it. 

…..

Trevor never thought to really ask Belle if she wanted to go to a game, which is weird, because why wouldn’t he want a friend out in the stands to cheer him on? But he also knows that Belle wouldn’t be afraid to just ask if she wanted to go, and that her ideal time to unwind after work isn’t necessarily to go into a rowdy arena. She’s perfectly content snuggling in on the couch and watching the game on TV.

But when he mentions that Cole and the Canadiens are coming into town to play, she perks up. During the whole wedding weekend, Trevor could tell that she got pretty comfortable with Cole. Which, to Trevor, makes complete sense. Cole has the ability to make friends quickly and genuinely anywhere he goes. He leaves a ticket on the counter before heading to morning skate, as well as a note allowing her permission to raid his closet for any Ducks merch she so desires to wear. 

The game is a fun battle that goes into OT, but Leo gets the game winner with an assist from Trevor and the Honda Center goes nuts. Trevor has plans to grab dinner with Cole and Belle, and he’s in good spirits during media before he meets up with Cole and goes outside to where he told Belle to meet them. 

The boys see her before she sees them. Belle’s leaning against the wall of the arena on her phone, one of his jerseys tucked into black jeans and a black blazer completing the look. Cole calls out her name and she immediately puts her phone away with a smile, letting Cole hug her tightly with a chuckle. Trevor trails behind, watching the scene in happiness. Trevor tells Belle where he made dinner reservations, and she gets into her own car to follow them. 

As Trevor watches Cole and Belle talk at dinner, it’s overwhelming, his love for her. Cole’s pulling out some old-school stories from way back during their program days and Belle’s absolutely loving it, pulling out some of her own stories from her college days and Trevor feels so fucking lucky. There’s a particular thing that Cole says that has her coughing up her water and she’s laughing so hard and Trevor feels so fucking fond. 

Tomorrow, he promises himself. He has to tell her tomorrow.

…..

He doesn’t tell her tomorrow. But in his defense, he has to go on a road trip and she’s busy at work. 

Somehow, after dinner with Cole, he had gone to sleep earlier than she did but had woken up before her to a short but sweet note on the kitchen counter. In her cursive, he smiles at her words. 

Trev, 

Thank you for dinner and a fun game <3 Wanted to tell you tonight but by the time I got out of the bathroom you were already in bed (old man). Good luck on your road trip to wherever!! 

Love, 

Belle

He takes the note and folds it carefully, tucking it into his wallet. 

…..

At the end of the day, he ends up just blurting it out. 

He comes home from the road trip to the smell of something absolutely delicious floating through the house. He peeks his head around the corner to see Belle flittering around the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. The oven beeps and Trevor decides to make his presence known. 

“Smells good in here.”

Belle looks over her shoulder and he realizes she’s wearing one of his Ducks hoodies he must’ve had lying around. She beams. “Hey! Welcome home. I felt like making some good old grilled cheese and tomato soup with some roasted vegetables because I guess we need those. Don’t tell your coaches if this fucks up your diet-”

“I love you.” 

And well, shit, because that’s definitely not how he pictured this going. For a split second, he thinks he imagined it. But Belle freezes, her back towards him, and he has no idea what to do.

After what seems like a lifetime, she turns off the stove and turns around. “What?”

Trevor walks forward, “I love you. I’m in love with you. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way and that’s okay! I really don’t want this to change anything between us because I love our friendship. But I-I had to say it because it’s driving me crazy not saying it.”

“Trevor-”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. Y-you’re such an important part of my life and I really hope this didn’t fuck everything up-”

Belle rushes towards him to put her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. He forces himself to take a deep breath and to stop his hands from shaking, staring at his feet. He’s breathing really fast, but Belle’s orange blossom perfume and touch calms him down ever so slightly. 

“You good?”

He swallows roughly. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she says softly. He gets the courage to look at her face. He sees her smile and he can’t help but smile too. She clears her throat. “I-I thought it was clear, but I guess I’m out of practice. I feel the same way, Trevor. I like you a lot. Maybe not…love. Yet. B-but you’ve become my favorite person. And these last few months have been so…lovely. I just-I haven’t said anything because I don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

“That’s okay,” Trevor rushes to assure. Because holy shit, she likes him back? This was farther than he thought he was going to get. He chuckles lightly. “I…shit. Sorry. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact you like me like that.”

“Trevor,” she trails her hands down his arms to grab both of his hands. “Of course I do.”

“Oh,” he says softly. 

Belle’s eyes water, and Trevor immediately feels the surge to make her feel better. “But I don’t know if I’m ready, Trev. I don’t know when I will be. And I can’t be the asshole and ask you to wait.”

“Why not?” Trevor challenges.

Belle looks at him incredulously. “Because that’s unfair.”

“Well too bad. Because I’m not gonna listen to you.”

“What?”

“As long as you need. Take your time. I mean it. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I promise.”

She bites her lip, “Trevor, you can’t possibly promise something like that.”

“I can, actually. And I will.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, before laughing. She squeezes her eyes shut as he places his hands on her cheeks to cup her face. “Okay.”

He raises an eyebrow playfully. “You’re not gonna fight me?”

She shakes her head. “You’ve never been the kind of person to back down.”

He laughs and he so wants to kiss her. But he doesn’t, instead just placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You’ll let me know when you’re ready?”

“If you’re still around,” she jokes. 

Trevor grins, his heart growing four times its size. He feels like it might explode out of his chest. “I’ll always be around for you.”