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writingonleaves · 1 year ago

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it's so hard to watch everything i want (everything i was spinning down the drain) - trevor zegras

pairing: trevor zegras x original female character

warnings: swearing, angst-ish, mentions of cheating (not between the two main characters), self-loathing, fluff

based on: "bleach" by 5 seconds of summer + "the archer" by taylor swift. title from "bleach"

word count: 15.6k

author's note: tried my hand at writing trevor's pov and it was Hard. this one means a lot to me personally so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! takes place at least five ish years from now so future fic alert!! trevor is finally employed again and that motivated me to finish this LOL

*****

Trevor Zegras is good at a lot of things. Remembering names and faces is at the top of the list.

It kinda makes sense. He’s been meeting and shaking hands with people ever since he was a teenager, most of them wanting something from him in one way shape or form. It’s not completely a bad thing. He wouldn’t have gotten this far without knowing who he was talking to.

So that’s why it’s such a surprise that it took him a whole damn hour to figure out why the wedding planner for Jack and Amelie’s wedding looked so familiar. Isabelle, she introduced herself as, and he keeps racking his mind to see if he knows an Isabelle, but he comes up empty.

As a groomsman, Trevor was expected to come to the venue earlier. He didn’t have to come a whole week earlier, but he had nothing else going on and the wedding’s in Michigan, so it wasn’t completely inconvenient for him. He just crashed at Jack and Quinn’s, to which the latter rolled his eyes at. But the soon-to-be-married couple were thrilled that he was coming early so they could put him to work, and he was more than happy to help out.

It’s halfway through assembling floral centerpieces when he shoots his head up to the wedding planner across from him. “Belle Holloway?”

Belle looks up with a small smile. “Been a long time since anyone’s called me that.”

“Holy shit. I knew you looked familiar. It’s been so long.”

“Z, are you bothering Isabelle?” Jack calls out from another table. “Please don’t scare her away. She’s been our lifesaver the last year.”

Belle chuckles. “You don’t need to worry, Jack.”

“Yeah, Hughesy. Belle and I go way back.”

Amelie is passing by and hears that comment, raising her eyebrows. “You two know each other?”

“We grew up in the same town,” Belle explains, tying a ribbon around a bunch of flowers. “My brother was in Trevor’s grade in school. They played hockey together for a bit before Trevor got too good and left.”

“Belle was probably the smartest girl in school,” Trevor adds with a hint of pride in his tone. “Can’t say the same about her brother. Where did you end up going to college?”

“University of Michigan.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jack smirk. Weirdo. He literally didn’t even go to Michigan.

Trevor whistles. “Still smart. Where is Connor these days? He went to UConn, right?”

“Yup. He’s with his wife in Chicago now. Doing something with finance.”

Trevor makes a mental note to reach out to his old friend the next time he’s in Chicago. “And little Lily?”

Belle chuckles. “Not so little anymore. She graduated from Parsons last year and works at Michael Kors as a designer.”

Trevor smiles knowingly. “Guess her styling Connor all those years paid off, eh?”

“Guess so.”

(Amelie and Jack are at another table working on centerpieces, overhearing this conversation. They give each other a knowing look as they keep eavesdropping. This is why Belle didn’t seem surprised during their initial consultation when they had to explain Jack’s hockey schedule and why he wouldn’t be able to adhere to the traditional timeline if he wanted to be at all the appointments. Little did they know, she already knew someone in the NHL)

She then asks about his family, because while Trevor was always her brother’s friend, their parents got to know each other pretty well to the point where they would go over to each other’s for dinner enough for her to remember. Trevor talks about how Griffin is off doing God knows what in Florida but having a good time at his sports marketing job and how Ava, who’s the same age as Lily, graduated from Elon and is now in the Philly area as a nurse.

They’re now moving pots of flowers around as they venture into their lives post-grad. “So have you been in Michigan this whole time?” Trevor asks.

“Yeah, though I had a brief stint in Santa Ana. This wedding is my last one here, actually, so a fun one to end on.”

Trevor follows her eye-line at the soon-to-be-newlyweds, who are now decorating the photo station but more fucking around then decorating. Amelie’s slapping Jack’s shoulder as he laughs loudly. Trevor smiles at the sight. “They’re great, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Belle admits. “I’ve worked with a lot of couples, but they’re one of my favorites. From the fact that they’re organized and flexible and so kind and understanding to the fact that they seem to be super in love with each other.”

“You said this is your last wedding here?” Belle nods. “Where you off to next?”

Trevor notices her stiffening a bit, and he immediately wants to take the question back. But the discomfort leaves as fast as it came. “Not sure. Gonna do some last minute packing up and then go home to New York next week to reset and figure it out from there. Connor offered his guest room in Chicago so I might take that. I have some friends that are dispersed around the country as well.” She shakes her head and switches topics and he makes a mental note of her vague answer. “Enough about me. How about you, Mr. NHL? Not gonna lie, when I saw Jack’s list of groomsmen, I had to brace myself mentally when I saw your name.”

“Brace yourself? What does that mean?”

Belle chuckles and his smile widens at the sound. “It’s been awhile, but not everything is different. I’m sure you’re still the life of the party everywhere you go, which means you’re at high risk of intruding on my meticulous plans on the day. Mind grabbing those shears for me next to you?”

He passes her the shears, standing up straight. “Jack’s conned you. He is way worse than I am.”

“Jack is also the groom so he knows that he has to listen to what I say if he wants things to go well,” Belle says. “How have you been, though? Has Anaheim been treating you well?”

“It has. The team’s great. The weather’s great. The beach is right there. Very different from Bedford.”

“Congrats on a great season. The playoff run was fun to watch.”

His eyebrow shoots up. “You watched?”

She shrugs a bit sheepishly. “If a game is on, I’ll usually watch. It’s like white noise to me now, after going to Connor’s, and I guess your games growing up. I went to a couple of Ducks games during the two years I lived in Cali.”

“And you didn’t reach out?”

She wipes her hands on her jeans. “I…you were always more Connor’s friend than mine. Didn’t want it to be weird.”

“It wouldn’t have been,” he assures. “Next time, let me know and I’ll get you tickets. You still have my number?”

“I do.”

“Perfect,” Amelie then comes up and seems like she has a question. “I’ll let you ladies be. Where’s your fiance?” He asks the bride-to-be.

“Quinn just arrived, so probably making sure the bar is all good, since you guys have your weird ass drink preferences,” Amelie says. “We should be almost done here though. Just have a couple last questions for Belle and then we’ll head back.”

Trevor snorts. “Typical. I’ll go find them.” He turns back to Belle with a grin. “Good to see you, Belle. Don’t be a stranger.”

Belle smiles. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior.” Trevor promises, before walking away.

When things finally settle down a couple of hours later and he settles into one of the guest rooms for the night, he reflects back to his own childhood and memories of Isabelle Holloway, or Belle, as everyone used to call her. Brunette and green-eyed, Belle was decently quiet compared to him and Connor’s wild teenage boy energy, but she was talkative with her own friends and Trevor’s parents adored her. She loved Taylor Swift, and if Trevor looked into it deeper, her blasting her music around all the time probably got Trevor to like it purely through osmosis. She was always clean, happy to do the dishes and Trevor often caught her organizing the living room and basement without being asked. She was incredibly smart, always had her homework done before hanging out with her friends and seemed to always ace her classes with minimal difficulty. Even when Connor gave her shit just because he was the oldest sibling, she rarely dished it back. That kindness extended to all of Connor’s friends as well, including Trevor, even when they were loud and playing video games when she came home from school. Every memory he has of Connor growing up, Belle’s right around the corner.

Belle Holloway had always been too good to them. It’s a no-brainer that her profession is based on giving something to others.

He still follows Connor on Instagram, so he goes to his old friend’s page to find his sister’s page. She’s private, but he doesn’t hesitate on requesting her account. He goes to take a shower and brush his teeth and when he comes back to his phone, he’s delighted to see that she’s accepted his follow request.

Thus begins his stalking.

There’s not many posts to stalk — she only has 47 — but it does span the amount of years he lost touch with the Holloways. There are posts from her later high school years when Trevor had already left Bedford, and he smiles to himself when he sees the post from her high school graduation, with Connor, Belle and Lily all cheesing in one photo. There are various posts from her college years — she must’ve spent a semester or a summer abroad in Barcelona — mixed with some various travels from Yellowstone to Sweden to Miami. Then it gets less frequent after she graduates college, posts of the Michigan landscape, posts with friends on a night out, at a friend’s wedding, the rare photos of just herself. She notices there’s a guy in some of those posts, but no one’s tagged and the caption doesn’t reveal anything, so he figures it must be a friend or ex-boyfriend of some sort.

One thing that hasn’t changed much, he thinks, is how beautiful she is. As he scrolls on her Instagram and thinks back to seeing her earlier today, he kinda can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.

The day of the wedding comes by and it’s an early start for the bridal party. Trevor rolls into the Planterra Conservatory at 8:47 a.m. with coffees for himself, Quinn, Luke and Jack while Cole had gotten coffees for himself, Nico and Alex earlier. The suits are already hung up by the window of the spacious room and beers have already been opened.

“Starting off early, eh?” He sets down the coffees on the table.

“It’s a big day,” Luke calls out from steaming everyone’s suits.

“That it is,” he stops by the chair Jack is sitting in and gives him a hug. “Congrats, man. You nervous?”

“Nah,” Jack smiles. “More excited than anything.”

Quinn grabs his coffee and sits down. “I stopped by the bridal suite just a few minutes ago. Amelie said the same thing.”

Jack lights up at the mere mention of her. “I’m just anxious to see her, to be honest.”

Belle walks in then, clad in a light green jumpsuit and a tan blazer, with a bright smile on his face. “Oh good, Trevor made it. Everyone all good in here? Do you guys need anything?”

Jack grins. “We’re all good here, Isabelle. Thank you. I’ll holler if we need anything. Promise.”

She shoots the groom a semi-skeptical look before nodding. “Okay. I’ll check back in, in 30 minutes.”

“Do you need any help at all?” Nico asks.

She shakes her head with a thankful smile. “You all are too kind. I’m good. Michelle and I are manning the floor. She’s kinda doing my job better than I am, when she has her own bridesmaid duties to worry about.”

“Impossible.” Quinn remarks. “You’re fabulous at your job.”

Belle rolls her eyes fondly, and Trevor’s reminded that even though she’s the one running the show, she’s younger than a majority of the bridal party. “Flatterer.” She takes her phone out of her pocket and clicks her tongue. “Alright. I’m out.” She looks at Trevor with a pointed look. “Zegras. You better come find me if anything goes wrong.”

“Why are you entrusting that responsibility onto me?”

“Because I have so many stories about you that I could tell everyone if you don’t listen to me.”

Trevor gasps in mock offense. “Belle, oh Belle! Resorting to blackmail?”

The whole room laughs as she grins. She stops in front of him, a more serious look on her face. “Call me if anything goes wrong?”

“I gotcha.” He assures her with a firm nod and she shoots everyone one last grin before walking out. If his eyes linger on her, no one has to know.

(Everyone in the room knows. He doesn’t notice them all giving each other knowing smirks)

Jack speaks up first. “Z, if you end up hooking up with my wedding planner, give her a good time at least. She deserves it.”

“Jesus Christ, Jacky.” Trevor groans as everyone cackles. Thankfully for him, they drop it after that.

The next time he and Belle get to interact is after the ceremony — to which he couldn’t stop smiling watching one of his his long-time best friends marry the girl of his dreams, proudly watching at the front as they exchanged vows to love each other forever — when it’s time for pictures and Belle and the photographer are working together to direct everybody where they need to go. Belle stops directly in front of Trevor and focuses on fixing his boutonniere. Her tongue pokes out as she focuses on making it straight after several attempts. Even amongst a crazy day, he feels a sense of calm surrounding him.

She huffs. “Why won’t your boutonniere stay still?”

He smiles down at her cheekily. “On my worst behavior.”

She snorts, before softening. “Thank you for earlier.” He knows she’s referencing when there was a minor mix up with the rings right before the ceremony was about to start and Trevor got it under control within 10 minutes.

“Of course.”

She puts a piece of stray hair back on his head away from his forehead and he feels his heart flutter at her light touch. She smirks a bit. “On your best behavior today, actually. Like you promised.”

“Don’t count on it once the open bar hits.”

She laughs before moving on to fix Luke’s collar and Trevor gets a second to finally take a normal breath.

The next time he spots Belle is well into the reception, when the dance floor is full and the drinks are flowing and everyone is enjoying themselves. She’s nibbling on a slice of cake in the corner, eyes sweeping through the crowd with a small smile on her face

Trevor, who ditched his blazer after ‘Mr. Brightside’ brought the place down at least 7 songs ago, strolls over, hands in his slacks. “Haven’t seen you in a bit, Belle of the Ball.”

Her nose wrinkles. “No one’s called me that since I was 6.”

“A good wedding to end off on?”

“I think so,” she smiles, staring at Amelie giggling as she pours a bottle of champagne into Jack’s mouth. “You having a good time?”

“The best. And I’ve been to a lot of weddings. You did beautifully.”

Belle waves him off. “All in a day’s work.”

“Do you still have fun at weddings? Since you have to work them?”

“Yes and no,” she admits. ‘Yes, because the end result is always worth it and seeing the happy couple live their day is always worth it. No because now when I go to weddings of my friends and family, it’s hard to turn my work brain off.”

“Are you allowed to dance at your clients’ weddings?”

“I usually wouldn’t,” she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Make an exception for an old friend? To celebrate your last wedding in Michigan?”

She looks away for a second. “I don’t want to make Jack or Amelie feel weird.”

“Those two couldn’t care less. I’m sure they’d actually encourage it.”

He shoots what he hopes is an encouraging smile as he offers a hand. She looks at him for a couple of seconds before letting him help her up.

It’s perfect timing as ‘Lover’ by Taylor Swift comes on and the once rowdy floor is calmer, with couples dancing with each other or families dancing with their kids. It’s a dance floor filled with love.

He guides Belle to put her arms around his neck as he carefully places his on her waist.

“I told Connor about seeing you again.” She starts

“Oh yeah? What did he say?”

“He told me to tell you to hit him up the next time you’re in Chicago.”

“Was already planning on it.”

“He also said and I quote ‘if the next thing I hear is that Zegras is dating my sister, I will kill him.’” Trevor tips his head back in laughter as Belle chuckles. “He’s lucky I never dated any of his friends. He had some cute ones.”

“Was I one of them?”

“Nice try. I’m not blowing smoke up your ass, Trevor.” She says dryly. “Besides, I was kinda kidding. It’s not like you or any of his friends would’ve gone for me anyways.”

Now he’s confused. “What?” He thinks she’s joking, but from her face he realizes she’s not. “You do know that like, half of the hockey team had a crush on you, right?” She tips her head back in laughter as he squeezes her waist. “I’m not kidding. It annoyed Connor to no end.”

She snorts. “There’s no way.”

“Up to you whether to believe it or not. Just know that I never lie, Belle.”

She hums, and the way she’s looking at him makes his hands start sweating. He hopes she can’t feel it through her jumpsuit. “What you’ve done with your hockey career and everything, it’s really cool. I’m happy for you, Trevor. You deserve it.”

And he’s heard so many compliments about his career throughout his whole career, but it’s different coming from someone from his hometown. Someone who knew him before he left and knew what he was like before the NHL — before his days at the NTDP, even. Someone who has nothing to gain from complimenting him.

“Thank you, Belle. That-that means a lot coming from you.”

She just smiles back before they fall into a comfortable silence and keep dancing. He twirls her and does an exaggerated dip that has her giggling. They keep dancing and dancing, even as the songs change tempo.

(Amelie, who’s resting her feet right by the dance floor, nudges Jack and gives him a look. She picks up a disposable camera and points it at them, before taking her phone and also taking a picture. She has an inkling that Trevor and Isabelle may want these someday)

“What are you up to before the season starts?”

He shrugs. “I’m not sure, actually. I just need to be back in Anaheim for pre-season in three weeks.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Quinn and Jack have been letting me crash at their place. Don’t have an exact date of when I’m leaving yet.”

Belle snorts, though it’s paired with a smile that seems fond. “Still the same, huh, Trev?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your spontaneity used to stress my parents out, even back then. The reason they still liked you is because you could charm your way out of it.”

“I stressed Kurt and Susan out?” He says, actually worried.

“Oh, hush. It’s not that deep. My dad loves watching you play. There’s been many a family call where I hear a Ducks game on in the background. Unless it’s against the Rangers, of course, in which you don’t matter.”

“To be expected,” Trevor says, heart lifting at the fact that two people who used to drive him around so much still support him, even from afar. “Do they still live in Bedford?”

“Yup. Though with the amount of time my dad spends in White Plains golfing, you’d think they lived there now. He’s loving retirement, clearly.”

Trevor laughs. “I’ll have to hit up Kurt when I’m back for a couple rounds. Does Susan still make the best apple pie?”

“Yup. And everyone still raves about it when she brings it to parties.”

“You think she’d make me a slice?”

“She’d bake you three pies and send you home with them to Julie and Gary.”

He grins. “Never knew little Belle was this sassy.”

“Because you wasted all your time with Connor.” She shoots back with a laugh.

(Honestly, he thinks as he twirls her again, maybe she’s right. Who knows what could’ve been if he had seen Belle as more than just Connor’s quieter, talented sister.)

“You said you’re leaving next week?”

“Yeah. Just need to sort out some boxes to move to storage before driving back to New York.”

“You’re driving all the way back to Bedford?”

She laughs at his slight disbelief. “Well, yeah. It’s only a 10 hour drive.”

Suddenly, an idea pops into Trevor’s head, and before he can overthink it, he blurts it out. “What if I came with you?” She blinks, and he forges on. “I mean, I don’t have much going on and it’d be nice to go home before pre-season. I’ll help you load your car and pay for your gas and meals and-”

“Trevor, I-are you sure? You don’t have to…we literally just reconnected after not seeing each other for over a decade.”

“I know I don’t have to do anything,” he says, now trying everything to convince her. “If I’m overstepping, you can tell me and I’ll immediately lay off. But it just seems like…maybe some company could be nice. And we could switch off driving too.”

She bites her lip and tilts her head curiously, trying to find something in his face. It only took her a couple of seconds to chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but sure. Why not? Come join me on my drive back home.”

He lights up, grinning widely. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“When are you planning on leaving?”

“Monday.”

In two days. Perfect.

“This is gonna be so fun. Just you wait.”

“I don’t doubt it. Fun seems to always follow you wherever you go.”

He has to let her go, since she has some last things to do as the wedding planner. He kisses her cheek quickly before he leaves the reception, to which Quinn raises an eyebrow at but doesn’t say anything. The next morning, during the quick and informal thank you breakfast for the bridal party at a nearby, fancy-ish brunch place, Jack throws him under the bus (“Saw you getting pretty comfortable with Isabelle yesterday,”) and he reveals their plan for the next day.

It might be one of the most TV show worthy reactions from every single person, bridesmaid and groomsmen. Luke chokes on his mimosa, Quinn shakes his head, Alex blinks, Nico has a shit-eating grin on his face, Jack smirks and Cole lets out a bark of laughter. The girls have all been filled in and equally have similar reactions. Amelie immediately says “you’re joking,” Michelle, at the same time as Amelie, says “ain’t no way,” Kaia, like Alex, just blinks. Nicole and Sarah’s jaws drop wide open, Annemarie starts cackling and Isla drops her fork.

“What?” Trevor responds, munching on his bacon. “Why all the reactions?”

“Z, are you sure about this?” Quinn asks, ever the voice of reason.

“Yes? It’s just a drive. Everyone needs a car buddy for that long of a drive. Gives me an excuse to go home too.”

“Trevor,” Amelie starts. “I think we’re all just a bit confused because this is…not that we don’t like Isabelle! She’s wonderful. But this just seems out of the blue.”

Jack snorts. “There’s nothing confusing about this at all.” Everyone, Trevor included, turns to look at the new groom, who just shrugs while taking a sip of his coffee. “He likes her.”

“For real?”

“Oh my.”

“Okay, Z! Atta boy.”

“Haven’t you not seen her for like, 10 years?”

“Have you liked her this whole time?”

“That’s crazy.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Trevor says above everyone’s exclamations. He waits until everyone’s settled. “I don’t like her. Not like that, at least. She’s just…I don’t know. It was good to see her again after so long. It felt like going back to old times. Simpler times.”

“It’s giving childhood friends to lovers,” Michelle says, making everyone laugh. Trevor rolls his eyes again and the subject is dropped.

Jack volunteers to drive Trevor to Belle’s before him and Amelie’s flight to Greece tonight for their honeymoon. He doesn’t leave Quinn and Jack’s place without chirps from every single person still there, gathering their things and cleaning up. He makes sure to leave with giving Amelie a tight hug and a fond kiss on her cheek before playfully glaring at everyone else as he leaves.

He climbs into the passenger seat. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“We’ve known each other since we were 16, Z.” Jack says, starting the car. “Nothing you do fazes me anymore.”

Trevor just hums, staring at one of his dearest friends who is now a husband. “Congrats, Jacky. I know I’ve said it a lot recently, but I’m really happy for you.”

A small smile spreads across Jack’s face, as he automatically goes to touch his wedding ring. “Thanks, man.” Silence falls between them. “Did you ever, even just the slightest, like Isabelle as more than a friend? And be honest with me.”

“No,” Trevor replies honestly. “I always knew she was kind and thoughtful, but she was always just Connor’s little sister and kept to herself and her own friends most of the time.”

“And now? Do you like her now?”

“I don’t know,” Trevor replies honestly. If Jack is shocked, he doesn’t show it. Trevor clears his throat, “We haven’t seen each other in over 10 years. I don’t know her enough anymore to know if I like her.”

Jack just hums. “Look, I…”

“You what?” Silence. “Jack.”

“Amelie and I got pretty close with Isabelle beyond her being our wedding planner. Maybe it’s because she’s close to our age or just easy to get along with. I think…she never told us directly, but I think something happened, Z.”

“What do you mean something happened?”

“Well, I wasn’t there, but her and Amelie went out for casual drinks once to plan some stuff out and Amelie was, you know, casually asking her about relationships and if she ever dreamed of her own wedding, and she got super…not defensive. But Amelie said it was like a switch turned on. All she said is that at some point she did, but she’s not at that point of her life anymore, and then she immediately changed the topic. It’s none of my business, I get that, but she’s also my friend, Z. Just…look out for her, okay?”

“Of course I will,” Trevor promises as Jack slows down in front of Belle’s house. They both climb out of the car and Trevor grabs his backpack, duffle and garment bag from the backseat.

“Thanks for driving.” Trevor embraces his friend in a tight hug.

“Anytime,” Jack says. “Thanks for everything this last week. And just in general. I love you.”

“Love you too, man. Have fun on your honeymoon.”

Jack smiles. “Thank you. You two drive safe, eh? Let Amelie and I know when you're back in New York.”

Trevor just nods, before walking up to the front door and knocking. Within seconds, Belle opens the door with a wide smile. She looks beyond Trevor’s shoulder and waves at Jack as he drives away.

“Hi!”

Trevor can’t help but smile at her energy. It’s infectious. “Hey, Belle. Are you sure you don’t mind letting me crash for the night? I can always get Quinn to come get me later.”

She opens the door wider to let him in. “It’s not a bother at all. As long as you’re good with sleeping on the floor.” He just waves her off, setting his duffle and backpack down and looking around at the barren household. “I would give you a tour, but there’s really not much to see anymore.”

“You need any help?”

She smiles at him sweetly. “I have some boxes in the garage that you could help me move?”

He’s eager to help, until he lifts the first box, grunting about how heavy it is. Belle just chuckles, because why else had she not moved these in her car yet? If she has a professional hockey player volunteering to help her move, then she might as well put him to use, right? Trevor just rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but let a smile peek through at hearing Belle’s giggles. Once the car is packed (it takes longer than usual, as they stand out in the driveway and in the garage inbetween moving, chirping at each other and catching up), they realize it’s getting close to dinner time especially if they want to get an early start in the morning. Trevor asks what she wants to have (“as your last night living in the state of Michigan”) and she lights up, dialing up the place of her favorite Asian fusion takeout place. Trevor tries to hand over his card but she smacks it out of his hand, glaring at him while still on the phone.

It’s a nice day outside, so they decide to venture out and have dinner on the front porch that she’s going to miss very much, leaning their backs against the panels of the house, sitting a comfortable 4 feet apart, Trevor’s knees pulled up and Belle with her legs outstretched and ankles crossed. He watches as she looks out at the sunset painting the quiet residential street, which is even more stunning than usual. If you listen closely, you can hear the sounds of kids gleefully screaming and dogs barking here and there. For a moment, Trevor feels like he’s intruding as Belle continues staring out, lost in her own world. Her focus only shifts a few minutes later when a car rolls up with their take out, as she jumps up and accepts the food with a gracious smile.

He helps her open boxes and suddenly there’s a generous spread of food between them as they start eating.

Trevor breaks the silence. “You never told me why.”

“Why what?”

“Why you’re leaving Michigan.”

She’s in the middle of stuffing a crab rangoon in her mouth. She chews and swallows for a couple of seconds. “It’s a long story.”

“I have nothing but time if you want to share.”

“I lied. It’s not really a long story. Just a sad one. That’s just my go-to when people ask.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. Ever. But you also don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

She lets out a deep sigh. “I was supposed to get married earlier this year.”

He blinks. Once. twice. And he’s speechless for once in his life. She barrels on.

“Nate and I…I met him at UMich my junior year. I had full plans to leave Michigan right after college. Not that I don’t love it here, but I just wanted to go home. But he got an offer here after graduation and I found a gig working for a great wedding planner so I stayed. And it was good. The brief stint in Santa Ana I mentioned was because of his job, so we moved out there. But I really didn’t mind. I actually really enjoyed California.” She picks at her fingernails, “He proposed to me the beginning of last year, a week before we were gonna move back to Michigan. And I was happy. Really happy. So many years I had been planning other people’s weddings and I was finally going to have my own with someone I loved.”

“Belle, you don’t have to-”

She waves him off. “The day of our cake tasting, we were running late and he was in the shower and I grabbed his phone to put in my bag. And there was a text that flashed on my lock screen. ‘Missed you, baby. See you tonight’ and that was it. He had been cheating on me for almost a year. I moved out that night and crashed with a friend for a few weeks before finding this place. Grabbed my shit when I knew he was gone during the day at work. Canceled all of the deposits. Gave the ring back.” She chuckles, albeit sadly. “Funny. The week after I found out, I had my first consultation with Amelie and Jack and honestly, throwing myself into their wedding planning may have saved me, not that they know that. Anyways, yeah. That’s why I’m leaving Michigan. I honestly would’ve done it sooner but I had to stick it out for those two. They deserved it.”

Trevor’s silent for a couple more moments. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“If we see him out and about, point him out so I can kick his ass.”

Her chuckle comes out broken but genuine. “Connor was real close when I told him. I was afraid he’d just start driving here. So you’d have to get behind him in line.”

“Gladly,” he scoots closer to her and offers an arm. She collapses into his side. “God, Belle. I’m so sorry. No one deserves that, least of all you.”

She sniffles. “It’s okay.”

“No, Belle. It’s not okay. What an asshole.” He can feel tears on his shirt and he starts rubbing her back in soothing circles. “You deserve someone to love you just as much as you love them. Someone to put you above all, who views your love and presence as a privilege. Because it is a privilege. I would know.”

She snorts, still sniffling. “You made fun of me all the time when we were younger.”

“Nah ah ah. Connor did. I didn’t. And that doesn’t mean I didn’t know how lovely you were even back then. Why do you think Connor and I were so against you going on a date with that guy…what was his name?”

“Trent.”

“Yeah. Trent. First of all, just sounds like a douchebag.”

“And Trevor is so much better?”

“Second, because he was an ass. We didn’t terrorize you about it just because. We terrorized you about it because we knew he had cheated on his ex-girlfriend.”

“Maybe if you had ever met Nate, you could’ve sniffed out his bullshit right away. Took me around 6 years to figure it out.”

“You’ve always had good judgment, Belle. No need to blame yourself when you did nothing wrong.”

“Did I though?” She whispers. “Do nothing wrong, I mean. What if-what if I was working too much or I wasn’t attentive enough or I didn’t-”

Trevor shakes his head adamantly. “Belle, no. Stop. Absolutely not. You did enough. You were enough. I’m not gonna sit here and let you pick apart yourself unfairly. You stayed in Michigan for him. You moved to Santa Ana for him. You gave all you had. And he’s the one who fucked it all up. That’s not on you.”

She signs, a bit defeated but musters a small smile. “Thanks, Trevor.”

“Of course.” He stuffs a piece of sushi in his mouth.

She shoots him a small smile that has him swallowing roughly. “Nonetheless, I’m really happy we ran into each other. It’s been nice to have a slice of home back in my life again.”

Trevor just smiles, staring into her warm eyes. “Me too.”

…..

It’s hour two into the 10 hour drive when she breeches the subject again.

“Connor never liked him.” Trevor turns to look at Belle, who has one hand on the wheel casually. He automatically turns the music down as she continues. “He tried to get along with him, for my sake. But Connor was never sold. I always thought it was just him being a protective older brother. When I asked why, he always just gave some vague answer. Didn’t like his vibe, or whatever. It’s been hard not to agonize over now. If I should’ve just listened to him from the start.” Trevor doesn’t know what to say, but just faces her fully so she knows that he’s listening. She lets out a heavy breath as she puts her sunglasses atop her head. “I never asked. How’s your love life?”

Trevor snorts and the playfulness is back in the air again. “Well, not married like Connor is. I’ve had a couple things here or there. Clearly nothing that’s stuck.”

“Any particular reason why?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling a bit small even though he knows that’s not her intention whatsoever. “I think when people date me, they don’t necessarily want all of me, you know? They want the jokester and the charmer. They don’t want the shifts in mood or the obsession of figuring out why I’m in a scoring drought or the insecurities.”

Belle hums sympathetically. “I think you just haven’t found the right one yet.”

“You sound like Quinn.”

She laughs. “From the small amount of interactions I’ve had with him, I’d say that sounds pretty on brand.” She shrugs. “You have time though. We all do. If that’s something you even want.”

“What? Marriage?”

“Yeah.”

“I do, I think. Want that, I mean. It’s just…hard. And scary. The thought of giving someone all of you? That’s giving them a lot of power.”

“I get it,” she says. “God, I really get that.”

“Is marriage not something you want anymore?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. I think I still do. It’s just…it’s still too soon, you know? And I don’t know if I have the energy to, like you said, give someone all of me again. I got hurt once. I don’t know if I can afford that again.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re one of the best people I’ve ever known. So anybody would be lucky to love you.”

And shit, that kinda slipped out. His heart starts racing as she looks at him briefly in surprise. “That’s…that’s very kind of you, Trevor. Probably too big of a compliment.”

“Not too big of a compliment,” he automatically responds, digging himself into a deeper hole that he can’t even decipher. If he thinks about it too hard, he would realize that this is the most open he’s been with someone outside of his tight circle in awhile. And a week ago, she hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“You know, you were my favorite out of Connor’s friends back then.”

A pang of satisfaction touches his heart and he’s grinning. “Yeah?”

Belle rolls her eyes at his slight smugness. “Don’t let that get to your head.”

“Too late.”

“I don’t know. I just..liked how friendly you were to everyone you encountered. I don’t think there was ever a time when you came over and didn’t strike up a conversation with me. Even though I was quiet and shy, you still always treated me like a person.”

“I feel like that’s the bare minimum, no?”

She shrugs. “Now that we’re in our late twenties, sure. But back when we were 12, 13 years old? You’d be surprised.”

He watches her drum her fingers against the steering wheel, the patterned bandana in her ponytail swinging with the wind, wispies from her ponytail framing her face. If he looks hard enough, he can see 10 year old Belle sitting on the sofa in the Holloway’s living room, a sketchbook on her lap and a glass of apple juice next to her. If he listens hard enough, he can hear her humming to ‘Love Story’ as he leaves Connor’s room to walk past her room in the hallway to the bathroom. Maybe he can even smell her vanilla body spray that used to always filter out of her room if he breathes in deeply enough.

All he can see and hear and feel is his childhood self. Looking at her makes him feel blissfully young, a bit naive and incredibly out of his depth.

She casts him a casual glance. “You good?”

Trevor grins easily. “Never better.”

It’s hour five after stopping for lunch. Trevor’s behind the wheel now and her legs are up on the seat with her as she stares out the window, her chin on her knees. He has an urge to put a hand on her knee. To comfort her or to let her know that he’s there, he doesn’t know. But he refrains.

“Belle?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

She turns to face him, chin still on her knees. “Should I be nervous?”

He snorts. “No. I’m just a dumb hockey player. What could I possibly say that would catch you off guard?”

“You’re not dumb. And plenty. You knew me when I was 13 and in my awkward phase. That’s longer than most of the people I’ve seen in the last five years. What’s your question?”

Okay, Trevor can dissect all of that later. ““Are you going to miss Michigan?”

She lets out a thoughtful hum. “I’ll miss parts of it. I loved going to college at Michigan, made a lot of friends from college and work. And I grew up a lot here. Not to mention, Michigan’s almost unfairly beautiful. I’ll also weirdly miss my porch a lot. But also, it’s tough driving around with thoughts of Nate at every corner. Because he’s present in practically all the memories I have here. So I’m glad I’m leaving because I know I need to.” He turns to her quickly and sees her lip quiver. Almost as if he had imagined it, she offers a small smirk. “That’s the question you were so afraid to ask me?”

He sputters out a laugh. “What does that mean?” He asks defensively.

She shakes out her hair to redo her ponytail. "You never had a problem asking anything to anyone back in the day.”

“Things change.”

She pauses for a split second before tying up her hair and looking at him. “They do. I’m sorry for assuming they don’t.”

Hour eight and they’ve been in a comfortable silence for a bit now. One can only talk for so long, even someone as chatty as Trevor. Belle’s behind the wheel again and her phone is plugged in playing music. The playlist he had put on initially has cycled through and without asking, he plugged her phone in and shuffled a random playlist of hers.

He vaguely recognizes Taylor Swift’s voice and looks to see what song it is. ‘The Archer.’ His ears perk up as he listens to her softly sing along, and then, he’s actually listening to the words.

Belle’s eyebrows are pinched together as she sings about people seeing right through her and how all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put her together again. He wants to offer her a hand to squeeze, a touch for support, but he doesn’t.

He clears his throat. “So. Santa Ana. What was your favorite part?”

She automatically grins. “All of it? I don’t know. I liked my job. I liked the area. I liked the weather. It felt like a breath of fresh air, in a way.”

“Would you consider moving back?”

“Maybe. I honestly haven’t really thought of anything but leaving Michigan recently.”

He stops asking her questions. He doesn’t want to keep bringing up the pain.

By the time she rolls into the driveway of Trevor’s childhood home, it’s almost 8 pm. Almost as soon as she kills the engine, the front door opens, revealing both his parents. Julie runs out, only barely letting Belle step out of the car before throwing her arms around her. He smiles fondly as his mother puts her hands on Belle’s cheeks as the younger woman chuckles, before turning to Gary and giving him a quick hug as well. Trevor drags his stuff out of the trunk and shuts it, smiling to himself as he listens to his mother invite Belle and her parents over for dinner the next night and watching Belle nod enthusiastically.

She then turns to him and it feels like someone has reached into his heart and punched it. She smiles. “Thanks for the company.”

He puts down his duffle and scoops her into a tight hug, only letting her go after giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Anytime. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

(And if he catches his mom giving him an inquisitive look as they all watch Belle back out of the driveway, he doesn’t say anything)

Tomorrow comes and Trevor’s content with mostly being lazy, adjusting to being home and around his parents. It feels weird to be in these walls without Griffin and Ava, but then again, he’s sure it’s one-sided. He moved away when he was so young, leaving behind his supportive parents and his even-more-supportive siblings. They got used to Trevor not being around.

He’s recapping Jack’s wedding to his father on the patio while his mom is preparing pies in preparation for the Holloways, the mouthwatering smell filtering through the screen door. He smiles as he recalls the week leading up when he went early and was roped into helping out, how beautiful Amelie looked and how he had never seen Jack that excited and happy before, not when he was drafted first overall, not when he won the Eastern Conference Final. He talks about how their vows made Trevor tear up and just how fun it was to celebrate two people he loves. He talks about reconnecting with Belle and briefly brushes over their drive back. He gives vague answers when his parents — mostly his mom — try to pry more, partially because it’s so much that he’s still trying to decipher it himself and partially because some of it isn’t his place to tell.

An hour later, he can’t help but beam as Belle’s parents greet him similarly to how his greeted Belle the day before. He helps Susan bring in the pasta salad and shakes Kurt’s hand, his slight nerves settling as the first thing Kurt says is how proud of Trevor he is. Belle is the last one who walks through the door, listening to the moms talking animatedly in her ear. She’s wearing a pink floral maxi dress with a denim jacket over her shoulders and she’s glowing. He itches to give her a hug but just settles for a grin instead before turning his full attention to Kurt.

It’s when the parents are filtering outside does he get a chance to say hello to her as they both hang back in the kitchen. She bumps her hip with his. “Long time no see.”

He pulls her into a side hug. “Hilarious. Want anything to drink before heading out there?”

She eyes the few bottles of wine in the mini wine cabinet. “White wine if it’s not too much of a hassle?”

He opens the fridge and grabs a wine glass. “My mom put a bottle in the fridge earlier. It’s her favorite, so if it’s bad, it’s not my fault.” She takes the glass from him graciously and he grabs a bottle of beer for himself as they both head outside.

“It’s weird being here without Connor.”

“I was just thinking earlier how it’s weird being here without Griffin and Ava.”

“At least we have each other, right?”

He hums. “Good thing.” She then gets roped into a conversation with his father and he happily takes a backseat, answering when a question is directed towards him but perfectly content in watching her.

(Julie and Susan, who had never really considered these two as a pair, nudge each other and exchange a few words, watching as Belle laughs while sipping her wine and Trevor just stares at her.

“She was supposed to get married last year. To a guy she met in college.”

Julie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is that right?”

“Yup. Until she caught him cheating.”

Julie sighs. “I wish we could protect our kids from everything that could hurt them.”

“I do too.” Susan watches her daughter wistfully and lovingly. “She’s always thrown herself into work, But especially after the break-up. You have no idea how relieved I was when she told me she was coming home.”

“Does she know where she’s going next?”

“Not that I know of. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t know.”

“She’ll be okay,” Julie says confidently, rubbing her old friend’s shoulder. “I’ve never had any doubt about Belle.”

“But you had doubt in the others?” Susan teases as Julie snorts. “All our kids are doing well for themselves, but you have one who is the definition of achieving their childhood dream.”

Julie sighs thoughtfully, looking at Trevor. “He’s done well for himself, I think.”

“You think?”

Julie just smiles, clinking her glass against Susan’s.)

Meat is grilled, salads are tossed and food is eaten as the sun fades away. Sometime between sunset and when the sky becomes black, the fireplace is lit and the outdoor lamps are turned on. Trevor switched to water after his second beer, liver still trying to recover from the wedding festivities.

Trevor finds Belle sitting by the edge of the pool with her feet dipped in, sandals to the side of her. Her hands are folded on her lap as she stares down, occasionally kicking her feet a bit to make the water ripple. He clears his throat so he doesn’t startle her. She looks up and her lips quirk up at seeing him, but they soon fall, as she turns back to the water and tilts her head to the side, taking a deep breath.

Trevor licks his dry lips. “Come with me?”

“Where are we going?” She asks, accepting the hand he offers as she gets up and slips on her shoes, adjusting her dress.

“You’ll see. We won’t be long.” Wordlessly, they go around the side of the house to go to the driveway. He catches his mom’s eye and just offers a small smile. Julie’s eyes flicker between him and Belle before she nods. Belle doesn’t say anything as Julie tosses her son the keys to her car, letting Trevor lightly tug her along by loosely intertwining their hands. He opens the passenger door for her and she gives him a grateful look as she slips in.

He hasn’t been to his intended destination in at least five years, but he knows the route all the same, easily driving the seven minutes. He sneaks a glance or two at Belle as the minimal streetlights light her face aglow for a few seconds at a time. Before he overthinks it, he reaches out and grabs her hand gently, waiting for her to pull away. She doesn’t, instead lacing her hand with his and squeezing once.

“I haven’t been here since I was in high school,” Belle says as Trevor kills the engine, the tranquility of the small lake and lookout everyone who grew up in Bedford called “Pink Sun” due to the incredibly beautiful sunsets one could see if they were lucky, no one knowing that it’s actual government name was. He’s almost confident that this specific lookout is private property, due to the string lights adorning the trees meticulously that seem to always be on, but whoever owns the property clearly doesn’t care. He would come in the summers from time to time with friends like Connor after he moved away for hockey, but he knows he didn’t experience it the same way as others did.

“Which tree did you have sex under?” Trevor asks as they get out of the car and open the trunk. He quickly fluffs up the two pillows his mom has in the car at all times and pulls the blanket over them both as they get comfortable.

She chuckles and Trevor immediately smiles at the sound. “Gross.”

“What? Isn’t that what people did?” She just lightly slaps him before they both fall into a comfortable silence again. She takes her hand from under the blanket and reaches out to find Trevor’s. He offers his hand immediately. It feels like the most natural thing in the world.

She starts sniffling, and when he turns to her, concerned, he sees tears rushing down her face. He immediately wraps his arms around her and maneuvers her so that she’s crying into his chest. He tries to be steady for her shaking body, rubbing her back and muttering sweet nothings to assure that he’s here and she’s not alone. He places a couple of kisses on top of her head without thinking because there’s a split down the middle of his heart that’s widening everytime she whimpers.

She cries. The water ripples. Trevor holds her close.

…..

The entire time Trevor’s back home, he doesn’t go more than a day without seeing Belle. They get ice cream, sitting in the chairs that haven’t been replaced in at least 30 years and giggling as the ice cream drips over their fingers. They go back to Pink Sun to watch the sunset. Because this whole month has him feeling nostalgic, he goes back to his old rink in Stamford and she tags along, indulging him as he pulls up his hoodie over himself as they watch the last 15 minutes of a game the AAA team that Trevor used to be a part of is playing in. Some of the front office staff is still the same and they all immediately beam when seeing Trevor. He chokes up a bit when talking to some of them. He’s missed it here more than he thought he would.

After training sessions, he just shows up to her house without any warning. They take a lot of drives, passing by landmarks they know well and ones they don’t know at all. They spend hours chatting on the porch of her parents’ place, waving at neighbors as they walk by and petting their dogs. She doesn’t cry in his chest again, but there are stretches of silence where she craves a comforting shoulder. Trevor doesn’t hesitate to offer his.

He learns more about why she enjoys wedding planning and her time in Michigan. She learns more about how his goals have changed the longer he’s been in the league and his time in Anaheim. They both talk about times they feel like they’ve had their heart ripped to pieces and he finds himself admitting things he’s never admitted out loud to anyone — not Jamie, not Jack, not Cole, not Alex.

He wonders to himself how he’s lived this long without her in his life.

The day Trevor has to leave for Anaheim, she offers to drive him to LaGuardia, smiling as he hugs his parents goodbye in the driveway, promising to see them soon when the Ducks are playing in New York.

She shuts the trunk at the departures drop-off area with a wistful smile. “I’ll miss you, Trev.”

“I’m gonna miss you too.” And then he practically manhandles her into a tight hug, his chin resting on her shoulder, rubbing her back before pulling away. “If you ever wanna come out to Anaheim, there’s always a place for you to stay.”

“I’ll think about it.” With most people, it’s an empty promise. But with Belle, he knows she means it. “Good luck this season. Score some goals, yeah?”

He rolls his eyes, arms still around her waist. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? You have my number. Use it.”

She nods, tilting her head to the side. “Okay.” She presses a kiss on his cheek before he forces himself to let go. She sticks her hands in her jean pockets. “Text me when you land?”

“Of course. Bye, Belle. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye. Travel safe.”

Trevor forces himself not to look back as he walks through the automatic doors.

…..

The first roadie of the season includes a stop in Chicago, and Trevor doesn’t hesitate to text Connor. He feels the familiar pang in his heart again, guilty that he hasn’t reached out until now. But when he and Connor meet up for a quick coffee the morning of the game, it washes away quickly. They fall right back to where they were when they were 16, even though they’re both over a decade older and a bit wiser now. Trevor practically shoves two tickets for the game for him and his wife, even though Connor is trying to bat his hand away.

After the game, the three of them go to dinner and he gets introduced to Ashley, Connor’s wife, who is peppy and fun and he loves seeing her and Connor together. After dinner, Ashley excuses herself to go home as the two of them migrate to a nearby pub. They have years to catch up on.

“Belle tell you about the break-up?”

Trevor scoffs, taking a hefty sip of his beer. “Yeah. Fucking asshole.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. When she decided to get the fuck out of Michigan, I was relieved.”

“Yeah?”

Connor sighs. “Yeah. I know she says she stayed because of the Hughes wedding, but I also think it’s because she had a hard time letting go. Which, you know, who can blame her, right?” Trevor just nods sympathetically. Connor leans back, eyes flickering elsewhere for a moment. “Thanks, by the way.”

“What for, man?”

“For looking out for her.” There’s a hint of relief in Connor’s tone. “She’s always been independent, I’m sure you remember. And she has a hard time letting people know that she’s struggling, even if we all see it and want to help. Whatever you did, thank you, man. It’s appreciated.”

Trevor bites his tongue. He wants to say that he doesn’t have to thank him for being a good friend, but Connor is adamant. So Trevor just smiles.

…..

The season’s in full swing, but Trevor makes the effort to keep in contact with Belle frequently. Whether it’s sending a meme or calling on his way to practice, Belle becomes a part of his daily life.

A month in Bedford now and he can tell she’s getting a bit restless. She’s taken up crocheting, which Trevor loves to make fun of her for. Until he finds a little box on his doorstep and opens it to find a crocheted Wild Wing. He hands it on his rearview mirror in the car. He doesn’t fully realize she’s watching his games until he sees a text from her after a game against New Jersey (“Don’t let Jack hang the win over your head too much. That slapshot was insane.”) and that has him grinning much too widely for someone who just lost.

On Thanksgiving Day, after one of the guys’ families hosts a Friendsgiving for the whole team, he’s back at his place on the couch when she calls him.

Her face comes up on the screen and he has to smile. “Oh. Hey.” she says gently. “I didn’t actually expect an answer.”

“You just caught me. I just got home from Friendsgiving with the team. Happy Thanksgiving, by the way.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

He doesn’t recognize her background. “Where you at?”

“My aunt’s. They’re all watching the game in the basement so I decided to take a break up in the living room.”

“Good food?”

“I’m fucking stuffed,” she admits, making Trevor laugh. “I’m not bad in the kitchen, but nothing beats a good homemade turkey and stuffing.”

“I feel you. So what’s been happening? Haven’t called in a bit.”

“It’s been, like, a week, Trev.”

“Exactly. A bit.”

She rolls her eyes, before leaning back further into the couch. “Actually, I do have news. Kinda.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I, uh, heard back from two people about a job. My old boss from Santa Ana said there’s a spot open for me if I want it. And then my boss in Michigan recommended me to someone in Manhattan, and she called me yesterday and also said I had a job if I wanted it.”

He grins. “Belle. That’s amazing! Congratulations. I’m not surprised though. I know firsthand how damn good you are at your job.”

He sees her blush slightly and he thinks it’s adorable. She twirls her hair around her finger. “Thanks. I’m, yeah. It’s pretty exciting. I’m excited to get back into it again.”

“So. California and New York. Those are two pretty different places.”

She sighs. “Yeah. That’s partially why I called you. Kinda want to get another opinion.”

Before he can stop himself, he snorts. “You’re telling me you haven’t made a pros and cons list already? Don’t think I don’t remember you forcing me to make one when I was deciding if I should go to Avon.”

She tilts her head to the side. “You remember that?”

“There’s not a lot of memories I have from growing up here that don’t have you in them. Of course I remember.”

She bites her lip but Trevor can see the smile peeking through. She clears her throat. “I do. Have a list.”

“So you’ve already made your decision.”

She opens her mouth. Then closes it. “Yes and no. I really do want your opinion, Trevor.”

“Floor’s all yours.”

“I love New York, but I don’t know if I can stay here. If I go back to Santa Ana, is it going to be like Michigan again? I don’t know what Santa Ana is like without Nate.”

“No,” he responds immediately. “It won’t be.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because Santa Ana is yours, Belle. No one else’s. You said it yourself. You loved your time there. If Michigan doesn’t feel like home anymore and New York feels too much like your past self, California is waiting for you.”

A couple seconds of silence before a small chuckle erupts from Belle. “You take a creative writing class at BU or something? That was actually eloquent.”

If he were next to her, he’d shove her off the couch. He just huffs as she keeps laughing. “My point is, is that you can make fresh starts in familiar areas. Plus, not that I have anything to do with this, but Santa Ana is pretty damn close to Anaheim.”

“Knew you’d say that.”

“I mean, can you blame me? ” He leans back on the couch. “I don’t think you’re incapable of moving on. I think, in a way, you aren’t ready to, and that’s why Santa Ana scares you. You have to and are inevitably going to make new memories wherever you are, but you just have to do it. Take the leap. Dive in the deep end. Whatever the fuck they say.”

And well, that came out a bit harsher than Trevor intended, if the slight flinch on Belle’s face is an indication. But she sighs, “You’re right. I know you’re right. Fuck, Trev. Maybe I shouldn’t have quit and stayed in Michigan.”

“Stop,” he says. “We’re not doing that. Now you have to come out to California. Who else is gonna tell you to get your head out of your ass?” His goal is achieved as she laughs. “Seriously though. Whatever choice you make, you have my full support.”

Four days later, he sees that Belle left him a voicemail in the middle of the game. She’s coming to Santa Ana. Trevor starts organizing the guest room.

…..

Three days into the new year and Trevor finds himself running out of morning skate to drive to LAX. Belle’s staying with him while she looks for her own place, at Trevor’s insistence. He told her she can stay as long as she needs. He hopes she takes that offer seriously.

He rolls up to the arrivals terminal and idles his car, seeing a text from Belle indicating that she’s still waiting to pick up her luggage. He leans back in his seat, taking a deep breath adjusting the baseball cap on his head, bopping along to the latest playlist that he made for this season.

He’s about to do a drum solo on his steering wheel when he spots Belle come out of the double doors, rolling two suitcases, backpack on her back and a tired but genuine smile on her face. He immediately leaps out of the car, running to lift her up in a hug, making her chuckle.

“Hey Trevor.”

He kisses her cheek before putting her down. “Belle of the Ball. How was your flight?”

“Good. Long,” she reaches to get her suitcases and he waves her off, lifting her suitcases easily into his trunk as she slips into the passenger seat. She sags into the seat and turns to him with a bigger smile as he turns on the engine. “It’s really good to see you.”

He reaches to ruffle her hair to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach. “Missed you too.”

They catch each other up on what’s been happening since the last time they talked, so only really the last week. Once he turns off the highway, he opens the windows and he periodically glances at Belle, who’s leaning her head on the seatbelt strap as the houses blur by. She tucks her hair behind both her ears and Trevor feels his throat start to close up.

“Hungry?”

“A bit.”

“Enough to wait a bit so I can cook something up?”

She looks toward him in subdued delight. “You cook?”

“Decently, I’d say.”

“What are you gonna make me?”

Whatever you want, he thinks. “I make a pretty good steak.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to a personal chef.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he points at her jokingly. She laughs, but honestly, Trevor doesn’t hate the idea.

Belle’s car got shipped yesterday to Trevor’s place the week prior, so two days later, when Belle starts work and Trevor has to go to morning skate, they leave the house at the same time after cups of coffee and climb into their own cars, Belle wearing a red sleeveless blouse and white jeans and Trevor wearing a Duck t-shirt and shorts.

Before she can fully get into her car, Trevor runs around and squeezes her, making her squeal. “Good luck today. You’re gonna kill it.”

“Thanks Trevor. Have fun at morning skate.”

“Are you still cool with a couple of the guys coming over for dinner?”

“It’s your house, dude. You can invite over whoever you want.”

“It’s also your home too,” Trevor insists.

She rolls her eyes fondly. “It’s not. But of course you can have your friends over. I’m excited to meet them.” She gets in her car, but before she shuts the door, she puts her head out. “Do you mind grabbing some orange juice? I think you’re running out and I drink more of it than you do. Just Venmo request me.”

“Yeah, I gotcha. Won’t Venmo request you though,” she opens her mouth to protest but he just taps the roof of her car twice. “We can talk about splitting stuff later. Bye now!”

“Dick,” she mutters as she shuts her door. He chuckles. He lets her back out of the driveway first.

That night, Mason, Jamie and Leo come over and the four of them are finishing up cooking dinner when Belle walks in. A bit flushed and sweaty, she’s nothing but smiles as she slips off her shoes, putting down her bag and introducing herself. She hugs each of them with a sweet smile before finally reaching Trevor. She hugs him like she did with the other three, but he thinks she holds on a bit longer. He smacks a friendly kiss on her cheek, but he catches Jamie’s eye as she pulls away and he knows he’s going to absolutely be grilled about this tomorrow.

Dinner’s practically ready and the guys just shoo Belle away to the dining table, Leo pouring out a glass of wine for her. They chat and swap stories over chicken alfredo and salad, and Trevor’s content sitting back and watching two different parts of his life come together, not even jumping in to defend himself that much when she recalls some shenanigans from Jack’s wedding. Sure, they at least know of Jack, Alex, Cole and other various members of the NTDP crew who knew him when he was 17 and stupid, but Belle’s known him since they were children. Whether she — or Trevor even — realizes it or not, Belle and Trevor know each other in the purest way. The way only childhood allows, where filters of judgment, insecurities and expectations cease to exist.

Even with almost two decades lost in translation, Trevor thinks, in a way, Belle might know him better than most. And he might know her better than most.

Which is why he can sense that an hour after dinner, that Belle is exhausted, so he takes the initiative and the guys immediately pick up on it, bidding Belle goodbye and making her promise that she’ll come to a game soon. Once the door shuts, Trevor goes to start washing the dishes, batting her hand away when she tries to help.

“Trevor. You cooked. I’ll clean.”

“Nope. Go to take a shower. You’ve had a long day.”

“You have too.”

He waves her off. “Go. I got this.” Her shoulders sag in defeat, but she shoots him a thankful smile and heads to shower.

He’s just about finishing up the dishes and wiping down the counter when she walks back in, an old Michigan t-shirt and flannel pants on. She has her book in her hands but comes by next to him. “Are you sure you don’t need help cleaning up?”

He puts the kitchen towel back on the hook and swings an arm around her shoulder, bringing her against his side. “I’m sure. Where you unwinding for the night?”

“Probably the living room, if you don’t mind?”

“Belle. My home is your home. I mean it. I’ll probably join you after I shower.”

And he does, coming back in afterwards with only the living room light being on. He sees Belle curled up on the couch, engrossed in her book as one of the candles he rarely uses is lit up on the table in front of her. The air smells faintly of pine.

“Do you mind if I put on some football? I’ll put the volume low.”

She hums. “Not at all.” With her feet in his lap, blanket tucked over both of them, Trevor thinks that he could get used to this.

…..

Two weeks later, they’re finishing up their takeout when Belle clears her throat. “So I found a place that seems promising.”

Trevor stiffens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s about 10 minutes from here. Just renting for now, which isn’t ideal. But it’s so soon, you know? I don’t wanna buy yet.”

Trevor understands the latter part, absolutely. But he’s still stuck on the first part of what she said. “When would you think of moving out?”

“At the start of the month.”

“That’s next week.”

She grimaces, washing their utensils. “Yeah. I just…I want to get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

“Belle,” his voice lowers into a serious tone that doesn’t come out of him that often. It works, because it gets Belle to look at him. “If you want to move out, I can’t stop you. It’s ultimately your decision. But I love having you here. So please don’t…don’t think you have to move out to get out of my hair. Because you don’t. I’d love for you to stay and live with me. Full time.”

Belle swallows, searching for something in his face. “You mean that?” She whispers.

“Of course I do.” He pushes on. “And you know I’m a shitty liar.”

She chuckles as she finishes washing the dishes. On her way to the bathroom, she stops and just hugs Trevor. He welcomes it with a big smile. “You 100% sure?”

“Yes.”

She pulls away with a smile. “Okay. Your porch is better anyways.”

Trevor laughs, his mind briefly flashing to an image of this place that had been only his for so long one day becoming theirs, with her throw pillows on the couch and fairy lights on the porch and photos of their friends and loved ones hanging on the walls, some they share, some they don’t.

…..

Trevor fully admits it to himself when Christmas rolls up and Belle refuses to go back to New York.

(“There’s no way I’m leaving you alone for Christmas, Trev,” she insists with an eye roll. “We’ll start our own tradition here. It’ll be great.”)

He doesn’t even try to hide his fondness as he watches Belle teetering at the edge of a chair to hang up lights around their living room. Some random Christmas playlist he had queued up at Belle’s prodding is playing through his speaker, and he doesn’t think “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” deserves the grin plastered on his face.

Belle, though. She might deserve it. Be the origin of it, really.

They make too many cookies that they'll have to gift his teammates and her coworkers just so they don’t end up eating all of them. They have holiday movies on in the background for three days straight, some they pay attention to, some they just leave on for background noise. On Christmas morning, after two cups of coffee on Belle’s end to deal with Trevor’s incessant rambling, they’re sat in the front of their tree. The curtains are drawn, offering minimal lighting into their living room. Yet, the twinkling lights on the tree and around their living room paint Belle in the warmest of lights. The blue fluffy blanket wrapped around her shoulders only adds to her softness and Trevor has to excuse himself after they exchange presents to go in the bathroom.

He splashes cold water in his face and stares at himself. He’s fully in fucking love. Shit.

…..

After that realization, he does the only thing that makes sense to him. Two days later, on the way to practice, he calls Jack. As the phone rings, he thinks that he probably should’ve checked to see if the Devils were playing today, but he also couldn’t be bothered.

Three rings later, Jack’s scratchy voice is projected through Trevor’s car. “Hello?”

“Hey dude.”

“You’re cutting into my pre-game nap. This better be fucking good.”

“I think I’m in love with Belle.”

Silence. A rustle on Jack’s end, before, “Jesus Christ. I knew Amelie should’ve taken the day off today.”

“Jacky,” Trevor practically whines. “Be helpful.”

“Give me a second to think and I will be,” Trevor stops at a light. “Dude. I mean, not completely out of left field. But in love love? That’s big. Considering you only reconnected, what, three months ago?”

“Yeah, I know. Am I being stupid? And I need you to be real with me and tell me if I am.”

“No.”

“I’m not being stupid?”

“No, you’re not being stupid. Z, I knew I wanted to marry Amelie, like, two months after I met her, and we weren’t even dating yet. You and Isabelle have known each other since you were kids.”

“Yeah, but we lost touch for over a decade.”

“Okay and? You spent a good amount of time together when you went back home, right? And she lives with you now, right?”

“She was the only one around at home, and we’ve been living together for maybe a month.”

“Dude, are you trying to convince yourself you are in love with her or that you’re not?”

Trevor shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. Right.”

He hears Jack let out a sigh. “I know you’ve been burned in the past with relationships and stuff, but this is a good thing, okay? She’s a great person. Try not to freak out about it so much.”

“And do what instead?”

“I don’t know,” Jack says sarcastically. “Maybe tell her?”

“Absolutely not,” Trevor says.

“Why not?”

Trevor’s about to tell him that Belle literally was supposed to be married a year ago but clamps his mouth shut. He’s not sure if Jack knows and that’s not his story to tell. “It’s just not a good idea.”

“Lame.”

“I’m gonna hang up and call literally anyone else.”

“Do it,” Jack challenges the empty threat, before softening. “Do you have any idea if she likes you back?”

“No,” Trevor says. “But I also haven’t been thinking about that because I don’t wanna…scare her off? I know she likes me as a friend, otherwise we wouldn’t be living together. But that’s probably all there is to it.”

“Maybe,” Jack says. “Or maybe you’re making assumptions. I’m not saying you have to do anything now, but you’re not stupid, Trev. Especially with stuff like this. And hey, at least you’re in love with someone as awesome as she is. Ooh, can you imagine you two getting married? It would be full circle!”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Trevor says as Jack chuckles. “Thanks, man. Seriously.”

“Anytime. And Z?” Trevor hums to tell Jack to go on. “Don’t beat yourself up so much. You don’t know until you ask.”

Those last two sentences echo through Trevor’s head for the rest of the day, even when he’s at practice and going through the drills. After so many years in the league, he usually always can leave his thoughts at the entrance of the rink and just focus on hockey. But not today. He can tell Troy wants to ask something, but he refrains. It’s not like a distracted Trevor appears often, and Trevor’s thankful his teammate doesn’t push.

When the front door swings open that night and Belle calls out her greeting, Trevor is coming back from being outside the last few hours, where he sat and listened to the birds and just stared at the grass, lost in thought.

Then Belle comes into view, gray sweater over a cream satin dress, tote bag on her shoulder and a tired but bright smile on her face, and Trevor’s not lost anymore.

In fact, as she slides over to him in her socks across the hardwood floor and hugs him in greeting, immediately talking about what they should make for dinner tonight, Trevor’s never felt more sure of where he is and where he should be.

…..

Trevor’s on a long roadie during Valentine’s Day, but he makes sure that he delivers flowers to the house before Belle has to get to work. He had spent an ungodly amount of time selecting which bouquet he wanted to send, and Jamie, the saint that he is, had only blinked when he saw what Trevor was looking at on his phone on the bus home from the game before Trevor could lock his phone.

Imagine if it was Troy. Or Mason. Or fucking Leo, who’s just as much a menace as he was the first day Trevor met him. Everyone loves him and thinks he’s a darling, but Trevor knows better.

He ended up choosing a bouquet from Fresh Sends because the packaging looks sick with the newspaper and the bright colored box and the reviews are all high. Without hesitation, he had picked the largest bouquet, which he knew if Belle knew how much it cost, would probably kick him out of the house or something. But she doesn’t ever need to find out. On the bus, he had hastily typed out a custom note.

Belle,

Happy Valentine’s Day!! Wish we could be watching shitty rom-coms together but I hope this makes up for it. Thankful to have you in my life again. See you when I get back!

It’s not overly romantic, but he can’t exactly confess his love for her over a note when he’s across the country. If he ever confesses, he’s gonna tell her in person, not hide behind a note like a coward.

He wakes up on February 14 in a hotel room with a bleary smile as he wipes the sleep away from his face.

Belle of The Ball

*picture of the flowers*

Trevor!!! these are so so beautiful thank you

You really didn’t have to

Good luck against the Rangers tonight! And tell your parents (and mine) that i said hello❤️

Trevor nets two goals and an assist. He’s on top of the world.

…..

He’s pleasantly surprised to see that he has an incoming call from Amelie on his way home from the rink a week later.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Hughes.”

Amelie chuckles. “Quinn’s gonna be devastated.”

“Quinner has nothing on you.”

“Flatterer,” she says dryly.

“What’s up?”

“Jack told me. About you and Isabelle.”

Trevor almost snorts. When he first met Amelie, way back when they were in their early twenties, she had been way more hesitant on giving her opinion among Jack’s oldest friends. But with time, her sarcasm and vivacity came out, and while Trevor had been initially surprised and amused, it made sense. Anyone who would choose to spend their life with Jack Hughes has to be able to hold their own purely to rival his constant need for attention.

“Did he now?”

“You’re the worst. I’m not gonna tell you the same stuff he did, which by the way, I’m actually pretty impressed by. From the recap he gave me, he actually said some useful stuff. But I will say something that he forgot to tell you.”

“And what is that?”

“That you’re wonderful, Trevor.”

That’s not at all what he was expecting to come out of the photographer’s mouth. All he can muster out is an “Oh?”

“Yeah. And obviously Jack believes the same thing. You know that. But you’re such a lovely guy, Trevor. I’ve known that since the day we met, don’t get me wrong. But I-I’ve talked to Isabelle a few times since the wedding, and she always brings you up. And it’s always positive.”

“What does this have to do with my feelings for her?”

“Do you feel like maybe you feel like you’re not good enough for her? Is that partially why you’re hesitating on telling her? Take out the fact that she was in a long relationship before and broke off an engagement.”

He blinks. “She told you about the engagement thing?”

“Yeah. She came out to Jersey to grab dinner with Jack and I, like, two weeks before she moved to California and told us then. That’s not the point.”

He doesn’t remember Belle mentioning that. But like Amelie said, not the point. “I-I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Trevor. You’re one of the best people I know.”

“That can’t be true,” he tries to protest.

“But it is,” Amelie presses on. “You’re loyal. You’re funny. You have the ability to make anyone feel comfortable, even if you just met them. Your infectious energy elevates every room you walk into. You care deeply about everyone in your life. You were the first of Jack’s friends to be so openly kind to me and you continued to be kind to me even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m loud. Harsh. Always has to be on the go or I get bored. Life of the party maybe and a fun time usually, but that’s it.”

Amelie scoffs. “Respectfully, shut the fuck up. Okay, you’re all of those things, so what? You think she doesn’t already know? She probably knows better than any of us. I get being hesitant to do anything because she’s maybe on a different page, I get that. But it’s not because you’re not good enough. Get that shit out of your head.”

Trevor has to laugh, both at the abruptness of this call and unbridled honesty from Amelie’s voice. “I’m not gonna lie. Getting chewed out by my best friend’s wife wasn’t on the list of things I expected today.”

“If you think I’m chewing you out now, you’re lucky Clementine doesn’t know about this yet.”

Trevor actually shudders at the possibility of Clementine Sandoval (well, Clementine Hischier as of two years ago but old habits die hard), lecturing him about this. He still remembers Clem’s lectures she would give Quinn, Jack and Luke when they were all in Michigan. They would usually be over the phone, since she was already out in California for school by then, but even at 17, Trevor knew she wasn’t someone to be messed with. Who else in the world, besides Ellen Weinberg-Hughes, can somehow lecture all three Hughes brothers successfully in one breath?

“She doesn’t?”

“Eh, usually she would. But she’s in her last trimester and Nico would kill me if I stressed her out more.”

And well, Trevor thinks that’s fair enough. He quiets again, thinking. “You think we could be a good match? Belle and I?”

“Yes,” Amelie says with no hesitation. “And I’m not going to tell you why, because I’m pretty sure deep down, you already know.”

He kinda hates that she’s right. Damn, is he this easy to read? He hangs up, but not before promising to give her a call more often.

As they’re leaving practice, Jamie nudges him with his shoulder. “How’s Isabelle?”

“She’s good. She has a wedding in Santa Monica this weekend so I haven’t seen her that much this week.”

“She a good roommate?”

Trevor smirks and elbows him lightly. “Better than you ever were.”

Jamie’s jaw drops, indignant. “Hey! I was a great roommate, thank you very much.”

“You were, you were. Nah, she’s great. We did Christmas just the two of us and it was really nice.”

“Just the two of you?”

“Fuck off, Jimmy.”

“I’m just asking! She chose not to fly home and stayed here with you instead. Ever think about what that could mean?”

Trevor has thought about it a lot recently, actually. But Jamie doesn’t need to know that. He lets out an uncommitted noise, but the look on Jamie’s face tells him that he’s not fooling anyone. Least of all, one of his dearest friends.

Trevor needs to tell her soon. Or get over it.

…..

Trevor never thought to really ask Belle if she wanted to go to a game, which is weird, because why wouldn’t he want a friend out in the stands to cheer him on? But he also knows that Belle wouldn’t be afraid to just ask if she wanted to go, and that her ideal time to unwind after work isn’t necessarily to go into a rowdy arena. She’s perfectly content snuggling in on the couch and watching the game on TV.

But when he mentions that Cole and the Canadiens are coming into town to play, she perks up. During the whole wedding weekend, Trevor could tell that she got pretty comfortable with Cole. Which, to Trevor, makes complete sense. Cole has the ability to make friends quickly and genuinely anywhere he goes. He leaves a ticket on the counter before heading to morning skate, as well as a note allowing her permission to raid his closet for any Ducks merch she so desires to wear.

The game is a fun battle that goes into OT, but Leo gets the game winner with an assist from Trevor and the Honda Center goes nuts. Trevor has plans to grab dinner with Cole and Belle, and he’s in good spirits during media before he meets up with Cole and goes outside to where he told Belle to meet them.

The boys see her before she sees them. Belle’s leaning against the wall of the arena on her phone, one of his jerseys tucked into black jeans and a black blazer completing the look. Cole calls out her name and she immediately puts her phone away with a smile, letting Cole hug her tightly with a chuckle. Trevor trails behind, watching the scene in happiness. Trevor tells Belle where he made dinner reservations, and she gets into her own car to follow them.

As Trevor watches Cole and Belle talk at dinner, it’s overwhelming, his love for her. Cole’s pulling out some old-school stories from way back during their program days and Belle’s absolutely loving it, pulling out some of her own stories from her college days and Trevor feels so fucking lucky. There’s a particular thing that Cole says that has her coughing up her water and she’s laughing so hard and Trevor feels so fucking fond.

Tomorrow, he promises himself. He has to tell her tomorrow.

…..

He doesn’t tell her tomorrow. But in his defense, he has to go on a road trip and she’s busy at work.

Somehow, after dinner with Cole, he had gone to sleep earlier than she did but had woken up before her to a short but sweet note on the kitchen counter. In her cursive, he smiles at her words.

Trev,

Thank you for dinner and a fun game <3 Wanted to tell you tonight but by the time I got out of the bathroom you were already in bed (old man). Good luck on your road trip to wherever!!

Love,

Belle

He takes the note and folds it carefully, tucking it into his wallet.

…..

At the end of the day, he ends up just blurting it out.

He comes home from the road trip to the smell of something absolutely delicious floating through the house. He peeks his head around the corner to see Belle flittering around the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. The oven beeps and Trevor decides to make his presence known.

“Smells good in here.”

Belle looks over her shoulder and he realizes she’s wearing one of his Ducks hoodies he must’ve had lying around. She beams. “Hey! Welcome home. I felt like making some good old grilled cheese and tomato soup with some roasted vegetables because I guess we need those. Don’t tell your coaches if this fucks up your diet-”

“I love you.”

And well, shit, because that’s definitely not how he pictured this going. For a split second, he thinks he imagined it. But Belle freezes, her back towards him, and he has no idea what to do.

After what seems like a lifetime, she turns off the stove and turns around. “What?”

Trevor walks forward, “I love you. I’m in love with you. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way and that’s okay! I really don’t want this to change anything between us because I love our friendship. But I-I had to say it because it’s driving me crazy not saying it.”

“Trevor-”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. Y-you’re such an important part of my life and I really hope this didn’t fuck everything up-”

Belle rushes towards him to put her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. He forces himself to take a deep breath and to stop his hands from shaking, staring at his feet. He’s breathing really fast, but Belle’s orange blossom perfume and touch calms him down ever so slightly.

“You good?”

He swallows roughly. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she says softly. He gets the courage to look at her face. He sees her smile and he can’t help but smile too. She clears her throat. “I-I thought it was clear, but I guess I’m out of practice. I feel the same way, Trevor. I like you a lot. Maybe not…love. Yet. B-but you’ve become my favorite person. And these last few months have been so…lovely. I just-I haven’t said anything because I don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

“That’s okay,” Trevor rushes to assure. Because holy shit, she likes him back? This was farther than he thought he was going to get. He chuckles lightly. “I…shit. Sorry. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact you like me like that.”

“Trevor,” she trails her hands down his arms to grab both of his hands. “Of course I do.”

“Oh,” he says softly.

Belle’s eyes water, and Trevor immediately feels the surge to make her feel better. “But I don’t know if I’m ready, Trev. I don’t know when I will be. And I can’t be the asshole and ask you to wait.”

“Why not?” Trevor challenges.

Belle looks at him incredulously. “Because that’s unfair.”

“Well too bad. Because I’m not gonna listen to you.”

“What?”

“As long as you need. Take your time. I mean it. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I promise.”

She bites her lip, “Trevor, you can’t possibly promise something like that.”

“I can, actually. And I will.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, before laughing. She squeezes her eyes shut as he places his hands on her cheeks to cup her face. “Okay.”

He raises an eyebrow playfully. “You’re not gonna fight me?”

She shakes her head. “You’ve never been the kind of person to back down.”

He laughs and he so wants to kiss her. But he doesn’t, instead just placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You’ll let me know when you’re ready?”

“If you’re still around,” she jokes.

Trevor grins, his heart growing four times its size. He feels like it might explode out of his chest. “I’ll always be around for you.”

#k writes #hockey fanfiction #hockey fanfic #nhl fic #nhl blurb #nhl fanfiction #anaheim ducks #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x oc #trevor zegras fic #nhl

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canonicallyobserving911 · 9 months ago

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Buck & Eddie: 5 unresolved items from season 6

There were several things in season 6 that were left unresolved including some that happened between Buck and Eddie. These are items they never discussed and IMO, it’s possible they might resurface in season 7 and present the small amount of angst that’s been mentioned by OS and RG during their recent interviews.

Full Disclosure: When season 6 ended, I like many other viewers, absolutely LOATHED the way Buck’s and Eddie’s endings were handled since they were both shoehorned into relationships with one-dimensional love interests the same way they had been at the end of season 4. The constant delays of Buddie going CANON was just 🙄 and at the time, I took a step back because it felt like all the metaphors, callbacks, foreshadowing and hindsight that happened during the first 13 episodes were replaced with a forced narrative. Characters were retconned too so they could fit into some “metaphorical FOX procedural drama box” and it frustrated me. After 6x18 aired, I took a couple of weeks to formulate my overall thoughts on the season and I completed 15 Constructive Criticisms posts to move past my frustrations. Additionally, I started writing a massive multi-chapter fanfic to unravel the mess that was season 6 and I must admit, doing so helped because I was able to put some of the messy pieces to that unfinished puzzle of a season together.

Now... back to the regularly scheduled programming…

This post highlights the 5 things IMO that are still in play that didn’t get resolved last season and I’ve included details about them below. Since season 7 is shortened and only has 10 episodes, it’s possible none of the things listed will be revisited but it’s also possible they will.

Before I get started, here’s a quick reminder, Buck and Eddie didn’t discuss any of the things listed in CANON.

1. The Donation

Other than 6x7 when Eddie heard about Buck’s sperm donation for the first time at the firehouse, in 6x9 when they were on the four-way call when he responded to Chimney and said, “I don’t know… it kind of feels weird to congratulate him” and in 6x10 when he replied to Buck and said, “Sounds like your family had your back on the whole donation thing. That’s definitely progress” (notice he NEVER said he had Buck’s back on it and also his facial expressions in 6x9 after Buck’s announcement showed he wasn’t too thrilled about it) Buck and Eddie never discussed it. Therefore, it is possible there could be some angst coming from it when the Buckley family’s other “deep dark family secret” (related post linked here) is revealed during or after Madney’s wedding.

Furthermore, Maddie’s NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT BUCK’S SPERM DONATION in CANON and every time it was mentioned in 6x10, it happened right after she left the room to check on Jee-Yun. It’s obvious she knows about it since Chimney spoke up and said something to rebut Sang’s comment regarding a man raising another man’s child. Another point to make about the whole “Meet the Parents” saga in 6x10 is the audience never saw Maddie converse with Sang and based on BTS information for season 7, it appears Sang, Albert nor Albert’s mom will be in attendance at the wedding. 👀

[FTR, I still don’t believe Connor and Kameron’s baby is biologically Buck's and I will stand on this hill, even if I have to stand alone, until there’s a blood test proving he is related to the baby (post linked here).]

2. The Onesie

At the end of 6x9, Buck was asleep and he left the LAFD onesie he purchased sitting on top of his nightstand and it was right after the “Santa Ana Winds” ended. However, there are two important things that should be remembered.

First, it has an LAFD logo on it which means it’s important to Buck because as he told Maddie in 2x18, "Being a firefighter is MY LIFE! It’s the only thing I’ve ever done that was important and that mattered, ok?"

Why is this important?

It’s important because BUCK IDENTIFIES HIMSELF AS A FIREFIGHTER and after all these years he still hasn’t figured out firefighting is what he does. Eddie knows Buck’s more than a firefighter especially since he knows and loves him to his CORE! Also, if Buck believed the biological relation wasn't important, then he could have just bought a regular onesie from Target or Wal-Mart, right? Yes!

Second, in 6x17, Kameron stayed with Buck for several days which means if he wanted to, he could have given it to her as a gift but he didn’t. Therefore, it’s possible it might come back into play after 7x5 when Connor and Kameron are supposed to show up again (OS mentioned Buck being a sperm donor for his friends won’t resurface until after the first five episodes). Additionally, after 6A, the narrative could have changed since the onesie wasn’t seen again and that could be due to all the audience backlash that happened after it was over.

Viewers didn’t like the jokes about Buck’s "swimmers" or the lack of his "alone time" and all the other ways the storyline was fumbled. By the start of 6B, the show tried to make the audience believe Buck understood he was the "donor not the dad" 👀.

If the actual onesie doesn’t make a reappearance, then I believe the ramifications associated with the way Buck identifies himself will and it could be a point of contention between him and Eddie since Eddie was the one who told him in 4x14, “You act like you’re expendable... but you’re wrong”.

3. Buck’s Death

At the end of 6x18, it appeared as if Buck still hadn’t dealt with the fact that he DIED and it’s possible nobody else has either, especially Eddie, Maddie, Bobby and their found family. Reminder, Maddie and Bobby both said, “Buck, you died!” and when they said it, Buck became frustrated.

However, when Eddie said, “You died Buck!”, he stopped and listened but the way Eddie said it was different for A LOT OF REASONS (post linked here). After Eddie asked if he was allowed to ask how he was, Buck replied, “Honestly Eddie… I don’t know” but they have yet to have a full CANON conversation about the effects of it the same way they haven’t discussed any of their other shared traumas.

Additionally, during that conversation, they briefly discussed the shooting but they didn't fully talk about it other than Buck asking Eddie what he remembered. It’s another important and shared traumatic event that’s happened between them but like the well, the hostage situation and Eddie's breakdown, they still have yet to discuss it. Buck seemed to be a little upset by the fact that Eddie “said” he didn’t remember anything other than the searing pain he felt in his shoulder (I believe he remembers more than he said he does).

Buck's response was, “Is that it?” as if to say, “You don’t remember me crawling underneath a firetruck, pulling you out, picking you up and putting you inside of the truck? You don't remember me holding a gauze to your wound and asking you to stay with me? You don't remember asking me if I was hurt? Because I WAS!” Also, it was kind of like Buck’s heart broke because Eddie “said” he doesn’t "really" remember it while Buck can’t forget the way his heart fell out of his chest that day when he saw the love of his life bleeding out in the middle of the street.

Also, Eddie’s still waiting for Buck to talk about the fact that he died. Reminder, Eddie's heart fell out of his chest too and he yelled at the hospital staff and told them to "Do More!" Even though they briefly discussed it while they were in the cemetery in 6x15, BUCK STILL HASN’T DEALT WITH IT YET! If he would have gone to therapy instead of whatever he was doing with the DeAtH dOuLa, then maybe he would have dealt with it by now.

4. Buck’s Couch

Full Disclosure: Like so many viewers, I was pissed at the end of the season when Buck asked N to help him pick out a new couch because it didn’t make any sense and the truth is IT STILL DOESN’T but hindsight is 20/20 and I do believe the couch was still there for a reason. IMO, it has everything to do with what could happen between Buck and Eddie in season 7.

Please note, these are my observations and interpretations about what I believe the destruction of Buck’s couch represented.

After Margaret bought Buck a new couch at the end of 6x11, beginning in 6x12, the show spent a lot of time showing how uncomfortable it was for Buck whenever he tried to rest on it. Also, they AVOIDED showing it in a lot of other scenes even though Buck’s previous couch (the black leather one), when he still had it, could always be seen in the frame (post linked here). However, the orange couch wasn’t fully seen until 6x18 before Kameron gave birth on it.

IMO, her giving birth on the couch Buck's mother purchased represented a lot of things including Buck’s idea of the life he always believed he was supposed to have. Reminder, he gave his sperm (I don’t think the baby is his but let’s roll with this idea for a moment) to Connor (a former roommate) so him and his wife could have a baby even though Connor and Buck hadn’t seen each other in years.

He met him while they were in Peru and the only reason Buck ended up in L.A. was because Connor suggested he move with him and his friends because they were “kind of like a family”. Also, he said Buck has a good heart and that was the reason why he wanted him to be their donor but reminder, the reasons why he said he chose him aren’t hereditary.

It appears the way Connor presented himself in 6x4, with a wife and in search of that "missing" piece (a baby) is exactly what Buck’s always wanted and that’s what his couch represented. Let's be real, Connor manipulated Buck and they aren’t friends because if they were, wouldn’t he have invited Buck to the wedding or kept in contact with him over those three years? It kind of seemed like he wanted to rub his nose in the fact that he finally settled down while Buck was still living the bachelor life (not really because he already has his own family with Eddie and Chris, he just hasn't realized it yet).

The issue with Buck’s couches was he’s wanted his own family for years but the way his life has been presented, it appears he believes no one wants to build a life or a family with him and that's why he gave away a piece of himself. In doing so, he was trying to fix the issues he may have seen in Connor's and Kameron's marriage since it was barely hanging on by a thread. Reminder, Connor let his pregnant wife leave and he didn’t try to reconcile with her. Also, Buck never said why he didn’t want to turn them down when he was talking to Hen even though he should have.

I believe the destruction of Buck’s couch with the birth of the baby on it was about more than the couch itself. It was destroyed and unsalvageable because THE DREAM OR IDEA Buck’s always believed he was supposed to have got destroyed when he gave his sperm away. Also, the couch was his MOTHER’S idea of the life she wants him to have instead of the life he wants to have for himself, hence the reason why he told her he would get a couch when he was ready but she ignored him and bought him one anyway.

His "destroyed couch" illustrated the image Buck’s had in his mind of the life and the family he thought he was supposed to want for years, (i.e., a wife and a child) is no longer applicable because his family will include a husband, EDDIE and their son, CHRIS.

Reminder, there was a lot of talk about the types of family in 6B and they all related to Buck's idea of a family. In 6x10, Buck told Bobby and Eddie, “It kind of felt like we were an actual family” but then Eddie replied, “You are an actual family”. Also, in 6x13 when they went to play poker, Eddie responded to Buck while they were walking through the kitchen and said, “It’s a different kind of family” and later in the same episode, Chimney said to Maddie, Athena and Bobby, “Every family is different” but they were talking about Buck because Maddie said she would be furious with Buck if he did what Rhonda Fitzsimmons did when she used her nephew to gain access to Maddie's and Chimney's home.

5. Eddie’s Couch

Eddie’s blue couch has always been Buck’s couch too and if it wasn’t going to be Buck's anymore, then something would have happened to it or Eddie would have bought a new one like he did at the end of season 2. But Eddie didn’t and only Buck’s couch got DESTROYED at the end of season 6👀.

Reminder, in 6x9 Eddie was shown sleeping on it, in 6x12 Buck was shown sleeping on it and Chris was shown sleeping on it in 6x15.

Eddie didn’t get the blue couch until season 3 and the couch he had in season 2 was gray (post linked here). It’s evident Buck still hasn’t figured out Eddie’s couch is also his even though he does know he’s not a guest there.

Therefore, Eddie’s couch and everything it represents for Buck, i.e., a romantic relationship, family and fatherhood will be in play until Buck realizes it or until Eddie explains it to him.

Will the small amount of angst Buck and Eddie experience in season 7 revolve around these 5 unresolved items or others? Only the showrunner, writers and producers know the answer to that question.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #911 abc #911 meta #911 on abc #911 season 7 #911 season 7 speculation #911 speculation #ryan guzman #oliver stark #anti connor and kameron #anti marisol #anti natalia dollenmeyer #anti eddiemarisol #anti bucktalia

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jokeringcutio · 1 year ago

Note

Otis breeding you as part of the family Halloween ritual 🖤

Otis B. Driftwood x Reader - (WARNINGS)

Halloween Breeding Ritual

Please read ALL warnings. Pairing: Otis B. Driftwood x Reader Rating: Explicit Summary: When you and your friends ask for help, you end up as part of a horrific ritual. Warnings: Killer Family, murder, death of a friend, Sexual content, Non-con, Breeding. AN: Follow me for more Halloween Reader Inserts. There'll be less dark ones as well ;) 1.

The car, a useless hunk of metal now, stood desolate on the empty road. You stared at the flat tire, cursing your luck. What a way to celebrate Stacey's bachelorette party, lost and stranded miles away from civilization. Connor, Stacey's friend, shot you a mocking glance. "Nice going," he sneered.

"Shut up, Connor," you muttered, gripping your camera tightly. It was your solace in moments like these, capturing the world's beauty amidst the chaos. Stacey, oblivious to the tension, stood next to the car and held her pink plush bunny ears in her hands. They had been part of the fun costume you and the others had made her wear earlier on, but she had taken them off when you had all piled into the car.

You wished you were trapped on this trip with her alone. Stacey had always been your best friend. It was just unfortunate that you had to share the car with three of her other friends that you barely knew. There was Carrie, Connor and Heather. All people you had never really seen except on Stacey’s birthday.

"Hey, I remember seeing a house not too far back," Heather suggested, trying to break the tense silence. "Maybe we could ask for help?"

The group agreed, and with no other choice, you all began walking towards the supposed house. Connor walked beside Carrie, his girlfriend, whispering something in her ear as they laughed. He annoyed you, mostly because he was ever so present. His voice was loud, his smile dazzling, his physique one for the magazines. But he hadn’t been very kind to you during the trip. Carrie never really said anything to you either. This left Heather and Stacey, but they had been too busy talking about the upcoming wedding, how amazing Brad – Stacey’s fiancé – was, and Stacey’s dress.

Your footsteps crunched on the gravel with each step, the sun setting behind the trees, casting eerie shadows across the path.

As you came closer to the house, your heart raced. Junk littered the ground around it, a creaky wooden gate barely standing guard. The house itself looked like something straight out of a horror movie. Fitting, you thought, reminding yourself it was Halloween.

"Creepy place," Stacey said with a nervous giggle. “Looks like it came out of a horror movie.”

“I’m going to get you,” Heather shouted, crawling up behind Stacey while running her hand up Stacey’s back.

Stacey yelped while the others laughed. “Kill me gently,” Stacey teased. Her laughter was contagious, and soon, everyone joined in, making jokes about the ominous house. You bit your tongue though, and silently stared up at the house that you and the group now approached.

In horror movies the group of stranded young friends always made jokes before the killing started, you thought. No. You had to shake such evil thoughts off of you. This wasn’t a movie. This house was real, and the people who lived in it surely would have a working phone or a spare tire for you.

"Hey, since it is Halloween, we need a kid to collect the candy for us,” Heather said, grabbing the bunny ears from Stacey and placing them on your head. “Trick or treat,” she said laughingly. You frowned, displeased with the mockery, and instantly tried to take them off, but Heather tusked at you and you halted.

“Keep them on,” she simply said. But the grin on her face was anything but kind. “Yeah, don’t be a spoilsport,” Stacey added, sticking out her tongue before she stepped onto the porch. You lowered your hands and your shoulders sagged in defeat.

Let them mock you, you thought. If this brought them joy, then let them laugh and taunt you. After all, you needed to keep up the spirits of the group and God only knew how long you’d be stuck with them until you finally arrived at your destination.

"All right, let's get this over with," Connor said, striding towards the door. With a deep breath, he rang the doorbell.

As the chime echoed through the house, you couldn't shake the feeling that something dark awaited behind that door. The haunting tone of the bell reverberated through your chest, and your grip on the camera tightened. You tried to focus on the present moment, but it was difficult to ignore the lurking dread that threatened to consume you.

The door creaked open, revealing a blonde, matronly woman with kind eyes. "Oh, my! What happened to y'all?" she asked, her voice dripping with concern.

"Uh, we had a flat tire, and we're kinda lost," Connor explained hesitantly. He put on his most charming smile. It had an effect instantly, you could tell, for the woman’s eyes lit up at the display.

"Well, you poor things. Come on in, come on in," the woman insisted, ushering everyone inside. The warmth of the house was a welcome reprieve from the chilly night air.

As soon as the door closed, your heart pounded in your chest, but you tried to shake the feeling of unease. You were led into a cozy kitchen where a blonde young woman sat at the table. Opposite her, a man with long white hair stood leaning against the kitchen wall, a hand in his pocket.

“Well, I’m Mother Firefly,” the woman said, introducing herself. “And this here is Baby,” she said, gesturing at the young woman who was seated at the table. Baby looked up at you all with an excited and bright smile, and waved eagerly. Her cheerful greeting seemed to put some of your friends at ease. She seemed friendly. And she was gorgeous, you thought. She had that cheerleader vibe that many girls craved to have.

Then your gaze shifted to a brooding man leaning against the wall. His white tank shirt seemed messy, covered with spots of grease. His hair seemed unkempt and hung around his frame loosely. Mother Firefly continued, "And this is Otis."

At first, you thought the man to be old because of the grey long hair that fell around his face. But then you realized with a start he must be around your age. Because his grey hair was, in fact, white - as if all the pigment had been lost from it. And his face was much younger than you had expected. But when you saw the odd color of his eyes that only confirmed it. Otis was an albino man. Pale skin, pale hair. Eyes that seemed almost red.

Otis's eyes locked onto yours the moment he saw you, his intense gaze sending shivers down your spine. Something was unnerving about the way he seemed to study you. Suddenly, you remembered the ridiculous bunny ears on your head. Of course, that must explain it. You hastily removed them, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. What a foolish entrance you had made…

"Please, sit down and have some tea," Mother Firefly offered, gesturing to the chairs around the table. “We’ll get your car fixed in a jiffy. Let me call my son Rufus. He’s very good with tires,” she said, rummaging around to pour you some tea.

"Thank you," Stacey replied gratefully, and everyone took their seats.

“So, what brought you all out here?” Mother Firefly asked curiously while she pulled out a chair to sit down with you.

“Well, it’s Stacey’s Bachelorette party and we’re going to have a little holiday over the weekend,” Heather answered for the whole group. Here she took the time to introduce each member of the group., hesitating when she came to you because she had obviously forgotten your name. You quickly whispered it and glanced down shyly at your tea, not wanting to be involved in this whole conversation. Especially when Baby started to ask about all the juicy details.

It felt odd to hear the others tell about their romances and sexual exploits. It felt even weirder because you felt Otis’s eyes upon you the entire time the others spoke. Shouldn’t he be looking at them? Was there something wrong with you that he kept his sole attention fixed on you?

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably. “So, our lucky bride-to-be ain’t no blushin’ virgin,” Baby recapped, pulling you out of your worried thoughts. You already knew Stacey and Brad had been it at like rabbits – hence Stacey’s cute bunny outfit – but you had not expected her to share all the details with a group of strangers. It somehow seemed disrespectful to you. Even if Baby seemed eager to know every little detail and even if her mother didn’t seem to be bothered by where the conversation was headed.

“How about you?” Baby suddenly turned to you and nudged you with her elbow. She waited, but you only glanced up at her with a frown.

“Not quite a talker, eh?” Baby asked, curiously cocking her head and faking a pout as she did so.

You felt your cheeks flush. “N-Not really into all of that,” you admitted hoarsely.

Luckily, the answer was enough, for Baby seemed to catch your distress and flashed you a comforting smile. “That’s all right, love. Nothing to be ashamed of,” and then, to your great relief, she turned her attention back to the group.

As you sipped the warm tea, conversation flowed around you. Despite the unsettling atmosphere of the house, the family seemed hospitable. During the conversation, you couldn't help but notice how Mother Firefly kept throwing you glances every now and then. It was making you worry that there was something weird about you. Was there something on your face? You felt your hair again but you had taken the bunny ears off. Mother Firefly seemed to have caught the gesture and flashed you a smile as if to say it was all right, but you didn’t feel as if it was.

And to add to your worry, Otis was growing increasingly moody. He grumbled under his breath and abruptly left the table, frustration evident in his tense body language.

"Please excuse him," Mother Firefly said with a sigh. "He's not used to company."

"Is everything okay?" you inquired softly, concern lacing your voice despite the churning unease within you.

"Everything's fine, dear,” she said, eyes gently upon you. “He's been working on one of his new art projects and your arrival just got him inspired. Just enjoy your tea," she reassured, her eyes flicking briefly to where Otis had disappeared.

"All right," you murmured, continuing to drink the tea. While the others kept talking, you felt a sudden drowsiness wash over you, making it difficult to keep your eyes open. Your fingers rested loosely around your cup as you fought to stay awake. What were they talking about now? Your friends' voices seemed to grow distant, and before you knew it, darkness enveloped you as you succumbed to sleep.

The sound of Otis's voice pulled you from the depths of slumber, his words seeping into your consciousness. "Those bunny ears... Oh man….they were a sign, I tell you."

Your heart raced as you realized he was standing somewhere near you, probably talking about you. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open to find yourself in the middle of a demonic circle, surrounded by flickering candles and eerie symbols etched onto the floor. The air was thick with a sense of malevolence as if you had stumbled upon some sort of twisted, witch-like offering.

What the hell had happened? Were you having a nightmare? Why then did your head hurt so?

"Wh-what's going on?" you stammered, fear gripping your throat as the dull pounding in your head slowly started to fade.

"Welcome back," Otis sneered, his pale face looming over you, a bit too close for comfort. Black makeup traced lines on his pale skin, making him seem more like a cheaply painted skeleton. “You're just in time for our family Halloween ritual."

Otis sat hunched over you, his white hair tickling your skin, and you flinched. The foul stench of his breath, mixed with sweat and other undefined smells reached your nose. You closed your eyes and turned your head to the side, earning you a deep laugh from him.

“Seems my Bunny is eager to get started,” you heard him say, and tried not to think of the denigrating nickname he had thought up for you.

The sound of fabric crackling indicated he stood up. Faintly, you heard Baby’s voice in the background, saying something about it being time to have some fun. Muffled voices of your friends echoed somewhere in the distance. Where were they?

You slowly opened your eyes. To your relief, Otis had indeed moved away and stood at the edge of the circle. He was now wearing a large black cape, but his normal clothes were still underneath: the dirty tank shirt and the jeans with holes in them.

Your gaze darted around the room, searching for your friends. They were huddled together at one end, and to your shock, they seemed to be gagged and tied together. You saw the traces of blood on their skin and their clothes. Connor seemed to be missing part of his face, an ugly hole revealed the bone of his skull. It made your eyes turn wide in fear. Carrie, next to Connor, stood at such an angle that you couldn’t quite see her face, but you could hear her muttered pleas through the gag. Was she trying to tell Connor to stay alive? Or was she pleading for her own?

The group was bound by ropes that dug cruelly into their flesh. Despite their wounds, they were alive – but their eyes held a terror that mirrored your own. Especially when your eyes met those of Stacey. Your gorgeous friend. Ugly deep lacerations marred her perfect skin. You quickly tore your eyes away from her.

Footsteps signaled the approach of someone. By the sight of the shoes that came into your vision, you knew it had to be Otis again. But there was snickering from the edge of the circle and when you glanced up you realized there were more people gathered there. Not just Baby, but Mother Firefly stood at the side, watching you calmly. There were a few other men who stood there, making themselves comfortable. One, with the weird makeup of a clown smudged on his face, had taken his meat into his hand and was already battering it before the show had even started. What the heck was going on, you thought in alarm.

"Please, don't hurt them," you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks. "We didn't do anything to you."

Otis ignored your pleas, his fingers digging painfully into your arm as he dragged you into the center of the circle. You tried to resist, but your limbs felt weak, still heavy with sleep.

"Tonight, you become part of our family," he whispered menacingly, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm going to breed you, make you carry my child."

"Please, no!" you cried out, struggling futilely against his grip. You could feel your sanity unraveling, your mind consumed by terror. This man, this monster, could not mean to defile you in such a way. You were not ready for any of this. Not ready to be a mom, to have a child, to carry the offspring of someone as vile as him.

Someone who was hurting your friends…

"Shut up!" Otis snarled, silencing your protest. He towered over you, his presence both commanding and ominous. It was clear that your fate was sealed, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

A chant erupted from Baby and some of the other spectators. Wonderfully melodic, considering the foul ritual that was about to take place. You tried to cover yourself up with your arms, but Otis tore them away from your chest, revealing yourself to him.

While you’d been out, someone appeared to have swapped your clothes for something far scarcer. You’d noticed it when you’d felt the cold air brush past your naked arms and shins. You were donned up. Glittering panties and a revealing contraption that did little to hide your breasts, as if it were some kind of holster rather than a bra. Your breasts peaked out and must have been on display all along. But the worst of all was when Otis flipped you over and made you sit on hands and knees, and you realized there was a slight weight on your head.

The pink bunny ears. He’d put them back on, you realized with a sob.

A tear, and whatever flimsy panties you had on were gone. With his hands firmly on your hips, Otis shouted out a few inexplicable words, either in a language you’d never heard or some kind of made-up song. As the ritual commenced, the air crackled with dark energy, and you couldn't help but wonder if you would make it out of this nightmare alive.

"Welcome to the family," Otis hissed, his voice dripping with malevolence as he entered you in one firm thrust.

The world came to a standstill.

His cock was stretching you open, throbbing deep inside your core. You gritted your teeth and tried to keep from crying out loud, but it was hard. Your hands curled into fists. You felt Otis stare down at you, his gaze burning while he remained motionless.

Your spectators cheered. “For the family,” you heard one of them shout. You felt Otis’s cock pulse deep inside. Then, he moved. His body pressed heavily against yours, a dark shadow overwhelming your senses. His breath was hot and ragged, punctuating each thrust as he forced himself inside you. You couldn't help but let out quiet whimpers of pain, feeling utterly humiliated and helpless.

"Silence," Otis growled, his fingers pressing into your throat – just enough to make you gasp for air.

You were starting to see stars when his grip finally faltered and you could breathe again. Taking deep gulps of breath, you tried not to focus on the salacious wet sounds that came from between your legs. You tried not to think of what his man was doing to you, or how his cock was battering your insides mercilessly.

His low groans filled your ears, and you winced when he pulled your hair, forcing your head back up and your back to arch awkwardly. Your breasts swung with each thrust, up and down, delighting the viewers. You heard coarse curses and increasingly wet sounds as some of the other family members were coming to a climax. Spunk was shot through the air, landing a few feet away from you, tainting the satanic circle.

You were relieved it hadn’t landed upon you, but the relief was only short-lived when a particularly hard thrust made it hard to think, reminding you of Otis’s promise.

“That’s right, Buny,” you heard his voice rasp behind you. A slap against your hips before he gripped them tight again and forced you to move along his cock. “Let me put a little Firefly in that pretty little tummy of yours.”

You felt the burning of his gaze leave your back when he addressed your bound and gagged friends at the other side. “Hear that? Your friend loves to milk my cock.” A low chuckle escaped him. You were vaguely aware of Baby and some of the others laughing.

“Gotta milk my cock, aren’t ya, Bunny?” This one was directed at you, but it was hard to focus. His hand had slipped from your hip to your breast, kneading it hard. You gasped, unable to bite back your reaction. Your walls clamped down on him hard, earning you another pleased groan.

“That’s it, girl. Take every drop,” his hips slammed against your own, wet sounds mingling. It was an evil betrayal, but your body responded well to him. The pain between your legs ebbed away and was replaced by something more passionate; a sensation of warmth and pleasure. Your walls pulsed around his shaft, eager to cum.

“Fuck,” Otis cursed in your ear. “Gotta milk my cock so baby can milk your tits, eh? Gotta grow nice and full for us, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to say no, wanted to protest or push him away from you. But his thrusts grew more desperate, more erratic, and his weight was still forcing you down on your hands and knees. You couldn’t help but slump over once his hand left your breast to guide your hips again, and you rested your forehead on your hands, gasping with each deep thrust of the devilish cock inside of your core.

You felt him hit the end of you; felt how his cockhead pushed against your cervix as if he wanted to open you up completely.

A few more harsh thrusts brought back the pain through the building pleasure, and Otis came. He made sure to bury his cock deep inside, groaning as his cum shot forth. You gasped, tears rolling down your cheeks at the feel of warmth flooding your womb. Your body trembled, and though you knew it was physically impossible, your breasts started to feel tense and full. Your stomach ached and your pussy pulsed around Otis’s cock. You hadn’t come yet. Dammit. You’d been so close.

Having reached his climax, a twisted grin spread across Otis’s face. He pulled out slowly, a trail of cum and blood dripping down your cunt and onto the dirt floor below. Your pussy twitched, eager for release. Instead, all it did was push the cum forth for everyone to see. And as you rolled over to your back, you could tell through the hazy spell you were in that his family was still watching. How their eyes were primed on your opened legs.

Without missing a beat, Otis began chanting in an ancient, guttural language. The ritualistic words echoed around the room, reverberating through your very core – chilling you to the bone. You had felt empty and violated, but upon hearing his words, your body started to heat up again. Your pussy pulsed wildly, clamping down on something that wasn’t there. But it was enough. You came, shrieking in surprise as your body reacted violently to his chant.

Otis stood between your legs once more, pushing his already hardening cock inside you in one go. You could see his face now as he took you, see his discolored teeth and his lips curled in a snarl while he started to pick up a quick pace. You felt his heavy balls slapping against your ass. How had they refilled this quickly, you wondered in shock?

But another ripple shook your body as another orgasm washed over you. You cried out, loudly this time, not caring if anyone would see or hear. This was pleasure. Absolute, horrific pleasure. Your pussy pulsed around his shaft, begging him, milking him. Again. And Again. You felt as if there had been no end to your orgasm.

Candles flickered wildly, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Your friends whimpered in their bonds, their eyes wide with terror as they watched the horrifying scene unfold before them. With a final, triumphant shout, Otis finished his incantation, and with it, he came inside of you once more. The room seemed to shudder under the weight of his dark power, and you struggled to keep from collapsing beneath him.

Then, the room grew silent.

You lay twitching underneath Otis’s larger frame, body pulsing in the aftermath of your orgasm. His cum had oozed from your joined bodies, your pussy lips felt raw as they enveloped his softening shaft. He pushed inside a few times for good measure as if to remind you of your duty to bear his child. The devil’s spawn.

With lips parted in a silent gasp, you looked up at him and saw how he opened his dark red eyes. Slowly, a grin crawled upon his lips. He reached out a hand and tapped something above your head. The bunny ears, you thought with a shock.

“I think it caught,” he murmured only for you to hear. “But for good measure, we shall have to do this a few more times. Hope you're not allergic to my cock. You’re gonna be ridin’ it for a good while to come.” He chuckled at his own joke, but you felt no joy to join him.

Instead, your eyes went wide at the promise, realizing that Otis did not intend to lock you away until you’d given birth to a child. No. He was going to keep you as a little sex toy. A woman he could use for his own deprived pleasure. You’d have to do this again and again. The thought chilled you to the bone.

But Otis was already pushing himself up, grabbing your legs to pull them up while he studied the mess he’d made inside. Sticky sperm combined with your own juices were covering up your entrance. Your pussy pulsed, weaker now, but still enough to make it seem like it was gobbling up the mixture of cum.

The demonic man between your legs grinned at the sight and then shook his head before he let go of you. Your knees fell to either side, leaving your abused pussy on display. But you no longer cared for modesty. They had seen it all, hadn’t they?

As he turned away from you, Otis’s malicious gaze fixed upon your friends. “Well, thank ya’ll for coming to see our yearly Halloween ritual,” he said, although you wondered if any of your friends were listening to him. Most of them were jabbering nonsense behind their gags, squirming beneath their bonds in an attempt to either get away or plead for mercy.

Mercy, you thought sardonically. As if that existed in a place like this.

You rolled your head to the side and brought a hand up to your head. You ran your fingers past the soft fur of Stacey’s pink bunny ears. Cursed, you thought, as the afterglow of the sex finally left your body, and your senses started to return to you.

“As this is a yearly show,” you heard Baby’s excited voice but did not feel as if you had the energy to turn your head and watch them. “We have a little sacrifice to make to the Gods. Well, our God, anyway.” She sounded like a cheerleader all right. Especially when she excitedly shouted “Satan!”

You heard the desperate gasps from your friends at this revelation. They must know that their end was in sight.

“Now, usually, we only have the sacrifice part to look forward to. But I think your friend over there, provided that she’ll live long enough to bear Otis’s children, might be in for a treat each year, starting now.”

Wait the fuck. You held your breath. Did they just say you had to endure this sadistic ritual every Halloween from now on? You felt panic seize your heart at the thought that you would not only be subjected to this disgraceful treatment again each year, as long as you stayed alive, but that you would also be used as a cock sleeve by Otis the whole year round from now on.

You closed your eyes and tried to block out all sounds. Otis’s breeding Bunny. That’s all you were reduced to now. How could a small fun trip have gone this wrong?

"But as you guessed, your lives end here," Baby declared cheerfully to your friends. You heard them howl behind their gags in response. “Ah, don’t worry,” she cooed at them, almost lovingly. “Otis will make sure we get you all nicely prepped so you can stay with us in our museum forever.”

Her laughter pierced through the darkness of the night. Stalking towards them like a predator closing in on its prey, Otis and Baby made their way over to your friends. You did not see it. Did not deign to watch their suffering as their lives came to an end one by one.

Instead, you lay on the floor, in the middle of the circle, breathing heavily. You felt the cooling sticky goo between your legs and prayed it would not take. That you could escape this twisted house and make your way home. Start a new life there.

But as silence filled the area, the Firefly family crowded around you, smiling and cooing as if welcoming a newborn into their twisted fold. It was a sign that your friends were gone. Dead.

"Such a precious addition to our family," Mother Firefly crooned, gently stroking your hair.

You felt hands grasp your arms, helping you up.

"Otis's child will be strong," Tiny rumbled, his monstrous form looming above you.

"Congratulations, darling," Baby giggled, her eyes gleaming with a perverse excitement. "You'll learn to love it here."

You noticed that Otis stood quietly in front of you, staring down at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher. Fresh blood stained his hands and colored his shirt a deep crimson. He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a forceful, possessive kiss that left you breathless and shivering. The hands of the other Firefly members forced you in place so that you were unable to pull away.

The taste of him was vile, like blood and smoke and mold. Nonetheless, he deepened the kiss. His tongue surprised you, brushing past yours until it hit the back of your throat, nearly making you gag. You tried hard to breathe, to cooperate with this demanding kiss. But once it finally broke, you panted heavily, bare breasts heaving up and down. Otis didn’t even look down at them. You felt his hand run through the back of your hair while his lust-craven eyes sought to meet yours. The darkness in them frightened you.

“Take my little Bunny to my room,” he commanded. The men who held your arms hoisted you up to your feet. A sickening quelch could be heard from your legs as globs of cum released from your core and dripped onto the floor.

“Might have to do it again, son,” you heard Mother Firefly say to Otis. It sounded so matter-of-factly… as if you were a cow that needed to be bred. Do it again? Your body flushed warm at the thought of Otis inside of you again. A physical betrayal. This wasn’t you.

Had his demonic ritual caused that effect?

You heard Otis laugh. “Yeah, that one won’t get away,” you heard him tell Mother Firefly. And as the men guided you away, you heard his ominous whisper follow you like a ghost.

“Welcome to our family, little Firefly. Enjoy your stay. I know I will…”

His words were a dark promise that echoed in the deepest recesses of your soul. The Firefly family's twisted games had only just begun. And as the night wore on, you knew one thing for certain: there would be no escaping the Firefly family. Not now.

Not ever.

~ Fin ~

AN: Liked my work? :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

#Otis Driftwood x Reader #otis b. driftwood x reader #otis x reader #Otis b driftwood x reader #otis x you #otis b driftwood #slasher x you #slasher fanfiction #horror movie fanfiction

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cogcltrcorn · 9 months ago

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kenstewy wedding, also known as nightmare event, guest list (compiled by stewy to deal everyone involved absolute maximum psychic damage):

- all of the roy family, EXCLUDING greg. he just doesn't get an invite. Tom drags him there anyway (because shiv is actively trying to eat his head off like a praying mantis), but security doesn't let him through, and everyone involved makes a scene about it. greg threatens to sue for discrimination. tom is trying to intimidate and argue his way through security. shiv is spam-calling kendall to call him a bitch. kendall is unable to respond because stewy threw his phone into a river

- nate. the poor guy didn't know What this was going to be because he has met stewy like once and doesn't remember much about him and really he is here because kendall is getting gay married and this is kind of funny

- mencken. stewy WILL make sure he and nate interact

- ravenhead. again. nate gets strategically dropped in his vicinity

- connor is slated to arrive slightly later because he has promised that his wedding gift is a giant marble penis and he is delivering it himself

- elon musk

#connor WILL interact with elon musk and it's going to be glorious #succession #stewy hosseini #kendall roy #kenstewy

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lixzey · 2 months ago

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hii happy birthdayy can you please do

no one's ever had me, not like you !

✨ give me a scenario + character for headcannons! with connor stoll and a daughter of apollo who write songs and plays the piano? tyyy

you are the music in me !

connor stoll x apollo!reader headcannons

a/n: please PLEASE let me know how I did with these 😭 bcs I honestly feel that these are meh 🥲 thank you so much for requesting, my lover!!

• Let me just say that Connor Stoll is completely head over heels for you.

• He thinks that you, his angelic pretty girlfriend, is the most amazing woman in the whole ass world.

• Not only are you smart and caring, but musically gifted as well (duh, you’re the daughter of apollo, of course you’d be musically gifted—Connor told himself that a million times)

• Connor never really liked music, well, that is until he met you.

• He often says that you stole his heart with your beautiful, harmonic, lovely, angelic voice. (Yes, he is overdramatic.)

• The way you play the piano is the most ethereal thing Connor has ever heard in his life. The way your voice effortlessly blends with each note in perfect harmony, made the son of Hermes actually swoon.

• He secretly records you play and sing, he is literally your biggest fan. The amount of recordings he has is actually concerning if he wasn’t your boyfriend. Pretty sure he could start a whole recording label because of it. He has a video recorder and a voice recorder on hand every time, it’s honestly so cute!!

• The way your fingers dance over the keys remind him of your gentle touch, the feel of your soft lips against his felt like heaven every time.

• Connor loves stealing your notes, making you give him a kiss before he’d give it back (well, sometimes he needs more than a kiss before giving you back your journal.)

• LOVES GIVING YOU NICKNAMES!!! like little miss sunshine, daylight, my morning dew, lyric, harmony, symphony, sweet tune, and a shit ton more. Who knew Connor Stoll could be this creative? Hell, sometimes he’d even call you by song titles. Hey, out of my league! Whatcha doin’, fearless? I love you, uptown girl!

• Honey, at this point, every song you wrote is about him. This boy, this menace you love, he is like a poem you wish you wrote!

• Remember those recordings? Connor loves twirling you around to them as the two of you dance by the docks or anywhere, really. He’d be fine dancing inside of a volcano as long as he’s with you.

• The way he took the time to memorize you is honestly so cute???? He knows every little quirk and pet peeve you have. You’re this song he has played on repeat in his head at this point.

• Funnily enough, you got Connor to sing, and surprisingly, he has an amazing voice. Jesus Christ, the gods really gave you everything!

• Aside from those recordings he has, Connor loves taking photos of you while you play! His favorites are when the sun sets in the afternoon, casting a soft glow through the window where your ebony upright piano sits. He says you look like an angel with that soft glow.

• Connor has your original songs memorized, like tunes and everything.

• He brings an extra small notebook and pen in his pocket in case you need it because he knows how hard it is to stop when an idea comes into mind. He hates to see you so bummed out because you forgot a melody or a tune, even a lyric.

• This boy, despite being able to just steal, saved up money so that he could get you a special necklace for your first anniversary. It was a golden chain with an eighth note pendant with yours and his name engraved on it!

• The two of you love making playlists! Pretty sure he even has a secret wedding playlist because he is just so in love with you.

• Every time you and Connor get the chance to roam around the city, he makes sure to get you a few records you like!

• If you and Connor were characters in a movie, you’d be Kelsey and Ryan from High School Musical.

• Musicals? You bet Connor is taking you there on a free night (technically, he’s gonna sneak the two of you out, but it still counts).

• This silly little lover of yours will belt out the entirety of Hamilton with you if you ask him to.

• Travis calls him a simp, and Connor is fucking proud of it.

• Connor Stoll loves and adores his musical side, aka you <333

#ellie's 22nd birthday!! 🥳#connor stoll x reader #connor stoll x you #connor stoll #connor stoll headcannons #connor stoll pjo #connor stoll imagine #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #pjo

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mandobatemans · 1 year ago

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intrigue (Tom Wambsgans x f!reader)

warnings: infidelity, fingering, unprotected piv sex, soft!dom tom, size kink kinda, biting, greg, do NOT have sex with the head of conservative news organizations irl!!!, i am a shivcel fr anything negative abt shiv in here i didn't mean it ily siobhan 🫶, NSFW UNDER THE CUT

word count: 4,740 (i got carried away)

A/N: this is loosely based on s4 e7 but there's no real timeline so it probably takes place like somewhere around season 3 or 4? this is my first succ fic so...enjoy 🤗 & also this took me SO long to write i'm so deeply sorry to anyone who was waiting

also posted to ao3

Tom had never been a fan of the whole “open marriage” arrangement. When he thought back to that fateful night (fateful night…who else would say that about their wedding night?) what he remembered most was the look on Shiv’s face when she told him that she wanted an open marriage. On their wedding night.

It was more for Shiv anyway. Tom rarely thought about actually acting on the arrangement, whether it be out of love for Shiv or loyalty to her father, he wasn’t sure. Sure, he had kissed someone here or done oral there when high on coke, but he had never actually fucked anyone else.

Something was different, though, tonight. Firstly, they were hosting a Waystar/ATN event at their apartment, and despite being chairman of ATN, he wasn't even sure what the evening was for. Shiv had told him about it last minute, casually mentioning it as they were being driven to work, like it was dinner at Logan’s rather than hundreds of media moguls and politicians to host. Actually, dinner at Logan’s felt equally, if not more, important than tonight. A better equivalent for how nonchalantly Shiv had mentioned it would be Connor inviting them somewhere.

Secondly, Shiv had suggested, outright, that they both find someone to hook up with at the party tonight. Earlier in their bedroom, after getting dressed in silence, Shiv had turned to Tom while putting her earrings in to share the idea. He knew she would be acting on it whether or not he did, and why shouldn’t he? It had been a while since he had gotten laid and was verbally (and physically) assaulting Greg a lot more as a result.

Did he just pick someone? How did you approach someone and say, “Hey, I’m in an open marriage but I’ve never actually done anything more than get my dick sucked with anyone else…anyway, let’s fuck!”

Tom fidgeted with his glass as he surveyed the room.

Despite your personal beliefs and the endless human rights violations that Waystar was affiliated with, their (and by extension ATN) events were some of the most lavish you'd ever attended. As a political journalist, it was standard for your company to send a journalist or two to whatever soirée the Roys were throwing. Everyone took turns, and this time you had drawn the short straw. It hadn’t been too bad so far, you thought, although perhaps you were jinxing yourself. You had kept to yourself mostly, chatting with other journalists you frequently saw around the city on assignments, snacking on the hors d'oeuvres, and listening to the ridiculous conversations political and media bigwigs were having.

You had been to an event hosted by the Roys before, but they were usually at ATN, Waystar, or some expensive venue. Being invited as a member of the press to Shiv Roy’s apartment felt strangely intimate. You were certain this was some calculated business move on the part of one Roy or the other, but you honestly didn’t really care. Whatever drama was happening within Waystar Royco was contained within the Roy family. You were simply here to supplement a piece your coworker was writing on the atmosphere of this political season.

It was only an hour into the party when you had collected all the quotes and interviews you needed, and sampled almost all of the hors d'oeuvres. Your boss expected journalists to stay for most, if not all, of the night for these things, in case some political bombshell were to happen. You were pretty sure nothing too monumental was going to happen in this room full of suits, especially with all of the Roys notably absent from the festivities. Even Shiv, whose house it was, looked like she wasn't paying any attention to what was going on in her home. In fact, she had been in the corner all night, talking to some prominent New York and D.C. women, important enough that you knew their faces but not important enough for you to attach any names to them.

You checked your phone for the time. You could probably get away with leaving in another hour if you made up some family emergency as an excuse for your editor. Even another hour seemed like ages. Maybe you could re-interview some people? Speak to some guests whose quotes would never make it in the article just to kill time? Sighing, you opened your messages, thumbs hovering over the chat with your editor, putting your journalism degree to use by brainstorming an excuse to get you back home in your bed before ten o’clock. When you turned around to pace while you typed (a nervous habit), you found yourself face-to-face with one of your hosts.

It felt like a fucking cliché. Literally bumping into someone at a party? If one of your writer friends wrote something like this, you'd tell them it was bullshit and things like that didn't happen in real life. Yet here you were, inches away from–

“Tom Wambsgans, Chairman of Global Broadcast News at ATN.” He introduced himself, reaching out a hand for you to shake.

You returned the handshake, grateful that he wasn’t offended by you bumping into him. “I know who you are.”

“And I know who you are.” He paused. “That sounded stalkerish, didn’t it? I meant, I know who you are because I’ve read your articles.”

“You have?” You were surprised. Your company and your articles in particular were considered left-leaning, the very opposite of the stories ATN ran.

He nodded. “Gotta keep up with the competition. I’ve seen some of your features on the network, as well.”

“Really? I would have thought you would just watch ATN all day,” you teased.

Tom made a face and then shook his head. “No, no, no. Plus, I wouldn’t really call any of our journalists ‘journalists’ so much as pretty faces. You do your own research and look good on the camera. That’s impressive.”

You raised an eyebrow and Tom’s eyes widened, processing what he had just said.

“God, I do sound like a fucking stalker.”

You laughed, “Just a little bit.” You let him cringe for a second, then smiled to reassure him. “No, but I’ve seen some of your interviews since you took over ATN. You look good on the camera, too.” You paused, before adding, “Maybe that makes us both a little stalkerish.”

His eyes lit up at your response, earning a genuine laugh (the first one that night not faked for some suit, he noted).

“Uh, sorry for bumping into you. I wasn't looking where I was going,” you explained, waving your phone in your hand for context.

“Ah, cell phone. The curse of the twenty-first century.”

You furrowed your brow involuntarily for a moment. He wasn't how you expected the spouse of a Roy to be like. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, you weren't yet sure.

“I’m making a huge ass of myself, aren't I?” He sighed. “I’ll leave you to the party–”

“No! It’s okay. Stay,” you heard yourself say. It was Tom’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Okay. You found him attractive. And even despite his eccentric comments, you also found yourself wanting to talk to him more. You were, however, purposely avoiding looking at the wedding ring on his finger.

To Tom, it all seemed too perfect. You, for example. He was being honest when he said he had seen and read some of your work and that he enjoyed it, and he did sometimes watch other networks to get an idea of the competition, but he had left out the fact that there was something about you in particular that made him watch the entire segment when you happened to be on air. And the fact that sometimes he'd scroll through your articles online and imagine you reading them aloud to him. But he wasn’t a stalker. And now you were here, in his house, on the night that his wife had all but shoved him into the bed of anyone that he wanted.

But still; one pleasant, slightly flirtatious conversation didn't mean you wanted to ride off into the sunset with him. Or, more accurately, go upstairs with him.

He scanned the room for Siobhan. Although it had been her suggestion, and he knew she had acted on the arrangement before, he still felt like it was somehow a trap. Like she’d hire someone to hide behind the bedroom door that night and catch him with his pants down (literally) to use as blackmail.

But sure enough, she was across the room, laughing at something some lobbyist had said, and resting her hand on the other woman’s arm slightly longer than a casual touch would last.

The longer he thought about it, the more confident he felt. If you were interested, he wanted to spend the night with you. And maybe more. But he was getting ahead of himself.

“It's kind of loud over here. Come on,” he gestured with his head toward the opposite corner of the apartment, one not occupied by any guests save for an elderly politician snoring on the couch.

You followed him, nodding when he asked if you wanted another drink before picking a champagne flute off of a passing server’s tray. He handed it to you once you reached the corner, your hands touching during the exchange. It seemed like even more of a cliché to feel sparks fly at this tiny touch, so you ignored that, as well.

“You host these kinds of things often?” You asked, leaning against the wall and taking a sip of your champagne. The room was full of very important people, though none of them seemed to be talking about very important things. You couldn't quite wrap your head around why a high-level executive who had married into one of the largest media conglomerates was wasting his time talking to you (flirting with you?), but you had seen stranger things in this city.

He grimaced and shook his head. “No, no. I’m usually just a guest.” Tom laughed and took a sip of his drink. “And not a very important one, at that.”

“I’m sure that's not true. I mean, how many people watch ATN? And you’re in charge of what airs or doesn't air.”

“1.89 million,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, “Outside of the office, nobody’s really worried about what I think.”

“Not even your wife?” You stopped after you said the words, giving your brain a second to catch up with your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean any disrespect, I–”

“No, no, no, no, it’s okay,” he assured you, reaching out to rest a hand on yours consolingly. Tom leaned in closer so only you would hear him, unnecessary considering the secluded corner you two were in.

“But no, not even my wife.”

Your eyes darted to his hand atop yours, suddenly aware of how large his hands were. They almost completely covered yours, and they felt so comfortable and right there, like–

“We have an open marriage,” he suddenly said.

“Oh.”

Tom seemed disappointed with this reaction, quickly removing his hand from yours and adding, “That’s just to say that, our marriage is, uh, unconventional, so her not caring what I have to say isn’t that unusual.”

You were still processing the feel of his hand on yours, much less the revelation that he actually might be flirting with you and that it actually might go somewhere. By the time your thoughts caught up with you, it seemed like he was about ready to excuse himself and go scream at his reflection in the bathroom.

“Well, I’m sorry about that,” you responded, mirroring his gesture from before and resting your hand on top of his to comfort him. “You don’t deserve that, really.”

He scoffed. “You don't know what I deserve.”

You looked up at him, taking the time to absorb the look in his eyes that revealed just how much he was going through.

“Uh, Tom?”

Tom rolled his eyes and turned away from you to snap at the source of the interruption. “What, Greg? Can’t you see I’m having a conversation?”

“It’s just–well, Shiv is leaving with someone.” The taller man gestured at the door, where sure enough, Shiv was weaving her way through the crowd toward the elevators with the lobbyist from earlier, her hand guiding her by the small of her back.

Tom bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, Greg, we do have an open marriage. So, everything’s fine. Now, scram.”

Greg looked between the two of you and hesitated for a second before nodding and disappearing back into the bustle of the party.

Tom turned back to you. “That’s Shiv’s cousin, Greg. I’ve sort of taken him under my corporate wing, so to speak. Showing him the ropes and all that.”

You nodded, finishing your champagne.

“Well,” he said.

“Well,” you echoed.

He paused for a minute, though it seemed to last much longer than that. “You’re writing an article about this party, right?”

“Yeah,” you responded, unsure of where he was going with this.

Tom leaned in, lowering his voice. “What would your editor say if you got a behind-the-scenes look at the party?”

You raised your eyebrow.

“Of course, you'd have to come upstairs…” Something shifted in his tone. You were well aware of what the change implied, and you’d be lying if you said you didn't want to jump at the offer. This wasn’t you, though. Sleeping with a married man? On top of that, not just any married man, but the host of the party that you were covering for work. It sounded like a problem you’d encounter on an Intro to Ethics exam. But any moral qualms you had about the issue were pushed out of your head when you registered the way Tom was looking at you.

“Of course,” you repeated, nonchalantly, setting your empty champagne glass on a nearby table.

Something flickered in Tom’s eyes. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, Wambsgans,” you replied, gesturing dramatically.

Neither of you spoke for the entire walk away from the excitement of the party to the quiet of Tom’s bedroom. It looked much like you had expected it to look: modern, chic, and impersonal. You were sure Tom (or Shiv) had some personal items somewhere in the house, but the bedroom was so clean and styled that the only indication anyone slept or dressed in there was some of Shiv’s makeup and jewelry strewn haphazardly on the vanity.

When he had closed the door behind you, Tom stepped closer to you experimentally, as if he was afraid you'd flee like a wild deer if he moved too fast. You stepped closer as well, which seemed to give Tom the permission he was looking for. Within seconds, his mouth was on yours, his hands cupping your face, all tongue and teeth. There was hunger and desperation in the kiss, but it was hypnotizing, beckoning you deeper and deeper. He was almost doubled over to reach you (god, he was tall), so you shifted your weight to stand on your tiptoes.

Tom broke the kiss, leaving you with a confused look on your face.

He shed his suit jacket, throwing it carelessly on the floor. Next, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. Tugging on the length of his tie, he loosened it enough to undo a few buttons at his collar, revealing an inviting expanse of chest hair.

“Turn around,” he told you, snapping you out of your male-stripper-fantasy gaze.

You did as he said, something in his tone going straight to your core. You felt him run his hands from your shoulders down your arms, then down your hips and up to your waist, the action bunching up the fabric of your dress. He moved your hair to the side, pressing hot kisses to your neck that made your eyes roll back.

“Can I take this off?” He whispered, his lips trailing up to your ear.

You nodded in response, trembling momentarily under his touch. Tom unzipped your dress, helping you push it down your body and step out of it. He unhooked the back of your bra without moving further. It occurred to you then how wrong this was, to be sleeping with someone else’s husband in their own bedroom, but to your surprise, you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was the heat of Tom’s gaze on your bare back. You took your bra off the rest of the way and discarded it on the ground next to your dress. Once in only your underwear, you turned back around to face him, watching his eyes follow every curve of your body to drink in the newly exposed skin.

“Wow,” he said, simply, reaching out to grab you by the hips and pull you closer to him. “You’re gorgeous.”

Grinning, you stood on your tiptoes to kiss him again, cradling his face in your hands. You felt him smile back into your kiss. Before you knew it, he had you pressed against the wall, totally enclosed by his larger form. He went from kissing you on your lips to your neck to behind your ear to your chest, as if he couldn't decide which spot deserved the most attention or for how long.

One of his hands slid down to the waistband of your underwear, the cold metal of his wedding ring a shock against your hot skin. You made eye contact with him as his hand slipped between the fabric and your skin cup your cunt, whining when you felt his touch. He seemed to get off on that, capturing you in a kiss again at the same time he slipped a digit into your wet heat. You were too hot; you pressed your hand to his chest to stabilize yourself and pushed your underwear down your legs and kicked them off. Tom smiled at this, getting right back to pumping his finger in and out at a pace that almost made you melt down the wall.

It was probably a power trip thing, you thought, you totally naked and him almost fully clothed. You didn't mind because it was kinda hot, but it wasn't what you had expected from Tom based on the unassuming, Midwestern image of him that was circulated in columns and by the Roys themselves. But, then again, you hadn't expected to find yourself in this position at all when you left your apartment earlier that night.

The pace of his fingers felt so good, so intoxicating, that now that you had him, you needed more of him.

“A-another one,” you whined between kisses.

When you opened your eyes to look at him, Tom had a smug look on his face. Sure, it was arrogant, but it turned you on, so who really cared? “Yeah?” he asked, “You want another one?”

“Tom,” you hissed, gripping onto his shoulder as his finger curled in just the right way that it made your legs go numb.

The look remained on his face, but he added another finger nonetheless. Tom appeared to inhabit both extremes when it came to sex: he really wanted to pleasure you but he also really wanted to do what he wanted. Luckily, those two wants aligned.

He was making you feel so good that you needed to have more of him. Your kisses got sloppier, each so desperate to be further molded with one another that your tongues tried to push impossibly further into the other’s. Tom shifted his hand so he could angle his thumb to rub slow, tantalizing circles on your clit as he continued to pump his fingers. Your grip on his shoulder tightened–you feared your fingernails would leave dents in his skin–but like so many other things tonight, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could feel the pressure rising in your middle, your cunt clenching around his fingers in anticipation of your impending orgasm, but then it stopped.

You opened your eyes that you hadn't realized were squeezed shut to look at Tom, who had his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with your slick. “Open,” he encouraged. You obeyed, accepting his fingers into your mouth and licking them clean with a ‘pop.’ He stared at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. He jerked his head toward the bed. “Sit.”

There was authority in his commands, but you didn’t fear him; from the short amount of time you had spent with him, you knew he was at his core a sweet man. You would admit to yourself that you had been curious how his awkward, nervous energy would translate into the bedroom, but once alone, he seemed to be a different man.

You watched him strip off the rest of his clothes eagerly, smiling up at him once he rejoined you on the bed totally naked. He must’ve noticed you staring, because he asked: “Do you want me to put on a condom?”

You shrugged, shifting your eyes back up to his own. “No, it’s okay. I'm on birth control.”

He sighed in relief. “Good. I don't even know if I have one in here.”

“Then why’d you ask?” You laughed, encouraged by the smile that crossed his face when you did so.

“Seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. If you said yes, I would’ve sent someone to go get one or borrowed one from–”

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Just fuck me already.”

“Alright. If you say so,” he teased, leaning down over you to kiss you. Both your lips were red and puffy from all the kissing and some biting, but it didn’t matter. You could feel his cock pushing against your stomach from the angle, so you reached down to take him in your hand and pump his length.

“Fuck,” he murmured against your skin, face buried in your neck as he pressed kisses to the every inch of available flesh, “Fuck…Can I?”

“Please,” you responded, noticing a little desperate hitch in your voice that you ignored. Tom licked his hand and cupped your sex with it, running the pads of his middle fingers through your folds a few times to collect the wetness between your legs. Gently, he guided his length into your opening

inch by inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort before bottoming out.

You should’ve expected his dick to be big from his height, the size of his hands, his nose, whatever, but you hadn’t considered just how big. It was quite a stretch to take him fully, but he gave you all the time you needed to adjust and get comfortable. When you were ready, you bucked your hips up into his to give him the okay.

Tom took your permission to move and ran with it, grabbing your left leg and placing it over his shoulder before pressing you down further into the mattress with his body weight so he could thrust into you at a deeper angle.

You lifted your head to meet him to return to making out, the sensation of his tongue down your throat even more erotic now that he was inside of you, as well.

His thrusts were deep but not as aggressive as he had been with his fingers. He wouldn’t vocalize this, or even admit to himself that he was thinking this, but he wanted this to last. As much as it was supposed to be a hookup–emotionless sex–he found himself wanting it to happen again, despite his attempts to push those thoughts deep into the recesses of his mind.

One arm was thrown around Tom’s neck, hand gripping a fistful of his hair. Your other hand went down to your clit, beginning to rub circles to match the pace of his thrusts.

“You wanna cum again?” He teased, “Again, when I haven't cum once?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, playfully, slipping your finger down from your clit to lightly stroke the length of his cock that wasn't fully inside of you.

He let out a moan, eyes twinkling as he snapped his hips a little harder, snickering when you gasped in response.

Tom caught you in another kiss, resting his weight on his forearm that was positioned next to your head. You arched your back up into him, urging him deeper, which he obliged. “Touch yourself,” he said, disconnecting his mouth from yours just long enough to give the command.

You smiled into his lips, rubbing your clit again as his thrusts became sloppier and jerkier. He was holding on until you came again, despite his earlier cockiness. The moment he felt your walls tighten around him, he let go, spilling inside of you with a grunt.

He pulled out, rolling off of you to lay beside you.

Tom was still catching his breath, and you watched his chest heave for a few moments. “Hey, you okay?” He asked. “Everything alright?”

You smiled, nodding and reaching over to kiss him again. “I'm good, yeah. You?”

“Perfect, actually.” Tom smiled back at you. He found himself lost in the moment, lost in your eyes, lost in the connection you two had just had, and it was too much for him. Quickly, he sat up, ready to change the subject. “You need to clean up?”

You furrowed your brow at the sudden shift in his demeanor, but going along with it nonetheless. Despite him just having been inside you, you didn't feel like it was your place to mention the change. “Yeah. Can I?” You asked, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Go ahead. Towels are above the sink.”

You flung your legs over the side of the bed and stood, heading toward the bathroom. “I’ll just clean off real quick, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No, no, no. I mean, you can stay the night. If you’d like, that is. I could call you a car, though, if I’ve made some awful faux pas and you don’t want to look at me for another–”

“Tom.” He focused on you again after his brief spiral. “I would like to stay.”

He grinned. “Great, that's great.”

“Just let me–” You waved your hands around your lower body, “–clean all this up.”

“Yeah, of course, sure. I’ll be here.” He added the last part in a quasi-sing-song voice.

At the sound of the shower turning on, Tom rose to locate his clothes and try to clean up. He pulled his boxers back on, taking his dress shirt, pants, & jacket to be thrown into the hamper. They really should be dry-cleaned, he considered, but found that he couldn’t be bothered. As for your clothes, he wasn’t sure what exactly to do with them, so he laid your dress across a chair in the bedroom and left your bra and underwear on the floor. He was still considering whether he should pick them up or not when you came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your torso.

Once you had dressed in your undergarments again and Tom had given you an undershirt to sleep in, you started to wonder what all this meant. If it had just been a hookup, why were you staying the night? You had thought you’d feel dirty and disgusted with yourself, spending the night in someone else’s bed with someone else’s husband, but you didn’t. You didn’t know what that said about you, what it meant that you were perfectly comfortable talking into the night with Tom, both laughing and sharing stories long after you had agreed to turn the lights off and get some sleep. That almost made it worse, you thought, that it wasn’t just sex. That made it dangerous.

After you had drifted off, Tom spent a few minutes watching you sleep. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear, watching the worries of the day wash off your face while you slept. He knew it was wrong to be more comfortable in this bed with you than he was with his own wife. But that was something to deal with (or repress) in the morning. Here, now, with you wrapped in his and Shiv’s bedsheets, your form against his chest rising and falling with his breaths, he could pretend it was meant to be like this.

@swiftcession @greenwrldsz @zirrocom @lukas-matsson @ledtassoo @bluecruz97 @rita-lean @grainyimag3

#my fic #tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans x reader #succession

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