#those are probably way too far down the list but eh

[raspberryusagi]

Tonight's Artober is brought to you by a silly edit my wife made while I was musing aloud over what to draw tonight. I knew I wanted to draw the Count, but that was it. She then said "pumpkin" and made an edit of him in a pumpkin costume.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Cocktails and Confessions (Doctor Who)

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: You don't mean to confess your love, but in your defence, you are about three and a half whiskies deep.

CW: fluff, cuteness, the Doctor is a little shit, consumption of alcohol

Doctor Who Tag List: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“I just- fucking- love you, Doctor,” you slur, swallowing thickly between the words. “Fuckinnn’ love you… Doctor.” 

The drink in your hand sloshes as you stumble in place. The Doctor rushes forward to steady you, pulling the drink out of your hand and depositing it onto the windowsill. 

“Doctor,” you say thoughtfully. “Dok-tor. Dok-tah. Hickory dickery Doctor Doo Little,” you break off into giggles as the Doctor pulls you towards the TARDIS doors. All he needs is to get you inside and into bed. Seriously, he left you alone for two hours and came back to find you completely off your face. Oh well, as long as you were having fun. That was the main thing. 

“There, there,” the Doctor cooed, displaying a surprising amount of strength to stop you from toppling into a topiary. You laughed, wrapping an arm around his back to steady yourself. 

Once you were inside, the Doctor let you tumble into your bed and helped you roll onto your back. He tutted and went about untying your shoelaces before yanking your shoes off with enough force to pull you halfway down the bed. This, of course, sent you into another fit of laughter and the Doctor bit down on his lip to stop himself from laughing along with you. 

It was barely another ten minutes before you’d passed out completely, snoring in such a way that the Doctor was almost certain that you probably had sleep apnoea. 

It wasn’t until the morning, however, that you realised how badly you’d fucked up. Your head pounded, and your mouth felt like it had sawdust pieces stuck in it. You groaned loudly, throwing an arm over your eyes to shield yourself. Your room in the TARDIS did have a window, but the current source of irritating light was coming from the light fixture. 

“TARDIS, please,” you groaned out, rolling over and becoming very startled when your forehead whacked right into something warm and hard. You cracked an eye open, not sure you wanted to know what that was. 

“Good morning, love,” the Doctor said loudly. Far, far too loudly. The warm hard thing you’d given yourself a mild concussion over was, in fact, the Doctor’s shoulder. 

“Why are you in my bed,” you replied, deadpan. Your eye was struggling to keep itself open and so you buried your face in the squishy bit of his arm to hide yourself from the light beating down on you from above. God, even his arm was bony. “Did you stay here all night?” 

He was still dressed in his tux, though he’d kicked his shoes off at some point, leaving him in his socks. One of which had a hole right over the big toe. 

“Oh, you know,” the Doctor replies as though those three words would answer any and all questions. “Popped out once or twice, but for the most part, yes.” 

You grumble, pressing your face a little harder into his arm. The Doctor tuts and encourages you to sit up. You do as requested, though the entire process has you lamenting your warm blankets and squishy arm pillow. 

Once you’re upright and situated, the Doctor hands you a glass of water, a couple of panadol and a little white button that happens to be the same colour as the panadol tablets. 

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that,” the Doctor laughs, grabbing the button and twisting it in his fingers. “Probably don’t take that. Thought it was another aspirin, but maybe not.” 

You crack into a smile, downing the actual tablets and the glass of water in one go. The water eases your dry throat. 

“You were off it last night, eh,” the Doctor grinned, knocking his shoulder into yours. “Said some things.” 

You turn your head to look at him front on. You only have flashes of last night. Some dancing here, a few drinks there. You’re sure you chatted up a storm, but the look on the Doctor’s face tells you that you might have said some things you weren’t necessarily meaning too. 

“Oh?” You reply, temples throbbing with your hangover. 

“Oh,” the Doctor echoes teasingly. “Oh indeed. You said some things I really rather think you wished you didn’t- because now, I get to hold it over you as long as I like. You can’t remember, can you?”

He was right, as usual. 

“Oh God,” you mutter under your breath. “What did I say?” 

Try as you might, you’re finding it difficult to remember much other than a windowsill and a pretty bush. Damnit, that does not help you.

 

“You,” the Doctor all but giggles, “my very hungover, very brilliant friend- told me you loved me.” 

You fucking what? Oh, dear God. This was… decidedly not good. The Doctor did not seem to agree with you on that, however, if the look of sheer unadulterated joy made you think maybe you didn’t need to be too stressed about it all. 

“Did I just?” You asked, dropping your head onto him softly. You sigh with relief as the pounding in your head starts to dissipate. Not by much, mind you, but just by a little. 

“You did.”

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, wondering just what’s going on in that very vast, very full brain of his. 

“And… you?” You trail off quietly, fidgeting with the glass.

“Oh, feel the same, of course. I love you. I’ve always loved you, I think. Not really something I had to question, was it?” The Doctor takes the glass and puts it on the side table. He reaches back over to grasp your hand in his. “Why else do you think I’ve kept you around all this time?” 

You arch a brow, responding with a statement about how you can handle yourself. Of course, the Doctor grins and agrees that yes, that too is one of the reasons why he’s kept you along all this time.

“If my head didn’t feel like it was about to explode with the force of a thousand suns, I would be shouting and screeching with joy right now,” you say with a vague whimper, cradling your head in your hands. The Doctor tuts comfortingly, manoeuvring to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Oh, I know. Come now,” he says softly, helping you back to lie down again. “Get some rest. When you wake up there’s something I want you to see.” 

You’re not entirely sure what that means, but you don’t complain when your head hits the pillows. You have years and years to explore this new revelation, and you can’t wait for those years and years to start. 

But for now? 

Right now it was time for a nap.

[writingonleaves]

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

pairing: trevor zegras x original female character

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

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

word count: 15.6k

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Brace yourself? What does that mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

His eyebrow shoots up. “You watched?”

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

“And you didn’t reach out?”

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thus begins his stalking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you entrusting that responsibility onto me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A good wedding to end off on?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? What did he say?”

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

“Was already planning on it.”

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

“Was I one of them?”

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

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

She snorts. “There’s no way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you staying?”

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think she’d make me a slice?”

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

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

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

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

“You said you’re leaving next week?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He lights up, grinning widely. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“When are you planning on leaving?”

“Monday.”

In two days. Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For real?”

“Oh my.”

“Okay, Z! Atta boy.”

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

“Have you liked her this whole time?”

“That’s crazy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And now? Do you like her now?”

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

Jack just hums. “Look, I…”

“You what?” Silence. “Jack.”

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

“What do you mean something happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi!”

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

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

“You need any help?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why what?”

“Why you’re leaving Michigan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Belle, you don’t have to-”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

She sniffles. “It’s okay.”

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

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

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

“Trent.”

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

“And Trevor is so much better?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

“Any particular reason why?”

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

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

“You sound like Quinn.”

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

“What? Marriage?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“Is marriage not something you want anymore?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Too late.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor grins easily. “Never better.” 

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

“Belle?”

“Hm?” 

“Can I ask you a question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Things change.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you consider moving back?”

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

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

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

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

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

“See you tomorrow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s weird being here without Connor.”

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

“At least we have each other, right?”

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

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

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

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

“Yup. Until she caught him cheating.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bye. Travel safe.”

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

…..

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

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

“Belle tell you about the break-up?”

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“What for, man?”

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

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

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

“Good food?”

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

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

“It’s been, like, a week, Trev.”

“Exactly. A bit.”

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you’ve already made your decision.”

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

“Floor’s all yours.”

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

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

“How are you so sure?”

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

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

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

“Knew you’d say that.”

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

“Hey Trevor.”

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

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

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

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

“Hungry?”

“A bit.”

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

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

“Decently, I’d say.”

“What are you gonna make me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks Trevor. Have fun at morning skate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trevor. You cooked. I’ll clean.”

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

“You have too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

Trevor stiffens. “Yeah?”

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

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

“At the start of the month.”

“That’s next week.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

“Hey dude.”

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

“I think I’m in love with Belle.”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“I’m not being stupid?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And do what instead?”

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

“Absolutely not,” Trevor says. 

“Why not?”

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

“Lame.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

Belle, 

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

Z

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

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

Belle of The Ball

*picture of the flowers*

Trevor!!! these are so so beautiful thank you

You really didn’t have to

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

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

…..

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

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

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

“Quinner has nothing on you.”

“Flatterer,” she says dryly. 

“What’s up?”

“Jack told me. About you and Isabelle.”

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

“Did he now?”

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

“And what is that?”

“That you’re wonderful, Trevor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She doesn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She a good roommate?”

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

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

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

“Just the two of you?”

“Fuck off, Jimmy.”

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

Trev, 

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

Love, 

Belle

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

…..

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

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

“Smells good in here.”

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

“I love you.” 

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

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

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

“Trevor-”

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

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

“You good?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” he says softly. 

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

“Why not?” Trevor challenges.

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“I can, actually. And I will.”

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

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

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

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

“If you’re still around,” she jokes. 

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

[chocokayke]

Here's Alkaloid for my Splatoon/Enstars AU! All weapons are referring to their Splatoon 3 kits, because that's what I'm most familiar with. I wanna give a shout out to @mdkm444 for making this fanart that inspired this whole AU in the first place. : )

More info on each character below the cut.⬇️

Hiiro

I'm giving him the highest honor I could bestow on a character... My main.

I think Splatana Deco fits him, and how he sees himself at the beginning. It's a very mobile weapon and aggro with a supportive kit. He can easily strife with opponents to draw fire from his teammates, while also setting up beacons, and setting of tentamissles to displace enemies.

The idea is that he mostly sees himself as his brother's "shield" at the beginning, and I feel like having a weapon that supports and takes fire suits that role.

As he grows and gets more comfortable with his place in Alkaloid, he would pick up more aggressive weapons. I just really like the idea of him with dualies. I think he has a lot of fun zipping around with dodge rolls. : )

He runs a lot of Quick Respawn abilities.

I think his backstory would stay mostly the same, actually.

Aira

He's 100% that guy who draws hearts in the enemy base.

He strikes me as the type of person who would play weapons that are meta without fully understanding WHY they're so good.

He started out playing vanilla Splash-o-matic, but he sucks so bad at Crab Tank. Mayoi thought something more mobile would suit Aira, so he recommended Inkbrush and Carbon Roller to him.

Hiyori wears his eye makeup the same way. This is a very important piece of Aira lore.

Mayoi

Mayoi has the biggest change to his backstory out of Alkaloid. He was originally an Octarian Soldier under DJ Octavio.

He was there for the Splat1 final boss and the Calamari Inkantation. He is NOT Agent 8, to be clear. He escaped after Marina, but before Agent 8. He wasn't in the subway. (But the idea of him in the subway is very fun, and that might be something to explore in an AU of this AU.)

He's a huge Squid Sisters fan.

He first escaped to Inkopolis, but it was too overwhelming for him, and he ended up traveling a lot before settling down in ES.

He plays a lot of weapons, and at knows a lot about the weapons he doesn't play. He's extremely skilled and knowledgeable. He's a fantastic coach, and everyone wants them to coach their teams! (Help him.)

Unfortunately, he is still Mayoi and still has severe anxiety! Despite how skilled he is, he's too scared to play alone and is pretty low ranked. That's why he got his status as an "underachiever."

Generally plays a lot of long ranged weapons to stay as far away from the action as he can. Snipewriter is his main, but E-Liter deserves an honorable mention.

Any closer ranged weapons he plays are more supportive than aggressive. This bad boy can pop out so many Inkstorms and Tacticoolers.

I probably should have added Hydra Splatling to his list instead of Heavy Edit tbh? But, eh, he can play both.

I think Snipewriter fits his main really well due to the fact that it has super long range, paints well, and has a supportive kit. At the time I'm writing this, it's also the best competitive weapon in Splatoon 3.

Tatsumi

His backstory is also similar to his canon one.

His leg got damaged and wouldn't repair itself when he respawned, so he had to get it removed it let it regrow naturally. Squids can do that, don't worry about it. : )

The guy who makes sure your base is 100% inked during Turf War.

Me and my friend both agreed it is extremely funny for Tatsumi to run around with his beginner weapon going like ^_^: so that's what he mains.

Then my other friend recommended me what they call "noob trap" weapons, which is mostly short ranged shooters (Sploosh and Aerospray) so I immediately added those to the list. I feel like they suit Tatsumi, and kind of mirror how inept he is with technology in canon.

Despite that, he's actually quite skilled! He does pretty well with short ranged shooters and has fun playing with them. They're his go to choice, but he's experienced in a lot of different weapon classes.

Anyway, you know how the Sunken Scrolls in Splatoon 3 introduced Squid Jesus--

[maxs-guesswork]

An Untitled Mecha - SciFi Horror experiment.

I wrote this in a spurt of inspiration I felt after watching this video. I think want to do more with this, but I'm not sure what. I think it's decent enough as a standalone now that I'm happy putting it out there. First time I've actually shared my writing since the timeline, and even that was more of an outline than something I'd actually consider my writing.

Anyway, critisism is welcome as long as you're nice about it. Hope you enjoy! If you do, please please please please please tell me. If you like it enough to ask for more, that will probably give me a big chunk of motivation to write more.

Thud thud.

“Yeah it’s stuck up there alright.”

“We told you it would be. Several times, in fact.”

“It’s different to see it myself.”

Zach earned an annoyed sigh. Servos whirred as he stepped back from the floating truck. Floating isn’t really the right word, more ‘pinned in the air.’ The thing didn’t budge a millimeter when he gave it a good, solid push. Wasn’t like he wasn’t strong enough, the metal hulk he piloted could’ve lifted that truck up and thrown it like a baseball. Alright maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but the point stood. If that thing wasn’t proper stuck, he’d have moved it at least a meter or two with that force. The thing really was stuck, and hung at an odd angle. It was rolled a bit to the left and with it’s front end facing downwards. The green canvas over top of the rear bed was torn, ripped up by flying debris presumably. Or maybe some wildlife, though Zach wasn’t sure if that was really feasible. Likewise, the windows of the cabin were all shattered, blasted violently inwards. The whole body bore dents at regular intervals, but they didn’t appear to be what held the thing aloft. About 4 of the 6 tires were flat, and all the hubcaps hung out at odd angles. Cap, waiting indignantly, stared Zach down for the whole of his investigation.

“Are we going to move on, or are you too infatuated with your new toy?”

“We’ve been here all of maybe thirty seconds, Cap. Have some patience.”

With one final whack, Zach finally stepped back from the aerially pinned vehicle. He’d only been outside the walls for a few minutes, but it was already the most interesting experience of his life. Certainly worth all those waivers he’d skimmed, and signed. Deciding the young man was quite finished with his investigation, Cap wordlessly started to move on. Alerted by the sound of his footsteps, and little else, Zach turned to catch up.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves as they traversed the overgrown forest. They followed a dirt path on the forest floor, the trees having been carved out of the way by older expeditions. They still hit some of the higher branches that grew from trees on either side, though. Stealthy they were not.

“Forest floor’s a bit harder than that asphalt you’ve been training on, eh?” Cap jabbed when Zach briefly stumbled.

“Laugh it up, old man.” He replied simply, not doing as good a job of hiding his peevishness as he thought.

They trekked in silence for awhile, Zach quickly becoming more attuned to the rough terrain. They’d be on higher alert if they went by the books, but this area wasn’t far from the walls and there was plenty of cover from the ‘new’ emplacements along their tops. Anything untoward in that area would probably get misted before it got anywhere close to the duo. They both knew this, but neither would acknowledge it out loud. In fact, the after action report would list them as being near perfectly vigilant, with negligible lapses in attention. Even the less than personable relationship between them wouldn’t stop their shared interest of keeping the brass off their backs.

Eventually the tree line thinned, and they came to a large clearing. The brush was a bright and healthy green in the strong sunlight, and there were very few clouds in the sky. Zach wished he could’ve popped out right there to enjoy the weather and scenery. It’d be pretty difficult to cover up an unauthorized hatch opening in that after action report though. Damned thing was the biggest buzzkill he’d ever met. Plus, if he turned around the looming black mass of the walls would rather spoil the illusion of peaceful wilderness he so wished to cultivate. There were even some flowers and small wildlife here. They’d been protected by proxy, their proximity to the walls meaning that nothing untoward ever reached this little grove of life. Zach watched his footfalls to try and keep from disturbing the peace any more than he had to.

Onward they moved, through and out of the clearing, returning to the treeline. There was little here to betray the state of the world. Other than the truck. Wilderness that survived in the vague no-man’s land that sat between the city and the Intruders. Zach felt a brief swell of pride at being part of the thing that kept this beauty alive, before remembering how quickly it’d get paved over should the need or even simply the desire to do so arose. ‘Bit of a mixed bag, humanity,’ he thought. Then they reached their destination, and his philosophical musings were unceremoniously cut short.

Even through the artificial image on his screens, his eyes seemed to want to look anywhere else. That strange non-light and the instinctual reaction to it was dampened only slightly by the artificial barrier. Zach had no doubt that even without the screen he’d be able to trace the thing’s outline by what directions it hurt to look in. The fringes had an odd color distortion, where colors seemed to vibrate atop one another. Another no man’s land between the Intruders and everything else, one much more violent.

Cap’s voice was almost level when he called over the coms. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Zach replied, the bantering and rivalry gone now.

Simultaneously, jets of strange white-black fire leapt from the nozzles of the weapons mounted upon the machines’ great shoulders. That color barrier vanished among the flames, and then that non-light splotch on reality began to recede as well. After only a couple minutes of dousing the Wound was gone. Five minutes after that they stopped firing. The ground was seared now, and some normal fire burned around the periphery of where the Wound once was. Cap wordlessly moved to stomp them out. A few seconds later, Zach followed suit.

Their trek back home was a lot quieter.

[runningwithcoffee]

Welcome Home

Author's pre-ramble: Teaser for when I finally manage to write this damn fic. Warning: here there be smut.

She's gorgeous.

Ben lay on his bed and admired her in his bathroom doorway, the morning sun nicely lining her curves. She'd looked stunning the night before, he had appreciated the new lingerie that showed off those curves....

...but this was her, his girl, nothing hidden. Nothing between them, just her soft skin and her warm eyes and blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, and her standing there, leaning on the doorway, relaxed and smiling at him, all warm and ready and wanting what she'd been missing for the past two weeks. 'Going on tour'; necessary, but trotting around the States to drum up business for his club's new owners wasn't exactly high on Ben's list of favourite things to do, although do it he would, if he had to, someone needed to go along and keep an eye on the kids.

(When had he stopped being one of the kids?)

He wanted her more than he could say.

So show her.

Ben smirked at her, and slowly drew back the covers, loving how her eyes followed eagerly up his body, then back down again. Why shouldn't he show himself off? He was happy with his body, and she was loving the view.

Oh baby, you try to hide it, but you know what you want, don't you?

He took himself in his hand, slowly stroking, taking care to give her a good view of what he knew she'd been missing. Knew, because he had missed her, too, more than he'd expected, more than he'd realised he would miss any girl. They'd exchanged photos and messages, sure, but Alyssa, for good reason, wouldn't send anything too explicit. Maybe that was a good thing, he'd seen what happened when you left your phone unlocked. He didn't really think any of the Chelsea boys would go too far, probably not more than a few jokes at his expense... but deeper than that, part of him felt strongly that that this was private. This was his, not because he'd taken it, but because she'd given it.

All his.

He watched eagerly as her eyes practically dilated there and then, her hand almost unconsciously slipping over her breasts and down her stomach, before she dived back into the bed, crawling over and lowering her body over his. Ben let go of himself and moved his hand instead up her back, pausing to give a teasing slap to that nice round arse, causing her to giggle before she pressed her mouth hungrily over his.

He bucked his hips up, loving the friction between their two bodies as she kissed him, her legs either side of him, pinning him in place as she propped herself up on her elbows, breaking away from his mouth to plant soft kisses and licks all the way down his neck, whilst one hand gently but firmly forced its way down and in between them, finding the tiny sensitive nipple, playing with it gently, but then with more force as it hardened under her touch. Ben threw his head back, moaning almost inaudibly as she explored him, finding all the places he loved to be touched, but then, as he relaxed against the pillow again, something caught his eye...

...oh fuck me, does she KNOW I can see that?

He wanted to see more, right now.

***

Author's Note: Yeah, this is a terrible title. I'll think of a better one when sober. ETA dear God that was a horrible title, now changed.

Author's Second Note: Well, eh. I still need to write the angst-ridden fic in which these two idiots finally get it togther. It will happen sometime... honest. Also, this isn't set at the present time, it's set in happy-la-la-land where boring American tours are the worst things Chelsea's players and fans have to tolerate.

[thessalian]

Thess vs The West Coast

I swore I was going to figure that stupid relic ruin out, and I did. With the usual bullshit I generally get with the jumping puzzles.

Right. Relic Ruin on the Long Coast. I at least got the lift powered up. Now I just need to get to crates for, like, stepping stones. Same as the Cauldrons.

Oh. I seem to have approached from a different direction this time. And ... I can climb the tower but of course I can't, just, pry some debris loose and get the gizmo. But ... I can jump to those?

...Barely, and after two attempts, I figure out it's easier to just glide there.

Crate plus Firegleam equals ... yeah, I know how this goes.

And of course I can't just get it straight into the lift. Fine. Down to the ground floor it goes and I'll do that whole fox / hen / grain puzzle. ...At least, once I get the first crate.

Okay, I know I'm supposed to be able to get to those handholds, but I can't see how from here.

Fine. I will unbend enough to watch a vid on it. Because there's an approach I am not seeing.

Aha. Directly behind everything else. Okay.Just have to hang a tighter left when I approach from the campfire.

And once again it WILL NOT LET ME JUMP.

Lemme try restarting from save.

Nope. Lemme try rebooting the game completely.

NOPE. Lemme see what this person in the video does from camera angle.

Not quite, buuuuuut ... there seems to be an order in which you press spacebar and D to move that way? I got it, anyway.

Yeah, thanks for arranging this in such a way that I literally cannot avoid taking damage from the boom.

Okay, just have to move the lights and get up there before they zip back. Now, this is precision timing, so lemme orientate myself properly before I even start.

And I can't use the Pullcaster on the lever if I orientate myself properly, so I'll get as close as I can and trust my ability to press buttons really fast to do the trick.

First attempt ... failure. I caught it just before it zipped back, with me clinging to the whole mess.

Second attempt ... success! Now, I probably don't have to running jump this gap but I'm going to do it anyway because like hell am I falling before I get this crate where I need it.

Aaaaaaaaand crate! I'm sure I did this completely backwards but fuck it. I have two crates, and two crates is all I need.

Crates in lift... Eh, I should probably pull that vent open now to save frustration later

First floor (second floor to you Americans), off with one crate.

Lift goes down... I go up.

Crate on first floor goes on lift roof. I go back down.

And UP I go.

And now I have to move the crate on the lift roof because it's too far from the handholds. But if I'd pushed it that far in, I wouldn't have had the space to climb up. MAKE UP YOUR MINDS.

Aaaaaaaand ... Valentine's Day! Over to Stemmur.

Hrm ... while I'm curious about what he makes of Valentine's Day, I want to see what he makes of Christmas.

"Those look almost like Fanghorns--" I'm not sure whether that's adorable or sad. I'm also not sure whether I want to explain to him that Fanghorns were designed to look rather a lot like reindeer (or, well, deer in general, but still).

Right. Gonna get a few more campfires up the coast before I start thinking main quest.

Acid Bellowback site still listed as "Unknown". I will have it be Known, and also kill me some Bristlebacks because why not?

...CLAMBERJAWS OUT OF NOWHERE THAT'S WHY NOT!

I didn't even see where they came from! It's like Glinthawks descending on scrap in Zero Dawn, but worse! Clamberjaws are quieter!

Right. Moving on ... campfires--

Wait. There's something glowy in my path, visible in the pre-dawn light. Focus on and...

Behemoth. Huh. Doesn't say anything about a site or a convoy. Well, except for the Shell-Walker convoy going up the path a bit further north. Better get it out of my way--

Clamberjaws AGAIN?!? Do they just materialise whenever I scrap something? What?!?

Right. That's done with, and ... Huh. Widemaws. And there's some greenshine down there, why not?

How far away can I be and still kill them?

Almost all the way up a mountain. AWESOME.

Oop. Didn't hit that third one so well. Watching it lumber trying to find a path to get to me is kind of hilarious. Buuuut I should put it out of its ... confusion, if not misery. POONK.

Why are Bellowbacks guarding this building? *checks map* Because it's going to be hella important later. Right. Okay. Might as well clear them out now to make it easier for me later.

Tideripper site. ...Now I know I don't have to upgrade any more armour because I have my Legendary Armour of Perfection, buuuut ... fuck it, Tideripper fins are a good thing, and upgrading armour is as good a reason as any to kill a thing.

Right. Not seeing it. Guess I better glide down there and-- INSTANT alert holy fuck.

Thankfully it's fairly far out to sea still so lemme set up this shock trap just in case.

Right. Safe enough, now I have time to scan and-- BOOM.

Oh. That's a good 3/4 of your health gone. Other reservoir on the neck and--

You didn't even attack me once, Mr Tideripper! ...Well, you weren't Apex, so I guess I should've expected you to go down fairly easy.

...Y'know what? I'm going to go back and investigate that building. Just to see what I can clear up before Quest Shit takes me there.

...............How the fuck did the Bellowbacks come back so fast?!? I POP YOU LIKE TICKS, YOU LUMBERING SHITHEELS! *POONK*

No datapoints yet, but a metal flower and some climbing.

Ah. 98% vendor trash by volume. What's downstairs?

Something I will have to engage with later, apparently, but cannot engage with now.

Okay, I'm done for now. Need a break, maybe some more coffee... And when I come back ... main quest?

Oof. No. I'm still missing a totem on the mainland. Should grab that first.

So, yeah, this early-afternoon was by and large finishing up some loose ends on the mainland. I admit, I love this interactive map.

[umbracirrus]

WIP Wednesday (on Thursday)!

I was tagged by @throughtrialbyfire, though admittedly I've not long woken up and saw the tag, and it's just gone 7:25am on Thursday morning! I also know I did actually post a WIP yesterday, on Wednesday, but what's another one, eh?

I wouldn't know who to tag (still quite new here so don't really have much of a clue!!) but if anyone wants to do it and say that I've tagged them then go ahead :)

This is an excerpt from something which happens later down the line in The Perfect Storm, so may have some spoilers for events to come but honestly I just really like it and is probably one of the few coherent parts of the wip which isn't a massive list of bullet points.

For a little context though, Elyse had Riften and Markarth change hands when she needed to get access to Dragonsreach to capture Odahviing, hence why Maven is Riften's Jarl.

“So, I have heard about something which has recently happened in Whiterun which has... Piqued my interest,” Maven stated as she poured them both a mug of mead each, whilst Elyse did her best not to get distracted by the brewing storm clouds she could see forming in the west from their position on the keep’s balcony. “You have recently invested in Honningbrew Meadery, and are officially a stakeholder in Sabjorn’s... Business.”

She should have known the invitation to Riften would have been laced with ulterior motives – Maven’s entire life was one of contracts, schemes, and underhanded business. “You have heard correctly,” she responded, not letting the bitter frustration which threatened to overtake the rancid sweetness of the mead fill her mouth. “As both a resident of Whiterun, and a Thane of Whiterun Hold, it is an honour to fund and partake in local businesses and their dealings,” and then, she decided to let some of the venom go – her nonchalant swirling of the honeyed liquid in her mug not going unmissed. “There are so few pleasures that feel greater than ending the day with a drink which warms the soul that comes from your doorstep, from flowers and bees which you see when going about your daily business. I could imagine that it is quite the same for your mead – it no doubt tastes better from the source in Riften when compared to anywhere else.”

Either she had somehow been able to disguise her distaste for the way in which the conversation had gone, or Maven was simply very good at masking that she had picked up on her undertones. All that Maven did was give off an enlightened hum as she sipped at her mead in a manner which felt almost... Pretentious.

“Is that so...” She then placed the mug down. “What made you decide to invest? Was it... Spontaneous, or did something inspire you to do so?”

That was a suspicious question. Was Maven trying to get her to put her money into her business too? She had to hold back a scowl as that crossed her mind.

“I see no reason why that would be relevant, beyond it not being something coerced from me – it is something which I did off my own back.”

“And didn’t involve... Perhaps... Wanting to protect Sabjorn from sabotage? Skeevers and madmen, perhaps?’

How did Maven know that?! Unless...

“Mallus was working for you. Not Sabjorn,” she muttered, the pieces all beginning to fit together. Balgruuf had threatened to close both Honningbrew Meadery and Chillfurrow Farm if the skeever problem was not sorted, and suddenly, the problem intensified... In particular in the run up to a mead tasting for the Jarl. She had handled the problem after finding a skeever nest where the creatures were breeding and being fed far too well for vermin... And when she had checked in on the meadery vats, she was attacked by a madman and Mallus Maccius, who both got apprehended by the guards in the aftermath. “You... You wanted Balgruuf to believe that Sabjorn had tried poisoning him so that you could get Mallus named as proprietor with Sabjorn in prison, and switch it over to a Black-Briar meadery!”

Maven scoffed smugly. “Those are your words, Dragonborn. Not mine. And where is your proof, hm? Such accusations towards a Jarl are quite unheard of.”

But she never denied the claims.

That wretched, foul-

“Alas... I will forgive you for such accusations if you were to do a little... Something for me.”

Elyse could feel her jaw tensing and her hands sweating against the mug. She didn’t want to drink any more – she had finally pinpointed why Black-Briar mead tasted so bad to her: the treachery and deceit behind it.

[itsuki-minamy]

"AYAKA – SIDE STORIES 11" (Part 04/04)

"JINGI, A DREAM AFTER A DREAM"

TRANSLATION: NARU-KUN

* List of Chapters

"Is there a system where you can't wake up unless you scream out loud from the bottom of your heart?"

Jingi was complaining in the middle of the life line.

He had enough time to cross his arms and frown because he was already used to it.

But it was another nightmare. It seemed like he was being sacrificed to quell the fire dragon, but the people around him were too dangerous. Especially Yukito.

"That's why everyone was so excited, damn it!"

Jingi has been wearing down little by little. Even when he dreams, he feels that his existence is gradually shrinking. At this rate, it won't be long until he is completely immersed in the life line.

"Oh, no. What I want to see is... that's right. It's fine, as always. Yukito is a little cheeky, but honest. And Momoko-san is kind and a little natural. And..."

Just one thing.

If he is allowed to dream in the truest sense.

"I guess I'd like to see Haru-nii and Aka-nii getting along like before."

Jingi closed his eyes, withdrew all the strength he had left in his mind and body, and surrendered to the flow of life. And while he slept, he had a new dream.

By the fourth time, it was much easier to realize that it was a dream and understand the situation. Rural landscape as far as the eye can see. White storm clouds and dazzling sunlight. Although there are slight variations in seasonality and timing, so far they have all appeared in the same location in Ninoshima.

(Maybe it's like the starting point of the game?)

And the two ladies in front of him.

(I guess those people are default characters too.)

The mission is to run.

"Tanaka Oba-chan, Nomura Oba-chan, hello!"

He ran between the two, greeting them.

"Oh, Jingi-chan."

"Hello. You're always in a good mood."

They both smiled and waved. He had a kind of premonition. He was sure that his wish would come true this time.

He was in a good mood with the pleasant (probably) summer scenery. He kept running all the way home, breathing lightly, stopping in front of the entrance and taking a few deep breaths.

After making sure that his breathing was normal, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and entered through the front door.

The first person he met in the hallway was Yukito.

He was a little nervous because in all of his dreams so far, Yukito had a terrible personality.

"Eh? Jingi-san, where have you been?"

He seemed like a normal Yukito, the same as always. He pouted and protested.

"You promised to watch me train in the morning! You drank too much yesterday too. I'm going to tell Kurama-san and Ibuki-san that you're being too casual too!"

A naive and sensitive boy. Even though he was hated and slapped, Jingi could see that he really respected him.

"......"

Without realizing it, Jingi extended his hand towards Yukito's head and was playing with his hair.

"W-what?"

Yukito rolled his eyes and walked away. While he held his head with both hands...

"Hey, are you still drunk?"

He looked at Jingi accusingly. However, Jingi did not respond and looked for his next target.

He went to the kitchen and found Momoko cooking. She set the bowl she had been using to taste in the sink and looked at Jingi.

"Eh? Jingi-chan, are you back? Wait for me. Lunch will be ready soon."

Momoko Amamiya.

She is like an older sister who has always lovingly watched over Jingi. Without her, not only Jingi, but also Haruaki and Aka would have lived completely different lives.

Has he adequately expressed his gratitude to her?

He now deeply regretted it.

"Momoko-san, thank you as always."

Jingi took Momoko's hand and bowed cordially to her.

And...

"I'm sorry."

He couldn't even apologize for passing away first. She must have cried a lot.

Momoko is kinder than anyone. Yukito too. He was sure that, although he complained, he cried profusely.

Suddenly, Jingi understood. The reason why Yukito and Momoko were so scary and abnormal in his dreams was because Jingi feared that from the bottom of his heart. Since they were such important members of the family, everything seemed to turn into a nightmare.

"Jingi-chan?"

Momoko frowned and tilted her head slightly.

"You're drunk?"

She came to almost the same conclusion as Yukito. She glanced at Yukito, who followed Jingi, but Yukito simply shrugged, as if to say, "I don't know what's going on.".

Meanwhile, Jingi staggered towards the living room. He opened the sliding door and waited to see the scene he always wanted.

Haruaki and Aka.

Seeing his brothers get along.

"Hello, Jingi."

"What happened? Did something happen?"

Kurama Haruaki and Ibuki Aka were definitely there.

Two adults live in that house. Things like that haven't stopped since his teacher, Makoto Yanagi, passed away.

"Haru-nii, Aka-nii..."

Jingi's voice became hoarse with emotion and then he said:

"Then why are you both dressed like that?"

He asked, his face suddenly half serious.

"Eh? Are you acting really weird?"

Haruaki, who was only wearing a swimsuit and a T-shirt, looked at himself curiously. He usually wears the solemn costume of a priest, so seeing him in a simple figure with so much skin feels even more strange.

"We're going to the beach, so it's natural, right? You should hurry up and change your clothes."

Aka, who quickly put on his snorkel and underwater goggles, ordered Jingi to do that. Again, instead of the tight suit he always wears, he wears a t-shirt and navy pants.

Then the two began to talk happily about what they would do when they went to the beach.

"Alright, let's swim as hard as we can!"

Haruaki said as he turned his body around and did something similar to gymnastics.

"Let's use the harpoon to hit the fish, okay?"

Aka, who was trying to contain himself, but looked clearly more excited than usual, suggested that. Together, the two remembered their mission.

"Come on, Jingi, let's go!"

"Let's play as hard as we can!"

Sparkling eyes. The innocent smile of his childhood. However, both of them had the same faces and physiques as the adults. Jingi held back, trembling slightly.

"Jingi!"

"Look!"

His two brothers who had become adults pulled him left and right.

"They get along like before!"

Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer and snapped. The awakening trigger activated and Jingi woke up again.

Jingi finally lowered his head in despair. He realized that the energy that made up his consciousness was running out.

"Damn, I have so many incomprehensible dreams..."

He whispered that resentfully. He couldn't help but feel sleepy from before. As it was, he would break into small pieces and be swallowed by the flow of life energy.

The next time he falls asleep, he will never wake up again.

(Damn.)

The last dream was the one that touched his heart the most.

Well, leaving aside Haruaki and Aka.

(That made me realize that I had a lot of unfinished things.)

He had more things to teach Yukito.

He wanted to thank Momoko.

Why couldn't he tell Haruaki and Aka to get along?

He wanted to hang out more with his bad friends. Enjoy a glass of sake while he enjoys the peaceful scenery of Ninoshima. Being able to go fishing or play pachinko.

He wanted to apologize for causing trouble for Inou.

He wanted to see everyone's faces.

He wanted to see them smile.

(Damn.)

Tears fell. He bit his lip and let the tears fall. Suddenly, the words of his teacher Makoto Yanagi came to his mind. He commented on the qualities of his disciples as connections:

"Haruaki is, well, a genius. I guess it's a matter of lineage, but there's something he's born with. He'll be able to fly to the heights as easily as a gust of wind."

He continued.

"Aka is a theoretical person. One by one, he practices what he can't do and shapes it. Since he can see his surroundings clearly, I am sure there will be many people who will admire him in the future. He will surely become a pillar thick and strong that will never break."

Makoto laughed as Jingi asked, "What about me? What about me?"

"Maybe you don't have much talent. Even at this age, you're still lazy and, surprisingly, cowardly and careless."

That's what he said. Makoto pouted at Jingi.

"That's why you look more like me."

He ruffled Jingi's hair and stroked it with his large hand.

"Jingi. Even if the road is ugly, get up. Being in good shape is not the style of people like us."

In the middle of the life line, Jingi silently opened his eyes again.

"I understand... Master."

Even if he is in the mud...

Maybe it's a murky stream of life. Even if it's ugly...

(I'll hold on to life until the end!)

Jingi began scratching his hands and feet frantically. Imagining levitation, he did his best to hold on to his fading existence and began to swim frantically, aiming only for the top. Every time he felt like he was about to break, he thought about Yukito, Haruaki, Aka, Momoko and his master. The only thing he thought about was his family and his friends.

(Once again, just one more time.)

Then, with all his strength, he finally surfaced from the life line and took a deep breath.

However, the current is too fast and buoyancy is almost ineffective.

"Gaaak! Whoops!"

If he does not move his limbs with all his might, the flow of life force will engulf him in no time.

"Shit! Damn!"

At that moment, Jingi felt as if he heard the interesting voice of his master in his ear.

(Here, Jingi. It's time to take a breath. Good luck. I've prepared some help.)

Jingi regained his strength and crawled. Somehow he had a hunch. He was sure that a helping hand would be waiting for him when he swam there.

And what he saw was...

"Master! Is this?! This is it!"

It was a giant pipe protruding from the inside of the life line. It looked familiar. Although it is larger than the standard, it is definitely a masterpiece that master Makoto Yanagi loved. He felt so homesick that he felt like crying.

Jingi held on to the Kiseru and used his remaining strength to skillfully climb up the body.

Note: Kiseru is the Japanese term for the ancient Japanese pipe. Kiseru were used to smoke a wide variety of substances, including tobacco, cannabis and opium.

Then, he came to a place where he could maintain his posture and shouted as loud as he could.

"Yukitooooooooooooo!"

He called to the being in which he had to believe the most.

"Help me!"

Beyond life.

He felt that he could see the face of a child who was destined to become a water dragon through a very faint slit that connected to that world.

Without hesitation, Sagawa Jingi decided to simply live.

[arcann]

7. Silent fury

Kunrad screams and something gets slammed to the ground, breaking on impact. Probably one of the family’s dusty glasses which were left on the table for decades and Noahn never bothered to pick up. The dry laugh of the soldier that accompanied him follows and Noahn can feel from three rooms away how tense Kunrad becomes. How his fists clench until his nails leave marks on the insides of his hands, how his shoulders shake, tired bones grinding against each other while the sweat drips all over him. 

“She’s not coming! How can she say no? She’s not-” He stops himself, his breath out of control, the air leaving his body before it has any chance to use it. 

“All the efforts I’ve taken, all the shame this task entails, To waste my time like this?” 

“You think Lady Theodora’s orders bring you shame?” The soldier speaks in a much lower tone, with a careful enunciation. Not what Noahn was expecting of him, “Is that it? Oh, I cannot wait to tell the Lord Captain what your tantrums have told me, Master of Whispers.”

Kunrad clenches his jaw so fast he bites his own tongue. The pain makes his eyes water but he restrains his muscles to let any other sign that he’s hurt show. Noahn wonders if the gloom of the forsaken place would be enough to hide it from the other man, but they doubt it. The muscles of the soldier’s face are already forming a mocking smile. 

“You think I’ve forgotten why you’re here and how you have to return to our Mistress, Voigtvir… and that’s not going to work out for you.”

“Emperor preserve me,” Kunrad interrupts, his words showing his exhaustion, “threatening me is not going to help us but sure Mort, why not? Let it out already.” He turns to pull one of those expensive wooden chairs close to him and slumps over it.

“Fine then, try to suggest with careful, spy-like words that we put a Valancius on a trunk. That we knock one down and store her somewhere safe on our way back. You have fantasized about that a bit, haven’t you? Or…” Mort is stuck in the same position, most likely looking for something the spymaster could be hiding but Kunrad stays undisturbed, massaging his temples and refusing to look up. Still, blood is rushing to his face, more than it should.

They’re practically sitting the same way, him and Noahn. He just doesn’t know it.

Mort however has given up on his examination and is now sighing, rapping his fingers on the table. 

“I cannot believe I have to say it, man. Are you so obtuse?” He walks up to Kunrad and the spymaster finally looks up. “Offer them something they want.”

“I already did.” Kunrad scoffs, ”You were there, arch militant.”

“No, Voigtvir, you didn’t. You listed things we could give away for cheap but you didn’t ask what we would have to do so we can all leave this shithole together.”

“This distinction could only matter to you.” Kunrad starts to roll his eyes, stops before he is noticed but keeps waving his hand back and forth. “She won’t leave this cesspit for some reason. Family, maybe?”

“Then figure out what this reason is.” He hits Kunrad’s shoulder, hard enough to make him flinch. “Think about it, wouldn’t you get an advantage in your little games with the Seneschal if it turns out that ‘family, maybe’ is the answer? Two for the price of one, eh?” The arch militant paces around the room, clearly frustrated by his associate’s lack of answers. He walks slowly but suddenly turns back, stopping right in front of Kunrad’s chair.

“Very well, tell you what. Find out what it is or I’ll see that you and this Valancius both land in the same trunk.” that makes Kunrad look sharply at him, his eyes narrowing with fury. “Unlike you, I don’t have to abide by the rules the Lord Captain set for this mission and I wouldn’t be too bothered if both our ledgers had one bad mark. Last I heard, yours has far more than mine.” 

And that is when Noahn finally feels the unflinching pain of their psyker work. They stop peering into the bodies of the men inside their house and awaken in their own wreck of a body, confused at their surroundings. There is a miasmatic nausea around them, but it’s a sensation that is happening to someone else. Not them. They are aware that they’re being attacked for their manipulations of the wrap but they do not experience it. It’s in their power to refuse to do so, even if they have to interrupt their spying on the intruders to focus on keeping it at bay.

They know there’s a timer over their head. They have been found out by subjects of a person they didn’t even know had a stake in them. And there is no denying this woman has enough power to make her minions drag them back to wherever she wants them to be. When Kunrad comes back with an offer it will be the last time.

So they will take it.

Plans change, especially in their life. As if they didn’t know that. But a bitter voice inside them still gets its chance to protest. Why here? Why now? When they finally finally had the reins of their body back in their hands. When their powers could tell them what was wrong and how to fix it. Why couldn’t the universe afford them just a little more time?

They grind their teeth until it’s painful and bit by bit, the nausea starts to break their psychic wall.

To leave here. To miss their only chance at getting back the one person in the universe that is familiar. To lose the one who cares.

They can wail and cry all they want but it won’t stop this new certainty that there is someone else hunting them. And still,

Why?

—

Kunrad is nursing what is probably the biggest headache of the week. The void could take Mort and his attempts to agitate him, as if he didn’t know they were running a tight timetable. Of course he wanted to get back as fast as possible with their quarry but he had no wish to return to all the places and people that reeked of Theodora. Her vessels, her heirs, her voidship, her planets, her subjects, her arch militant. Himself. Maybe they had dragged her here after all, like an ever present shadow that would stalk him to the end of his life.

This Noahn would get one more hour, then he would ask again. Correctly, as Mort wanted. But if she said no…

Kunrad leans back on the chair once more but this time it shakes and creaks, loudly enough to startle him. He shoves his hand in the armrest but that is a mistake. The piece of wood breaks under his hand and he falls to the ground as if the seat had disappeared from under him. But no it’s certainly there, broken to pieces on the floor.

He groans then bolts away from what's left of the chair, pushing himself up from the floor, trying not to touch it any further. He feels something sharp stabbing one of his hands, but he doesn’t pay attention to it. He can’t stop staring at the remains in the low light of the room.

Something is moving inside them. 

“What the fuck?” 

Mort rushes to his side, obviously not to help but to gawk at the mess that writhed on the floor. Maggots the size of fingers were coming out of the rotten wood, a horrible stench accompanying them as more and more escaped the cushion and what was left of the other armrest.

They watch the mess spread through the flood in different directions with an uncomfortable silence looming over them. His hand won’t stop bothering him and he finally looks at it. A large piece of glass was stuck in it, glinting so much it becomes aggravating to his already growing migraine. He rips it off and presses his other hand against his broken skin, searching for the way back to the room they left Noahn in.

No more waiting around, they would leave this haunted place that did nothing but infuriate him now. 

[uglymanchronicles]

Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Book 2 Chapter 4: Break Down

Yep, still doing it. The magic system is sorta explained.

Evan didn’t feel good. Not physically--at least, that wasn’t what was bothering him. He was still a little sore from the end result of his fight with Moreno, which was new, though he put it down to being the hardest he’d ‘died’ so far. In the two days since he’d broken nearly every bone in his body, the pain had steadily receded; in a day, he estimated, it would be nothing but an unpleasant memory.

An unpleasant memory was the source of his unease, actually. While he’d been lying on the pavement, groan-screaming as his spinal cord knitted itself back together, he’d watched Titus cut an ear off Moreno’s mangled corpse, sprinkle the body with a blue substance he’d called “barghest powder”, and with a muttered word, set the whole thing alight with an eerily silent, heatless gray flame. In less than a minute, the body was reduced to a pile of ash and blackened bones, which Titus brushed and stomped down a nearby sewer drain, respectively.

He’d killed Moreno and Titus had literally thrown him away. Over the two days since then, Titus had made a concerted effort to assure Evan that Moreno had deserved worse than he’d got. And Evan was trying to make peace with the idea that he was going to run into people who there wouldn’t be any ‘normal’ way of dealing with; even if he’d somehow subdued Moreno and handed him over to the authorities (and convinced them to arrest him, though that probably wouldn’t have been too hard; his search for information on Moreno had turned up a laundry list of warrants), it would be child’s play for Moreno to break out of captivity once he’d recovered his strength. As it stood, probably the only way to mitigate the harm someone like Moreno could cause was to take him off the board permanently.

Evan accepted that, as things stood, the only way he could effectively neutralize a sadistic sociopath with supernatural capabilities was to kill them. He just wasn’t particularly happy about it.

To that end of “making it easier to kill things/people with superpowers”, he’d tried to recreate the huge punch he’d used to mangle Moreno, but nothing had come of it. Evan figured that it had to be tied to the memory of his boxing match, but no matter how hard he concentrated on that day, he couldn’t pull it off. Maybe it had to do with the source of the pain? Maybe he wasn’t getting close enough to death? Maybe it had to be used against the source of the pain, as opposed to random trees that happened nearby? There were too many variables, and Titus had started to complain about the amount of bullets the experiment was wasting, so Evan had decided to move on to Plan B: better weapons.

To that end, he’d decided to rebuilt the MANUS and give it an upgrade; to that end, they had made a detour to a salvage yard. And now Evan was covered in mud up to his knees, crawling and climbing around piles of barely-useful scrap metal and discarded appliances, searching for... well, he had ideas, and he was pretty sure he’d know when he saw something that was useful to him. Those mechanical engineering classes weren’t that long ago, after all.

Unfortunately, such an intuition-based method of searching didn’t lend itself well to collaboration, which meant Evan was wading through (and, with frustrating regularity, falling into) the mud in the baking sun while Titus sat in a rented UTV, flipping through sheaves of Evan’s notes and sipping from a water bottle that Evan was pretty sure contained Colt 45.

The suspension squeaked and protested as Evan dropped what felt like a hundred pounds of scrap onto the back.

“Find anything?”

“Jinx!”

 “...”

 “Oka--“

“Fuck!” Laughing, Titus finally broke the linguistic stalemate. “You first.”

“Eh, some half-decent sheet metal I can make the frame for a new Ma--gauntlet out of,” Evan said, stopping himself from saying ‘MANUS’. Titus had given him shit for “the most contrived acronym I’ve heard outside of Marvel comics” and he didn’t really feel like putting up with that right now. “A couple small motors I might be able to make work, a couple sawblades I’ve got some ideas for... you?”

Titus grimaced. “Maybe? Like... I can recognize some of this, but... the structure makes no sense to me. There’s these symbols I’ve never seen before and they’re sprinkled all over the place. If I could read magic--like, the actual spell--it’d be no problem, but...”

“Those aren’t magic,” Evan said, taking a sheet of paper from Titus’s hand. Among the arcane glyphs and half-coherent, borderline-microscopic notes were symbols that looked like a small grid of sixteen-by-sixteen squares. Dots, Xes, and other simple symbols not much bigger than a comma filled the grids. Evan laughed to himself in disbelief.

“Then what the hell is it?”

“It’s my personal reference system. Did I tell you I was on, like, a lot of drugs when I was in college? And grad school? And when I was working on my doctoral thesis? I came up with this... pattern that made sense to me, telling me where I might find connections between different pieces of information. We’re talking like, research chemical drugs, by the way. Shit that doesn’t have names yet. Hah. I can’t believe I... well, the previous me still remembered it!”

“Can the current you remember it? ”

“I think so.” Evan took more pages from Titus’s hands. “Okay, so...” He walked around to the front of the UAV and spread the pages out on its small hood. “Look, this means it’s related to this...”

A few minutes later, Evan had arranged the pages and connected various passages with pencil lines, forming an intricate grid of reference that he was enthusiastically trying to explain to a befuddled Titus.

“Man, you’re, like, a special kind of autistic, aren’t you?”

“The most special. Now don’t be an ass. Does this make any sense to you?”

“It’s... starting to, I guess,” Titus said, running his fingers along some of the connecting lines. “I think... huh. Huh.” He turned to look at Evan again, peering at him with what almost looked like suspicion.

“What?”

“You’re sure you don’t know anything about magic? Really?”

“If I did, I forgot it when I cored out my own brain. Why? What’s wrong?”

Titus exhaled loudly through his nose and pursed his lips, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he looked back at the pages.

“This isn’t just instructions. It’s... well, I think it is the spell.”

“What, like... it’s already been cast?”

“Not quite, but... it’s primed, I guess you could say?” Titus picked up the pages and looked around. “We need to spread these out. Find me something to set them on that’s not the ground.”

“So why’s that weird?” Evan asked, grunting as he rock-walked a gutted washing machine off of a nearby scrap pile.

“Well, it’s not just a matter of writing things down--No, we’re gonna need to put each of these on their own separate thing, I’m gonna need like thirty feet--to make a spell work. Just the directions themselves are a starting point. Look, grab that big cable-coil thing and turn it on its side. From this point you’d need to either gather the reagents and go through a whole ritual and cast it right then and there, or, if you’re good, you could do that whole thing and store that spell so it could be cast immediately later.”              

“And this one’s the latter?”

Titus absently tugged at his goatee. “Yeah... and that’s what’s weird about this. You didn’t have any experience in magic before, and if you only learned about it within the last year...” He inhaled deeply through his nose and stood very still for a moment, then exhaled sharply and clapped his hands. “Fuck it. Let’s see what this does!”

“Wait, you’re gonna just do it? Isn’t that dangerous?”

Titus sighed and rolled his eye. “Look, okay, let me explain why this isn’t likely to kill us or rip a hole in reality. This spell is what you’d call fundamental magic.”

“So, what, like, really beginner stuff?”

“Oh no, far from it,” Titus said, giving another chuckle that sounded like it was halfway between wonder and worry. “I mean fundamental as in ‘the fundamental laws of reality’. Magic that lets you ignore one of the big rules. Like gravity, friction, things like that. This is some serious shit you’ve got here, buddy.”

Evan went very still and very quiet. He was staring, eyes open just a little wider than normal, at the ground in the middle of the impromptu magic circle. “Which law does this one work on?” he said, barely above a whisper.

“You’ll see.”

“Dude, you can’t do that. Don’t fucking blueball me.”

“Didn’t you say that’s your ground state of being?”

“Stop fucking doing that. Stop dodging my every question with a lame one-liner.”

Titus put his hand to his chest in a gesture of mock offense, as if the very idea that his one-liners were lame was deeply wounding. “Look, alright, trust me, this is going to be worth the surprise! Just find me something that... okay, find me a machine that works. Something that you can observe working.”

Evan exhaled through his teeth. “Dude, we’re in a junkyard. The whole point of this place is it’s full of things that don’t work.”

“You got that wrist-wrecker on you?”

Evan slowly reached around to the small of his back, his hand coming back holding his revolver. “Whatever you’re going to do, it’s not going to break it or anything, is it?”

“Naaaahhh. If anything, it’s gonna make it way better. I think. C’mon, put it there in the middle!” Titus was clearly getting impatient, rocking from foot to foot like a kid on Christmas morning waiting to be told he could open his presents.

Evan brushed some dirt away before setting the gun down, an ultimately pointless gesture, but one he felt was owed; he’d never been a ‘gun guy’, but the massive revolver was one of the first things he’d encountered when he first ‘woke up’ and he’d sort of imprinted on it as a sort of security blanket. The fact that he’d fired it too few times to even require reloading--and that Titus had used it to punch a hole the size of a silver dollar through him--didn’t matter much. It wasn’t about utility; it was all sentiment. That overcompensating hunk of metal was a very real thing in a world that felt increasingly unreal.

So it was with trepidation that he stepped back outside the circle. He turned to ask Titus something, but his question caught in his throat when he saw Titus.

The smaller man’s unpatched eye had rolled back in his head and a faint pale-green light was seeping from both the socket and beneath the eyepatch. His hair fluttered and flitted upward, as if he was standing over an exhaust vent. He was muttering under his breath and his hands, held out at waist height, twitched and spasmed. As Evan watched, Titus’s fingers began making more deliberate movements, tracing out bizarre patterns that hung half-visible in the air like the after-image of a camera flash. Evan thought could hear his joints cracking as his fingers twisted themselves in ways that taxed even Titus’s freakish flexibility.

Evan stared, mouth half-open. He heard himself mutter, “...and all who heard should see them there, and all should cry, beware, beware...”

Titus’s chanting was only slightly louder than it started, but it seemed to be reverberating. Evan whirled around, swearing to himself that he heard whispering right behind his shoulder. Whatever language Titus was speaking, it wasn’t one he knew, but it felt old. As the chanting grew more intense, Evan felt like he was getting tunnel vision. He knew that it wasn’t actually getting darker, but his peripheral vision was shrinking. Was he imagining the way the air was bending? He was getting a sense of vertigo, like his perception of everything was getting infinitely taller without actually moving. That tattoo on his arm felt like it was coursing with frozen electricity.

Titus suddenly shouted a word that Evan could recognize and clapped his hands. Reality lurched. Evan stumbled forward and bent double with nausea.

“Hooo!” Titus clapped again, dancing a formless jig as Evan noisily wretched and spit stomach acid.

“Does that usually... did it work?” Evan squinted through watery eyes at the space where, just a moment ago, his gun had lain. “Hey! Where’d it go?”

“Go look closer,” Titus said, a grin threatening to split his head in half.

Evan walked carefully towards the spot at the center of the circle. The air felt somehow greasy and smelled like a thunderstorm was rolling in. There was an unpleasant buzzing on the edge of hearing, like a fly trapped between the panes of a closed window. His teeth itched.

Evan squatted down and picked up something a little over an inch long and held it between his fingers, holding it up to the light.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

It was his gun, reduced down to 1/20th scale. He gingerly reached a finger out and turned the cylinder, grinning and laughing at the tiny click. He very delicately pushed the hammer back, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a mechanical pencil, clicking it a couple of times to extend the lead.

Titus, who had been turning his own hands back and forth, staring at them quizzically, looked up. “Hey, wait! Don’t--“

Evan stuck the lead into the trigger guard and pushed the trigger back.

The sound was odd. It started out a quiet crack that seemed to experience the Doppler effect in a different direction, its pitch stretching as it roared to full volume. A very regular-sized bullet split the wood of the impromptu table.

“Holy fuck! What was that?”

“The spell only affects the gun and things inside it! The bullet left it, so it stopped affecting it!” Titus yelled, wiggling a finger in his ear. “Be careful! It still functions just the same way it did at full size!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Evan said, distractedly. The barrel of the gun even felt hot in the palm of his hand. “So that spell ignores... conservation of mass. Jesus Christ.”

“Yep. I know you were, like, studying to be a scientist, but don’t think about it too hard. You’ll give yourself a migraine.”

“What do you mean, ‘studying to be’? The only reason you’re not referring to me as Doctor Abrams is--wait. How do I get it back to normal?”

“You remember that last word I said before I finished casting?”

Evan’s brow furrowed. “It sounded like... ‘stanza’?”

He yelped as he suddenly found himself holding a full-sized S&W 500. “Ha-HAAAA! A gen-u-ine, bona-fide fuckin’ magic weapon!” he yelled, jumping to his feet. “Stanza!” The gun was suddenly fun-sized again. “Stanza!” Gun-sized. “St--”

“Shutup! It only works a few times a day!” Titus hissed.

Evan looked up at him with an exaggerated pout. “Fiiiiine. Why do you keep looking at your hands like that?”

“Okay, so... you know how I said this spell had all the juice needed to cast it wrapped up in it? It had... more than that. A lot more.”

“So what’s that mean? Are you, like, more powerful now?”

Titus tilted his head and waggled his hand. “Not... generally. But there’s like a... separate pool designated for that spell of... well, I guess calling it ‘mana’ is the easiest explanation.”

“That makes sense, I guess. So that’s separate from your, uh, normal pool?”

“Yeah, and... it’s big, man. That was a hungry spell and I think I could do it three or four more times before having to recharge.”

“Oh, Jesus, man, if... God, think of... I’ve got so many ideas!” Evan said, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. “Do you have any idea how big of a deal this is? Being able to fit a full-sized computer in an inch of space is--“

Titus held up his hand, cutting him off. “Wait.”

“Wha--” Evan started, then realized his tattoo was itching again. “What’s going--“

“Something’s coming!”

It wasn’t like a bolt of lightning. Not quite. It looked more like a several streams of fire the color of a raincloud pouring out of thin air, earthing themselves in a pile of broken appliances and scrap metal. The ping and clunk of cooling metal was all Evan and Titus could hear as they crept closer.

“What do you think it--fuck!” Evan reached out to shove Titus aside, but he’d already blinked several feet away, throwing himself to the ground. So it was only Evan who got hit by the tendril of debris that suddenly snaked out of the junk pile. It was nearly as wide as his torso and hit like a truck, scooping him off his feet and pinning him to the ground with force that broke at least a couple of his ribs.

Titus had gotten to one knee and was firing at the tendril with one of the pistols he always seemed to pull out of nowhere, but all that seemed to accomplish besides a couple of ricochets was to provoke the mass to extend another arm and swipe down at him from above. He blinked out again but lost his footing as he leapt, crashing to the ground and losing his grip on the gun.

“Disjunct it!”

“I’m trying! It’s got like a... shell or something! I can’t get through!”

Desperately trying to keep the thing from crushing him further, Evan raised his own gun and fired point-blank into the mass of the tendril. Aside from nearly breaking his wrist from the recoil, there seemed to be no effect; the bullets either bounced punched through sheet metal or simply slid between the gaps in the junk that floated in the strange light as though bobbing just below the surface of water.

“Don’t know what I expected,” Evan grumbled, tossing his gun away. Time for another approach, then.

It was hard to concentrate while the thing was steadily pushing him deeper into the mud, but Evan summoned up his will and concentrated on the idea of his Cables wrapping around his left forearm. He wound them tight, compressed them, and then swung his fist upward and let the tension unwind.

The impact drove enough of the junk into the air to allow him to scramble to his feet, but it didn’t even leave the cohesion of the gray light. It hung in the air for a moment, then rebounded as if on elastic, slamming back into a tree-trunk-sized tendril once again.

“Well, that seemed to do something,” Titus said as they both jumped backward, trying to get out of the thing’s thrashing reach. “Maybe a few more of those’ll soften it up and...”

“Probably not a real tenable strategy,” Evan hissed through clenched teeth. Titus saw that the punch had probably done more damage to Evan than the monster--his forearm hung at an angle that made it look as though he’d grown a second elbow between the first and his wrist, and none of his fingers were pointing close to the right direction. Over the strange din of the animate debris scraping together, the crickle-crack of tendons snapping bone back into place was audible.

“No chance you figured out how to that big pain-punch again?”

“None! And I don’t think just hitting it is gonna work! We’re just gonna be breaking what it’s made of! Do you have anything that can actually damage magic?”

“Nothing that works anywhere near as quick as we need!”

They both dove behind another heap of scrap. “I think I might have an idea, but I honestly don’t know what this’ll do, or if it’ll even work at all,” Evan said. “I don’t want to have to run away from this thing and leave it here, but if this doesn’t work...”

“Yeah, I got it. What’s your plan?”

Evan clenched his right fist, his misshapen jaw popping as he gritted his teeth together with effort. “Instead of a coiled spring that just makes my punch stronger,” he hissed through his teeth, “what about if I hit it with the Cables instead?”

Titus squinted at Evan’s fist, then blanched. “Oh no, dude, don’t do that. If that’s really your soul you’re working with--”

Evan suddenly sprung to his feet and sprinted around the heap, screaming wordless defiance. Titus swore and slipped out of time briefly so he could stand up and pull another handgun from his jacket in time to provide Evan with covering fire, for whatever that was worth.

Evan juked another swing from a tendril, then planted his foot on it and used it a springboard to launch himself into the air. His right arm swung overhead in a long, sweeping arc, and he brought his hand down like a hammer on top of the scrap pile and let the Cables wrapped in a ball around his fist unwind.

The scrap pile buckled like an anthill sprayed with a hose. Though no sound aside from pulverizing scrap could be heard by the human ear, a psychic wail of pain and rage seemed to scrape across both men’s minds as the gray light rippled and dimmed at the point of Evan’s hammerblow. Barely keeping his footing on the shifting rubble, Evan drove his left hand down into the mass, forcing what remaining will he could muster into the idea of his arm.

He met surprisingly little resistance. Unlike when he’d shut off Titus’s powers, there was next to nothing to sense here. It seemed to be barely a being at all. When his ethereal arm touched something cold and writhing amongst the half-sensed notions of metal and creeping lightning, he closed his thought-fingers around it and yanked.

The was no more fanfare. The light completely vanished, and with it, the remainder of the force holding the pile of junk together. Evan felt a familiar sensation of something sliding from his grip into the core of his being before he toppled backwards and was buried in the shifting scrap.

“Come on, I know that couldn’t’ve hurt you that much,” Titus said, tossing aside a rust-eaten sink and uncovering Evan’s face. Evan hadn’t seemed to be able to free himself from the rubble, and Titus was forced to follow the sound of muffled sobbing to figure out where to dig. Evan crying was such a strange sound that it made the hair on the back on Titus’s neck stand up; it started with a drawn-out, warbling moan, leading to wheezing sobs that were accompanied by high-pitched hitching gasps and a strange whistling noise that Titus put down to the bridge of Evan’s nose resembling a stretched-out letter Z. “Did that shut off your healing or something? Come on, get up.”

Evan didn’t move for a moment, then sniffed loudly and listlessly reached up and took Titus’s hand. “What’s the point?” he muttered, letting himself be pulled upwards.

“Huh?”

“What’s the point of this? What am I even doing this for?” Evan said morosely, sluggishly following Titus across the pile of debris. “What difference can I actually make?!”

Titus turned as he walked, eyeing Evan with something that might have been concern. “What’re you talking about? You beat that thing! Hell, Moreno gave you more trouble! Why would you have a crisis of confidence over this?”

“It’s not about that,” Evan spat, sulkily, “I mean this whole hero thing! Did I seriously think I could save the fucking world? Jesus Christ, I’m a murderer!”

“How man times am I gonna—”

“Stop telling me he deserved it! That doesn’t matter! What about all the people who’ll wonder what happened to him, the people who’ll miss him? What about his parents?”

“They’re both dead,” Titus said, flatly.

“Oh, sure, that’s real convenient, you—”

“I can show you both of their obituaries. They were both dead before w—he was out of high school.”

Evan sniffed. “Do you… do you think that’s why he—”

“Look, man, I’m not a psychiatrist! But speaking of, what’s wrong with you? I know you’ve got a big heart and all, but why now?”

“I-I-I don’t know!” Evan stammered, choking back a sob. “Everything just feels so… so… hopeless and pointless and… sad!”

Titus’s frown deepened. “What, did you get rapid-onset depression somehow?”

“Is this what that feels like? How do people live like this?”

Titus muttered something Evan couldn’t hear and walked up to him, grabbing his left wrist. “Circle,” he commanded, lifting Evan’s hand to his face. Evan obediently touched the tip of his thumb and forefinger together and Titus peered through the hole, scanning Evan up and down.

“Oh.”

“What? What?!”

“Okay, don’t freak out about this, but—”

“You’ve just made sure I do! What is it?”

“Look at your right hand.”

Evan raised his fingers to his eye, then looked down at his right hand. He began to shake.

The Cables near his right hand had unraveled, spreading out into the surrounding air like drifting cornsilk, barely anchored to the rest of the mass.

“Ohhhhh fuck oh fuck oh fuck ooooohhhhh God what is that what did I—”

“Evan!” Titus grabbed the side of Evan’s head and forced him to look at him. “Look at me! Listen! I don’t know but it’s probably not permanent! This sort of thing can heal like your body does! You’ll probably be fine!”

“Probably?!” Evan shrieked, his voice surprisingly high and shrill. “I think I broke my soul!”

“You didn’t break anything! Look at me!” Titus yelled. “You might have injured it, but it will probably heal!”

“You don’t know that!” Evan wailed.

“And you don’t know it won’t! Listen! Astral bodies, or however you wanna categorize all this shit, are living things! They have analogies to physical processes! You may have just, I don’t know, sprained something! Nothing’s gone, it just needs to come back together!”

“Are you saying depressed people have, what, bruised souls? That seems kind of insulting!”

“Don’t get fucking combative with me!” Titus snapped. “That is not what I’m saying! I’m saying that you did something reckless and banged up what we’re assuming is the physical manifestation of your immortal soul, and you’re experiencing what I’d describe as common symptoms of depression, and it’s not hard to put two and two together! You gave yourself actual psychic damage, if that’s how you want to think about it!”

“So you’re saying it’s all my fault…”

“God dammit, man!” Titus threw his hands up in the air. “Look, think about this logically. You’re obvious not yourself right now, right?”

Evan sighed. “I dunno… maybe this is—”

“Aha!” Titus thrust a finger at Evan. “See? I know we haven’t known each other long, but in that whole time, you’ve never doubted yourself! Wondered if you made the wrong decision or were doing the right thing, sure, but never were unsure of who you are, right?”

Evan blinked bleary eyes at him. “I… I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, come on,” Titus wrapped an arm around Evan’s shoulder and guided him back to the UTV. “Let’s get you back home and to bed. I bet you’ll feel better after a nap.”

“I need a drink.”

“No alcohol! Straight to bed with you, mister!”

---------------------------------------------------------

“Ugh. God, that was awful. And embarrassing,” Evan muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Thanks for looking out for me, Titus.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Titus said from the driver’s seat. “Had me freaking out there for a bit, I gotta admit. I really had no idea if what I was saying was right or not. You feeling better?”

“Not all the way, but I think I’ll get there. Enough to realize that what I was saying and feeling wasn’t really me. Now I just feel mentally exhausted. Probably gonna go back to bed soon.”

“How’s your, uh, soul lookin’?”

Evan peered through his fingers at his hand. “Coming back together. Not wound tight yet, but it looks like you were right. It’s getting there.” He patted Titus on the shoulder. “Seriously, man. Thank you. I was in a real bad place there for a bit. I don’t know what I’d’ve done it you weren’t there.”

“Aw, don’t get all sappy on me, you big fugly lug,” Titus tried to sound grumpy, but couldn’t help but manage a smile. “Why don’t you go lay back down? We’ll be crossing the state line in a couple hours. After that I’ll find a rest stop to park for a few hours.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Evan yawned. “Thanks again. Man, I am so glad that was temporary…”

After the door shut, Titus muttered to himself, “At least you can sleep it off.”

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Mortified (Broadchurch)

Alec Hardy x GN!Reader (fem anatomy) 18+ ONLY / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: Being in the office so late usually meant that you had complete privacy- though that doesn't account for people leaving things behind, does it?

CW: semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, getting caught in the act

Broadchurch tag list: @clarina04 @kaylinelizabeth4004 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

There was one benefit to Alec’s odd working hours- and that was that there was barely anyone at his office late in the evening. The other less workaholic-inclined employees trailed off to a trickle around eight in the evening, and by ten it was usually just Alec. Past that- well, the office was pretty much a definite ghost town. 

You didn’t come over to the station every night. That would be far too tiring and you had your own job to get to in the mornings. But some nights when all you wanted to was to spend time with Alec- just to see him. On those nights you made the sacrifice to your sleep to go and see him. 

He always grumbled at first, complaining about how he just had too much work to do and how you shouldn’t be there because it was a risk to whatever investigations he was working on- blah, blah, blah. He always gave in though when you brought him an extra strong espresso and a kiss hello. Yes. An extra strong espresso at ten plus in the evening. You were aware of how ridiculous it was.

Tonight, you’d managed to convince Alec to hoist you up onto his desk and finger fuck you to within an inch of your cunts life. He was standing between your pushed-open legs, tie loose around his neck and sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. The fabric of your skirt was stretching and you were almost worried that it was going to rip up the seams. Though you were pretty sure Alec would get a real kick out of that. 

The man in question currently had his tongue in your mouth and three fingers flexing and pumping mercilessly into your pussy. You were pretty sure there was slick dripping down onto his desk and coating his mouse pad. He’d have to get a new one at this rate.

“God, look at you,” he says, forcing himself to pull away from your mouth and dropping his head onto your shoulder. His fingers didn’t stop pumping for even a second, even though you were absolutely sure his whole arm was aching from wrist to shoulder blade. Oh well, at least you could say with confidence that he never skipped arm day. “So fuckin’ tight for me, darlin’.” 

You whined and did your best to grind yourself onto his fingers.

“Holy- Sir- fuck, sorry!” 

You froze, cunt clenching around Alec’s fingers half in fear and half in desperation as he came to a complete stop. You were panting, looking over his shoulder at the back wall of his office but you’d recognise that voice anywhere. 

“Miller,” Alec said somewhat awkwardly. “What’re you doin’ here so late?” 

Alec’s fingers started to retreat, pulling out of you. You did your best to contain the whimper of complaint threatening to spill from your lips. 

“Oh- I- needed- I, fuck- don’t worry about it,” she said quickly. “See you tomorrow!” 

You heard rapidly departing footsteps back into the office and down the stairs towards the doors. You groaned, head dropping back. Alec’s face was flushed such a deep red that it might have looked as though he had a rash if you didn’t know better. 

“Well, that was…” you trailed off, looking for the right words. 

“Mm,” Alec agreed, looking positively mortified. 

You broke off into a fit of horrified giggles, and you were pleased when Alec at the very least broke out into a smile. 

“Ellie’s never going to look at you or me or this desk the same way ever again,” you giggled, pressing kisses to Alec’s cheeks. 

“Probably not,” he agreed. “Now, where were we, eh?” 

You gasped as his fingers started moving again, his thumb coming to rub against your clit. 

“Where indeed?” You asked breathily, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

Alec chuckled darkly as you keened under his touch. 

“There y’are. So good for me.”

[zaruba-needslove]

Well, I din say that boys can't be a Beroba but most Beroba prolly are girls. Just like how a girl may be a Zinn but most Zinns are probably boys. The Ziins/Berobas may only just be into BL or GL, or both. Kyuuns prolly just stick to het ships... the Kekeras tho? Hmmmm....

Also just because I listed out several points under each supporter it din mean one need to have all the criterias to be one 😃 A fan could have a bit of Kekera or Beroba or Ziin or Kyuun or a purist 😃

And I feel like each supporters gonna have two different interpretations/ behaviour since all four of them behave differently before and after knowing their oshi personally.

A Kekera could be a very supportive, loving and wholesome fan (and might go as far as excessively give gifts to their oshis) but may turn into an anti-fan if they felt that their oshis don't reciprocate their love the way they did. (But they may go back to their old loving self if their oshi showed some signs that they to appreciate them.) I feel that bit about Kyuun fit better for Kekera, like as much as Kyuun's words to Neon was harsh at the beginning.... it's more of Kyuun not being able to convey his thoughts proper. Cos Kekera did react extremely when Keiwa openly did smth that's not what they expect Keiwa to do.

While Kyuun can be very sasaeng-like, Kyuun wasn't the type to turn on his oshi like Kekera. Like as much as a Kyuun may not like it if their oshi get married or smth, if they saw that their oshi is happy they'll do everything to support them. Or at least, they're less harsh than Kekera.

A Ziin may become an obsessive fan (just like Kyuun) to want to know everything about their oshi but they prolly won't be too sasaeng-ish. But both (Ziin/Kyuun) may try to tone down on their fannish behaviour if their oshi aren't comfortable about it. The Kyuuns probably will get the hint quick (and struggling to do it and get misunderstood instead) but the Ziins might be slower in the uptake and only realise that they're overdoing it when their oshi get hurt (like how Ziin din expect digging into Mitsume would lead to them finding out some not so nice things. Oh wait, in this aspect... Kyuun wasn't really that far off cos as much as Kyuun din overdo it when he wanna find out more about Neon to get more ppl to love her, but his actions did led to Beroba finding out Neon's secrets?)

Ficwriter Ziin and Kyuun most likely have different ideas about how they like their fics written (esp on their ideas on what qualifies as a good end or wholesome/good content), but both would would obsessed on 'canon-accuracy' with different tolerance with regards to OOC.

Ziins' OOC tendencies are more directed to their oshi... they may intentionally (or unconsciously) overlook their oshi's flaw or exaggerate their oshi's 'fine' qualities to always portray them in a 'perfect' way. Like i feel a lot of Buff stans are like this. Kyuuns' OOC tendencies are more generalized (and it wouldn't just be focused on just their oshis). They may overdo it just to make their fics be the cutest, fluffiest thing ever. Like as much as I'm Beroba-ish as a writer, I'm a bit Kyuun-ish in that aspect.

Ficwriter Berobas most definitely be into BDSM lol and as much as they love bad boys, they get turned off easily if their bad boys were actually not what they thought they were/pretentious pricks. But still it's hard to move on from their ex-faves... Berobas are strangely loyalist in a weird way.

They would bemoan if their idol is put into therapy and be happy.

Kekeras are just stuck in toxic m/patriarchy, power male/female fantasies or archetypes. They think seeking help (with therapy or love) is weak and ppl should just toughen it up. They'll think that Batman is the example of the ideal hero - no, Batman can't do all those love things Batman don't do sex, Batman don't act merciful to their repenting enemies, heroes should always be brooding about justice and how evil is unending #eh

lol idk either, everyone had very subjective ideas about things 😂😂😂

Like personally I feel like as much as the four act differently to their oshis, a lot of their behaviours do still overlap... even if their extremities went on a different direction. Like Ziin to some extent do bear some kind of idealised opinions about Ace, but not to Kekera's extent of trying to directly change Keiwa when he thinks Keiwa veered away from his set 'template'. Or like how Beroba may act like she gave up on Michi when the guy went 'rainbow' no longer bad boy... but she still don't quite wanna let go. She's oddly tsundere about why she like Michi. But unlike Kyuun who's actually more deredere than tsun, Beroba's more tsun yet portray herself as yandere. At least, that's how I view it (Not that Kyuun don't still have a bit of tsun in him or Beroba don't have actual yandere traits, they do... but it's not always so clear cut)

@zaruba-needslove We need to spread the use of "Beroba", "Kekera", "Ziin", and "Kyuun" as fan categories in other fandoms... I think the chaos it'll create would be neat lol.

[watiamdoingwithmylife666]

How / Why they are Jealous - AOT

Sum: How they react when they are jealous and why they are. Pairing: Erwin/ Levi/ Miche/ Hange/ Moblit/ Kenny

I hope you will like it! I maybe gonna do the same but with the JJK character since I am obsessed with this show those days.

Warning: Grammar error as usual / Kenny (He's a warning by himself)

Erwin

Erwin's jealousy is the result of his own insecurities, if most of the time he hides it well, sometimes he just goes to you and asks for reassurance.

The commander doesn't really have time for being jealous. Plus, he fully trusts you. But it happens sometimes that he get this weird feeling of possessiveness that grown in his heart, far from him the idea of being jealous huh? Erwin gets this feeling mostly because he knows he prioritizes his work a lot, and he doesn't give you his entire attention as much as he wants. So when he feels like he failed you as being the husband you deserve his mind trick him. Seeing you with a too friendly comrade talking made his mind get stupid.

It's tea time and Erwin is getting out of his office for the first time of the day. He thought it would be the perfect moment to grab something to eat and ask you to join him. But on his way, he saw you with some friends of yours. You seem really happy, your beautiful smile on your face, he stops on his track just to admire you from afar. He can't believe how lucky he is to have you, and it's right at this moment that his mind tricks him. Making him feel like he's not good enough, possessiveness grew at this moment making him go straight to you and ask you to follow him in his office. far from the curious eyes, Erwin kisses you like he hasn't seen you for months.

Levi

Just like Erwin, Levi's jealousy comes from his own doubt. He knows that he's not the romantic perfect boyfriend. And he wonders sometimes if you wouldn't have been happier with a guy that deals with his emotions better than him.

For me, he's not the jealous type. If you are together that means it's ''serious serious''. He won't get in a relationship if it's not for life (and you didn't take that long to get him to cheat at the end eh?). But he knows that the way he deals with his emotions is not the best way. And it happens that sometimes when Levi feels a little down, he thinks about how you probably suffer from his lack of love attention. Levi wanted to be like your best friend. He wasn't jealous of a lot of people. But your best friend was on the list among Erwin, Miche, and Hange. Those peoples were able to talk about their feelings, not him. You had this thing with them that he felt he like he couldn't have with you. This proximity of confidence that he was struggling to gives you. So seeing you laying in the grass with your best friend laughing so hard, harder than he could have. His heartache. It's only later that day, when both of you was in your shared room, that Levi was sitting on the bed looking at you when you were putting on your pajama.

'' you know that I love you right?'' you've been taken off guard, but before you could say something he spoke '' Even if I don't tell it to you so often... You know it right...?''

Miche

Miche is aware that he is labeled as a weird person because of his habit of sniffing everyone. But even with that, Miche is not someone who has insecurities. So his jealousy would come mostly because someone did something to make him jealous.

Both of you are squad leaders, it results in both of you don't have that much time with each other. But when you can, you do obviously. But this time Miche was on his way to tell you that he had finished work early today and wanted to go for a walk with you. Much to his surprise, you were already outside with some of your friends talking while brushing the horses. One of your friends came next to you put his hand on your waist, before approaching to say something in your ear. Miche feels upset by the move and didn't take time to think twice before he was back on the track.

"Hey, babe !" The guy behind you jumps at the big voice of Miche when you turn around to smile at him. "I just finished you wanna go for a walk with me near the river?" he asks, but his eyes were angrily looking at your friend when saying that. Of course, you did go with him, and you understood that Miche was jealous so you gave him extra cuddle when you had to lay on the grass with him later.

Hange

Their mind is too busy to be jealous. Most of the time. But they do get jealous. Like Miche, Hange doesn't have insecurities at all. They know how they are, and are pretty happy with that. So Hange gets jealous mostly because they don't have your full attention.

It happens a lot when you are in the dining hall and Hange explain one of their last discovery and someone dares to talk to you? when they were the center of your attention?? Or when you are in the lab and you don't focus on their dangerous experiences and pampers them but talking with Moblit?? Or when you're doing your training by pair and thought they wanted to be with Moblit and you go with Levi, like ??? What ???

"I am sorry but I require your attention sweetheart. Whoever this person is I need you right now."

Moblit

Jealousy for Moblit is mainly caused by his overthinking. He thinks that most of the people at the SC are better than him. And he can't stop his mind saying that his partner would prefer someone smarter like Hange or Erwin, someone stronger like Miche or Levi, or built like Reiner, Funnier like Sasha. So his jealousy is driven by himself and built by his own insecurities.

After a long day of work, Moblit has the tendency to zone out while fixing the ceiling. This morning he saw you at the training, you were in with some friend all more handsome than him he thought. If they wanted those people would be capable to change your mind and leave him for one of them he thought again. The tendency to think for the other is useful for Moblit in his job. But it's a curse for his relationship. He can't stop thinking about what would be the best for you without even thinking that He, could be the best for you.

So later at night, when both of you are in your shared room. When you notice that his mind is cloudy, you hug him tighter. "I love you so much honey..." he says before kissing your temple.

Kenny

Kenny's jealousy is driven by his self-esteem. He told about himself that he's a piece of trash, so the fact that you are willing to love him back took him by surprise at first. But now, everyone that comes near you is obviously better than him in his mind.

Because of who he is, you and Kenny can't really show off your couple. So when you are together outside, what is a "date" for you is just two friends walking for the other. That why Kenny knows he can't do anything when a merchant hits on you. It runs on his nerves but he tries so hard to no do anything that could cause trouble for you. Because even if he has short temper, he refuses to put you in unnecessary danger.

But when you get back home. Be careful because Kenny gonna claim what's his. "Ok sweet thing, c'mere I'm gonna show you who's you belong to."

[youcouldmakealife]

Roman/Harry(/Evan); rumination

For the prompt:  Moments when Harry and Roman each realize they love the other and it is more than just attraction and mutual love for Evan. 

Inevitably there’s going to be Harry POV for this prompt because like, Roman got a POV that means it’s Harry’s turn, obviously! 

The thing is, if Roman was picking someone to be in a relationship with, he’d have never chosen Harry. Harry’s loud, and intense, all the time, often about things Roman doesn’t think deserve attention, let alone intensity. He’s got a temper worse than Roman did as a teenager — and that’s saying something — and he has zero filter, blurts out whatever he’s thinking without considering whether it’s something that’s going to hurt people.

And for someone who dishes it out constantly, he’s completely incapable of taking it. He’ll take offense wherever he can get it. He wasn’t even on the list of Roman’s top ten favorite teammates before all this went down, let alone someone he considered sharing a bed and a boyfriend and a life with.

It’s not that Roman’s saying everyone ends up with someone they’re especially meant for, had in mind, that only complementary personalities make for successful relationships. Opposites attract is a saying for a reason, and so is ‘he’s not my type at all, but—‘.

Roman’s far from the first person to land in a relationship with someone he would have never chosen on paper. But generally those people get involved with that person of their own volition, don’t they? Maybe it wasn’t what they expected for themselves before that point, but at some point they said ‘yeah, let’s do it’.

Not that Roman didn’t, really; it was a choice presented to him, but it was still a choice he made. But when it comes down to it, Harry really isn’t his type. And he doesn’t mean physically — frankly his type when he was younger was ‘available and interested in him’, and it hasn’t really changed much. He’s never been someone who has a ‘type’. Hell, putting Connie and Harry side by side makes it pretty clear that’s the case, before you even get into any other physical differences. No ‘you must be this height to ride Roman Novák’.

Roman snickers to himself.

The point — Roman has a point here, somewhere. Something that isn’t ‘wouldn’t have picked Harry, feeling’s probably mutual’. Or isn’t just that. Or isn’t as bad as that sounds, because that makes it sounds like a complaint, or like he’s lodging a protest or something. He isn’t. If he didn’t want to be here, he wouldn’t be.

And he knows that’s mutual. It’s not that he thinks Harry secretly hates him: he’s not exactly someone who could hide it if he did. He’s never seen Harry play at anything, let alone play nice when he doesn’t want to be, or stoically endure a situation he doesn’t like. He knows Harry’s attracted to him, and he knows Harry likes him, at least most of the time, and when he doesn’t, Roman knows that too. Harry does not leave you guessing.

It’s strange. Roman went in with a pure ‘fuck it’ attitude, in more than one way. He didn’t really think this would work. And it does. Surprisingly well.

Except for the fact that Roman keeps getting stopped up wondering if his boyfriend actually, well, likes him. Or, likes isn’t the word. If Connie’s the main reason he’s here, and the fact that there’s no real way of taking Connie out of the relationship’s equation for obvious reasons means that’s a question Roman can’t really get an answer to, even if he was dumb enough to ask Harry and expect anything other than a tirade in response.

If he’s sitting here like a lovestruck idiot, watching Harry sleep even though he’s got a shitton to do on this off-day that doesn’t involve listening what Harry says isn’t snoring because he’s full of shit, while Harry’s thoughts about Roman extend to maybe ‘eh, he gets me off pretty good, and my boyfriend’s weirdly attached to him, so I guess I have to put up with him outside of bed too’.

If Roman doesn’t have time to sit and watch Harry sleep, he definitely doesn’t have time to start being a sad sack. Connie’s already fed and dressed himself and walked the dogs, and headed to the gym, and Roman, at least, should follow his lead, even if Harry isn’t planning to, made it very clear to both of them last night that his plans for the day off involved sleeping in as late as possible, and neither of them better interfere with that. Addressed much more to Roman, of course.

Harry’s taking up a surprising amount of bed by himself, like he’s picked up on the space left for him, is doing his damnedest to fill it, and fuck physics if it wants to disagree with just how much space in the world Harry Chalmers takes up. Harry will take up as much space as he wants.

Roman kisses him on the temple, light enough to make sure he won’t wake — not that it’s easy to wake Harry when he does need to be woken up, but of course Roman wouldn’t put it past Harry to sleep light when Roman doesn’t actually want to wake him — and goes to take a shower.

He doesn’t know if the sound of the shower wakes him up, or he’s just decided to be contrary for the sake of being Harry, but the curtain pulls back after five minutes with a gust of cold air.

“Can I help you?” Roman asks, then, “No,” when Harry starts trying to bully his way into the shower. If Roman decides to resist Harry’s manhandling he probably isn’t going anywhere, but considering he’s, well, wet, and he didn’t get back from IR all that long ago and would prefer not to go back on it, he isn’t willing to risk them both getting injured over a damn shower.

“Harry, come on,” Roman says. He may not be poor Connie, who has to shower at a stoop because he’s taller than the shower head, but if Harry keeps pushing him forward he’s going to run into it headfirst.

Harry makes a triumphant noise instead of responding, though Roman doesn’t know what the triumph is. Stuck at the back of the shower, not getting any water because Roman’s blocking the spray, probably feeling a little cold. Though he did succeed in putting a wrench in Roman’s shower, so there’s that.

“You feel like you’ve succeeded here?” Roman asks. “You feel like this showering together thing’s going really well?”

“You’re the one the size of a tank,” Harry says. When Roman looks back he gets a flash of stubbornly tilted up chin, hair curling damply against his forehead. He’s not getting much spray, if any, but the humidity’s doing its usual thing. Roman doesn’t know why, but he always feels weirdly tender when Harry’s curls free themselves from Harry’s latest doomed effort to subdue them. Maybe because Harry hates it, but he can’t do anything about it. That sounds bad, when he puts it that way. He doesn’t mean it in a bad way. They make him want to be gentle with him, though he knows Harry would hate that.

“Wasn’t the one who decided to hop in the shower when it was already taken,” Roman says.

Harry makes a dismissive noise and goes to grab the shampoo. Roman assumes he’s trying to do it in an equally dismissive way, ‘I’m ignoring you in favor of getting clean, which was my purpose in getting in the shower’, but it doesn’t really work. As Harry so astutely pointed out, there isn’t any room to maneuver. And without water, Roman doesn’t know how he thinks he’s going to wash his hair.

“Stop looking at me,” Harry says. His cheeks are getting blotchy now, and Roman doesn’t know if that’s from the steam or the attention. You’d think Harry would like attention more, considering the way he always vies for it. But he likes being contrary best.

“Nah,” Roman says.

Harry mutters something Roman suspects isn’t even words, just grumbles, holding the shampoo bottle loosely in his hands like the prop it is, and Roman keeps looking.

[astaroth1357]

Demon Brothers React to MC Getting Kidnapped by Lesser Demons.

Watch out for minor first half spoilers!!

Lucifer

Kicking himself because he has to find out through Mammon that the MC is missing and he didn’t notice their absence himself.

The second the alarm gets raised he gets into a state somewhere between coldly rational and extraordinarily furious. 

Definitely still level-headed enough to rally and organize his brothers for a search party but there's nothing but seething rage just rolling off of him the entire time. Probably-could-have-made-another-Satan type rage.

How well he keeps his composure will be based entirely on how long the MC is MIA. The first hour or so will be mostly put together but past that he'll start to slowly unravel as the panic takes hold.

At one point he even gets snippy with Diavolo over the phone and that's when you KNOW that he's reaching meltdown mode.

If he's the first to find the MC, his #1 priority is to get them away from whatever scum grabbed them and take them to the closest safe place he can find. He'd scoop them up so fast they won't even know where he came from, just whoosh! How'd I get on this roof??

Only once they're out of harm’s way will he circle back and deal with their kidnappers personally. You better be sure any damage done to his human will be reflected a thousandfold back onto their attackers. Probably coming back to the MC with some blood on him and is not going to care.

Relieved to have the MC back but restricts them from going out alone after a certain time now for their own good. If they need something that badly, they can come to him.

Also strings Mammon up by his toes that night for losing them in the first place.

"By the time Cerberus gets to you, I'll be sure you're only my table scraps…"

Mammon

The first to notice that the MC was being oddly quiet (thank their father for his text spamming habit) then found their stuff scattered and abandoned at RAD.

Told Lucifer right away and, oh boy, he is a mess: talking a mile a minute, punctuating his sentences with expletives, on the verge of tears, whole nine yards.

He left his human alone for what?? Like five minutes, if even, to go to the library and get themselves kidnapped?! What kind of guardian is he?!?

Already searching the place top-to-bottom without being told where to go or what to do.

He actually ends up a strange inverse of Lucifer. While Lucifer will start panicking more over time, Mammon will start panicking less as his fear escalates to all out anger. Give it a few hours and he’s not even going to be able to keep his demon form under control anymore.

You know this boy is legging it across the entire Devildom himself waving around some kind of hand-drawn "Have You Seen This Human?" flyer looking for any leads at all.

If he were to find the MC first, his first action would probably be to plant his foot right in the face of whoever took them. Hard. Then repeat until their skull’s a caved-in mess on floor. No mercy this time, just pure protective rage.

Following the fight, you'd think he was just reunited with his lost puppy. Lots of crying, hugging, and blubbering out apologies even when the rest of his brothers show up.

Would pretty much be glued to the MC's hip for at least a week afterward and makes more of a point to hang off of them in public now. They're his human after all, can't have anyone else getting the idea of pulling a stunt like that again.

"MC!! What'd ya go runnin' off for?? We're goin' home after I take out this trash, got it!!"

Leviathan 

Wouldn't really want to believe it at first because it just feels too unreal, like, the same thing happened to Henry in Episode 86 of TSL when he was kidnapped by enemies of the Lord of Fools and it was up to his true friend to track him down…

Suddenly remembers that Henry was also tortured while he was taken and that really sets in the panic.

Unsure of how to help at first because he knows he's just a useless shut-in but Belphie of all people is the one to remind him that he does have one big advantage over his brothers: a fucking navy.

In an act of surprising backbone, he more or less demands a full fleet of ships from Diavolo and (honestly to his shock) he gets exactly that to comb the Devil’s Sea while looking for MC. Lotan even helps out!

If he were to be the first to find the MC (presuming they are indeed on a boat or something cause 🤷‍♀️) those kidnappers really shouldn't have challenged the third strongest brother in his natural element, eh? Those who aren't automatically lashed in the face or flung overboard by his tail get hung by the leg over the edge of the ship for Lotan to pick off one by one.

Sails back to shore with MC booming with pride that he of all people finally got to be their hero! Will literally be so happy if MC ever brings it up again, doesn't matter how much time has passed.

Things would settle back to normal pretty quickly after that, but he now checks up on the MC a lot more often and will even leave his room for them if they need to go somewhere and don't want to go alone. Can't have this turning into a rerun, you know?

"You hurt my only friend… So drown."

Satan

One guess how the Avatar of Wrath took the news. It's not swimmingly.

Unless your definition of "swimmingly" is a murderous rampage of toppling furniture, breaking windows, and swearing to curse right about anything that moves, in which case aptly put. 

He gets stuck in an anger-induced tantrum for a bit before finally getting snapped back into coherent thought by Belphie and putting those mystery novels of his to good use. Smart boi takes second to Lucifer himself in the search, suggesting good locations for his brothers scout based on what clues they have to go on.

Of course, he's not content to just to call orders from the sidelines and is out searching himself like he's on the goddamn warpath. Doors? Who needs doors? If anything the hole I made in your wall is more efficient.

Should he be the first to find the MC he would coolly and methodically subdue any kidnapper he can get his hands on, release his human, and bring them home as soon as possible. They've been through quite enough today and don't need to see anything he's got planned for the bastards later.

But the second that Diavolo puts them in the castle dungeon, you best bet that Henry 1.0 is going to the LEAST of their worries. Who's ever wanted to play a life or death game of hide and seek with a giant snake and the incarnation of Wrath itself? First one caught gets the "quick" death! Any volunteers?

Might give the MC a mild scolding for going out when they shouldn't have but otherwise is just happy to see them back and safe. May act extra soft towards them for a couple days, just until the nerves of the situation finally wear off.

"Don't mistake this for mercy. I assure you, I don't know the meaning of the word."

Asmodeus

Highkey freaking out, like, almost as hysterical as Mammon when he hears the news. 

Being the Avatar of Lust, he of course knows there's a whole lot of creeps out there in the world and he is utterly terrified that his poor MC has fallen victim to one at that moment.

For once, all thoughts of himself and his looks are out the window. What? It's past 2am and MC is still gone? I can stay up another hour! Dry shampoo and a washcloth counts as a shower, right? Who the fuck cares, where's MC?? Somebody find them already!!

Pools his contact list with Satan's and starts reaching out across the whole Devildom asking for people to be on the lookout and offer tips. Also begs Solomon to use his magic to help in the search (which he's more than happy to do anyway because he cares about the MC too)

If he were to find MC first it'd be one of those rare cases where he'd be seen really truly enraged. No cute banter, no playful flirting, just telling those worthless scum-vats exactly where they belong and exactly how he's going to put them there. Is it any surprise that he's also madsick with a whip?

Crazy relieved that MC is free, but now it's on them to help him clean up and get back to his prettiest self. I mean, he worried himself half to death while they were gone! All this dirt and sweat going to take three, no four, bathes to fully clean off!! Best hop to it~♡

"Touch them one more time and I'm going to set fire to whatever landfill trash like you crawls out of!!"

Beelzebub

It can't be happening. It honestly can't be happening. First he loses Lilith and now MC?? He can't lose two. He. Can't. Lose. Two.

Pretty much the mantra going through his head as he tears the Devildom apart with his bare hands. 

It's 1000x worse than how he gets when he's hungry because at least then he might stop when he finally gets fed. Now it's either find MC or wait until he collapses from exhaustion and hope he doesn’t leave the whole realm a smoldering crater before he gets that far.

There's no reasoning with him either, the best the brothers can do is steer him in a direction and let him loose.

If he found MC first he probably wouldn't even realize it for a bit, he'd just keep attacking whatever or whoever is in front of him on his path of blind destruction. It'd take the MC literally flinging themselves at him or throwing their arms around him to snap him out of it but then it's back to sweetheart Beel.

Hugs ensue. Really tight hugs. Probably a few tears and apologies too (even if it’s not really his fault at all). 

Woe to anyone who tries going for the MC once he’s sure he has them because they WILL be broken then eaten. He’ll encourage his human not to look, but some things just have to be done.

Would absolutely carry MC back home and refuse to put them down until the others force him to. The floor may as well be lava planning on taking them away from him too.

Wouldn't care as much about personal vengeance as his brothers as long as MC is safe. He'll trust that his family will more than punish the kidnappers (though chances are he already took a chunk or two out of a few of them during his rampage anyway).

Protective instincts up by 100 after this, though Belphie usually steps in and eases him back a bit when he's about to get suffocating. MC never travels without a buddy now, ever. He just can't risk it.

"MC, I-I'm sorry… I just couldn’t lose you too…"

Belphegor

Keeps the coolest head of all the brothers on the outside, but there's a cold fury building up in those eyes.

Pretty much takes charge of whipping everyone back into gear with a combination stinging remarks and heavy duty guilt tripping. May not be the nicest method, but it's effective. 

"Asmo, grow a freaking spine and do something useful for a change! Mammon, this your fault to start with so you ought to be breaking your ass to find them! Satan, watching you is getting embarrassing, pull yourself together and think like you're good at it!"

His harshest criticisms get saved for Lucifer (big shock) but he only dishes them out when he sees his older brother really losing his grip or teetering on losing hope. If the “mighty firstborn” can’t keep it together then why should they even listen to him in the first place?

When he's not administering "motivation," he's keeping tabs on Beel's progression through the Devildom and trying to minimize the damage there. He's the only one that can get through to him long enough to change his course if necessary.

If he were to find the MC first, well, unlike Satan he doesn't have the forethought to save the torture for later. It's happening right here, right now, and you better bet that being the last born doesn't stop him from being a force to be reckoned with.

Waits with the MC for his brothers to catch up to them and deal with any stragglers. May cuddle with them and look like he's trying to take a nap in the meantime, but in truth he's still very alert, on edge, and ready to absolutely wreck shit if anything gets too close to them.

Though it doesn't look like his lazy ass goes through the same protective streak as his brothers, he's a lot quicker to try and convince the MC to stay home now. No out and about=less chance of getting nabbed. Plus he keeps his favorite pillow, win-win. 😏

"What about your worthless lives makes you think you deserve my mercy??"