#‘trevor better not fuck this up.’ ​‘if we get caught we throw trevor under the bus. this was all his idea.’ MICHAEL.

[one-pump-chump]

maybe this is just me liking it when characters are awful and i’m sorry if i’m raining on anyone’s parade but. i always felt like michael apologising to trevor by offering him his share from the big score felt insincere, to a degree. like i can’t be convinced he earnestly thought trevor cared about the money and would accept that as an apology

[schrijverr]

The Heart Is Also a Muscle

5 times Sypha and Alucard got distracted by Trevor’s warrior physique + 1 time he noticed and yet completely misunderstands.

Trevor is hot and once Sypha and Alucard have noticed it is hard not to notice. Now they just have to figure out how to confess, before it gets incredibly awkward because he catches on. When he does however, his insecurities completely misconstrue their intentions.

On AO3.

Ships: trephacard

Warnings: insecurities

~~~~~~~~~~

Despite Trevor’s many years on the road, keeping up a less than stellar training regime, he was still a warrior at heart and in body. He had still fought all those years and his frame was bulky to accommodate the muscle needed for that.

Something that was hard to miss.

And Alucard and Sypha didn’t miss it at all. In fact they noticed it a bit too often for their own comfort, now that they were cleaning up Dracula’s castle after their victory over the old vampire.

1.

It wasn’t that Sypha hadn’t noticed that Trevor was fit while they traveled, it was more that they were so many other things to think about, to worry about to keep oneself alive that she hadn’t noticed that sort of stuff. So, it still took her by surprise when she did.

They were clearing out the rubble of one of the many rooms covered by it. It was slow going work, even with Alucard’s supernatural strength. One upside was that Sypha was getting really good at levitation spells.

She took a small break and wiped her forehead. Alucard had just moved a big stone and Trevor was now trying to lift a bigger stone than he had done.

For a moment she rolled her eyes at the childish display, but as she looked she noticed the shirt clinging to his sweaty body as he arms bulged under the effort. His brow was furrowed and his tongue was poking out slightly.

He was a piece of art.

Fuck.

Why hadn’t she noticed before that Trevor was completely ripped? Maybe she had noticed, but never connected that to him being nice to look at. Now, she couldn't look away as he struggled with the too big stone.

No sane human should be able to carry it and she didn’t know why he even tried (well, she did, but she thought it stupid). Until, the asshole actually managed to lift it, proud grin sweeping over his face as he did.

Slowly, he started to walk, careful steps to balance the stone and keep himself upright. Every time he almost lost balance, he flexed his legs, which was equally distracting and Sypha really wanted to know why she had to notice this, because she knew that from that moment on, she wouldn’t stop noticing it.

“Sypha?” the smooth voice next to her made her jump, she hadn’t even realized Alucard had arrived next to her. “Something the matter?” he asked.

She debated with herself if she would admit to Alucard what had distracted her so. It was embarrassing for sure, but she had also seen the fondness in the dhampirs eyes whenever Trevor talked to him, so she might find an ally in her suffering here.

With a decision made she gestured to Trevor, who was taking the final steps to the right pile of stones for rebuilding, before he squatted down to put down the stone. His back muscles rippled and his ass was practically on display.

Beside her, Alucard made a choked off noise.

At that Trevor turned around, somehow an adorable confused pout on his face that should look ridiculous on his large frame, but didn’t. “You both okay?”

“Yeah, just thought we’d wait for you to break your back carrying something too heavy before we laughed at you,” Alucard shot back, saving both their asses from embarrassment as Trevor rolled his eyes and flipped him off, claiming that it wasn’t that heavy anyway.

2.

They were rebuilding some of the pathways in the Belmont Hold. Trevor had insisted on cleaning up most of the castle first, claiming that it was the most livable place out of the two and he wanted a bed, but both had seen the saddened look on his face when faced with what remained of his childhood home in ruins.

So, the moment they had made the kitchen and a few bedrooms presentable, they started on a few passageways across.

However, ever since Sypha had pointed out Trevor’s muscles in a different light to him, he now was ruined forevermore and she was to blame. He couldn't do anything normally anymore. Somehow each activity turned into a distraction with Trevor around.

Right now being an example of how much of a distraction Trevor was.

He was hauling up a beam that Sypha was directing above them, while Alucard was supposed to be sorting the pile of books that were in the language only he could read.

Supposed to, because he most definitely wasn’t.

No, because how could one read when Trevor was coiling a rope around his forearms as he pulled on said thick rope, muscles straining against it as he panted and dug in his heals.

The beam was pretty big and it was frankly short of a miracle that he hadn’t let it drop yet, but then again, he was incredibly muscled as Alucard had found out. So, slowly the beam rose under Trevor’s labor.

Faintly Alucard wondered how Sypha was holding out up there, being forced to watch Trevor so that she could jump in to help when necessary. He found her eyes and saw her bite her lip, face completely red.

Then the beam dropped a few feet as Trevor fumbled with the rope for a moment. It was an interesting tug-a-war. Trevor vs. gravity. Even as he won, regaining his footing and putting in some extra work, both Alucard and Sypha had gasped when it happened.

“Do you need assistance?” Alucard found himself calling out, despite knowing better.

“I am fine, Fangs,” Trevor grunted and that noise wasn’t good for Alucard’s blood pressure. “Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

Wit spite as final motivator, Trevor pulled the beam the final distance, groaning with relief when Sypha had guided it into place. Before he could turn to see Alucard look, the dhampir turned back to his pile of books.

He had things to do.

3.

Alucard and Sypha had gotten used to Trevor’s muscular frame that truly shone whenever they needed to do construction.

Well, used to was a strong word.

Trevor was still completely distracting, so much that they had started a little talk club in the library in the mornings when Trevor was sleeping in. But they could function almost normally and do their tasks while they worked.

But this? This now, right there? That was different. It was just unfair actually. Unfair and mean, but also very blessed.

Rewinding to that afternoon, when they had decided that they weren’t in the mood for reconstructing the castle or the hold. So, they had lunch, talked a bit, Sypha picked up a book, Alucard as well, while Trevor seemed content to sit by the fire with them, whittling away at a piece of wood.

Then it had happened. Trevor had reached for a bit of firewood, before realizing they were almost out. Throwing the last logs onto the fire, he got up and stretched as he said: “I’m going to chop some more fire wood.”

And then he left and they were alone. For a few moments they both just blinked at the empty space that had just been Trevor, before his words caught up to them.

Sypha moved first. She got up with her book and walked to the seat that had been built in next to the window that looked out over the fields below. They weren’t high up in the castle and had a good view.

“Might I inquire about the sudden move?” Alucard asked after a moment.

She grinned at him mischievously and nodded to something on the other side of the window, before she said: “Why don’t you come here and find out? Promise it’s worth it.”

Alucard didn’t know when he had forgotten she was cruel in her kindness, but looking down to see Trevor chop wood with a big ax was definitely cruel, still he was so very grateful for her that she had invited him to the view.

Because it truly was a view. Trevor was soaking through his shirt as he effortlessly swung the giant ax downwards onto the waiting wood, always splitting it in one or two swings.

“Oh God,” he choked out.

“Hmmhm, I know,” Sypha agreed.

“He just-”

“Jup.”

“Wow.”

It wasn’t the classiest conversation they’d had, but by far not the least classiest conversation about Trevor’s muscle’s they’d had. Still, they could hardly be blamed when the person in question was right in front of them being hot, instead of far away and sleeping.

As they watched they could see the outlines of Trevor’s muscles appear in sweat. Naturally the armpits were first, but then they appeared under his pecs and between his shoulders as well.

Alucard swallowed heavily, Sypha beside him followed suit.

They stood there for a while, just admiring Trevor as the pile next to him grew with chopped up wood. It was a nice spring day and the sun was doing wonder’s for the sweat coating his muscles. Trevor was now only in a tunic, nothing covering his arms. It was a very good look on him.

Then it happened. They were unassuming and powerless when Trevor lifted his tunic to wipe the sweat on his brow, only to pull back and grimace when he found it already soaked. Before they could prepare themselves he had tugged the tunic over his head, continuing his task completely bare-chested.

“Oh,” Sypha moaned miserably, “I don’t know if I want to thank whoever is out there or curse them right now.”

If he could have formed words at that moment, he would have agreed with her. Alas, he was incapacitated by the shirtless sweaty and sexy Trevor below them.

After they had started at the hunter for a few moments – imprinting the view, getting their wits together again, that sort of stuff – Sypha said: “This is truly pathetic. Look at us. This is so sad.” Trevor chopped again, it was a big log and it went down in one swing. “But totally deserved sadness if I get to see this.”

“Do you think he knows what he’s doing?” Alucard asked as Trevor stretched borderline pornographically.

“Oh absolutely not,” replied Sypha. “He’s as oblivious as a brick and I’m torn between calling it cute and frustrating.”

“We should probably say something to him at one point,” Alucard pointed out.

“Yeah, we probably should,” Sypha agreed, taking Alucard’s hand and leaning into him as they enjoyed the view together. They had made a deal not to do anything until they’d gotten Trevor’s rejection or until he was on board. Right now, she would do anything for a kiss though.

She didn’t try. She knew that Alucard cared about doing things proper and she wanted that too. She just also happened to be watching Trevor be hot while knowing that any move would have him running from the hills due to the emotional repressing he had made his personality.

So, she sighed and looked back out, only to see Trevor put the ax away and gather an arm full of newly chopped wood, still no shirt.

Cursing she pulled Alucard back to the chairs they had sat in and turned the book so that it was right side up, before she hissed to Alucard that he had to act natural.

Alucard had just turned back to his book, the look of apathy he had perfected on his face, when Trevor came in and dropped off the firewood, before greeting them and turning to bring another load.

Once he had left the room and would be out of hearing range, Alucard leaned over to her and whispered: “We need to come up with a plan at some point.”

“Yes, I know, okay,” Sypha agreed.

“He’s getting on my nerves both in a good and bad way and I might snap if we don’t do something soon and that’ll make things worse.”

“This is getting ridiculous,” she sighed, “I’m working on it.”

“What are you two gossiping about?” Trevor asked with a grin, as he returned with more wood in his arms. “You could be two old ladies in a market square.”

“Nothing really,” said Alucard, right as Sypha answered: “About how much you stink. Sweat isn’t a good look on you,” the lie came out.

Trevor huffed, but it was good-naturedly, as he rolled his eyes. “I’ll put away the rest of the wood and go bathe, your majesties.” Then he swept out of the room, leaving them without his shirtless pecs to view.

4.

After the wood chopping incident, working together with Trevor had become harder again, so the cleaning of the general grossness that came with an army of night creatures had been divided to be done separately.

To Trevor they had claimed efficiency, and while he had looked suspicious, he had also accepted it without any complaints.

But even that did not save them from him. While there were no bulging muscles soaking in sweat, just general grossness and tiredness when they met up again with each other, it seemed that Trevor was full of surprises, oblivious as he was to them.

Alucard and Sypha had bothcollapsed on the floor in one of the main halls when Trevor joined them, stretching his arms above his head, flexing his muscles slightly.

He sat down with them and groaned: “I don’t think my back will ever recover from this, I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“You do not get paid at all,” said Alucard in confusion.

“Exactly,” Trevor told him, before stretching and groaning again. Then he stretched his legs out in front of him and just dropped his head down onto his knees, bending himself in half as he semi-moaned when his back cracked.

Sypha watched him slack jawed and Alucard didn’t think he looked much better as he ogled the hunter as well. Trevor was not just flexing muscles, but flexible as well. He would become the death of them that was certain.

It took them a few more moments to snap out of their daze, then a few more to realize Trevor had fallen asleep.

He had fallen asleep with his nose between his knees as if he was a pretzel, because apparently the position was so comfortable for him that he could fall asleep.

Fuck.

5.

After the flexible incident, as Sypha was calling it, they had been scrambling for a plan to get Trevor to agree to date them, because seeing that display only to have to deal with the cute sleepy Trevor that came after had been too much for their hearts.

Naturally it couldn't be that way. They had a vague plan about maybe tying Trevor to a chair if he wanted to run away, but nothing concrete yet.

She was currently in the Belmont Hold, looking through their books, hoping that one would spark a plan or maybe just give her something to talk about with the other’s over dinner. A book caught her eye, it was green with golden letters that read: Herbs against poison, for healing and relaxation

But when she reached for it, her arm fell short and not even by a bit. She was even pretty sure Alucard couldn't reach it like that. She would need a ladder, but the ladder system for this part had been destroyed.

A part of her was aware that she was pouting, but she still frowned when Trevor asked: “What are you pouting about?”

“I wasn’t pouting,” she told him instead of answering.

“Okay then, why was your bottom lip protruding in displeasure?” he asked her with a shit-eating grin that was both adorable and annoying.

She gave up with that and gestured to the book as she explained: “I can’t reach it.”

Trevor tried, but he too couldn't reach it, but she appreciated how he stretched out in an attempt to reach it, the flexibility coming to mind again. It truly was a pity they hadn’t been able to come up with anything to exploit that part yet.

Sypha was about to call for Alucard to see if he could when she felt two big hands on her waist before she was effortlessly lifted into the air. She squeaked loudly and floundered for a moment.

“Grab your book, Sypha,” she heard the laughter in Trevor’s voice, but she couldn't find it within herself to be annoyed when Trevor had just lifted her of the ground like it was nothing.

Sure, she wasn’t the heaviest or biggest person around, but she had a lot of muscle for her frame and she wouldn’t describe herself as light. God, what she wouldn’t give to have that strength at her mercy.

No, don’t focus on that now, grab the book. She quickly clutched the book and hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“Hey, you okay?” Trevor was now frowning in that stupidly concerned way that made her heart clench and she deducted that her cheeks must have been as red as she’d feared. “I’m fine,” she squeaked, hoping it would be enough.

Alucard came to her rescue, sort of. He landed gracefully and asked: “What happened? I heard Sypha squeak.”

“Oh, yeah, nothing to worry about. I think I startled her when I lifted her,” Trevor explained casually, “We couldn't reach a book she wanted. So, teamwork.”

“You. You just lifted her up?” Alucard repeated dumbly and Sypha knew that it was the fact that it was hot and he missed it that made him say it like that.

Sadly, Trevor interpreted it differently. “What? You think I couldn't lift her. No offense, Sypha, but you’re hardly a challenge. I mean, I could lift you, you bloodsucking prick. Sure, no super strength, but you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“That’s not-” before Alucard could ruin everything, Sypha interrupted: “Really?” she tried to sound disbelieving, “I mean, you’re strong, but Alucard? He’s tall and muscled. I don’t think you can.”

“I so can, this is ridiculous,” now it was Trevor, who was pouting and she took a bit of joy out of her manipulation.

“Prove it.”

Trevor looked taken aback by that and glanced at Alucard, who gladly had caught on and send him a cocky raised brow paired with a smirk.

Determination settled on Trevor’s face and he crossed his arms, before saying: “Okay, sure, I will,” before walking to Alucard and hoisting him over his shoulder’s like he was a somewhat heavy sack of potatoes. “See?”

“Okay, yeah, but that wasn’t how you carried me,” Sypha pointed out.

“Well, then maybe I can’t do that, but lifting someone by the waist is the hardest way to lift someone,” Trevor protested as he let Alucard down. “I feel like that was still pretty impressive. He’s heavy despite the delicate bone structure.”

Sypha was pretty sure Alucard was out of the running now with that comment, but she wanted to sedate her own curiosity. “I’ll give you the hard lifting part, but I don’t know about impressive. Maybe bridal carry and I’ll be impressed.”

He looked at her inscrutably and for a second she feared he would call her bluff and point out her real motivations. That moment never came, he sighed then set his shoulders– his broad, nice shoulders – stubbornly, before literally swooping Alucard off his feet.

He gave her a look that screamed ‘What now, eh? Didn’t think I’d do it, but I did, so suck it’ and she loved it. She loved that he had done what she told him to do while also showing off those muscles. A win on every front.

His arms, neck and shoulder strained under the weight of the tall, muscled dhampir, but he held out as he gently lowered Alucard back onto his feet. Sypha didn’t know if it was the lifting or the gentleness that made Alucard bashful, but he murmured something inaudible, before hurrying back to what he had bee doing before the interruption.

“Rude,” Trevor noted. “I didn’t even get to bask in my superiority.”

“You can bask to me, it’s okay,” she comforted him. “I am suitably impressed by your dhampir lifting skills, Trevor.”

“Thank you,” he said with extra emphasis to make it into a tease. “You know, as a true hero, both for being epic and awesome as well as getting your book, I feel like I should be rewarded.”

“Oh?” she was curious to see where this went.

“Yeah, I want to borrow the bath soap you’re so protective over after the next time we attempt to clean the goop dungeon,” he made his demand.

She was glad that, with running warm water, they had convinced him that baths were actually nice and she didn’t mind the thought of him smelling like her. Still, she put up a front of indulgence, yet being annoyed as she said: “Fine.”

“Heck yeah,” he cheered before ambling off.

+1.

Trevor wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, but over the past few days he had noticed that both Alucard and Sypha were acting weird. Well, weirder than usual, it was pretty hard to define weird when you lived in Dracula’s old castle near the Belmont Hold with a dhampir and a Speaker, but you get the idea.

The thing was, Trevor had no idea why they were being weird and what had caused it, but he knew they were only weird to him.

It made his chest tighten uncomfortably as he tried to think of something he’d done wrong.

Nothing came to mind, but that just made him question if he really knew them if he couldn't even spot the thing he had done to upset them both. It was all a frustrating mess and Trevor was half waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.

He hated feeling like this, feeling like he’d done something wrong and couldn't apologize. It tore him apart in a way he couldn't describe. He just hoped that they wouldn’t kick him to the curb, because that would extra suck. He already liked them too much as it was, getting his heart broken over something he didn’t understand would only make it worse.

So, he kept an eye on them, trying to figure out what they were thinking when they stared at him or whispered among themselves.

He was soon to find out.

It was a decidedly normal day, Trevor was mildly stressed, the weather was nice and they were finally moving the rubble they hadn’t been able to reuse out of the castle. They were making a pile out of it that they would later use to make an obstacle course or something, Trevor wasn’t sure it was mostly Alucard and Sypha doing the planning. Maybe that was it? Maybe the stress of the whole castle thing was catching up with them as well and it wasn’t anything Trevor had done.

They had assigned him to carry rubble, which made him roll his eyes. Alucard had supernatural strength and Sypha had magic, yet here he was carrying the bulk while Sypha ordered him around on where to go while Alucard switched between helping him and rearranging the rubble.

His muscles were straining under the amount of exercise, but it didn’t bother Trevor that much. It was good to keep in shape and he could handle it.

He came back from his umpteenth trip, groaning as he set down his load as he cracked his back by putting his hands on his back and pushing. He looked around and saw Alucard and Sypha on top of one of the piles that Alucard found “artistic.”

With a grin on his face he quickly hopped up the pile to see what they were talking about. They had watching him walk over and smiled at him, before turning to talk among themselves. He was about to call out a greeting and announce his presence when he heard Sypha said: “There must be more chores where we can make him carry stuff.”

Hm, he thought, that was obviously about him, thoughhe had no clue why that of all things would be a conversation topic.

Before he could ask, Alucard replied: “I mean, there are still those chains in the dungeons that we could make him clear out, but I feel that would be bad for us.” This was just making him more confused.

Sypha made a small noise, before agreeing: “Oh, yeah, Trevor with chains will totally be bad for us.”

Trevor choked on his spit.

Two heads whipped around to him, with two pairs of eyes as big as dinner plates, filled with the guilt of being caught saying something they shouldn’t have been saying. They were completely silent, neither explaining or defending themselves.

In the silence Trevor tried to wrap his head around it. How was him carrying stuff bad for them? And why were they thinking up reasons for him to carry stuff anyway? What did they have to gain by watching him carry stuff? It wasn’t as if he was eye candy and-

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed. He was eye candy. They were watching him carry stuff, because they liked it and holy shit did he not know how to even deal with that.

He felt the blood rushing to his head and knew he must look like a fucking beet, but he didn’t care, his mind was a bit preoccupied. He had known that some would classify him as handsome, but he had long since given up on either of them thinking that. They had seen him do too many embarrassing things to even consider him attractive and they had each other. Even dense little him could put that one together. Yet here they were.

Unless, of course, this was some sort of sick joke to them, a little voice in his mind whispered. The dhampir hearing of Alucard could have picked up his footfalls easily and they could have conspired to fuck with him, just for the sake of fucking with him. A cold feeling washed over him and his chest seemed to collapse in on itself at the realization.

God, fucking shit, they had probably caught on to his pathetic feelings for them and had decided to toy with him before telling him to scram for being a fucking weirdo. All the looks made so much more sense now.

It just fucking hurt that they would toy with him like that. That they would be that mean to him instead of just telling him when they’d figured it out.

Much to his embarrassment, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He swallowed hard and tried to force them down as he choked out: “Well, fuck you too,” before turning away to stomp off and grab his stuff to get out of there.

He didn’t get far.

Alucard appeared in front of him with his stupid dhampir speed that Trevor found very attractive no matter how much he hated it rightnow. The other reached out to him, but stilled his hand before they touched.

Fuck, how badly did he fuck up that they didn’t even want to touch him. And why were they even coming after him. He was doing what they wanted.

“Trevor,” Alucard said and it didn’t sound like someone relieved that the person, who had been crushing after him and his girlfriend was finally going, it sounded like someone, who was very upset.

It stilled Trevor long enough for Sypha to catch up with them too. As she laid her hand on his shoulder. However, he shrugged her off and tried to walk on again, getting stopped by Alucard, who found it within himself to touch the grossness of Trevor.

“Wait, Trevor, hold on,” Sypha called out. “I swear it’s not what you think.”

“Really?” he truly didn’t mean to sound so bitter. He was happy that they had each other, they deserved each other. It just hurt that he wasn’t in their they and that they thought that stupid joke would land well.

“Yes, okay,” she told him. “We’re really sorry about springing it on you like that, but-”

“Yeah, why the fuck did you think that was okay?” he hissed at her, trying not to feel the pangs in his heart at her little flinch. “I don’t care that you’re fucking happy together, but pulling that sick stunt on me is not cool. You can just kick me to the curb like a normal person. You fucking fuckers just had to crush me in the process too? Getting someone’s hope up and then- then… That’s just- just mean!”

He knew he was crying now, he totally was and his voice broke over the last few words, but he couldn't stop it. He had spend the last few weeks pining over them, while knowing he didn’t have a chance, perking up with a slight hope every time they smiled at him. So for them to give him that hope again only to stomp on it, had just been the last straw that broke him. Sue him.

“W- what?” Alucard asked, making him turn around to see absolute confusion written over his face along with hurt.

“Oh, Trevor,” he heard Sypha behind him with that pitying voice he didn’t need from her as he turned around to see hurting compassion written over her entire face. Yeah, now she felt guilty, not when she actually did it.

Still, when she reached for his face and gently cupped his cheek, he couldn't help but lean in to the little bit of comfort that was provided.

She wiped away his tears gently and softly said: “We’re not kicking you to the curb. Never, okay, never, Trevor. I swear. You’ve completely misunderstood. It wasn’t a joke, okay. It never was. We meant it, undignified as our lordship over there might find it.”

Trevor chuckled wetly at that, still not entirely sure if he believed her, but so willing to give in, even if it was a lie. For the lie was so much sweeter.

Alucard appeared behind him and he swayed slightly, the exhaustion of all the emotions in the last couple of minutes catching up to him. He tried to pull away when he accidentally hit Alucard’s chest, but the dhampir just pulled him close, nuzzling his hair as he whispered: “You’re such an idiot.”

That was probably true, both Alucard and Sypha were smarter than him and he was generally an idiot, but his mind wasn’t fully wrapping around where he had misunderstood it all and ruined everything.

The tears that had stopped started up again and he didn’t know how after years of repressing all his emotions this was the thing that broke all his walls. Still, he whimpered: “I’m sorry, for- for fucking it all- all up ag- again.”

“No, no,” Sypha shushed him as she hugged him, “you didn’t fuck up anything.”

He was now completely sandwiched between Sypha and Alucard with no clue how him taking a small break from clearing rubble had ended up like this. Yet here he was and he was going to soak up the attention and care while he had it, so he didn’t protest them holding him silently, just let himself melt softly.

Seconds or eternities could have passed without Trevor’s knowledge until Sypha broke the silence: “I don’t know how you got to the conclusion that our horny conspiring was a joke, but as embarrassing at it is, it most certainly isn’t, Trevor.”

Trevor had half choked, half laughed at the phrase ‘horny conspiring’ as it caught up to him what that meant. Hesitantly, he asked: “So- so you had me carry stuff just to watch me?”

It sounded ridiculous in his own head, because why on earth would anyone look at him when they could look at Alucard and Sypha, but they both tensed slightly around him, before nodding. Alucard going as far as to say: “You have nice muscles.”

Under other circumstances Trevor would totally and completely ruin Alucard by tearing him apart with teases at that remark, but there weren’t other circumstances and right now Trevor felt raw and vulnerable, so he just breathed: “Yeah?” in an unsure voice that he hated immediately.

“Yeah,” Sypha firmly agreed. “I don’t know how to tell you this without never hearing the end of it, but you’re really fucking hot. You literally made me into a person who says fuck just so I could tell you that you’re fucking hot.”

He actually snorted at that, because it was easier to snort at it then to admit that the complement felt nice and made him blush.

“We’ve actually been trying very hard to figure out how to tell you without you running away,” she went on, snorting miserably, “but I guess we messed that up. You are just so bad at accepting nice things for yourself that us telling you that we love you seemed almost impossible.”

“Y- you? You love me?” He was getting really fucking sick of that small weak voice

“Yes,” that was Alucard behind him. “We love you, just like we love each other. We hope you feel the same, but we understand if you don’t.”

“It would be really fucking stupid of me not to love the two most amazing people in the entire world, Alucard. Yes, sadly I am disappointing my entire bloodline by including you in that statement, but it’s true.” Admitting it like this felt better than being touch-y feel-y, he didn’t do touch-y feel-y well.

Luckily it was the right thing to say, because both of them relaxed around him as they snorted before chuckling and a bit of pride coursed through him at making them laugh.

“I’m so lucky you’re our idiot,” Sypha told him, before pulling him into a kiss.

Her lips were soft but firm and completely enticing. He kissed her back and stopped caring about oxygen as a necessity, it was completely overrated in comparison to kissing Sypha. When she finally let him up for air, he was dizzy. Faintly he heard her say something to Alucard about making her wait for so long, but it was lost to him as he tried to refind himself as a human being.

He became aware of Alucard and Sypha kissing each other over his shoulder once he had managed and watched mesmerized for a moment. Fuck, he could definitely get used to this. Still, he whined: “I’m feeling a bit left out here,” without meaning it.

Both their eyes fell on him and swallowing became a challenge. Then Alucard surged his lips and kissed him thoroughly. It was less gentle, while more careful than Sypha’s kiss as Alucard watched out for his fangs to Trevor’s disappointment. Yet, it was equally mind blowing.

Once he had resurfaced again, it took him a moment once more. He was still being wrapped up in both of them and his heart felt so much lighter than it had before.

“I know we should probably talk way more about this, but I do want to note that I have excellent stamina to back up my muscles.”

Both of them groaned and he grinned to his little victory.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

~~

A/N:

Fun fact, my sister once fell asleep with her nose between her knees, because she is slightly insane, I feel personally. So, actually based in fact, lmao

Also, I swear this was supposed to be lighthearted, but then I was writing the last part from Trevor’s POV, because I thought it would be funny and he just wouldn’t allow himself nice things no matter how I tried to push him. So angst it is, very in character, sadly.

Btw, im really proud of that title ngl

[writerofshit]

(I mentioned briefly a story of how the Stream Team met. This is that story.)

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the late night hours of a Tuesday, a convenience store is robbed. So is one several blocks southeast. And one roughly in the middle of them both. After all, what's more convenient than 24 hour chili dogs on every other street corner?

Cash. Cash is more convenient. So are guns. Hollering, waving one to get the other. Most important, back alleys that twist and turn, snaking away from increasingly distant sirens. Three individuals find themselves running through these alleys, a couple grand each weighing their pockets down.

It's through serendipity and convenience that their paths cross.

The man from the farthest store arrives first. He's done this a few more times than he'd like to admit, so he'd had a plan. Of sorts. Cut through the park, take a few sidewalks like an upstanding citizen, under the bridge and find a fire escape to utilize from there. There aren't any that reach the ground, of course, because he's smart but not quite enough.

And so this is why Trevor is standing in an dark alley, contemplating whether or not the dumpster will give him enough height to reach the ladder, when the man from the middle store appears. He's around Trevor's height, but would probably win in a fight between them, if he were so inclined. He doesn't seem to be, though. He seems shaken, like he's not quite sure how he ended up in this alley. He's holding a gun almost gingerly, as if it might bite him.

Trevor pulls his own gun.

'dont you fuckin' try anything!'

This does not go over well with Matt. He takes a step back, and then seems to remember that he also has a gun so maybe this is even footing. He holds it aloft, finger nowhere near the trigger.

'same, asshole!'

At this moment the robber from the first store arrives, also, of course, with a gun. And a mask. And an entire purple and orange neon fucking suit, actually, topped with a white cowboy hat. It gives them a few extra inches of height they are distinctly lacking, comparatively. Somewhere in the back of his head, Trevor acknowledges that this newcomer could probably kick his and the other gunman's asses. It is not a pleasant thought.

'oh, what the fuck!?'

Jeremy sounds more annoyed and less scared than one would think, considering they've run into an alley only to find two men with guns. Two men who quickly turn those guns on them.

'who the fuck are you?'

The question surprises them all, including Matt, even though he's the one who asked. As it turns out, people have a tendency to say the first thing that comes to mind when in a stressful situation. Such as, having robbed a convenience store for the very first time and immediately finding himself face to face with other apparent robbers. It would get to anyone, probably.

'i don't want any trouble, but i've already robbed someone tonight and i don't give a shit about felony murder!'

Two lies and a truth, is what Trevor has chosen to play, for some reason. In reality, one does not rob a convenience store at gun point if one is intent on staying out of trouble. And he does, in fact, care very deeply about felony murder. Felony murder is the precise reason he'd shot a bag of Doritos and not a clerk. In his defense, the clerk had initially rolled her eyes at him, asked what exactly he thought he'd get out of this. He'd found this question rude.

The truth, of course, is that he did rob a convenience store. That did happen. No take backs.

'so did i!'

Matt and Jeremy speak so in unison it's almost scary. If they didn't know any better, they'd think the two of them had always known each other.

Trevor's gun wavers between them, unsure which is the bigger threat. The guy who clearly has zero experience with guns, or the weirdo who seems to have far too much? It's a toss up, really. So his aim pinballs back and forth, but his finger does not curl around the trigger. He's serious about that felony murder thing.

The air seems to shift, suddenly, and the sound of sirens is now growing closer. This evidently also annoys Jeremy, and they throw a glance over their shoulder to the direction they'd come from. Red and blue lights flicker past.

'shit. ok. we're all robbers, i guess, and we're all fucked if we keep standing here. who's got a plan?'

Jeremy's eyes are staring impatiently at Trevor. Eyes being the only part of their face Trevor can see. And their hands, a plastic bag in one and a gun in the other.

Trigger finger is an apt name.

He glances at Matt, still wild eyed and glancing back and forth. No, Matt probably does not have a plan. He sort of gives the impression that he's never had a plan ever, actually. That perhaps he'd simply woken up here and decided to wing it. So Trevor makes an offer.

'fire escape?'

There's another moment of tense silence. Well, minus the sirens. And oh, helicopters. Even better. Jeremy shrugs.

'good a plan as any.'

And then they're off, brushing past Trevor and hoisting themself up onto the dumpster. He knew it could work. Trevor blinks and Jeremy has caught the ladder, is quickly working their way up. Shit, how does five foot something manage to get that high on a good day, much less in this situation and with a bag and gun in hand?

Matt's gun clatters to the ground, and honestly, that's probably for the best. He's climbing onto the dumpster now, and he mutters something about not signing up for this shit. Trevor reminds him that he apparently robbed someone, so yeah, he kind of did.

Before Trevor climbs up, he shoves his gun into his jacket pocket. Smart? Probably not. Convenient? More so than climbing with a gun in his hand. He follows Matt up the ladder, wondering what happened to his plan. Yeah, the ladder had been involved. Two other people, however, were not.

Above them, glass shatters.

'warning, maybe!?'

'oops. careful, there's glass.'

Jeremy's voice is no longer directly above them. Instead, it comes from one story up and a little to the left. So they've broken into an apartment. Sure, add breaking and entering to the list of charges, that sounds great. But Matt and Trevor follow, because there's not really another option.

Inside the apartment, Jeremy's mask is gone. The suit is quickly disappearing as well, revealing a rather boring outfit of a white tank top and...sweatpants? The true mystery lies in where the cowboy hat has gone to, because that's a hard item to miss.

'do we really have time for this? don't you think someone might, oh, i don't know, wake up and call the cops?'

Trevor doesn't mean to hiss, it's just that he's sure there's more pressing matters to attend to than an outfit change. Continuing to flee, perhaps.

'nobody's gonna wake up.'

They don't even have the wherewithal to lower their voice. It registers to Trevor that Jeremy's bag and gun are missing as well. Had they dropped them on the way up? It was certainly possible. Trevor thinks he would have noticed a gun flying past his head, but there's a lot going on.

'can we maybe not kill anyone? he brought up a good point with that felony murder thing.'

It's the most words Matt has strung together since he'd shown up. It's damn near a whisper, but at least it's progress.

'i'm not- god, can you two shut up? i gotta make a phone call.'

Jeremy yanks the door open, hand carefully wrapped in the fabric of their shirt. For a moment, Trevor thinks they're leaving and steps forward to follow Jeremy. Instead, Jeremy turns and heads toward the kitchen, pulling open a drawer and digging inside it briefly. They come back with a cell phone.

Something dawns on Trevor.

'is this- do you live here? did you break your own window?'

Jeremy doesn't answer. They put the phone to their ear.

'you're gonna wanna hide whatever you've got. and try not to look like you just climbed in through a window.'

And then-

'hello? yes, hi, i'd like to report a break in, i think? i was hearing a bunch of sirens and then i don't know what happened but some guy just broke my window? he ran through and i just- my friends and i are really scared and we didn't know what to do- yes, we're ok, he's gone, but we- you'll send someone? ok, thank you. the address? oh, uh, it's the del perro heights building, apartment 7. should i shut the door? no, don't touch anything. ok- guys, don't touch anything, she said someone's on their way to check on us! thank you so much- no, i think we'll be fine. thank you.'

It's a marvelous performance. Jeremy genuinely sounds like some poor flustered victim of a crime. Trevor would applaud if he thought Jeremy would appreciate it. Almost immediately, their voice is back to normal.

'check things out my ass. they're gonna show up, ask which way he went and never call me again. feel real fuckin safe.'

Jeremy settles themself onto the couch, choosing the spot closest to the door. Matt, who has apparently gotten over his initial terror, wanders into the kitchen. Searching for something to distract himself, if Trevor had to guess. Trevor is still standing in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded. How did a simple robbery become hanging out with other robbers, waiting for cops to show up?

'i'm jeremy, by the way. they won't ask, but y'know. just in case.'

They're flipping channels on the tv, seeming to arbitrarily skip almost a dozen programs. Finally, they settle on one and stand. Trevor recognizes it as an old Disney movie, and desperately wants to ask why the fuck Jeremy has put this on.

'uh, hi. i'm trevor. why are we watching Mulan?'

'matt. oh hell yeah, i love this movie!'

He sounds remarkably cheerful, considering the circumstances. How Trevor had seemingly switched places with Anxious McGee is beyond him. He needs to get it together. He pulls his gun from his pocket and takes it to the kitchen, sticking it in the drawer Jeremy had taken the phone from. There are several other phones of varying price point. He steps back to the living room just in time.

'that's why.'

They don't elaborate. Apparently Trevor is meant to just figure this out on his own, which ordinarily he might be able to do. After the course of events of this particular evening? Not a chance.

But he can't ask, because now there's a cop in the doorway and he's staring at Trevor and that will never be a good thing. Trevor stares back. He has no clue what he's meant to say. Hello? Welcome? He went that way?

'oh thank god! we've been so terrified, we didn't know if he'd come back or what he'd do.'

Naturally, Jeremy has taken lead on this. They're a phenomenal actor, Trevor has to admit.

'did you see which direction he went?'

'toward the stairs, i think. we've all been rooted to the spot, you know, it's so scary-'

Matt freezes in the doorway of the kitchen. He's just out of the view from the front door.

'right, well. you boys did the right thing by calling. can you give me a description of the man?'

The corner of Jeremy's mouth quirks.

'gosh, it all just happened so fast. taller than me, probably, but shorter than you, wouldn't you say, trey?'

Trevor nods, because he's not quite sure what else to do.

'alright, thank you. someone will be in touch with you for an official statement. in the meantime, if you remember anything else don't hesitate to call.'

He's holding a card out to Trevor, of all people. He takes it carefully, like if he does it wrong somehow the guy will know and arrest them all. The card is simply the number for a tip line.

As suddenly as he'd arrived, the cop is gone and they're all breathing sighs of relief. Jeremy closes the door.

'you guys can stay for Mulan, if you want.'

So they do.

Trevor asks about why Mulan again, and Jeremy explains that they assume most people have seen it, could answer any questions about it if they came up. Perhaps, if LSPD officers were less incompetent, they would have. Although if that were the case, they wouldn't be LSPD officers at all.

Matt asks about the window, and Jeremy says yes, they did break their own window. Of course they'd had an actual plan when they'd entered the alley. They were always going to end up exactly here, give or take the extras. Asking for a plan was simply a test, determining the merit in bring them along. They'd passed.

Jeremy asks if they want to stay for Mulan II, which is apparently up next. They do.

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the early morning hours of a Wednesday, three convenience stores are recovering from three separate robberies. Right in the middle of them all, their respective robbers are sitting on a couch together, watching a straight to video children's film.

It is the beginning of something far greater than any of them can imagine.

[real-fanta-sea]

If you're serious about the kiss thing...... You should do trikey with 56? Mikey's getting irritated about all the shit in Trevor's house

yep I’m serious, thanks for the request! It was fun to play with it, especially the part of annoyed Michael :D I used some strong language here, just so you know. 

Ok, here we go *cracks knuckles*

Apart from being an exceptional place to hide from all kinds of law enforcement and pissed off gang bosses, Sandy Shores provides another highly valued quality - it's fucking hot. And not that convenient 'oh look it's the first sunny day of spring' kind of wee warm, but the brutal, penetrative heat of working by deep fryer in McDonald's during summer.

Michael smacked his lips, belched and threw an empty bottle over the battered railing of the front porch. It clanked and landed on dusty ground with a satisfying crunch, and the sun dried it in an instant. He lost count on how many of them he has already downed and disposed of, but drinking didn't help no matter what style he tried. Slow, fast, cold, warm. He tried everything. Except feeling a bit sluggish, there was no effect the lukewarm pisswasser could ever have on him after years of self-taxidermy with whiskey and coke.

The street went gradually silent by the time he finished yet another bottle, shadows grew longer, and the sun grilled him from a slightly different angle. A chatter of people was replaced by an out-of-tune orchestra of crickets and the Eagles blasting from a radio somewhere in the neighbourhood, both flowing through the air with the flavour of barbecue.

Another day successfully wasted Michael thought and shifted on the couch. If only the TV would work, he could have spent it watching movies. Or not, because the tin can ramshackle got so hot during the day he could barely breathe there. Fucking Trevor. If it wasn't for him, he could be sitting by a pool full of ice, eating ice cream and slurping milkshakes from frozen tits. Maybe even pay the girl to ride him, so he didn't have to move a finger. Or better yet, tie Trevor up, throw him into his tailgater, lock him there and make him watch them fuck... But did he really want it? Wouldn’t he be the one who would instantly let him out and have a wild make up sex with him?

An annoyed grunt later, Michael lazily tugged on the hem of his, now very rural looking, tank top and dried his forehead with it. Something deep within knew he shouldn't have used the words Trevor and Fuck in one sentence because it awakened a part of him he should better let sleep. That part that supplied his tipsy brain with vivid images of long limbs locked around him, dark hair all over dirty pillows and amber eyes rolled back, set in a very flushed face... No, nope, it wasn't what he wanted to think about, in fact, he just wanted another beer. Yeah, another beer to make that awkward semi go away. And maybe strip off his top to make that damn heat go away? Yup, that was what he wanted. Aaaand a cigarette. Perfection.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

Michael's half snore was interrupted by a sound of shutting the car door and heavy boots stomping through the cooling dust. A quick glance from the porch told him the Bodhi was back from where it took off in the morning, and there was a tall figure growling near it, shuffling some boxes in the back. For a second, Michael thought he actually moved back in time, because his back was killing him pretty much the same way it did in the morning with the same taste of beer on lips. The only detail that didn't quite match was that his torso was now naked and pearled with sweat, and there was quite a lot of bottles and cans right below the railing.

Slowly and carefully, Michael stood up and stretched like a fat cat after a good afternoon nap. Trevor was still caught up by the truck, which gave M enough time to step a bit closer to the stairs and lean on a post to regain stability while observing the sight right in front of him. Trevor never was the most ripped guy, but the way his arms bulged when he lifted a box made Michael weaker than he would admit, and the way his jeans perked up his ass when he squatted made his mouth dry. Why the hell did he have to wear that black sleeveless top? Michael thought. He knows whenever he does, we end up fucking...

Just as he lip his bit for thinking about T that way, his best friend turned around for the first time since he arrived and locked eyes with Michael. For a brief moment, he looked surprised, even taken aback by that idiotic drunk grin on Michael's face and the way he leaned against the only solid post of the house, but it soon was replaced by pure fury.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

That was actually an excellent question. Or it would be, if Michael knew the answer to it.

"What? What do you mean?"

"You SLUT!!!"

Trevor charged towards him full speed in a split second and made Michael jump a little harder than he thought it would and jammed his lower back against the table, and both M and table cried in pain.

"What the fuck, Trevor! What's your fucking problem... ouch..."

Trevor leapt up the stairs, grabbed one of Michael's wrists and yanked him towards the door he kicked open.

"You fucking whore, YOU are the problem!"

Michael's brain quit the chat altogether and bailed out on him, leaving him staring on Trevor with gaping mouth and slightly raised eyebrows. He stumbled through the door, unable to free himself from Trevor's grip, and when T shut the door and threw him back first on them only to grab his shoulders to keep him still, all he could do was to stare into his fiery eyes.

"What were you thinking, showing off your tits to all our neighbours, huh?"

Michael gulped when Trevor leaned closer. Over the past few weeks, he learned the smell of gasoline and tobacco meant sloppy fucks on the kitchen counter and hungry kisses with bitten lips. That night, it all was topped with a gun powder.

"you dirty bitch, I leave you home alone for one day and when I come back what do I see? A pair of your slutty knockers right in my face."

His hands suddenly decided to fight his stupor, and as he felt Trevor's breath on his neck, he tugged on T's top and hungrily squeezed waist found there. The only answer was a deep purr and wet tip of Trevor's tongue right where his pulse drummed against the fine skin. With a small moan, he yanked Trevor closer and collided their hips, but Trevor was faster and grabbed both his wrists and pinned them against the tin door.

"You horny bitch, did showing off make you hot and wet? Or are you just happy to see me?"

Trevor's anger was gone, now replaced with his usual horniness, as he ground his hips against Michael's to let him know the thought got him hot too. And god that shit-eating grin on his face when he leaned in and bit Michael's lip, but didn't go for a full kiss... That was the point of no return. That fucking tease! Michael trashed under him and actually managed to get both hands freed just to leap forward and literally throw them both trough the bathroom door, for Trevor to land on the toilet bowl.

Michael could barely hear the sound of boxes and bottles clacking, falling to the dirty ground as he straddled Trevor and grabbed his head to steal that kiss he wanted since he saw him outside. Trevor just did his best to balance them both on the tiny bowl and waved his arms around, trying to grab onto something solid. Just as Michael decided to nib on Trevor's lip lightly and open T up for a nice french action, something hit the back of his head with an annoying accuracy. Then it clanked on the ground, followed by choked laughter and sound of plastic rustling. Michael instinctively shot up and stumbled back, massaging the hit place.

"Ouch! T, what the fuck was that?!"

"That was a shower curtain, cupcake... I must have torn it when you tried to flush us both down the bowl..."

"and you won't even say sorry you prick?"

"hmmm, how about showing you how sorry I am?"

Trevor possessed this strange ability to appear out of nowhere and cover M with kisses and hugs. Michael noticed only then how much taller Trevor really was when he was pinned against the shower wall and two hot hands slid past the waist of his jeans, kissing his lower lip too gently for Michael's liking. At first, he went with the flow, burying his fingers to Trevor's stubble and hair on the back of his head just to push him closer. Still, he set his mind to he didn't want it there, slow and gentle with water running down his back, not that night. Michael knew well when he brushes his tongue against Trevor's, pull back and bite his lip, T would not only let out a needy whimper, so unlike his manly growls, but he would also become weak enough to be pushed back to the kitchen where they could have much more fun. What he didn't count with was a nasty crunch under his foot when Trevor stumbled back towards the sink which immediately broke their kiss. A small moan of frustration made Michael more anxious for a moment than he would ever admit.

"What is it, T? Are you ok?"

"Fuck, Michael, you stepped on my laxatives!"

"What?"

"How am I supposed to shit without them?"

"Screw them, you won't need them when I'm done with you tonight."

"Gee how hot..."

But there was no way Michael would let Trevor finish that sentence - all he wanted was to pin him to the kitchen counter, tear those sweatpants apart and fuck him. Now it was him who stomped around, holding Trevor's hand and throwing him to the counter. It took him another second to grab a fist full of his hair and yank Trevor's head backwards to relish absolutely delicious silhouette of his throat with adam's apple bobbing up and down in excitement. Trevor's moans only fired him up further and probed the hardened bud under the black shirt - to a promising whimper and a force pushing him aside to which he willingly succumbed and let a pair of lips suck onto his own so hard he hit his head against a tv stand which cried in pain and fell apart along with the tv.

"Fuck Trevor...."

"Not now, Mikey, don't stop."

Michael felt the telltale twitch under his belly that watered down the pain and gave him enough power to roll over a couple of times, french kissing the fuck out of those perfect full lips, drawing nails to Trevor's now naked back and push his head closer. He almost didn't mind when the radio hit the ground and when Trevor threw him onto the table which made their beer spill on the filthy floor. With Trevor on top, latched onto his nipple and running his hand down to his tightened jeans, nothing could stop him from getting what he wanted. As he tried to kick his jeans off, there was a slight sensation on his foot, but nothing very clear. It could have been a cup or something - when suddenly Trevor bolted upwards, and Michael was forced to open his eyes and look into his horrified face.

"Trevor I swear this isn't funny, what is it this time..."

"Michael, we broke the Impotent Rage..."

"T are you trying to give me blue balls or what?"

"No, but you clearly want my home in shambles! Oh fuck look at that! This was a limited edition with a signature of the original cast!"

Trevor just emotionlessly bolted towards the couch, next to which lay a mass of broken blue plastic that might have been anything in Michael's opinion. And it was in the way of reaching destination orgasm which made him a tiny bit mad. Ok, maybe a lot.

"Pardon me, but it was you who put it to the wrong place! Why did you leave it on the shelf with all this trash? Why don't you just throw all this shit out?"

And with just one swing of the arm, he managed to throw the rest of Trevor's memorabilia to the floor where it shattered comfortably.

"And this whole place is a fucking dump! Have you ever heard about wall-mounted TV or glass shower door? When the fuck will you live somewhere normal? Jesus, what do I have to break to make this place look decent? And that stupid action figure? What's so special about it, anyway?"

He wouldn't regret it if Trevor didn't turn around with puppy eyes and didn't tell him in his hurt voice.

"Because it was a gift from you..."

Michael didn't quite know how he managed to pick Trevor up from the ground, bring him to the bed, plant gentle kisses to every inch of him and whisper he's so so sorry. He didn't even have to, because soon enough, Trevor pulled him closer again, rolled over on top of him and gave him a lesson from Canadian french that left Michael breathless. He just let it happen, running his hands all the way down from the back of Trevor's head, to feeling his stuble, chest hair, hard nipples and his raging boner, and his nails draw new tattoos on Trevor's back first and then drawing his fingers into soft inside of Trevor's tights enjoying the view of T riding him.

"Hey M..."

"Hm?"

Michael lit a cigarette, just relishing the sweaty and sticky afterglow with Trevor pressed close to his side.

"You broke my impotent rage, gimme that..."

And before he could say or do anything, Trevor snatched his last cigarette and inhaled so deep half of it was gone.

"Hey! Give it back!"

"Make me!"

Michael instantly shot up, determined to kiss that grin off Trevor's lips and lept forward only to bang his head against the headboard again. This time, Trevor didn't even try to hold back and let his bubbly laughter echo in Michael's aching head.

"Fuck you and fuck this damn trailer..."

"aww come on porkchop, you did both tonight - unless you are up for the round two?"

"Hmmm... Make me..."

[vagrantblvrd]

Going off this post from last night?

But like.

Michael who goes to Los Santos Because Reasons (crime related, because of course) and goes around working for various criminal sorts for a bit before meeting Jeremy.

And then the two of them work together, hire themselves out as a team to criminal sorts and get better jobs and pay from it.

At some point they meet this asshole named Matt, maybe get sent to break his knees (literally or not, idk) and he’s like “Okay, you could do that, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t?” and tells them about their current boss planning on using them as bait or throwing them under the bus or something with this big job the asshole’s planning.

“Yeah? Why should we believe you?”

To which Matt doesn’t have a reason, just “I dunno,” because they do have a point? But also their boss is a shitty human being and they have no problem believing he’d do something like that, and anyway.

Matt’s knees go unbroken (for now) and Michael and Jeremy go back and tell their boss the little bastard Bragg ran off before they could catch him.

Which.

Sus? But their boss doesn’t really care and then shenanigans?

Michael and Jeremy going along like they’re not expecting to get stabbed in the back, and then The Moment comes, but they’re prepared, you know?

Get out of that mess more or less alive and teach their boss a lesson - namely, fucking do not fucking dare - and then become a bit more picky about who they work for.

Fast forward a few months when Matt contacts them out of the blue, all, “So, uh, what’s you’re going rate?” because he’s in trouble and could they maybe keep him alive for a bit, and anyway, anyway.

After several Close Calls and minor misunderstandings Trevor joins their little club.

Because looking for this hacker asshole who ruined a job he was on, but in doing so inadvertently saved Trevor’s life (shitty boss, shittier plans and you just never know what a good hacker can do for you, you know?)

ANYWAY.

The four of them forming this little gang (crew???) if you will and one day deciding to pull a lovely little heist.

Only things go wrong pretty much immediately.

Matt and Trevor are supposed to sneak in and grab some files at A Place they need, and Michael’s in there too to keep an eye on them with Jeremy waiting in an escape vehicle.

Only they get separated and Michael ends up in the room with the computer files they need and Matt and Trevor are ducking security patrols on the other side of the building.

Michael’s like what the fuck does he do now, geniuses, when a ceiling panel slides open and some son of a bitch drops down into the room and -

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Some scrawny asshole in obvious Thieving clothes and hands up having mistaken Michael for security or worse before he turns around and is like ??? and then :DDDDD when he realizes no way Michael is super not supposed to be there.

At all.

“I could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?” the asshole asks.

Michael’s a little thrown by the British accent, because Los Santos? But whatever.

Anyway.

This Thief Asshole gives Michael this onceover, amused as he takes him in in all his lglory, and ends on this crooked little smirk.

“The fuck are you smiling at?”

The asshole laughs, lowers his hands like he thinks Michael won’t shoot him, and glances around the room like he’s trying to figure out what brought Michael there.

The only thing of note is the computer, which.

Fuck.

“Hmm,” the guy says, and gives Michael a more thorough onceover before spitting computer nerdspeak at him.

Obvious test of some sort, one Michael fails miserably if the little snort is any indication.

“Fuck off, asshole.”

The guy hmm’s again and goes over to the computer.

Pauses.

“Would you like a copy?” he asks, and fishes out a couple of thumb drives from the fucking fanny pack he’s wearing. “I brought spares.”

And that’s how Michael meets Gavin, the little shit giving Michael and the others copies of the files they apparently were both after and also how Michael gets shit from Jeremy and the others for forever.

And then!

More heist shenanigans in which Michael ends up running into Alfredo while attempting to steal a car they need for the heist.

(Alfredo’s there to plant cameras and listening devices and look, if they have to work together not to get caught that’s no one’s business so long as Michael got what he was after.)

And then!

More instances in which Micahel’s path and Gavin and Alfredo’s keep intersecting and it’s weird, isn’t it?

Because they keep going after the same things/places, but aren’t in conflict with one another?

Also the flirting.

So much of it, although Michael doesn’t clue in for the longest time, and when he does -

“Are fucking flirting with me, asshole?”

Things have gone to shit and he and Alfredo are in the middle of a shootout. Some assholes with an axe to grind with Michael and Jeremy and bad timing, and Alfredo is having way too much fun for someone trying to stay alive, but whatever, Michael’s likewise enjoying himself.

“Took you long enough,” Alfredo says, shit-eating grin on his face as he shoots some fucker trying to sneak up on Michael. “Gav thought you’d never figure it out.”

Which is also when Michael realizes that not only are Gavin and Alfredo working together for crime purposes, but also flirting purposes.

“What?”

Also, also, Michael gets shot, just a little bit, because what the fuck is his life???

Bullet graze, flesh wound, but enough for Alfredo to go from >:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDD at Michael’s reaction to >:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( I’ll kill you!!! (and meaning it) in the blink of an eye.

Alfredo deals with the rest of the assholes and gets them somewhere safe where he ~tenderly patches Michael up and gets a kiss from him before they go their separate ways.

More shit from Jeremy and company after learning Michael’s going to be okay, and then, like.

Shenanigans - crime-related and not - and Michael learning Gavin and Fredo are after the same guy they are because some assholes from out of town hired them for a job, some big name guys from back east and blah, blah, blah.

Michael and his idiots are just looking to steal some shinies from the asshole, and anyway, it all ends in climactic shootout and shenanigans and Michael getting smooched by that asshole Gavin and his asshole parter (in crime and smooches) Fredo and just.

It’s a mess, you know?

Especially when Michael’s idiots get to meet Gavin and Fredo and Matt’s like “Hey, guys, long time no see,” because of course he knows Gavin, and therefore Fredo and just.

Yeah.

Gavin and Fredo don’t team up with Michael’s idiots because their out of town bosses and other business (Crime) ventures?

But they do take him out on a ~date or two, where smooches and so on are given and Michael’s like how the fuck did this even happen??? because really???

And then the two of them leave town for a bit for business (crime) and when they come back, they’ve got this asshole in a freaking suit and his asshole friend in a Hawaiian shirt and job offers for Michael and his idiots with Gavin and Fredo vouching for them, and anyway, anyway.

Los Santos is like oh, goddammit when the Fakes spread chaos and confusion wherever they go shortly afterward.

Especially when Lindsay and Fiona show up, because seriously.

[malethirsty]

American Horny Story: Matthew Morrison

Summary: Co-workers are supposed to have neutral relationships, but come on! You’d forgoe that to have Matthew if you could.

Warnings: M/M sex (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!)

Inspired by: https://twitter.com/malethirst/status/1196821949252395008?s=21

You were excited to watch the premiere of American Horror Story: 1984, you were making your big acting debut, having starred in short films before on the indie circuit, you had been noticed by Ryan Murphy & cast as Tom, a happy go lucky man who attends Camp Redwood, only to be exposed to drugs and sex by his male cohort. You also had your first major nude scene with Trevor Kirchner, who was played by Matthew Morrison. You would become intrigued after Montana talks about Trevor’s big dick & having already been pulled in by his body hair, it sends Tom into overdrive.

You watched as you encountered Trevor near his cabin. “Trevor, I-I wanted to ask but I couldn’t in there” Tom begins. “You wanted to know about my big cock, didn’t you?” Trevor grins “You’re not the first man to ask me, but” he scans you up and down “You can be the first man to experience it” he grabs your hand and pulls it into his shorts to grab his cock. From watching in your house, you also grabbed your hard cock & began to wank over the soft groans of Trevor. You were preoccupied with your cock but you knew what was happening to screen, Trevor had opened his door, led Tom inside, shut it & backed Tom against it, kissing him as Tom started to wank it up and down “That’s it Tom, like that! Wank my cock like that!” Trevor begins causing friction as Tom swipes at the head, you mimicking your character’s actions on your own cock.

Eventually the scene cuts further in time, and Trevor has Tom under him as he  fucks him “Oh shit Tom, take my big cock, you’re doing so well.” Tom groans from the size & the stretch “At least the water as lube helps.” Tom quips before it turns into a moan as Trevor begins a fuck at a good pace. “Yes! Trevor Yes! Fuck me, fuck me so hard like I’m yours!” meanwhile back at home you were saying somewhat similar lines “Oh fuck Matthew! Look at you pounding my slutty ass, fuck I want you so bad!” Tom was starting to get close “Fuck! Trevor, I’m going to cum! Let me shoot so we can get cleaned up, I don’t want Margaret to see.” Trevor lent in to kiss you “Let her, probably be the most exciting thing she ever will see.” He began to thrust quicker “I want you to cum because of me, not the fear of Margaret, but because you love how I’m fucking you, to the point where you just can’t take it anymore.” You watched as Tom & Trevor continued to fuck before they let out massive groans as they came.

Back at your house, you had just cum with them & were in such a state of ecstasy. You reached over for your phone & went into Matthew’s contacts. You started to type out a message to him that said ‘Just watched you & I fuck on TV, I wish I could do the same with you in real life, you are so hot, your grunts and groans made me cum & I wish I could make you do the same’ after looking at the message, you cringed at your desperation and lobbed your phone to the end of the bed as you went to go and clean up, unaware that your thumb had hit send as you prepared to throw the phone. 

—

The next day on set, you were filming the last two episodes of the season. A big massive music festival was arriving at Camp Redwood, and Tom becomes interested in it, determined to live it up getting high with the singers. As you were looking over your required set times, Matthew came over “Hi there stranger!” You greeted him “Hey Y/N, can I just talk with you about some script changes quickly?” “Yes of course”, he led you into his trailer and shut the door, locking it behind him, which left you wondering why, if it was just discussing the script, maybe he didn’t want to be disturbed.

“So the scene I have with Montana here has just been changed to Tom.” You looked surprised, you knew it probably made more sense given Montana was now fucking Xavier, but still Ryan had been adamant about it, about how it fit ‘the final picture’, “Well why did Ryan change it? I mean I’m happy I get another scene with you, but he seemed so set on Montana & Xavier” Matthew shifted, “I may have convinced him” you looked confused “But you were also fine with it, why did you change your thoughts on it?” Matthew pulled out his phone “This is why” you scanned the screen & felt your heart and stomach drop, there on screen was the message you had forgotten to erase, that you had sent off by accident.

“Oh My God! Look I can explain” you began, Matthew held up his hand “Don’t, there isn’t much to explain, I know what this means perfectly” you swallowed, suddenly realizing you might not be in trouble, if Matthew hadn’t told Ryan about the message you wouldn’t get a slap on the wrist. Matthew had stepped into your personal space, “I wanted you to know I had just finished a shower when I read that, I was completely naked. And as I read further and further, my cock got harder and harder” you were in shock, he had the same thoughts as you? “I stretched out over my bed, stroked my cock to your words & I came more than I ever had before. I had to take another shower to get clean.” You had enough of his words, you surged forwards & kissed him.

You made your way to the bed at the end of the trailer, you removed yourself and made your way down, pulling Matthew’s pants off, eventually starting to suck his cock “Oh fuck Y/N! You look so hot taking my cock in your mouth!” You decided to take it up a notch & massaged his balls “Oh fuck!” Matthew groaned as he threw his head back “You’re doing this shit better than my wife!” You grinned, you had him in the palm of your hand.

As he ripped off the rest of his clothing, you moved back up to whisper in his ear “Fuck me Matthew, make me your slut, I want to hear your grunts and groans as you take me.” Matthew did not need to be asked twice, he quickly thrust in “OH FUCK!” you screamed, not used to everything in at once “Oh shit man, I’m sorry, she hasn’t taken me in so long, so I was caught up in my own pleasure that I forgot you needed to be opened up.” You lent up to kiss him “That’s fine, let me know when you’re gonna do that. Now fuck me!” Matthew grinned as he set a rough pace, grunts, groans & screams of pleasure filled the trailer as Matthew took you like someone whom had not fucked in a long time. “You’re tighter than her, does that turn you on? That you’re taking her man & making him yours?” “YES! I want to be yours Matthew” “Then you are mine, Daddy can’t say no to you”

Matthew kissed you as he hoisted you up so you could ride his cock it fucking deeper and deeper into your ass. His pace got quicker but also sloppier “Fuck I’m gonna cum.” He made to pull out but you stopped him “You clean?” Matthew took in sharp breaths, struggling to keep together “Yeah, you?” “I am, don’t pull out, cum inside me” Matthew started to wank your cock “And you want me to shoot my load? I’ve gotta get hitched to you ASAP!” this was overload, you screamed his name as you came on your stomach, you both fell backward onto the bed, Matthew grinning. He scooped up your load & let out a loud groan as he massaged it into his chest hair “Does this turn you on? Seeing your load all over my chest hair?” “Fuck yes daddy” you groaned, Matthew continued to roughly fuck you “Oh God, I’m so close! Get ready, I’m gonna cum in you Y/N, that’s it clench round me! OH FUCK!” He screamed out as he came deep inside you, you groaning at the warmth of it. Matthew pulled out and flopped down next to you.

“Holy shit! That is the best fuck I’ve ever had!” Matthew lent over & kissed you. “I’m so glad I sent the message by accident, I knew on the first day we met but I didn’t want to ruin our relationship” Matthew laughed loudly “How could your tight ass & my beautiful cock ruin our relationship? It’s made it stronger.” You grinned, leaning into him “I love you Y/N, more than I’ve loved anyone else” you moved up to kiss him “I love you so much Daddy Matthew” you both laughed, you would be due in set in 30, but you took the time to enjoy each other.

[lady-of-endless]

Quit smiling at me (Trevor Belmont x Reader)

The relevance of thinking about something for an unnecessarily long time was and still is a mystery. From his mindset and previous experience, it was all just a waste of time that slowed him down, as useless as a blunt blade. The only exception was when he was thinking about his family. What happens with a family name when its members are gone except for one becomes a reason to fall into deep thinking from time to time. Does that name become a burden or an honor? When Trevor Belmont was thinking about his family he was only remembering the past and nothing else. His chest and back were marked by the family crest on his old shirt, a distinctive symbol that meant danger for some or salvation for others. He would never give up on that emblem even if it was capable to start random fights in darkened taverns of this place.

Wallachia was a damned land that offered both beauty and madness. With large tree trunks more than inviting for you to rest against, shadows that caress your face when the sun rays are too harsh, gentle wind that plays with your hair. Far away from the city, where the taverns are, it is much quieter, Trevor had to admit it. There was only one problem that was keeping him away from enjoying everything, only one dense cloud on his sky. As days went by, Trevor could always escape rapidly from that pointless state of mind that would cage him into his own thoughts either with alcohol, either with sleep or snapping his whip in the face of some disturbing looking beasts. All of these solutions, and he could not to use any of them now, knowing very well how none would work. Along the wonders of Wallachia, he found you, the source of those vexing feelings.

In the forest, sitting on the ground with his back against a tree trunk, Trevor took his time to sort things out alone or just bottle everything up if nothing worked. Today he was the day in which he will put an end to that overthinking, motivated enough not to leave that place until all those useless emotions were gone. Those were feelings he wanted to call unwanted even if it was difficult when those were bringing comfort, warmth and other things he lacked since he started traveling alone. You were exactly what he needed without him accepting this for even one second. Trevor thought how he was fine even before you, without those emotions and without your care and soft voice when you called his name. Focusing on what he had to do started to get harder during the day and night when thoughts about having you for himself appeared randomly in his mind.

He had to put this to an end today.

Spacing out with his eyes fixated somewhere in the distance, Trevor caught a glimpse of someone approaching him and almost groaned because of the identity of that someone. Instinctively, the man touched his empty flask and cursed. It was a shame how things where not like this from the start. The feelings he was fighting with grew stronger and inescapable in time when you helped him heal his injuries after some fights, when you napped together accidentally, when you planned attacks or drunken nights. With each step, your lips curved into a smile when you saw him, making Trevor ask himself why were you always so damn glad to see a disaster of a man like him. His head turned away.

“What do you think about some company?” You asked instead of greeting him, eyeing the spot next to him.

“A nap would’ve been better.” He responded crossing his arms in front of his chest and shrugging as a reaction to your voice. “But do what you want.” Trevor sighed when he could not decline your wish.

It was such an irony, to try to get rid of some emotions and exactly during the process, the source of it all sits down next to him. That cloud from his mind was looking heavier and now he was on the point to get caught in the rain of his own reasons of denial.

As no one dared to say anything, not even a usual bad joke, you looked over at him, not denying the worry for a second. Worry for him was not the only feeling you did not deny, unlike Trevor. You knew how you were feeling about him but decided to take things slow, sensing how he had something else more troublesome on his mind. Little did you know.

His attention could not be fooled but his understanding was something else. Confusion flowed through Trevor when he knew that your eyes were on him. If only he could give up on being stubborn and ask what were you looking at and why were you wasting your time with him even if he was also unsure about wanted to know or not.

Your company is something he never asked for and never thought it would grow on him so much. Every person who stayed got tired of him at some point and then left him out of something more than just plain annoyance and frustration. He would say that a lot of time passed since you two met so how come was not his behavior enough for you to leave his side? Even if the answer was unknown, Trevor did not want to stop something that offered him a well state of being, but he still did not want to recognize that fact as a truth.

From the first time you saw him, you had a feeling that you will always have to take a good look at his details. That was what you were doing now. Rough stubble but soft lips, blue calm eyes but a sharp scar traveling down over his left cheek, broad shoulders weighed down by a white colored, shabby, but comfortable fur. His hair was messy and somehow different today.

“Your hair looks weird.” You blurted out, squint-eyed trying to find out why but praying that he will not get the idea that you were staring.

“Haven't washed it.” Trevor simply stated in a flat voice wishing that his apparent lack of will to continue the discussion is going to make you leave as fast as you appeared.

The solution to his problem was just on the tip of his tongue but stubbornness and denial ran into the whole Belmont bloodline.

“Well, there’s a rivulet over there.” You said, pointing to somewhere in the distance, having something in mind. “Come on, I'll help you. What do you think?” You asked giving his shoulder a slight push to provoke him.

The constant desire to help him drove Trevor insane. From always being alone to always being helped when needed without him having to ask was still a divergence between the life he used to have and the one he has now.

“I bet that you can't handle it without getting your clothes wet.” Trevor said in response, raising one eyebrow.

“Why don't we try and see?” You went on with the teasing if he was the one to start it.

A long sigh was his first answer, followed by eye-rolling.

“You're a mess.” He said getting up from his spot as a pointless complaint.

“Your hair is.” You responded before starting to walk next to him.

Happily, in a short time you found a wooded bucket from a little cottage that looked abandoned. Coming back with the tool, you could see Trevor throwing rocks in the water, one by one, increasingly harder while sitting on the ground, waiting, his fur was off from his shoulders. You could tell that there was something on his mind that troubled him but knowing his ways of handling it, you decided that it will help more to distract him.

Once you appeared in his eyesight, Trevor stopped and watched your moves. Maybe the way to escape those thoughts of him will come if he took a better look at you.

Carefully stepping closer to the rivulet, you lowered yourself closer to the surface of the water, under his gaze. His eyes moved lazily over your body and how it moved when some skin was exposed in the process of lifting up parts of your clothing so that those would not get wet. The want for you to move slower made him clench his jaw. At that point in his haze, Trevor thought how if you caught him staring, he couldn't care less, not regretting anything. Finally, the thing that made him snap out of it was the sight of that bucket from your hands. Now your intention was clear, and he was not in for it anymore.

“Fuck no.” Trevor said watching you fill the bucket with water, only realizing what he accepted earlier almost mindlessly. You started laughing at his reaction and that froze Trevor once again. The bliss that sound offered him was able to both please and annoy him, being more capable to make him feel dizzy than any drop of alcohol. That thought made him stop in his tracks and forget for some seconds about everything around.

Those were precious seconds in which the bucket was emptied over his head.

Now his hair was wet and all over his face that was rarely as stoic as it was in this moment. Frustration came back like a wave when Trevor remembered how even if he wanted he could not get fully or seriously upset with you.

“I fell into a disastrous ruse.” He mumbled getting the hair away from his face.

“Don't get that grumpy, get ready for a second one instead.” You said smirking and feeling more motivated because of his reactions.

“Like I'm going to let you do that one more time.” Trevor said while getting up from the ground, drenched in water. “I think you have to cool off a bit.” He said at the sight of your smirk.

Without any rush, he stepped closer to you with a sudden illusion of composure on his face. As his chest touched yours, your smirk faded away gradually, and he tilted his head interested in what you were going to say next, from this position.

“Trevor, you’re standing a little too close to me...” There was a warning in your tone while starting to back away. Tricking you to maintain eye contact, he took the bucket from your hands and threw it away without even looking where it landed in the back. “Fine, fine, I give up, but don’t expect me to apologize.” You started to stutter while Trevor started to step even closer, pushing you closer to the water without even touching you.

“Mhm, whatever.” He said as your hands tried to push his chest away. “You had too much fun, I won’t go easy on you.” Trevor whispered into your ear after catching your wrists.

With an even faster move you did not expect, your feet lost the contact with the ground and your hands clung to his shirt instinctively, pulling his body along with yours.

You both closed your eyes in that short fall.

When you opened your eyes, exhaling sharply, your attention fell upon only one thing from above you. Indecision was creeping in when you tried to understand what was icier in that moment, the temperature of the water or the blue from his eyes that were wide open.

The water was not that deep, reaching only your temples as you were on your back. It was cold but the complaint immediately disappeared when you realized that Trevor was not just on top of you. His left arm was around your  body, protecting your back from falling right on some large stones and his right hand was giving him stability, stuck on the rocky bottom next to your face. Some drops of water that were desperately sliding to the ends of his hair fell on the base of your neck, your face was dewy, your lips parted, and your cheeks turned scarlet. Trevor had no idea on what to focus first, starting to blush as well.

A shiver ran through your body warming you up at the sight of him blushing. From the position you both were now, you were forced to look in each other’s eyes. Trevor’s eyes were half lidded and lost in the details of your face, a sight you never thought you will be lucky enough to see. Feeling his breath on your wet skin was also not helping you.

“Let's get out of this water already, Belmont.” You said rapidly trying to sound serious and not flustered, moving to get out of the water and out of his embrace.

This was not the usual Trevor who tried to annoy you with little things, smiling proudly when an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. Now it was the hushed version of him, trying to get something that was bottled up for a long time out, while looking at you.

“Wait.” He stopped you while he shut his eyes tightly, trying to focus on the sound of the rivulet one more time to ask his logic if letting it all out was the right thing to do. A droplet of water slid down his temple when he frowned.

“I'm cold, Trevor.” You said in a soft-spoken voice, clinging to his shoulders, sticking his wet shirt to his skin making your touch feel more prominent to him and making him feel you closer. That was the last drop, the single gesture that was able to make the decision for him.

“And I'm tired of holding it all in.” He finally said it, mirroring your complaining in his own way. You opened your mouth to protest but Trevor was fast once again. “Listen, I want you. But not just in the way you would think I do. All I know is that I want to have you closer to me.” The last few days were a hassle, a headache, and a mess for him, not being sure of how to handle it. You were always there and made things better for him, and he should have admitted that and not getting as drunk as he could to try to forget about his feelings.

“Is it my turn now or is there more that you want to say?” You whispered lifting your face closer to his, curious and already greedy for more of his words.

Trevor swallowed hard when his attention naturally fell on your lips. Taking a second to check if that cloud is disappearing along with the fog from his mind, his face got closer as well, chuckling in a low tone.

“Don't get ahead of yourself.” He murmured against your lips before pressing his lips against yours.

Unfortunately, the kiss was shorter than expected. He started the kiss before letting you really give an answer and as fast as that thought struck Trevor’s mind, he rapidly broke the kiss to catch a glimpse of your reaction in order to read your answer.

Your pupils were dilated, your breathing got deeper and more irregular and so everything was clear from him.

He looked into your eyes, sticking his forehead before jumping in another kiss, only hungrier for your lips and your taste.

Even if the water ran cold against your skin, Trevor's body that was also against you was warm enough to help. The relief the kiss offered him made him greedy with each move of your lips and it could be felt and heard by you because of his groans.

“If letting you wash my hair ended up like this, I wonder what will happen if I’ll let you wash my shirt.” He said after the kiss, voice sounding hoarse.

“Says the one who’s panting.” You tried to think of a better comeback but failed finding one.

After saying that, he helped you get up. Trevor felt you trembling in his arms and as much as he wanted to joke around and ask you if he is the one that is making you shiver, he had to take care of you not to get too cold. When you were both out from the water, Trevor lifted his fur from the ground and threw it over your shoulders without saying or expecting anything in return.

Looking from the corner of his eye, glancing casually at how you looked, he smirked to himself. That fur of his being impregnated with your scent was quite a pleasurable idea.

“Let's not tell Alucard and Sypha about this.” He said, crossing his arms in front of his chest but still being red in the face.

“You mean about us or about what happened?” Asking in a fake seriousness, you moved your shoulders under his fur.

“Both.” He said putting an arm around your shoulders pulling you closer to him lazily. “Let’s confuse them.”

“Agreed.” You decided while both of you started to laugh at the idea.

[aquilaofarkham]

title: half spent was the night rating: mature (canon-typical violence, blood, coarse language)  summary: Upon receiving an ominous invitation, Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades, and Alucard attend a strange wedding during a winter night where not everything is as it seems and the veil between the living and the dead is thinner than ever.

AO3

DECEMBER 24

The scroll sits on his desk, unopened and untouched amongst scattered piles of books and other papers left neglected for some time. Sparingly, Alucard’s train of thought will latch itself onto it while he sets about completing another mundane chore of the hour. It’s only when he enters the study does his gaze drift away, drawn towards the piece of rolled parchment held together by a red wax seal. Even from a distance he sees its emblem—a sparrow carrying a branch of mistletoe in its beak.

How seasonally appropriate, he thinks, looking more sullen than usual.

Alucard received the scroll the same way most ghost stories begin. There was a sound at the castle entrance that he could not ignore. Knock. Knock. Knock. Each pound echoing throughout the corridors like a persistent drumbeat. The steady beat within his own chest quickened, his ind a flurry of quick, presumptuous answers to his one question—have they returned? Yet upon opening the massive door, he found nobody. No familiar face, not even a messenger. Only what they left behind.

Another wayward glance towards the parchment. Alucard can still smell the cinnamon and roasted chestnuts as strong as it was when he picked it up the day before. He’s tried to bury the memory of his father. There’s no sense in dwelling over dead things. But something he said a long time ago haunts Alucard now more than ever. A warning about strange parcels that might be left on his front doorstep.

“If ever in late December you receive a letter sealed with a sparrow and a mistletoe, do not open it.” Those words used to confuse Alucard. Why should Dracula fear a simple letter? Until he discovered much later that the warning was never meant for the castle lord himself, but for his wife and child.

He knows his history and is fully aware of the story behind such a letter. Yet ominous memories and facts from the past are not enough to dissuade Alucard’s innate sense of curiosity—one of many traits he inherited from his mother. He is an adult now, and ghosts do not scare him. They only cause him melancholy.

Tired of his own hesitation, Alucard picks up the scroll and breaks the seal with a sharpened nail. The parchment feels soft under his fingertips, surprisingly so. He unravels it and reads, just to confirm his suspicions. First, he notices the calligraphy; familiar, recognizable, most likely commissioned by a monk. Yet the lettering hasn’t been in popular use for centuries. Then the message itself:

Thou art cordially invited to attend the joining of Lady Sofia Cel Tradat and Sir Darius Lupei in holy matrimony on the thirty-first evening of December. The celebration of this blessed union between houses shall be witnessed at Castle Cel Tradat upon sundown.

Stationed at the very top of the invitation are two crests, one that shows a feral wolf holding an arrow in its fangs. Beside it is the very same sparrow with the same mistletoe. Alucard sits at the desk, his chin resting upon his fist thoughtfully. There are two normal reactions one can have when receiving a wedding invitation. First being joy, then apathy. Indifference. Alucard feels neither. It’s not fear that grips him, yet the ink words creep through his bloodstream like the very same ghosts who reach out to him. Not fear, but instead an odd sort of resolve.

He leaves the study and makes the long, cold trek through the freshly fallen snow then down to the underground archives. The newly built staircase creaks under his weight but Alucard is light on his feet. Large portraits obscured by curtains displaying the Belmont crest surround him as he descends. Maybe one day he’ll finally unveil whatever’s behind those curtains. The hold itself hasn’t changed much—perhaps a bit neater, better organized, and with less bloodstains.

The mirror is where he left it: centre of the room near the directory. Alucard runs a hand across the cracks in its glass then over the newly engraved runes along its frame. Hopefully everything will work. Hopefully they will hear him this time.

--

Who knows how long it’s been since Trevor Belmont last greeted his days with a gruelling hangover—an awful habit, which he doesn’t miss. The groan that escapes his lips as he stretches upon his makeshift bed is one that comes from a night well slept, not a headache that pounds away behind his eyes. Bright winter sunlight streams in through the slight opening of the canvas. The wagon feels cramped but also warm and safe.

Trevor sits up, surrounded by their provisions, and sees Sypha right where he left her. Close by his side, securely curled up within her own little fortress of blankets. The sight amuses him, especially since she’s the only one who can walk through snow while wearing nothing but sandals upon her feet. A few more minutes sleeping next to her won’t hurt.

Something rattling inside the wagon catches his attention, causing Trevor to jump slightly. Must be a rat trying to steal what little food they have left. He grumbles at this slight morning annoyance before lazily pushing aside every container in order to find this little devil. It’s a wonder how Sypha can sleep through the sound of boxes and heavy burlap sacks being tossed about. Trevor finally reaches the source of all that noise: a thin rectangular travel case shaking on its own.

Funny... He thinks, not terribly concerned with its sudden jerking movements. The rat probably found a way inside and now can’t get itself out. I don’t remember packing this. Trevor opens the lock only to stare down into a pile of broken glass, as though whatever was in there had already been shattered beyond repair. But he saves his expletives for when the shards come to life, dancing in the air before they form a small mirror. Trevor stumbles backwards and stares into his reflection—awestruck, confused, a little bit panicked. It soon dissipates until he comes face to face with familiar golden eyes.

“Can you hear me, Belmont?” Asks the vision of Alucard... if it really is Alucard. Trevor might still be asleep, and this is only some wishful dream. “Let’s try this again. Can you hear me?” No answer yet; Trevor needs a moment to settle on one question at a time while they’re spinning in his head.

“... a nod of the head or a simple ‘fuck’ would be helpful.”

“How are you doing this? Where the hell are you?”

“I’m using the distance mirror from your family’s museum. With the repaired runes, it can once again be used for communication as well as observation. Only with other distance mirrors, of course.”

Oddly enough, this is all beginning to make sense to Trevor. “That’s why you looked so... cracked. When did you even pack this thing in our caravan?”

“Right before you and Sypha left. I thought I could surprise you both.”

“Well, you sure as shit surprised me.” He taps one of the levitating shards and watches it spin back into place. “This is the strangest thing...”

“You’ve seen far stranger.”

“Trevor, why are you talking so loud...” Complains Sypha, her words slurring together as she forces herself out of a heavy sleep. Her half-lidded eyes open wide at the sight of Alucard in the mirror. He smiles, glad to see the absence of bandages on her arm and shoulders. After exclaiming his name, she climbs over Trevor, shoving her hand into the side of his face (not on purpose) in an excitable attempt to get closer. So much for feeling tired.

“Is this another distance mirror? Why is it smaller? Or is it meant for travel? Are you using the one back at the hold?”

“Good morning to you as well, Sypha. Has this one gotten you into any trouble lately?”

“Actually, she gets me into trouble more often.”

Sypha ignores Trevor, entirely fascinated by this ground-breaking method of communication. Already her frantic mind begins to conjure up ways in which it could help the Speakers. “How are you, Alucard? And why have you waited so long to speak with us like this?”

Alucard doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he wasn’t waiting all this time. That he’s tried over and over again, yet could never reach them. It doesn’t matter; he can see them now and there are more important matters at hand. “Poor management of time on my part. I’ve actually reached out because I am in need of assistance.”

“With what?” We’ve done away with one existential threat to humanity, don’t tell me there’s another already. Trevor holds his tongue, biting back his irritable thoughts. He’s gotten better at it; maybe one day he won’t even acknowledge them.

“It would be better if I showed you.”

“That means we would have to travel back to the castle.” Sypha’s point is valid, but she doesn’t make it sound like a hardship. In fact, Trevor and Alucard think they hear the slightest hint of excitement in her voice. Why shouldn’t she be? There’s still much within Dracula’s laboratories and libraries which she hasn’t yet uncovered with her own eyes hungry for more knowledge. Trevor on the other hand feels a twinge of apprehension. True, the castle has been subdued but the Belmonts have always been taught to remain wary of a vampire’s abode. At least he trusts the new lord of this one.

“I realize how tall of a request this is, as I presume you two have been traveling for some time now. But I would prefer it if I saw both of you in person.”

Alucard’s stoic, near professional composure cracks when he catches a better view of Trevor’s face. There it is again—another one of his wry grins. The kind that forms on its own whenever the Belmont is about to say something stupid. Yet those who live in glass houses should not throw stones. Alucard has also said his fair share of stupid things directed at Trevor. While he would be caught dead if he admitted to this, he’s glad to see that unmistakable smile along with the man behind it.

“Aw you missed us, didn’t you? You can say it, we promise we won’t judge.”

Sypha clasps a hand over Trevor’s mouth before another syllable can crawl out of it. “It would be no inconvenience to us, Alucard. We will leave now and be at the castle within the next day or so.”

“I look forward to it. Safe travels.” Alucard’s last words before he’s left staring into his own fractured reflection. At the same time, countless of miles away from the castle, Sypha and Trevor watch as the mirror shards gracefully return back into the box until they’re needed once again.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask if he’ll be preparing dinner for us.” Trevor’s little quip is rewarded with the sudden feeling of Sypha’s foot pressed against his lower back. Giggling, she gently pushes him towards the front.

“Up you get. Remember, you’re still in charge of the reins.”

“Easy now, I was just asleep.”

“You woke up before me!”

Their wagon is situated between two towns, yet close to neither of them. All that surrounds them are trees, fields, and mountains— everything blurs together in a painting of deep greens and the endless white of snow. But Wallachia is not a terribly large country and they always know where to go.

--

DECEMBER 25

Sypha blows into her cupped hands, warming them while they drive down yet another road that cuts through dense forestry. Skeleton trees all around, straight as the bars of a cage. There’s the sound of fresh snow crunching beneath the horses’ hooves coupled with the caw of a nearby crow or two. It’s like those damn birds will never leave Wallachia, even in the coldest seasons. She recognizes this pathway, as does Trevor. He remembers to say good morning to his beloved tree (perhaps his oldest friend) and makes the incorrect assumption that Sypha can’t really hear him. Just as she thinks he can’t feel her arm tighten around his.

The road begins to widen and soon they arrive at the gutted remains of a family’s legacy. Trevor huddles into the fur of his new cloak, breathing out a soft huff of frozen air. There used to be a sharp pain that gouged its way into the very pit of his chest whenever he looked upon these ruins. Like the tip of a needle that’s been shoved into the still burning embers of a slowly dying fire as a cruel joke. A reminder that he never left his home behind.

Of course, Trevor never allowed himself to show it— not consciously. It hurts less, now that the manor is in better hands. At least the walls are still standing. Maybe one day while he’s still young and able, he’ll put down the Morningstar, pick up a hammer, and get to work.

Soon another structure comes into view, far more imposing than a pile of old stones. Standing as tall as the mountains, a maze of spiked towers and bridges going in all directions. Dracula’s castle was once filled with an ever-present orchestra of steam and working gears. These days, it remains unnaturally silent —as though it shouldn’t really exist.

Trevor and Sypha believed that before. It’s strange to think and even stranger to admit, but they’re glad the castle exists, all due to its current lord. A few more trots forward and they already see him waiting patiently by the grand steps leading up to the massive front door. He greets his two guests with a smile.

“Welcome back.”

Sypha is the first to jump out of the wagon and run towards Alucard, joyfully exclaiming his name. His body goes stiff, his expression more surprised as she suddenly wraps her arms around him. He was expecting a friendly “hello” or “it’s good to see you again”. Perhaps it has been too long.

“Oh... I, ah...” Alucard returns the embrace not uncomfortably, but stunned, nonetheless. “It’s... nice to see that both of you are in good health.”

“You’re looking rather stately as well.”

“Yes, well...” He searches for a better response to Trevor’s comment only to find himself empty-headed and feeling more awkward than before. They hold themselves so casually, speaking as old friends should. To his relief, Alucard regains his equilibrium and tries matching their nonchalance. “Come in. We have much to discuss.” He turns to the castle, leaving Trevor and Sypha a bit put off.

“Right to the ugly business, eh?”

“We were hoping to tell you about our travels... at least a little.”

Upon hearing the utter dejection in Sypha’s voice (coupled with the always recognizable snark of Trevor’s), Alucard stops. He faces them with a soft, penitent gaze. Always speaking too soon, more from the head, less from the heart, much to his and everyone else’s detriment. “And you shall. I want to hear everything. Every adventure, every mischief... but I’d rather not delay any fur—”

Trevor raises a hand. “It’s fine, Alucard. Just tell us what you need help with so badly.”

“Then it will be our turn to talk your ears off.”

Still wounded by his own unintentional single-minded thinking, Alucard manages another smile. “I would like that very much. But as you said, let’s get this... ugly business out of the way first.”

They follow him up the snow-covered steps, cloaks and robes billowing in the cold breeze, wondering how “ugly” this business really is.

--

“Need a hand up there?”

“I will be down in a moment. I just need to find it...”

Trevor and Sypha have already heard those exact words—multiple times, in fact. They can’t even see Alucard as he searches the shelves that curve around them in a perfect circle. It’s not that there’s no enjoyment to be found sitting in Dracula’s library, marveling at every book and tome amassed over centuries while they wait for his son. But one can only stare up at each level spiraling higher towards the heavens for so long without feeling the slightest bit bored. Trevor is far more antsy, still getting used to the castle as a whole.

The very antithesis of what Sypha felt the moment Alucard led them through the door. She mentally congratulates herself for keeping the excitement in check, despite her growing desire to comb through every forbidden page until her fingertips become bloody and raw. Hopefully there will be time for that should she and Trevor decide to extend their visit.

“Here it is,” announces Alucard from some unseen level. Before either of them can stand up, he jumps—or rather glides down and lands on two feet with poise while holding a book that barely fits underneath his arm. The pages, so thick they’re near to bursting out of their binding, have turned brown and tattered along each edge. Even sitting from afar, Sypha notices these minuscule details before Alucard can join them on the cushioned bench. Trevor tries to get a closer look at its cover but with the obstruction of Alucard’s arm and the old lettering, he has difficulty making out the title. 

“You wanted us to come all this way for some light reading?” He asks as the dhampir squeezes between him and Sypha.

“No. I wanted you to come all this way to read this.” Reaching into a pocket of his robe, Alucard withdraws the letter. It looks deceptively harmless in his hand. He unscrolls it and waits for the message to be read by new eyes. In the silence, Trevor touches the parchment between his thumb and index finger slowly, thoughtfully, and with the right amount of care. Just as Alucard did when he first received it.

“This feels new... but no one writes invitations like these anymore.”

“I recognize this calligraphy. It’s ancient, isn’t it.”

Alucard interjects, significantly more comfortable with the letter’s presence now that others have examined it. “Mid 12th century. Not entirely ancient, but old enough to remain somewhat alien to our own time.”

Trevor sits back and leaves the scroll to Sypha’s capable hands. “So the Cel Tradats obviously know their history. They want to show off their nobility and wealth through the wedding of their daughter Sofia. Well done to them and to her. What’s the issue, then?”

Without giving either side of him a slight glance, Alucard begins flipping through the book. “Sofia Cel Tradat has been dead for two centuries.” Said as though it were a simple fact. Expressions harden as everyone’s collective gaze settles on a page with gold and red lettering that shines in the light. Painted vines creep along the sides like the ones sheltering the Belmont manor.

“Sometime during the late 12th century, a minor civil war broke out between two noble families—the Cel Tradats and the Lupeis...” Alucard’s fingertip ghosts over the exaggerated sparrows and wolves that intermingle with the surrounding vine. 

“The dispute concerned territory in the Carpathian Mountains. Eventually, money for the Lupei family ran completely dry and they had already suffered more losses than the other side. So they were forced to surrender on their own volition, but as a sign of good faith, the patriarch offered to marry off one of his sons in an effort to unite the two houses. Lucky for him, the Cel Tradats had a daughter named Sofia who was of age and yet to be wed.”

“You mentioned something about lack of funds,” interrupts Trevor. “Did Lupei really want to unite the houses or was he just looking for a sizable dowry?”

“That may have been the case, but it’s not important to us.” Alucard lets his annoyance drip off every word. At least it’s a sign that Trevor’s been paying attention thus far. “Despite the arranged marriage, it’s said that Sofia grew to admire her fiancee in the weeks leading up to the wedding.”

“However...” Sypha voices just what Trevor is thinking. There is always some sort of “however” with these particular stories.

“Not everyone was happy with the arrangement, especially on the Lupei side. The matriarch thought this entire affair was a sign of weakness. Her husband had lost the war, willingly surrendered, and was now marrying off her last remaining child to the enemy. She hated them all and saw only one way to restore honour to the Lupei name.’ 

The wedding ceremony itself was perfect and both parties behaved. But during the celebration, Sofia Cel Tradat was stabbed by a Lupei assassin while the rest of her family were either poisoned or assaulted themselves. They wouldn’t even spare her husband from their blades. There was no mercy for traitors of their house.”

“That’s terrible...” Sypha’s voice is low and her gaze unfocused, turned away from the open book.

“It does not stop there. Despite bleeding out, Sofia watched as her entire bloodline was being destroyed and became consumed with rage for the Lupei matriarch.” Alucard turns the page to an illustration that might as well have been ripped from the Belmont’s family bestiary; two women engaged in a violent clash, one with blood covering her open mouth as though she were a vampire.

“Sofia stumbled towards Lady Lupei, knocked her to the floor, and tore out her throat with her own teeth and fingernails. During this, any Cel Tradat who wasn’t dead yet started attacking the nearest Lupei. That night, Castle Cel Tradat was filled with over a hundred people, but only a small handful of guards who saw what happened walked away alive.’

‘Since then, those who pass by the abandoned castle on the last day of the year claim to see lights and hear music coming from inside. Every December, nobles and lords receive the very same invitation in your hands. Those foolish enough to accept are never seen again. Dracula always warned my mother and I in case one ever found its way to us.”

He closes the book, his palm lingering atop the front cover a second longer. “Seems Sofia Cel Tradat finally found the Tepes family.”

An air of silence, thick and unavoidable, once again passes over all three as they let the story sink into their thoughts. Trevor is the first to speak up after letting out a less-than subdued “fuck” under his breath. “That’s quite the winter ghost story. But how does it concern us?”

“I’ve decided to accept her invitation.”

Sypha narrows her eyes; perhaps she misheard Alucard. “You just said those who do that are foolish.”

“It must have been foolish of me to oppose my father, yet I did it anyway. I’ve accepted because there might be a way to help Sofia. It’s been said that when a person dies while deep in the throes of an intense hatred, a curse is born upon that soul, forcing them to remain in this world. Reliving the very moment of their death over and over again until something changes.”

“You’re talking about exorcising the spirit of a centuries old bride who ripped out her mother-in-law’s throat with her own bloody teeth.” It’s no surprise to Alucard or Sypha that Trevor would speak so plainly. Exorcism must have been his family’s bread and butter, along with the more common business of bestial slayings.

“You make her sound like a monster.”

Trevor contemplates for a moment, resting his elbows on both knees. “Not exactly. Shit, I honestly respect the poor girl for what she did. Still, she sounds like a force to be reckoned with.”

“You could be right. But this curse clearly isn’t any fault of Sofia’s. She was betrayed; the attempt on her life and the lives of her family occurred during her own wedding. Of course she would want to take immediate revenge. The fact that this event took place during Yule might have also contributed in some fashion.”

“Why do you think so?” Inquires Sypha.

“Originally, Yuletide referred to the days between winter solstice and the new year. During this time, it was believed that a veil separating the seen from the unseen world grew thin. This allowed for certain things to pass through—ghosts, the Wild Hunt, and the like.”

Sypha perks up at the mention of such a festivity. “I know the Wild Hunt. We never celebrated Yule, but my family used to hear stories about it from locals whenever we traveled... then again, they were always meant to frighten the younger ones so they would go to bed earlier.”

“That does not surprise me. There are less than savoury tales involving the Wild Hunt. I remember my father entertaining us every dark midwinter’s night with stories he heard himself. In any case, Sofia doesn’t deserve to continue suffering like this. I believe there’s a way for her soul to finally be put to rest.”

“You seem to know what you’re doing. What do you need us for?” Trevor doesn’t mean to sound cynical, but the tone of his voice says otherwise. He’s still trying to shed that former version of himself.

For your companionship. “From my experience, there is always strength in numbers. And I don’t know what to do or where to start... not really.”

Trevor gives him an empathetic nod. He himself knows what it’s like to give off the illusion of knowing—he’s practically mastered it. Though Trevor never thought he would hear Alucard of all people admit to something like that. “Then I guess it’s back down into that museum you love so much.”

“So, will you help me?”

“What do you think our answer is? No? We’ve already done this before, one more time shouldn’t hurt. Besides, I’ve never been to a wedding. Should be fun.”

“Sypha?” He looks to her for a similar response. She stays quiet for a moment, uncharacteristically so, but raises her gaze to match Alucard’s.

“We did not come all this way just to leave again.” Sypha rolls up the invitation before handing it back to Alucard. “Now would you like to hear about our travels over a hot drink?”

Neither man wants to refuse her offer, especially not Trevor. Letting out a sigh of what sounds like relief, he stands up and follows Sypha to the door. Alucard would join them, another introverted smile on his lips, until the smell of cinnamon and chestnuts returns. It briefly lingers in the air until something changes. He fiddles with the parchment, his senses slowly overwhelmed by the creeping stench of rotting flesh.

Trevor and Sypha are already out of the library before either of them can smell it as well.

--

DECEMBER 27

Sypha Belnades gets to tell her stories. The evening of her return to Castle Dracula, she’s quick to fill Alucard’s head with tales of the somewhat heroic deeds she accomplished alongside Trevor. Every road their humble little caravan came across, they disposed of the remaining night creatures who continued to plague the shadows, stumbling from place to place, searching for their next prey. Lost, hungry, and with no master they could crawl back to. Killing them was almost a mercy. The duo had found themselves in far direr circumstances with certain men of the cloth who brandished false words and insidious influence than they did with fangs and claws.

There are the softer stories. When the two of them wore crowns made from wildflowers and were convinced by other Speakers to join in their celebratory practices. Sypha still makes light of Trevor’s two left feet, despite his honest attempts. Then as reparation, she recounts the day when she took him to the beaches of the Black Sea and how he stared in awe at the open waters with their hues of lapis lazuli  and turquoise. Awe and a sense of peace he thought had been forever lost to him. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t need to.

Alucard’s gaze instinctively glances to his side and sees a familiar blush warming Trevor’s cheeks.  

All three spend the evening in content spirits, despite the dark task that lies ahead of them. Yet now as Sypha sits at one of the worktables in Dracula’s bright laboratory, combing through tome after tome, a pervasive feeling dulls her usually sharp focus. It’s not boredom, god no. She could never get bored in a castle like this. It’s more of a melancholy; not as intense as that night down in the Belmont Hold when Trevor offered his dusty blanket to her and they sat together in the glow of a single candle. Yet it makes her just as tired, just as depressive.

Sypha’s finger flips over another heavy page, her eyes half-lidded, skimming over the words. I feel like I’m slowly turning into Alucard by the day, she thinks, a little bittersweetly.

In the midst of her daze, she hears a rough yet understated voice coming from behind her. It reminds her of rich coffee mixed with more than a hint of whiskey. She enjoys both, much to her own surprise. “You’re a hard person to find.”

“What makes you say that?” Sypha closes the book, an easy smile on her face, and turns around to face Trevor.

“Thought I’d find you down in some corner of the archives.”

“I like it here. The castle gives me something different to look at... and something different to think about. You might disagree.”

Trevor awkwardly scratches the back of his head; a way of confirming Sypha’s assumption. “At least it looks, err, neater than how we left it.”

“I think Alucard has been busy since we last saw him.” A pause, then a change of topic. “Did the Belmonts ever receive one of those invitations?”

“Not that I can remember. Either they were destroyed, or we never got them since Yule wasn’t something we celebrated.” Despite the tense way he carries himself close to Dracula’s scientific instruments, Trevor aimlessly wanders around the laboratory while speaking. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t something about these contraptions that fascinated him.

“I doubt Dracula ever celebrated it either.”

“Maybe those spirits saw a kinship with him. Creatures of the night always flock together, remember? Like flies to an open stable.”

“That is disgusting.”

“But an apt analogy, no?”

“No.” Sypha laughs, causing Trevor to join in. It quiets down before dying completely when that pervasive feeling comes back, souring the mood. The expression in Sypha’s eyes and on her face changes—it no longer feels right to smile. As much as she appreciates Trevor’s attempt at a casual conversation, somehow it feels wrong to make light of their mission. She looks to the floor, wondering if she should really get back to work.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“I’ve heard that excuse before.”

“Really, nothing’s wrong.”

Trevor still won’t take that as a good enough answer. He’s far more perceptive than most believe him to be. “You’ve gone quiet and you’re staring at your feet. That means something’s eating away at you. What is it?”

“It...” Sypha crosses both arms across her chest, encasing herself in a cocoon made from her own baggy robes. “It is difficult to put into words.”

“You’re not happy here.”

“No! I am! And I’m happy to see Alucard again. But it always seems like all three of us are brought together because of a monster or dire situation.”

“Always? It’s only happened twice.”

Twice is enough. A sign, or rather an omen of patterns that have yet to happen. For Sypha, twice is one too many. “I only wish for us to be like other friends. Spend time together without worry or urgency and do things not involving some threat to humanity.”

Her lamentations are reasonable, and they spark a twinge of empathy within Trevor—perhaps even revelation. What he wouldn’t give to have all three of them settle down and live their lives without blood caked underneath their fingernails or the threat of being ripped apart by something inhuman. But whatever unseen higher power must have said no. Sypha was right (again); god truly does hate them.

Trevor tries to rationalize as best he can. “Maybe it’s alright if we’re not like normal friends. You have to admit, none of us are particularly ‘normal’ people to begin with.”

Sypha cocks an eyebrow. “Are you calling me strange?”

“I’m calling everyone strange, myself included.” She doesn’t know how that answer is supposed to make her feel better, yet it does. Trevor always has his own peculiar way with words. His eyes then briefly light up as he reaches into one of the pouches attached to his belt. “Almost forgot. I came here to give you this.” Something calls from his hand before dangling from a thin chain—a six-pointed star made from silver, the bane of every night creature.

“A Magen David?” Sypha takes the necklace and holds it in her palms, unfortunately cracked and turned dry from the frigid air outside. It’s simple, maybe even the simplest piece of jewelry she’s ever seen, but it feels heavy. Sacred.

“Found a couple of those down in the Hold; enough for all three. They’re meant to protect the wearer. Went looking for them last time we were there but couldn’t find any in time. It’s not much...”

“It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Trevor almost returns a smile to Sypha until a knife plunges its way into the centre of his back—at least it feels that way. A sharp pain that slowly dulls while coursing through his body as easy as the blood in his veins. He grits his teeth behind closed lips, trying to hide the discomfort but like Trevor, Sypha is perceptive.

“Everything alright? Did you injure yourself?”

“Might have. My fucking back and chest have been itching to be the death of me for a couple days now.”

“I didn’t know you were that old,” Sypha giggles. Trevor’s reaction is amusingly frustrated.

“I’m not.”

“You should speak to Alucard about your pain. He might be able to help.”

“Well, I did plan on finding him but how would he know what to do?”

“His mother was a doctor. He might have inherited some of her knowledge.” Trevor heads towards the door, even when Sypha isn’t finished talking yet. He needs to listen and hopefully learn from this last piece of advice. “You could also use this opportunity to settle your differences.”

She receives a flippant scoff in response. Typical. “I’ve already settled my differences with him.”

“You know what I mean, Trevor.”

He does, but only after a moment of thought. There’s no witty comeback, no stubborn retaliation, and no self-preserving denial; only acceptance. He and Alucard haven’t really made up—not in the way that adults are supposed to. Some things need to be settled through words and not only through vaguely charitable acts. Trevor leaves Sypha to her own work with the tentative hope that Alucard will feel just as willing.

--

The castle is alive.

Dracula said this to his son the day he took him into the engine room. Adrian was getting old enough, thus it was about time for the boy to learn. Despite his grand stature looming over everyone and everything, Dracula always felt dwarfed by the massive gears and pumps emitting billows of steam. His son even more so; like a mouse amongst the giants that breathed life into his own home.

But the lord of vampires was secure in the knowledge that Adrian wouldn’t remain a mouse for much longer. Soon he would have power, duties, and responsibilities. Which was why Dracula felt it necessary to show him the very ribcage of the castle along with its ever-beating heart stationed at the front—a geometric device hovering above a pedestal that rotated on command without a single touch of one’s finger. A bloodless, meatless organ in which Dracula poured his very intellect and soul into.

Now it means nothing. Pieces of black iron and dirtied gold lay scattered upon the very altar that once held them. Worthless. At least to a stranger’s naked eye. Alucard holds up one of the triangles against the bright winter sunlight pouring through the towering windows. It seems as though he’s done this a hundred times before and always comes to the same conclusion: the castle cannot be fixed.

And yet it remains alive, now more so than ever. Alucard noticed this immediately. In his efforts to create the perfect machination that bent to his every will, Dracula must have miscalculated. For when does a home feel truly alive? When there are beating hearts residing within its walls.

Alucard almost loses himself in his own thoughts—a common occurence—until he hears footsteps close behind. Followed by an exasperated “fucking finally...”

“You still know how to announce yourself.” Without turning around, he places the castle’s broken heart back with its brothers and sisters as the familiar presence draws nearer.

“And you’ve still mastered the art of sulking off by yourself.”

“What do you need, Belmont? Usually you don’t come to me willingly unless you want to say something important or crude.”

“It’s not all that important.”

“Then it must be crude.”

Another flinch from Trevor, which Alucard notices out of the corner of his eye. But the hunter manages a smile. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” A second mildly humorous jab almost makes its way out into the open until Trevor receives a look which tells him he should choose his next words very carefully, so he does. “I do need your help with something.”

“Yes, I can see that now.”

“How?”

“You’re slouching more than usual, and you seem discomforted.”

Sure, if you want to use that term. “It’s my back and chest. Must have been all those nights sleeping in that cramped wagon or swinging around the whip, but I’m worried it’ll get worse before it gets better. You know more about medicine than anybody else so...”

Alucard’s cold expression melts; did he just hear a hint of bashfulness in that last sentence? How interesting. Normally Sypha’s the only one who can bring out that hidden side of Trevor. It’s more than enough to convince Alucard. “Alright. Let me have a look at it.” He walks down the altar steps and gestures for Trevor to follow him.

“Wait, just like that?”

“I’m not cruel, Belmont. And I can’t have you injured right before we make our way to Castle Cel Tradat.”

They leave the engine room, which bears more of a resemblance to some grotesque art installation with melted gears and pillars that have hardened over a period of time than a well-oiled facility. “Is that why you’re up here? Trying to figure out how to move this thing so we don’t have to travel like regular human beings.”

“We’ll arrive fine enough using that old wagon of yours.”

“But is it actually possible to get the castle working again?”

Alucard leads Trevor into a different, smaller room filled with more books, more glass vials, and decides to leave the question open-ended. He would have answered a while ago: “this castle is as dead as the man who created it”. Now he’s not so certain. “Sit up on the table.” A convenient way of diverging the subject, to which Trevor thankfully doesn’t pry about any further.

“Am I your first patient?”

“Only if you don’t count childhood toys and small animals.”

Trevor glances over his shoulder at Alucard, whose hands are hovering dangerously close to his body. He lets out a regrettable chuckle. “That wasn’t meant to be taken literally, right?”

“You will be fine. You said it was your back and chest that hurt the most, correct?” Trevor mumbles out a presumable “yes”. Alucard reaches around, placing his fingers upon his ribcage just below his left breast. His touch is firm like a doctor’s yet gentle like a friend’s. He presses into the soft flesh. “Breathe into this hand.” Trevor’s breaths are shaky despite his efforts to keep them long and deep. His ribs barely move due to the pain. He’s stiff, understandably so not only because of his ailment. Alucard tempers his hold on him.

“You’re very warm,” he says with a smile (grateful that Trevor can’t see it else he’d have to explain himself). But his statement is true; he can feel it even though the worn fabric. A comfortable, soothing warmth. If he’s not careful, his hand might sink into the hunter, followed by the rest of himself.

“Is that some kind of diagnosis?”

“No. Just an observation.” Perhaps a compliment as well if Alucard swallowed his lingering pride and just admitted to it.

His hands continue their course along Trevor’s back muscles, searching for any abnormalities, any sources of his irritation. He thinks about every scar and bruise he might have passed over. How many are small; small enough to heal on their own? How many did Trevor have to stitch up with his own bloody, trembling fingertips? As Alucard reaches the other side of his chest, he dismisses any questions concerning past scars. He knows Trevor wouldn’t want to talk about that—not with him. Not yet.

“Well? Am I going to live?”

“Oh, absolutely. It isn’t that serious. A few displaced ribs, that’s all.”

“... sorry, my ribs are what?”

“When you strain your body too much or have poor posture, your ribs can slide out of place. It’s common and easily fixed. I’m shocked this hasn’t happened to you sooner.”

“You know, it’s bad bedside manners to insult the patient.”

“And you would know a lot about manners.”

“Enough to fill a book.”

Alucard tries to hide his smirk—and another snide remark. A very short book, maybe. Adjusting the positions of his hands, he forces Trevor to sit up a bit straighter. “Start counting. You’ll feel much better before you reach ten.”

Unlikely, but Trevor plays along. “One... two... three... four... fi—Jesus fuck!” It lasts for only a few seconds, the feeling that every bone in his body has been broken apart then hastily put back together. At least it’s short-lived. Hand presses against chest as Trevor takes a breath, vocalizing his surprise and whatever’s left of the pain through long-winded gasps. Alucard pats his back, rather pleased with himself.

“Go rest and try not to move too strenuously. You’ll also need to hold something cool against your ribcage. I suggest a damp cloth.”

“Thanks.”

“No need. You could have done it yourself.”

“I still appreciate the help.”

Alucard could let things lie; he’s been blunt and honest with Trevor enough already. Yet his next question won’t leave him alone until it’s let loose. “Why did you come to me? Was it so we could bury the hatchet together?” He pretends to busy himself with another task, unable to watch Trevor’s expression—and unwilling to show his own. The response he receives is... unexpected. A strange sort of comfort.

“I buried that hatchet the moment you decided to stop swinging that needle of yours at me. I just enjoyed pushing your many, many buttons.”

“... I acted like a spiteful brat, didn’t I? You can say so.”

Still feeling tender from the sudden rearrangement of his bones, Trevor joins him as they stand in front of a cabinet filled with things both scientific and occult. Consolation is not the strongest suit of his. There was so little of it during his own life, giving it seems almost alien to him. But he tries. With a simple touch on Alucard’s shoulder, he tries. “We both did. At least we can admit to it now.”

Words stop there, for the moment. Trevor remains at Alucard’s side in an unsure manner. Is this how it’s done? Have they finally made up? Buried the hatchet as they put it? In the midst of his over-thinking, he remembers why else he sought out the dhampir. “Here.” Trevor slips the same Magen David necklace into his cold hand. “Sypha’s got one as well. Thought it might help us when we’re inside the castle.”

Alucard stares down, entranced by the piece of silver in his palm, prompting Trevor to say something a bit too revealing. “Once when I was fifteen, I tried to do some good and handed these around to local communities, so they’d be protected. Made them from sticks and twine I picked off from the roads... felt stupid doing it.”

“Efforts to commit good deeds are never stupid.” Alucard retorts, his voice softer than usual.

Thanks for the vote of confidence. “I managed to get a rabbi to bless them. They actually worked fine until...”

“Until what?”

“Nothing. Forget about it.”

The word “pogrom” tastes like bile in Trevor’s mouth. He’d like nothing more than to spit it out and stomp on it until it’s nothing more than a stain upon the stone floor. But he wants to leave this meeting with Alucard on a much lighter note—or as light as he can make it. “I’ll leave you to... whatever it was you were doing.”

“Trevor...” Before either one can realize what was just said in place of “Belmont”, Alucard swiftly regains his stoic composure. “A bath might also help. With your ribs, I mean.”

Trevor snorts. “Sure. For my ribs.” He leaves the room, determined to own the last witticism spoken between them. Alucard lets him have it, but not begrudgingly. He’s more focused on how the Magen David hangs perfectly in the v of his shirt’s neckline, sitting against his bare skin. It feels warm atop the scar, though that could be from when it was held in Trevor’s hand.

--

DECEMBER 31

The hunter, the scholar, and the former sleeping soldier make good use of their time. When the day comes and they follow the sun as it descends across the sky, each carries an arsenal of their own. Sypha’s head is full of new spells as though it might burst. Alucard’s sword is sharp enough to cut a single drop of ice water in half. Trevor’s belt is heavy with blades large and small, resting next to his beloved Morningstar. He might as well be married to it.

The Magen Davids hang off their necks, swaying and dangling with every bump the wagon drives over. Tiny pieces of armour they’ve put most of their faith in, but not all of it. The rest goes to each other for support, protection, and morale.

Up in the Carpathian Mountains, the wind blows differently. Through the dense woods, it howls and batters against the wagon’s canvas covering, blowing ice into exposed eyes and exposed skin. The three shelter themselves into the furs around their shoulders as best they can hoping to either wait out or outrun this squall. Then the mountains become quiet and clear the deeper they venture, like a graveyard in the dead of night. Not a single falling snowflake to obscure their vision. Until they turn round another corner on the road, kicking bits of snow and dirt into the ravine below.

The travelers hear Castle Cel Tradat before they see it. Jovial and celebratory music that cuts through the silence, growing in volume as they drive closer—just as Alucard described it. The castle itself seems humble; stout with thick walls and a set of four towers on each corner. Not a ruin similar to the Belmont abode and nowhere near the profuse architectural opulence of Dracula’s. From a distance, the dim torch fire that lines the entrance look like fireflies in the darkness.

They leave the wagon at the foot of the bridge; any closer and they fear something might happen to the horses. Trevor takes a moment to pat their snouts and gives them a few dried apple rings before catching up with his companions. In a rare sight to see (at the suggestion of Alucard no less), all three are dressed in the same dark tones save for their halos of grey fur.

“Someone should tell him we’re going to a wedding, not a funeral.” Trevor whispered to Sypha before they left. He soon realized the mistake of his comment. Perhaps they are attending a funeral and they’re the only ones who know it. As they make their way down the bridge alongside other attendees comprised of both ghosts and unfortunate living nobles who never bothered to read up on their history, Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard wordlessly hope they won’t end up betraying themselves or their true intentions.

“Invitation,” demands one of the gateway guards. Alucard slips the rolled-up parchment out of his coat pocket and presents it. “And these two?” Just as the guard makes eye contact with Trevor, he carefully hides the Belmont crest beneath the folds of his cloak. No particular reason, only an old habit.

“My guests. I assume guests are permitted?”

The guard pauses for a thankfully brief moment. “Go on in. Straight through the doors.” Alucard and Sypha bow out of respect, but Trevor glances over his shoulder as they ascend the front steps. It all feels too easy; he didn’t even check for weapons. The Cel Tradats must have been incredibly trusting or woefully naive that night they all died.

It’s a short walk to the grand hall. If it weren’t for the stench of old blood clouding Alucard’s heightened senses, he would assume the place had been untouched by death. Dresses and fine tunics move across the tapestries in a thick haze caused by candlelight smoke, one can barely see to the other side of the room. Cinnamon, winter cranberries, and pine tree furs line the tables alongside an endless multitude of food. Sypha has never seen so much meat or drink in one sitting. If the butchers and farmers of Targoviste’s most bountiful markets could witness this sight, they would weep as though on their mother’s deathbed. People laugh, cheer, and dance upon the centre floor. They live like they’ve never lived before.

Trevor quickly takes hold of Sypha’s wrist and the back of Alucard’s coat. “Don’t eat or drink anything,” he warns in a dire tone. Neither one needs an explanation as to why. Rather than join the revelry, they hurry off to the side out of sight.

“Look. Up at the front.” Alucard is the first to find Sofia overlooking her merry subjects, seated halfway between the Cel Tradats and the Lupeis, now an envoi of both houses. A sparrow and a wolf. Full rosy cheeks, brown irises deeper than the richest chocolate, and long red hair like a river of blood. Her husband with wide eyes and an even wider smile is almost as beautiful as his wife.

“They seem so happy.” And unaware, Trevor thinks to himself.

Sypha chimes in with her own opinions. “There wasn’t much written about Darius Lupei in the history tomes. Apparently, he was an idiot... but at least a loving idiot.”

“One of us needs to warn her. But don’t make a spectacle of it otherwise this entire room will be thrown into chaos.”

“What about the assassin?”

“We will need to find them as well without drawing any attention.”

“So, we stop Sofia from being murdered and the whole night goes on without a hitch.” There’s skepticism in Trevor’s voice, which doesn’t surprise Alucard. “Is that supposed to bring peace to her soul along with the rest here?”

Sypha turns to Alucard and waits for an answer. He’d say “yes”, but it would be dishonest of him to even think that he knew what they were doing. “I don’t know. But it’s worth it to try.”

Trevor lets out a heavy breath; a common response when he doesn’t feel like analyzing the gritty details of a plan. “Not exactly a traditional exorcism. I’ll go warn Sofia.” Barely a step forward and Alucard already stops him.

“I said don’t make a spectacle of it.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning you have as much subtlety and tact as a kitten drunk on milk.”

Sypha mutters “he does have a point” under her breath to no avail as Trevor turns to her, shocked and a little insulted. “You have to admit, Trevor, negotiations are not your strongest skill. You’re better at ending fights with that whip than you are with words.”

“Traitors. The both of you.”

Alucard’s golden eyes narrow with growing frustration. “We don’t have time for petty squabbles. I will go speak with Sofia.”

Trevor places a palm against his chest and holds him back. “She’ll take one look at your fangs and start screaming about a vampire in her court.”

“Boys...”

“Can you keep your voice down?”

“I am keeping my voice down!” Trevor’s short-lived outburst carries itself throughout the hall, attracting the attention of a few confused onlookers. Fortunately, they return to their own little worlds while the music plays on. Alucard and Sypha push their hunter towards the nearest wall, silencing him with their hands. 

“If we let you walk up there and request an audience with the bride, will you please be quieter?” Trevor nods, which is enough for them. An unseen clock ticks ever closer to the fated moment between Sofia and the assassin’s dagger; it would be better if they hurried. Alucard and Sypha let go, exasperated but willingly. 

“I’ll watch your back in case something happens.”

“I’ll search for the assassin.” Alucard pulls Trevor in close. “Please do not make me beg for you to not fuck this up.”

“When have I ever?”

A sharp inhale, then Alucard decides to let it be. The two men set off in opposite directions while Sypha’s cheeks burn hot with irritation towards both of them. She hides behind a pillar and keeps an eye on Trevor as he navigates himself through the sea of dancers. Her fingertips tingle with fiery embers and the cold prick of ice, yet she holds back. Not yet and if all goes well, not tonight.

“You seem to have your hands full with those two.” A different voice speaks up. Sypha ignores the comment, assuming she had just received a snippet of some unrelated conversation. That it wasn’t meant for her.

The same voice speaks again. “Friends of yours, I presume.”

Still composure turns into masked panic. Sypha’s heart thumps against her ribcage in an almost painful manner. She could stay focused on the tuff of Trevor’s fur cloak as it weaves as it weaves amongst moving bodies, or she could make absolutely certain of one thing: how much did they hear?

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop on strangers.” She does not face whoever’s talking.

“It’s also not polite to refuse a bride and groom’s generosity.”

Sypha remains where she stands, but glances at the crowded tables against her better judgement—one woman, not quite elderly but past middle age, stares at her with friendly curiosity. Sypha tries to avoid another instance of eye contact. “I am not hungry.”

The woman laughs. “You don’t have to eat anything, though it would be preferred if you did. Just come and be present.”

Impulse pushes against intuition as Sypha struggles with herself. If it will please the woman (and possibly shut her up), then fine. She can watch Trevor just as easily from the tables. Finding an empty yet claustrophobic space on one of the benches, Sypha squeezes in between a happy drunkard and her sudden enabler. Already her body wants to close in on itself or leave altogether.

“There. Now I’m present,” she mutters bitterly.

“Well you’ve got quite the tongue... that’s meant to be a compliment, love.” Sypha gives her a hesitant smirk, which fades the longer she speaks. “Though it can’t be easy putting up with two men who have so much pride.”

Sypha scratches the tip of her index fingernail along the table wood until it nearly falls off. She isn’t in the mood for conversation, even with a harmless ghost who seems to understand her. Still, the urge to play the woman’s game is too much and Sypha has just the response for her. “It is easy enough. Find something that gently wounds their pride and they are like puppies with their tails tucked between their legs.”

The woman chokes on her gulp of ale before letting out another laugh that sounds too big for her thin frame. Personally, Sypha didn’t think the joke was that funny but she appreciates the reaction. “And I would not trade either of them for anyone else in all of Wallachia.”

A few drops of the woman’s drink might have somehow made its way into Sypha’s veins, but she speaks truthfully. She’s always let the truth be heard; it’s molded her into the person she is now. Honesty makes her and those around her stronger. So perhaps she should save this particular truth for the ones who need to hear it most.

All these unfocused thoughts cause Sypha to drift away from what’s important, what matters right now in the moment. Only the woman’s next inquiry brings her back, but not in the way she wanted. “Is that why you’re not with your family right now?”

Sypha’s stare drives daggers into the woman’s throat while she sits there and simply drinks her ale, aware and uncaring. “Doesn’t surprise me. You don’t really belong with the Speakers anymore, do you? Bit of an outsider. There are other scholars of magic, of course, but none quite like you. That’s another compliment. It might be best that you stay away from them for a while... maybe forever.” 

Fire and ice surge their way through Sypha’s hot blood, begging to be released. Anger dulls her senses along with her movements. “I will never abandon my people.”

“You already have, love. You abandoned them when you agreed to join that hunter and the bastard son of a vampire.”

Sypha’s first instinct is towards violence. She wants to slap the woman with the backside of her hand or wrap her fingers around her neck and squeeze as tight as possible or place an iron hot palm against her cheek and give her something to talk about with her friends and neighbours. But none of it would matter. Sypha tears herself away from the table and regains control. The castle’s deceptions will not get inside of her so easily.

Only now does she notice the smell of sour fruit, moldy bread, and rotting meat being picked apart by greedy flies. Flies to an open stable.

--

If Alucard were thinking straight, he would have found the assassin by now. If he had found the assassin, this night would be done and the three of them would be on their way back to Castle Dracula. If they were back home, he would be in bed savouring his first peaceful sleep now that he’s no longer alone. But none of those wishes have come to fruition. Alucard’s search leads him away from the wedding feast and down into one of the side corridors. Darkness has never given him much trouble, yet here it blurs his vision. If only he held a torch or even a simple candle.

“Lost, sir?” Alucard turns to face a tall woman with broad shoulders dressed in the same funeral-coloured garb as he. There’s rouge upon her sharp cheekbones, dark hair held back by a golden pin, and demeanour cold yet polite. She must be the Lupei matriarch.

Alucard’s immediate response is to bow courteously, despite his hand twitching closer to the holt of his sword. He could consider Lady Lupei to be the real assassin, but she would never dirty her hands in such a direct way. Killing her now would only quicken the oncoming madness. Better to make an excuse than to act on rash thinking. “Apologies, my lady. I simply wandered off for some fresh air. If you will pardon me—”

“No, I do believe you are lost. You’ve been lost for some time.”

“I’m sorry...?” Her steps towards him are slow, calculated. She keeps a coldly gentle expression on her serene face. Alucard tries to look past the Lady, his eyes searching for the warm glow of the grand hall. He sees nothing, only more of the same corridor he finds himself trapped in. The song of his sword waiting to be unsheathed rings louder in his ears.

“I know you like to think it wasn’t your fault. Once your father went mad, there was nothing more you could have done to pull him back.”

The tip of Alucard’s fang grazes his lower lip, drawing blood. Just a drop, but the taste of metal floods his mouth. “You know nothing of me or my father.”

“But I do know. When you get to live as long as I do and see people for what they truly are, you come to know a lot of things. How you lie to yourself and those around you. How you think it will help mask your guilt and shame.”

“There is no guilt!” Alucard’s voice suddenly cracks. Lady Lupei continues to descend upon him as a shadow—like his father did that night of the blood moon. “My hand was forced... I had no other choice.”

She laughs; more out of bitterness and anger than amusement. “You’re just like my husband. Nothing but excuses.”

“Leave me be, damned spirit.”

“When your father’s ashes scattered to the winds, you should have turned that very same stake against your own heart. Why not do it now? You have your blade, so finish what you started.”

Alucard feels his hand grow heavy. He looks down and sees the silver of his blade trembling. Steadying himself, he knows how to use it. Forget his previous hesitance; if Lady Lupei is in his presence, then better to end this cursed night now. If only she were still here. Raising his head, he realizes that he’s been left alone—and with no easy way of returning. Alucard turns in both directions; the corridor has no end in sight. The castle, its ghosts, the curse, none of them are through with him yet. He sheathes the sword back in its place and follows the faint sound of music.

--

What’s the polite way of saying “your mother-in-law is about to brutally murder you”?

Trevor snakes a path across the floor, resisting the increased urge to push everyone aside and march straight up to Sofia before pulling her away. Knock the goblet out of her hand, spilling expensive wine all over her pretty wedding dress. She’d struggle, kick about, possibly curse like a sailor in their faces. A small price to pay for sparing her from a violent fate. It would be so easy if they all moved out of the fucking way.

Closer now; it seems he’s been getting closer for hours. The floor feels soft beneath his boots. Yet she’s still out of reach. Maybe if I just shout at her. Trevor remembers the “promise” he made to Alucard and Sypha, but to hell with it. They want this night over with as much as he does.

Something crashes into him. Trevor spins around, thrown off his already weakened equilibrium, and is carried away from Sofia by one of the dancers shoving himself into his arms. “You’re a handsome one!”

“Would you let me go...”

“Come and dance! It will clean that scowl right off your face.”

“Thank you but no thank you. I need to—” He doesn’t care for his protests, no one does. They hand him off from dancer to dancer; it’s a miracle he hasn’t tripped over himself yet. In his disorientation, Trevor is struck by a familiarity. A much better time than this. He said he didn’t want to dance, never learned it enough as a child so it would be at best humiliating and at worst painful as an adult. The Speakers convinced him otherwise—they always manage to. Placing a crown of wildflowers atop his head, he turned away so they wouldn’t see how red his cheeks grew. He couldn’t hide it forever, not when Sypha took his hands and lovingly teased him. That night felt like a dream blessed enough to be real. It felt like something he’d been missing for so long.

“It felt like home.” Trevor stops, unsure if the voice came from him or one of the dancers. He’s not given the luxury of time to think or resist when he’s thrown into another’s arms, then another’s.

“You miss that feeling. You miss having a home.”

“You miss being part of a family.”

“You can have a home here. You can stay if you would let yourself.”

“Come home.”

“Mother? Father?” There’s a warm sensation in Trevor’s stomach that burns and aches. Home, family, and stay meld together spoken by the sickly-sweet tones of the dancers and the voices of two dead Belmonts. His worst nights after crawling into the very bottle he emptied at a local tavern were never so terrible.

“Trevor! Trevor, look at me!” Cold hands press on either side of his head, dragging him away from all the suffocating bodies. Eyes shut tightly; he now finds the will to fight back.

“Fuck off of me! I want to go home!”

“Trevor, it’s me. Calm down.” He tears open his watery eyes and feels his heartbeat slow when Sypha wraps her arms around him. Trevor holds her, terrified that she might fade as all the other ghosts will. Even more scared of what he had contemplated.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry.”

“It’s just the curse. You’re alright.” Sypha repeats it until Trevor can believe it himself. He catches a glimpse of Sofia—does she know? From the way she laughs and clings to her husband’s side, she evidently may not.

“Sypha, where the hell is Alucard?”

“Honourable allies of the Lupeis and the Cel Tradats.” Trevor, Sypha, and the rest of the party turn in the direction of the announcer. “May I present to you, Sir Darius Lupei of House Lupei.”

“Shit...” They’ll have to make do without Alucard. While everyone else stands at attention, the two of them use this as an opportunity if not a fleeting one. As Darius begins his speech, they run.

“I wish to thank all of you for witnessing this momentous event. Once the Lupeis and Cel Tradats were enemies. Now through this bond of love and marriage, we are made friends and equals.”

“Stop! Sofia! Lady Sofia! Move, you fucking idiots!”

“We need to speak with Lady Sofia!”

All members of both houses stare in confusion at the man and woman attempting a mad dash towards them. “What is the meaning of this?”

“She’s not safe! None of you are!”

Darius takes pause, considering the roguish man’s warning, yet dismisses it just as quick as he heard it. Sypha should have better taken those passages written about the living but small-minded lord to heart. “Must have let all that drink overtake their common sense. Remove them. They shall be dealt with later.”

Sypha and Trevor wrestle with the guards, driving their feet between their legs and beating fists against armour until their knuckles turn a sickening purple. They create more of a spectacle while Darius carries on with his public address. he extends a hand, places it in Sofia’s, and motions for her to stand.

“May I present to our joined courts, my wife and your new lady, Sofia Cel Tradat Lupei.”

Trevor’s vision is momentarily obscured by his own thrashing, though it does not matter. He, Sypha, and the entire castle hear Sofia’s screams all the same. A dripping rose appears on her white and green dress, spreading over her abdomen and turning her fingers a similar dark coloured red. Darius’ own shouts of shock devolve into choking gurgles as knives slash across his throat. The grand hall erupts like a pack of beasts let loose from their cages to attack whoever is nearest. There’s panic from all except Lady Lupei and her house, including the guards that hold Trevor and Sypha. They should have noticed the wolves on their chest plates.

Sypha acts the quickest. One guard shrieks in horror as blue and red ice daggers appear straight through his arms; the other spits blood and teeth upon contact with Trevor’s sword. The two find shelter underneath a table and watch the centuries-old carnage. Sypha never knew ghosts could bleed so much.

They fear the worst for Alucard. The castle with its lies has swallowed him whole. Until another Lupei guard falls dead in front of them, a familiar sword lodged in his back. “Where the fuck were you?” Trevor snarls as a disgruntled dhampir joins them. 

“Trying to survive this wedding, same as you both.” Before any of the bickering can start, a far more dire sight begs for their attention—Sofia and Lady Lupei on the ground, their nails digging into each other, one of their mouths spraying blood the louder she screams.

“This is not working, Alucard. What do we do?”

“It’s too late. I don’t know if there is anything we can do.”

“You’re saying we just let this happen, wait until next year, so this whole shitstorm can repeat itself until we get it right?”

“I would prefer to hear a better plan come out of your mouth, Belmont.”

Alucard is being facetious (to ill effect), but Trevor does have something better in mind. He fiddles with the Magen David like a nervous tick. There is no maybe; this will get him killed, he’s certain of that. When has it ever stopped him?

“Clear a path for me.” He’s already out from under the table before Alucard or Sypha can rightfully question him. They react fast, moving in front so he might have a shield. Fire scorches bodies into blackened cinders; limbs fall to the floor with the effortless swipe of a thin blade; Trevor uses his whip sparingly. He doesn’t touch it when he reaches the bride. She turns with wild eyes, blood seeping through the cracks of her teeth. Rivers of red flow from her stomach and down the steps, mingling with the rest. The tapestries did her rage no justice.

“Don’t touch me!” She violently sputters.

“I just want to talk.” Trevor raises his hands, his voice oddly calm. When she doesn’t listen, he removes his cloak and shows her the embroidered emblem on his breast. Sofia’s fury melts into realization.

“The Belmonts...” As Sofia gazes down at her defiled hands then towards her mutilated court, something shatters within. The past hundred years of darkness and repetition make themselves known. “Merciful god, what have I done...” She whimpers, face wet with tears and blood. “What have I done...”

“Sofia...”

“Get away from me! I know who you are! The Belmonts kill monsters. You’re here to kill me.”

“You’re not a monster.” Along with his cloak, Trevor lays the Morningstar and his Magen David by his feet. Alucard and Sypha stay behind with the shaky hope that he knows what he’s doing. “I know what it’s like to lose your family to violence. Betrayed by the very people you wanted to help. You deserve every right to be pissed off and hate them. But you also deserve peace. You shouldn’t have to continue suffering like this.”

“It hurts so much.”

“I know it’s hard. But let go.”

Sofia forces herself to look up. The tears have turned her bloodshot eyes into shining glass. “If I do, will I face eternal punishment?”

“You won’t.”

It’s quiet behind them. No more sounds of the dying or killing. No more broken bones or blood-filled screams. Sofia grows weary, her last few breathes slow. Pieces of skin begin to peel and float like snowflakes. Before they can see how she’ll fade away back into the annals of history, the windows shatter and release a blizzard that had been waiting far too long to break in. It blows through the grand hall, carrying itself around the castle as a cascade of snow, dust, and wind. The last time a curse was lifted in this manner, there were ashes and the disembodied moans of despair.

Then it’s over. The three of them stand in the middle of a dark empty room. Trevor picks up his belongings, leaving the unchanged Magen David for last. There are no words shared amongst them because they cannot find the right ones. Alucard steps up, perturbed by Trevor’s silence. He offers a hand on his shoulder for comfort, mirroring what Sypha once did for him, but his touch is too light for Trevor to really notice.

“We should go.” After such a bout of silence, Sypha’s voice makes them jump slightly. They leave the castle in its true abandoned state and hope never to come back. Perhaps a brief visit at the end of every Yule to place flowers where Sofia used to stand.

Halfway across the bridge, Sypha turns her head up to the snow speckled skies. Shouts of merriment and well-earned victory grace her ears; the arrival of a hunt returning with its spoils. Though she cannot see it, nor is she completely certain of its presence.

“You alright?” Asks Trevor.

“... I thought I heard something.”

--

JANUARY 1

The first early morning of the new year is always strange, even stranger to spend it alone inside Dracula’s castle. A disheartened hunter, a thoughtful scholar, and a tired dhampir retreat to his library without so much as a “happy new year”. They should sleep and yet they crowd onto the same chair, silently wishing for someone to lighten the mood before shuffling off to bed.

While the other two stare at their feet, Sypha looks around for some topic of small conversation. Her eyes eventually bring her to the top of a bookshelf, squinting at a tiny branch of green leaves which didn’t seem to be hanging there before.

“Mistletoe?”

Alucard overhears her mutter and glances upwards. His explanation is very matter of fact, with no joy. “Sometimes pieces of nature will appear on their own... an old spell put in place by my father to make my mother happy. He never had the need for growing things before he met her.”

Sypha knows the traditions and the good superstitions, despite never partaking in their origins. Standing up (the first one taking initiative to do so), she kisses Trevor’s cheek then does the same on Alucard’s forehead. “Shame to waste it.”

The boys are left in pleasant surprise—and with ideas of their own, especially on Alucard’s part. He doesn’t want to end the night with nothing to say to Trevor. They’ll step into this new year on good footing. Just when the Belmont least expects it, Alucard kisses his opposite cheek. An admittedly risky act on its own accords, but he thinks it was worth it to try.

“I was wrong. You did well tonight.”

Pink faced, Trevor’s gaze never leaves Alucard until he’s through the door and out of sight. “Mistletoe is supposed to be poisonous; you know.” He says to no one in particular.

[milfgritty]

i’ll be good pt. nine | j. hughes & t. zegras

❀ ⇢ requested: yes | no ❀ ⇢ word count: 2.6K ❀ ⇢ a/n: i can’t believe the end of this series is finally here. this has been my longest series to date and to actually finish it is just insane. i might end up posting a bonus part/epilogue but idk yet. anyway, i just want to say thank you to everyone who has followed i’ll be good and i couldn’t be more amazed by the positive feedback it’s gotten. i hope this ending doesn’t disappoint!

having a crush on one person was confusing enough. now throw in one of their teammates and you weren’t sure where that left you anymore.

⇢ posted: 05.11.19 . | . masterlist prev. | next.

“We’re going out for a bit, want to come?”

Rolling over, you shifted the covers down far enough to look at your mom. You pondered the decision for a few seconds, staring at her head peeking in through the cracked door.

“I think I’m gonna stay here,” you told her, words muffled.

She hesitated in the doorway before sighing. “We’ll bring back food,” she smiled sadly, retreating and closing the door behind her.

Letting out a sigh, you burrowed back into the blankets. You were grateful that she was being so understanding, but that didn’t stop you from wishing it wasn’t necessary in the first place.

Closing your eyes, you fought back a fresh wave of tears at the thought. How long was it going to hurt like this? Why weren’t you enough for him?

You groaned loudly, cutting off your train of thought. Distantly, you registered the sound of the front door being closed signaling that you were alone. Shifting again, you stared up at your ceiling blankly. You could probably go back to sleep for another few hours—it was the weekend so you didn’t have to worry—

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand. Head falling to the side to stare at it, you debated if you even wanted to see who texted you. Why bother, you know? Like, did you really want to talk to anyone right now?

Not particularly, but curiosity won out as you stretched your arm to grab the offending object. Settling onto your side, you winced at who it was that sent it. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed that he was the one you called and cried on the phone to—

Wait­—no. That’s exactly what it was.

Yea, he comforted you and said that it was fine but what else was he supposed to say? Blowing out a harsh breath, you decided to get it over with.

‘where are you? we need to talk’

Heart seizing up at the phrasing, you slowly typed out a reply.

‘at home in bed. family’s out rn. why do we have to talk??’

God, you hope this wasn’t him telling you that you couldn’t be friends anymore or some shit like that. One guy dumping you was enough heartbreak; you didn’t need another one adding to it.

‘nothing bad dw is it cool if i come over?’

You tried to ignore the way your heart sped up. Sending back a reply telling him that it was okay, you found the energy to get out of bed for the first time all day. Managing the bare minimum of your usual morning routine was nothing short of an accomplishment, no matter how sad the fact was.

It was only the thought of not wanting Jack to see you as a complete mess that got you going, but still. Progress.

After unlocking the door and sending Jack a text letting him know to just walk in—because what can go wrong there, right?—you made your way back upstairs.

Flopping down onto your bed, you sullenly scrolled through a few different apps to calm your nerves. Seriously, who tells a girl who literally just got broken up with that they need to talk? What do they need to talk about? In person?

The entire thing wasn’t giving you the best of feelings, but whatever. Might as well get some more bad news when you’re already down.

Right as you were finally calming down, Jack sent you a text saying that he was only a few minutes away.

Great, this was going to go great. Totally fine.

Oh god, was he gonna make a move? It hadn’t occurred to you but if he did—

No. No, he wouldn’t. That would be a whole new level of shitty. And even if he did, you weren’t going to just jump into things with him. That’d be so bad. No, new rule. Teammates are off limits.

Actually, hockey players in general. Who needs them? And dating? Not you, that’s for sure.

So lost in your thoughts, you nearly had a heart attack when the door downstairs opened.

“Y/N?” Jack’s voice yelled.

Cursing under your breath, you forced to calm down. “Bedroom,” you called back, pulling your legs up to sit cross-legged.

Fingers fidgeting, your breathing sped up before you worked on calming down again. You listened as Jack made his way upstairs—why did it sound like two pairs of—?

“Hey,” Jack appeared in your doorway, offering you a nervous smile.

You returned the greeting, tilting your head. “So what exactly did we need to talk about in person?”

“Uh, yea. You see, it isn’t just us that need to talk,” he trailed off, watching you with wide apologetic eyes.

Not understanding, you were about to ask when he stepped into the room. The words died in your throat when another figure stepped into sight.

“What the hell,” you sputtered, a whirlwind of emotions exploding inside of you at the sight of your bo—ex-boyfriend.

At least they both had the decency to look shamefaced, you mused to yourself as you sprung up off your bed.

“What the hell,” you repeated, unsure on who to round on.

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

You spun toward Trevor at the sound of his voice, ignoring how despondent it was and how your heart felt like it was breaking all over again. But then his words registered and you were marching at Jack.

“Wha—you brought him here?” you demanded, betrayal clear as day in your voice.

He backed away, hands in the air until he hit your dresser. “We need to talk about everything,” he tried, eyes wide in fear.

Pushing down the hurt, you shook your head bitterly.

“What’s there to talk about? He–“ you gestured at Trevor who had taken an awkward stance “–broke up with me. There’s nothing to talk about. And since there’s nothing to talk about, I want both of you out.”

“Y/N, stop,” Jack pleaded, grabbing ahold of your hands. “You and I both know there’s a lot we need to talk about—shit we should’ve just talked about a while ago.”

“We all fucked up,” Trevor cut in before you could respond. Going quiet, you refused to look at him and swallowed roughly. “And everything got out hand. I found out about you and Jack almost kissing and instead of just talking to you, I thought it would be better for all of us if I broke up with you—don’t look at me like that, I know it wasn’t the best idea now.”

A snort left you against your will, a small smile gracing your features before you caught yourself. “Yea, it was a pretty shit idea, man. You should’ve seen that,” Jack interjected quickly, shrugging innocently at Trevor’s glare but flashing you a smile when he heard your quiet laugh.

“I never claimed I had good ideas, okay?” Trevor attempted—maybe?—to defend himself.

“Can say that again,” you muttered under your breath, sniggering with Jack who heard your comment.

“Rude.” Trevor pointed at you in offense. Brought back to reality, you plopped yourself down on your bed.

“We really do need to talk about everything, don’t we?” you sighed, looking up at them. They nodded in agreement, turning to find chairs to sit down in.

Jack managed to lay claim to your desk chair. Trevor, given the option of the other side of your bed and your sad old beanbag, found himself practically on the floor.

“Be serious, man,” Jack mock scolded Trevor as the latter squirmed in the near flat beanbag. A laugh left you as Trevor flipped him off, and then yet another when you had to look all the way down to see him.

“Dicks,” Trevor mumbled, ignoring both of you as he finished settling into his bag.

“Now that that’s out of the way, where do we even start?” you voiced the unsaid question.

The boys exchanged glances and hesitated. “I don’t know,” Jack said quietly, slumping down.

“Great,” you nodded sarcastically, earning yourself a glare and laugh. The three of you sobered quickly after, realizing that none of you actually knew where to begin.

“I’m just gonna start by saying that before I even asked Y/N out, I seriously had no idea you liked her,” Trevor spoke to Jack before turning to face you. “I did know, though, that you liked him. Which—admittedly—wasn’t great, but still.”

Shaking your head, you tried to wrap your head around that. “That makes no sense. Why ask someone out if you know they like someone else? That’s like setting yourself up for failure.”

Trevor shrugged in response, reasoning, “Spencer is a good hype man.”

Closing your mouth, you nodded. He had a point.

“My thing is,” Jack leaned forward, peering up at you, “why did you agree to go out with Trevor if you liked me?”

Clearing your throat, you resisted the urge to blush. “Right before that, I heard you and the guys talking about some hot girl that gave you her number. After so long of you not making a move, that was just the last straw I guess. I was leaving, thinking about how it was time to move on and then Trevor asked me out and—well.” Ending your words with a shrug, you winced at how bad it sounded when put like that.

“You only went out from me to move on from Jack?” Trevor asked, hurt creeping into his voice. Jack leaned back into his chair, falling silent.

Meeting Trevor’s eyes, you shook your head rapidly. “No! It played a part, yea, but I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t think I could actually like you. You looked all cute and flustered when you asked me and I just—it dawned on me that if I wasn’t hung up on Jack, I probably would’ve liked you for a while at that point.”

Talking about it like this was more than a little embarrassing, especially since you could feel Jack’s gaze on the side of your face.

“And if you’ve liked me for so long, why were you talking about how you were going to call that ‘hot chick’?” you turned it back on Jack, the question having bugged you since you found out Jack liked you.

Eyes going wide, Jack sputtered. “I said I was kidding! That she wasn’t my type, because you’re my type—not the you’re my type part obviously but—didn’t I say that right after the guys calmed down?” He directed the last question at Trevor, putting him on the spot this time.

Trevor went quiet for a second before answering. “I think? I can’t remember, right around then Spencer came in to tell me Y/N was leaving.”

“Spencer was the one who told you I was leaving—?”

“Wait, how did you know I’ve liked you for ‘so long’? I never told you that I actually liked you,” Jack questioned, talking over you.

“I think almost kissing someone is a pretty clear sign you like them, Jack,” Trevor told him condescendingly. Jack rolled his eyes at him, kicking him lightly, before looking back at you.

Avoiding his gaze, you found a sudden interest in your shirt. “I might have overheard the two of you fighting that night you spilled your drink on me,” you mumbled, pursing your lips.

“You did?”

“Oh god,” Jack groaned, covering his face with his hands as Trevor choked.

“Yea.” You drug the word out, grimacing. “Not your best moment, either of you.”

“Is that why you avoided us the first time?” Trevor asked, his head angled to the side. You nodded, confirming his suspicion.

Jack’s sudden laughter startled you. “This is why we communicate, kids,” he said between gasps for air. A snort left you and soon enough you were all laughing at how bad the three of you really are at handling shit.

After your amusement died down, Trevor brought up a valid point.

“What are we doing now?” he asked, glancing up between the two of you. “I mean, we know where we went wrong and all of that, but where does that leave us?”

The question everything came back to, it seemed.

“I still don’t know,” you admitted, darting your tongue out to wet your lips.

Quiet dawned over you again, contemplative and unsure. All of you lost in thought about what happens next.

“You know what? I don’t care what happens as long as I get to be around you,” Jack shrugged. At your curious gaze, he elaborated.

“It’s been too long of constant drama. I just miss being able to talk to you and be your friend.”

“Lame,” Trevor didn’t even bother to hide his whisper. Jack rolled his eyes, flipping him off. You rolled your eyes at the both of them. You missed their antics and agreed with him, saying as much.

“I think we should start over,” you told them, bouncing your leg.

Their heads snapped toward you, forgetting about their bickering. “What do you mean?” Trevor asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Jack mirrored his expression, staring intently at you.

You sucked in a deep breath, trying to figure out how to word it. After a second, you started, “Obviously, even from the beginning, this wasn’t the healthiest relationship if that’s what you want to call it. There was always something holding someone back or coming in the way of things. I think we should just forget everything. Let everything be in the past and start anew. As friends or some sort of weird in between—I don’t care. I’ve just missed both of you a lot and don’t want to lose either of you over something so stupid.”

You couldn’t get through it while looking at them. Your gaze had shifted down to your fidgeting hands at some point. After you finished, they stayed quiet taking in your words.

“I’m okay with that,” Jack said finally, causing your head to snap up. He met your eyes with a soft grin, reassuring your nerves. Your gaze slipped down to a still silent Trevor, anxiously awaiting his response.

He looked up after a few seconds to see the two of you staring at him. “Oh! Yea, I’m cool with that. As long as we’re good and not ignoring each other anymore, I’m fine.”

Letting out a laugh, you shook your head. Relief washed over you, resulting in a goofy smile taking residence on your face. “Great,” you told them.

“See, this all worked out because I cornered you in your bedroom,��� Jack told Trevor, standing up and making his way to your bed.

“Wait—you what?” you asked, vaguely noticing Trevor having difficulty getting up and out of the beanbag. He kicked at Jack, waving his hands in the air.

“Yea well this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t kissed my girlfriend,” Trevor shot back at him as he pulled him up.

You stared up at them, trying to get an answer from one of them. Jack pushed you over, sliding down on your left while Trevor took a spot on your right.

“You cornered him—?”

“Get over it already, that was so last week,” Jack ignored you, tugging you down beside him. Trevor snagged one of your hands, lacing your fingers together. Your heart soared at the familiar gesture and you let yourself be maneuvered.

The bed barely big enough for all three of you, you tried again.

“What’s up with you and cornering people in their rooms?”

The boys bursting into laughter at your genuine confusion on each side of you, you found yourself smiling widely.

This is good, you thought to yourself.

Everything is good.

[geekygoddesss]

Drunk and High (Cake/2)

Luke

“(Y/n) c’mon, you know I didn’t mean it” he says trying to soften my mood a little. He sounded tired and hungover, he still smelled like a bar and I could spot big bags under his eyes the moment he came inside the kitchen.

How fucking great is that?

“Are you sure?” I say rolling my eyes while cracking one egg in the hot pan in front of me “You seemed like you were too sure about it” “I was drunk!” He tried to justify.

“Drunk people always spit the truth” I argue back trying to move to the other side of the kitchen but he is blocking my way “move” I groan, walking past him and bumping my shoulder to his, on purpose. I didn’t want to be mad at him, but I couldn’t help it. I was pissed. Last night we decided to go to a party with a couple of friends and we ended up going to someone’s house to spend the rest of the night there. As expected, Luke got drunk, very drunk, which meant I had to stay sober for the night, someone had to take care of him anyways. I was there the whole time and the moment I stopped being with him to pick up a drink, I heard him, loud and clear. And oh gods, I was beyond mad. ‘Dude, tell me about it, I’ve got a clingy ass girlfriend’ I heard, and it was clearly his voice. I stopped in track and wait for him to finish ‘she’s nice and everything, but oh my gosh, I need a break’ I didn’t really confront him about that the moment those words came out of his mouth, people were watching, I didn’t want to cause drama. But I kept it very cold with him and let him take care of his own hangover, I was done looking over him after he called me that, I worry about him all the time and that’s what I get for it?. He caught it quickly the morning after (which was right now) he noticed how quiet I was being when he first whined about the pain in his head and I didn’t say a thing about it, or cared at all. I wanted to care, but I was too mad. It took him a couple of minutes to realize why i was mad, and since then, he has been whining and trying to make it better. I’m afraid it’s not that simple. “But you know I don’t mean it” he says once again “You’re amazing just the way you are” I frown “Are you quoting ‪Bruno mars‬?” “No!- I mean- Yeah, it works right?” He says nervously. “It’s never gonna work, Robert!” I roll my eyes and walk to the big pantry. “Babe” he sighs at my stubbornness “believe me, I don’t mean it” “Then why did you say that?” I snapped trying to reach for the pepper that was placed on one of the highest shelves. “I. Was. Drunk” he says reaching it for me, standing way too close for my liking and not giving me the pepper right away. “Trevor was complaining about his girlfriend, it just came out of my mouth, I was trying to be cool” “Then why do you do that? You’re supposed to like people for who you are, not for who you pretend to be” I argue taking the pepper from his hand and going back to cooking breakfast. “I know” he groans. While I go back to making my breakfast, he walks around the kitchen island, sitting there and keeping his mouth shut while I finished with this. By the time I was done he was still sitting there, looking down and looking like a grounded child who’s about to be yelled at. I feel a bit bad right now, he’s not a bad guy, he never was, but his words last night really stayed with me, it made me look like the effort I put on this relationship was useless because at the end of the day, he didn’t like it. Or at least thats what he said last night. I turn off the fire of the oven and leave the pan there, I walk up to the other side of the kitchen island, standing right in front of Luke, who now stared at me intensively. I lean in the counter and extend my pinky towards him. He knows what I want, so he mimics me and we lace our pinkies together. “Do you think I’m clingy?” I ask him. He shakes his head “no” he simply answers. I frown and with my free hand, I knock his forehead. Not very hard, but hard enough to make it slightly hurt, but he had a hangover right now, everything hurts for him right now.   “Ouch” he whines “Tell the truth” I say “And don’t you dare to tell me you aren’t because I’m gonna do it again” I warn him and he nods. “Okay” he sighs “you are a bit clingy” he confesses “but I don’t mind about it, I like it, I like when you’re all over me because I can have you close andIi know that you are there for me” “Then why did you say those things?” I ask again. “I wanted Trevor to like me” he confesses once again “but I don’t care now, fuck him” He’s telling the truth now. Wow. I stay silent. “Do you believe me now?” He asks me. I sigh and finally I nod “I do” I mumble “and I’m sorry for acting like a bitch, I guess I was just upset” “I understand” he leans shortly kissing our lace pinkies before letting go from my hold. “I know I fucked up with all these,” he says “and i know i'm not perfect but at the end of the day, who is?”  “Hm” I hummed nodding my head and leaning my head to the side “Are you quitting ‪Bruno Mars‬ again?” I ask him. He smiles “did it work now?” I lean my head forward and peck on his lips, we take out time and build a soft kiss. I missed those, even though it hasn’t been long since our last kiss, i needed this. “It kinda worked” I smile to him and his eyes lit up. “It always work, babe” he kisses me again “it always works”

Calum

“I just- I just can’t believe it” I say pacing around our room and thinking about what I just saw a couple of hours ago.

This big news have been going around my head for about a week, and I couldn’t think on a good way on telling him, so I went for the good old way of just letting it out in a moment when he wasn’t busy and I wasn’t nervous, one of them failed, but I guess it was okay. I’m pregnant. The news were announced and he was (as expected) very surprised and touched by them, but he looked happy. We had a little moment back then, where he kissed me and hugged me, he looked very pleased with all these news.

Until this afternoon, when after telling him, just a couple of hours after that I found him on our living room, smoking weed and laughing it all off, like it was a funny situation.

“I needed to relax” he tries to defend himself “What’s so wrong about it anyways? You’ve seen me smoking weed before, what’s the big deal?”

“We’re having a baby” I tell him making myself clear “you think smoking weed is being a responsible adult? It’s not” I groan “I just expected a better reaction from you”

He seems upset now “Do you think I can just feel okay after what you told me?” He argues “I’m stressed, (Y/n), I’m going to be a father and I’m not even fully an adult yet, I’m not ready for a kid”

“What are you trying to say?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“I am not ready” he repeats, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead in frustration “Geez, my head hurts”

“Oh I’m sure marijuana is a great remedy for that” I say Rolling my eyes and turning around to leave the room.

“(Y/n)” he stops me, taking my hand and holding me steady, making me turn around. “Let’s not argue, okay? Can we peacefully talk about this?”

I sigh and try to not just walk out of this. Sooner or later we had to talk about this, I preferred sooner.

“I just want to make this clear” I say “I don’t mind you smoking, at all, you’re in your 20’s, you can do whatever you want” I make clear “but we are having a baby, I don’t find particularly appropriate that you smoke weed in the house”

“I’m sorry” he says taking my other hand and pulling me closer to him “But deal with me, I’m nervous”

“So am I! But I’m not doing drugs like that’s gonna fix anything” I say “What I mean is that it’s not healthy to do that, and now that I’m pregnant is not healthy for me to even be here if you’re gonna be doing those things around the house”

He thinks about it, his face Is straight and he’s looking down at my hands while running his thumb over them. He knows I’m right, and he knows that from now over we have to change a lot of things around our environment. For the baby.

“You’re right” he nods and leans to kiss the back of my hands “I’ll throw the rest of my stash out if that makes you feel better” he says and I can see, it’s a promise.

“Thank you” I say, nodding my head at his answer  “I don’t wanna be pushy, but you get me, right?” I say innocently, giving him a soft smile.

“Always” he mumbles, leaning in to kiss my lips and mumbling a soft “I’m sorry”

“You’re fine” I mumble back, pecking his lips back.

“I love you” he whispers.

“I love you more” I answer and I mean it.

Maybe this was not going to be the easiest thing for him, but it would mean something big and that’s what mattered, it would mean a big step taken for himself and for his child and we both know, he would give the world for that little person that wasn’t yet here, but he loved it already, he loved his family and he loved his life. This was for his baby.

[winmance]

Trust in me

Chapter 22 - Hold me, Thrill me, ...

Jensen woke up to the sound of his phone vibrating next to him, a look of annoyance crossing his face as he tried to shut it off for the second time.

"What?" Jensen grunts not even bothering to open his eyes.

“Am I waking you up, sleeping beauty?”

“Jeff?” Jensen whispers, finally opening his eyes “No, I was just-“

His eyes caught sight of Jared next to him, laying half on him, half on the bed. They’ve been here for two and half weeks already, and he stopped counting how many time he woke with Jared next to him.

The first time, Jared blamed it on the coldness of the room, and Jensen could only agree with him.

The second time, he blamed it on a nightmare, and Jensen wasn’t totally sure it wasn’t the truth.

The third time, it was too much light coming from the windows, and after that, he simply stopped finding excuses.  Just slipping into Jensen’s bed whenever he felt like it. 

Jensen usually wakes up when Jared comes in, but right now, he has no idea why Jared is in his bed, or when he joined him, but he looks too peaceful for him to kick him out.

“I was already up” He lies “Any news?”

“We’ve got him under surveillance. I can’t tell you much, because we still don’t have any hard evidence, but if everything goes as planned, we should get our search warrant in less than a week” 

“Fuck” Jensen whispers with a sigh “That’s fucking great, Jeff”

“Yeah. But nothing is a done deal so keep it locked down for now. How’s the kid doing?”

“He’s good. Really good” Jensen says, staring at Jared as he turns over throwing his legs over Jensen “But he’ll be better once the asshole is behind bars”

“I bet”

“How’s the team?”

“They’re wondering why you left. Trevor has been asking a lot of questions”

“He has?”

“Yeah. They think you had some kind of meltdown I think” Jeff says “Hope that’s not the case”

“No, I’m good. This whole vacation's actually been pretty good”

“Glad to hear that, boy. You’re sure the place is safe?”

“Yeah. But we’ll be moving in a few days. Don’t want to stay in the same place for more than a few weeks”

“Good idea. Listen, I need to get back to work, but I’ll call you as soon as I’ve got something. Take care of your boy, alright?”

“Thanks Jeff, take care of yourself”

He hangs up, dropping the phone back on the nightstand behind him  trying not to wake Jared up.

It’s still quiet in the house, the kids still recovering from their night out, while their parents are trying to get what sleep they can.

He’s almost sure his mom and Danneel are already up, since both insisted on staying home after Jensen told them that Jared and him wouldn’t be joining the rest of the family, choosing instead to go to see a movie together. When they got home at eleven, both women had already gone to bed.

“I want to stay in bed forever” Jared mumbles against his chest “This is the best bed ever”

“Yeah, so that's why you started drooling in your sleep huh?”

“I do not!” Jared defends himself with a laugh

He rolls away from Jensen, stretching his long body as much as the single bed allows him too. Jensen tries not to stare too much, but it’s hard when he can see the soft skin of Jared’s stomach, appear every time he moves.

“If we’re going to sleep in the same bed, we may as well do it in the big one” He says, closing his eyes again. “You sweat too much at night”

“Says the man who snores”

“Doesn’t look like it’s bothering you too much” Jensen laughs, throwing his arms around Jared and pulling him close until he can hide his face in his hair “Swear I never saw someone sleep for ten hours before”

“Probably because they never stayed with you that long.”

“You son of a-“ Jensen says, sliding his fingers under Jared’s shirt as he starts to tickle him

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I promise!” Jared pleads, a smile already spreading over face.

Jensen doesn’t acknowledge his pleas, and soon enough, Jared is a laughing mess, moving every way possible as he tries to get away from Jensen's nimble fingers.

It’s childish. There isn’t any other word for it. He’s a 35 year old man sleeping until nine waking up and tickling the teenager lying next to him. He should feel ashamed. A part of him does, his mind screaming at him that he’s exactly like his dad. But another part of him is having the time of his life, and he’s not ready to stop.

It’s like waking up from a dream that's lasted years. He can’t remember a time when he was this happy, this free, and maybe he’s allowing himself to do things that aren’t age appropriate, but he doesn’t give two fucks about it.

“Uncle! Uncle!” Jared yells breathless from laughing, his legs moving to encircle Jensen’s waist

Jensen doesn’t have any choice but to stop. He's laughing too hard to keep going. He’s on top of Jared, his body pinning him down and they’re laughing and smiling so much, that when he meets Jared’s shinning eyes, he’s overcome with happiness and joy.  He doesn’t think twice before gently kissing him on the lips, realizing too late what he's just done.

He doesn’t know who’s more shocked Jared or him, but neither of them seems able to move after that.

“Fuck, I’m-“

“Jensen, you, Oh!” Danneel says as she opens the door without knocking.

“Hey, we were just…messing around” Jensen says, getting up from the bed. Danneel’s face is burning with. What? Anger? Jealousy maybe? Jensen isn’t sure and he doesn’t really care. All he wants is for her to leave so he can apologize to Jared. “You wanted something?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come for a walk with me, but I guess you’re busy.”

“I… “ He should go with her. Beg her not to say anything of what she's seen to his mom, but he knows what he says next will directly impact Jared. “Yeah, I’m busy. Maybe another time?”

“Sure” She says, a little taken aback by his answer. “I'll see you at breakfast, whenever you’re done… doing whatever it is you’re doing”

“We’ll be there” He says with a smile, even through she doesn’t return it.

She closes the door, and for the first time ever, Jensen wishes she would have stayed. Dealing with her would have been easier than dealing with his own mess.

“I’m sorry. For what I did. It’s-“

“It was a kiss, Jen. You didn’t ask me to marry you or anything” Jared laughs, sliding out of bed “It’s fine, I promise”

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable”

“You’re gonna need to do more than that to make me feel uncomfortable” He winks, walking to the bathroom “But I’m calling first for the shower”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead” Jensen says, stepping out of the way.

He waits until he can hear the sounds of the water before letting himself fall back on the bed. His head is spinning with everything that just happened, with the lack of reaction from Jared and his own unclear feelings.

He'd spent his whole life hating his father. Wishing, begging, that one day, he would wake up and someone would tell him that there had been a mistake, that his dad wasn’t his real dad.

How easy would that have been? He wouldn’t be tied to him anymore. He wouldn’t have had to look at his own reflection in the mirror with so much hate, because even the slightest resemblance made him sick.

He wouldn’t have had to separate himself from everyone. To destroy any relationship before it even began, for fear of hurting someone.

He wouldn’t have had chose to disappear and live in his car after what happened with Justin. He would have stayed with his family, a different family, who would have loved him and supported him through the traumatic event.

Maybe, just maybe, he would have enjoyed the feeling of happiness he had when his lips met Jared’s. He would have closed his eyes and kissed him more, because Jared’s lips were as soft and delicious, as he’d been dreaming they would be for too long now.

Maybe he would have been able not to hate himself for loving Jared. To say fuck it, that an almost twenty year age difference isn’t that much. That they both deserve to be happy, and they get each other, better than anyone else.

But no one ever came.

“Do my shorts say ‘I’m a whore’  or just ‘I’m a twink’?” Jared asks, standing in front of Jensen with nothing but his shorts on

“They say ‘It’s fucking winter but I want to get pneumonia and die’”

Jared rolled his eyes, giving him the middle finger in the process, before walking towards the dresser.

“Where did this come from?” Jared asked, holding a cherry red zipper hoodie in his hands.

Crap, Jensen forgot about that.

“I bought it, last time we went shopping. It’s, uh, I don’t know, I thought you might like it” He scratches his head, too uncomfortable to even look at Jared.

It was a great idea, and he’s sure Jared loves that hoodie, but given the fact that he kissed him twenty minutes ago, now isn’t exactly the perfect time to give it to him.

“I fucking love it!” Jared says enthusiastically “It’s the best hoodie ever!”

He doesn’t wait before pulling it on, and fuck, it does look good on him, not that Jensen even doubted it would. The white “BABY DOLL” lettering contrasts perfectly with the red of the hoodie, and with his shorts on, it only makes Jared look hotter.

“I can’t believe you bought it for me” Jared says, a little too soft “Thank you”

“I bought you underwear too but I think you’re getting a little too sentimental over a hoodie, don't you think? Jensen asks with laugh, even through he’s a little embarrassed by the whole thing.

“Yeah, but I was with you when we bought the underwear. You picked this out just for me, because you knew I'd like it” Jared says, so softly that Jensen is afraid is heart is gonna pop.  Overloaded with too much affection for the boy.

“Glad you like it” He replies, trying to put a stop to the conversation.

Jared, however, doesn’t seem ready to move on. He keeps his focus on the hoodie, tracing the fabric with his fingers and looking at himself in the mirror.

“You know” He says “I’m not mad. About the kiss, I mean”

“I shouldn’t have done it” He hurries to say “I . . . I’m here to protect you. Not to… do that. I just… got caught up in the moment, I guess”

“So you didn’t like it?”

“I-“ Jensen stops when he hears the sound of his mom coming upstairs, and lets go a sigh of relief. For once, he was happy for his mom to be here. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Yeah, sure” Jared says, a little disappointed

Jensen wishes he could just say fuck it and lock himself in the room with Jared until they can figure things out. He needs to apologize, big time. But he also needs to know how Jared feels after the kiss. He wants to be sure that Jared doesn’t feel used, in any way.

But right now isn’t the time.

“Come on, they’ve been waiting for us for long enough”

“Danneel probably told your mom that we were fucking” Jared laughs

“This isn’t funny!” He frowns, opening the door of the room

“Yeah, it is!”

Jared laughs harder, walking past Jensen to get ahead of him, and Jensen takes the opportunity to poke him in the ribs.

His mom sends him a hard stare, but Jensen decides to ignore it, too happy with the knowledge that he didn’t completely fuck up his relationship with Jared.

“Hey mom” He says, a little too cheerfully “We were coming down. You wanted something?”

“Yes, we’re going to the Chrismas Market. Are you guys coming with us?”

“Yeah, I promised Jared we'd go”

“Great” She says, her stare switching from Jensen to Jared “Darling, maybe you should put on something more appropriate. . .for the season I mean. It’s really cold outside”

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry”

“Are you sure? We wouldn’t want you to get sick”

“I have a jacket on” He points out

“I’m not sure that will be enough”

“Well, Jensen will give me his”

“Oh sweetie, I don’t think that will happen”

“Why not?” Jared asks, frowning

“That was Justin’s jacket. He doesn’t let me touch it”

Jensen closes his eyes, his jaw clenching. If thoughts could kill, his mom would be dead right now. Like everything wasn’t complicated enough, now she adds Justin on top of everything.

“He let me wear it” Jared points out, a little offended

“He did?”

“Can we go?” Jensen asks impatiently “I need to warm up the car before we go”

“Sure” His mom says “We will talk about it later”

“Don’t have anything more to talk about” Jensen says, putting his hand on Jared’s hip to make him move “Come on, Jay, let’s go”

Jared follows him without any protest, but he can feel how edgy his body is. Great. Like they needed that.

They put their shoes on, but in a silent mutual agreement, neither of them takes a jacket. The satisfaction of making his mom angry being too strong.

The car is frozen, the windshield completely frosted over. Jensen opens the car door and lets Jared in.

“Aren’t we supposed to scrape the windshield?” Jared asks

“I don’t want to spend an hour on it” Jensen admits “Plus, we’re not in any hurry. I saw the kids throwing cereal at each other”

“Can’t you at least start the car?"

“Come on, it’s not that cold”

“Yeah, it is!” Jared says, pointing toward the windows “We can’t even see what’s outside”

“Are you saying that we should have taken our jackets and that you should have put some real pants on?”

Jared thinks about it for a moment before sliding deeper into the seat. Jensen laughs before doing the same, letting his head fall back.

It’s so quiet, so peaceful, that he could fall asleep right away. The holidays have actually been good for him. He’s been able to sleep, to eat, and to simply rest, much more than he had for years now. He looks and feels better, all that thanks to Jared.

“Was Justin your ex boyfriend?” Jared asks unexpectedly

“Told you I’m not gay nor bi”

“Yeah, but you kissed me so I figured you weren’t that sure about it”

“It, It’s different with you” Jensen says uncomfortably

“Do you… do you think I’m not a boy? Because I wear shorts and panties or some shit like that?”

“What? No!” Jensen defends himself “Stop thinking I’m that much of an asshole. I’m just a regular one”

Jared can’t stop himself from laughing, and instantly, the air in the car warms up. Like a wave of sunshine just hit it.

“So? How am I different?”

“You… I don’t know. You make me feel different. It’s not about you being a boy or a girl, it’s about you being you. It’s… shit, I don’t know Jay, it’s the way you act and how you talk. Hove how you think, too. It’s-like, I feel as if we’re connected. You make me feel more alive than I’ve been for years now. You make me see the world differently”

Jared looks at him without blinking, like he stopped breathing right on the spot. Jensen, on the other hand, can feel a ball in his stomach getting bigger and bigger by second as he realizes what he's said.

“And here I was just expecting you to say I had a cute ass or something like that” Jared says

“You . . . I . . .“ Jensen is so caught off of guard by the joke that he can’t even comprehend it at first. “I- Well, yeah, I don’t think someone needs to be gay or bi to find you attractive” He laughs, still feeling too awkward. “You know, I don’t . . .it’s not sexual. It’s just I've never bonded, with someone like that before. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that. But I don’t want to lie to you. I want you to know that you can trust me"

“When you say that it’s not sexual, you mean that you don’t find me attractive?” Jared asks, moving a little closer to Jensen

“It means that I won’t do anything like I did this morning ever again”

“Because you don’t want to?”

“Because I don’t want to force it on you”

“But what if . . . what if I want it?” He says, his eyes moving from Jensen’s eyes to his lips “What if I want you to kiss me again? But for real this time?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea” Jensen admits, his throat so tight that it’s hard to swallow.

Jared is only a few inches away from him now, so close that he can almost feel his breath against his skin. He’s not sure if Jared’s testing his limits, trying to see what Jensen will or will not do, or if he really wants this.

“But you want it. And I want it” Jared says “I never . . . I never wanted someone else like that. The things you feel, I feel them, too. You make me happy, Jensen, and that hasn't happened in so long”

“I don’t want to abuse you, or to. . .“

“You’re not. Whatever it is you think you’re doing, you’re not. But if you don’t . . . If we don’t do this, I think we'll be missing out on something. I . . . I don’t know what will happen between us. If it’s gonna last forever or for one hour, but I know that I want to happen”

“I’m old” Jensen says, almost as a plea for Jared to understand

“I’m almost sixteen. It's legal in a lot of states”

“Yeah, but you’re still a kid”

“Come on Jensen, we both know that it isn’t true” Jared says, a sad smile on his face “Did I read it wrong? Do you really not want this?”

He wants this. He needs this. More than anything, more than everything. Maybe he’ll regret it later, maybe they will both end up suffering for it, but he knows that if he doesn’t do this, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.

“Whenever you want this to stop, I’ll stop.  And I'll still be there to protect you, alright?”

“Yes” Jared throws himself on Jensen’s lap before Jensen can do anything.

He kisses him right away, his lips finding their way to Jensen’s his legs on either side of him. The first touch of their mouths is electric. The whole world around them stops.

Jensen knows how to kiss. He knows what it’s like, how it makes you feel.  But he's never had it feel like this. It was never this intense, with any of his previous girlfriends.

Jared’s lips are soft, a perfect contrast with the way he kisses Jensen. With a devotion and hungriness that he never thought possible.

Jensen drags him closer, until their bodies molded together. His hands are moving everywhere from Jared’s hair to his legs, to his ass until he feels Jared grinding against him.

In one swift movement, Jensen rolls them over until he’s on top of Jared. Jared's legs tighten around his waist as he tries to get more friction.

“Shit” Jensen says, moving from Jared’s lips to his neck “You’re perfect”

He doesn’t know if it’s what he says or the way their dicks are moving against each other, or maybe it's the little spot he starts biting on, but either way, a loud moan escapes Jared’s lips, the sound going straight to Jensen's dick making it harden even more

“Mooom, Uncle Jensen and Jared are jumping in the car! You said we couldn’t do that!” Riley yells from outside the car

Jensen jumps away from Jared right away, trying to arrange himself correctly before his sister in law shows up.

“Fucking kids” He complains, pushing down on his dick to try to calm it.

“Yeah” Jared laughs, still short of breath

Jensen own breath is taken away when he looks at Jared.

If depravity had a name, it would be his.

His hair is messy, his cheeks red and his eyes shining with lust and excitement. His lips. His lips are fucking destroyed, swollen and red from all the kisses they shared.  His shirt drooping off his shoulder from all the activity.

He was beautiful. Simply beautiful.

“Do I look ok?” Jared asks,

“You’re beautiful,” Jensen admits “Fucking glorious”

Jared blushes furiously, biting his lip to hold back his smile.

“So I should stay in the car?” He asks

“Oh yeah, definitely. They can’t see you like that” Jensen laughs “I'll tell them we’re ready to go. Wait here, ok?”

“Yeah, sure”

Jensen opens the door of the car, ready to step out, but before doing so, he takes Jared by the hand and pulls him towards him so they can kiss again, softer this time.

“I . . . Uh, I'll be right back” He says, clearing his throat

His brothers and sisters in law are already putting the kids in the car, but he can see Shawn looking at him laughing, while Danneel refuses to even meet his eyes.

He should feel embarrassed, and he does, but happiness overwhelms it easily.

Tags : @emmalh2001 @captainsteelandsunshine @servilesammy @mysterioushunters @jaredbootyylecki

[regrettablewritings]

Steve TrevorxReader for the ship meme thingy?

I hope modern!Steve is okay; I didn’t really have the time or focus to make a period-accurate WWI-era setting. But thank you for your patience!

How differently do they think of eachother now compared to when they first met?: To be honest, your first impressions of one another were highly superficial:You thought he was hot, he thought you were cute, and both of you wereembarrassed to be seen in the states of dress and undress that you happened tobe in. To be fair, Steve also just so happened to be moving into the apartmentacross the hall from you on one scorcher of a day, so needless to say yourrespective states of dress were as minimal as possible while still covering up just enough to be decent. At least, youhad when you first laid eyes on him. Up until that point, you’d been strollingaround your apartment, dressed down to your skivvies with the A/C blasting. Youwere quite content to stay that way had it not been for the ruckus. The soundof thudding and muffled yelps from outside your dwelling area drove you tothrow on a baggy t-shirt that ended just above your knees, the heat boilingyour mind just a degree past sensibility.By the time you’d opened the door, you were hearing utterances of “just callDiana” and, “Diana’s in Paris for another nine days!”, with a snide remark of,“Can’t you just sleep on this sofa for nine days, then?” Then came theexpletives, some of which you couldn’t even identify yet seemed to have vaguetraces of French in them.

But by the time you made your presence known, it had all quieted down.Mainly because all four sources of the noise became focused on you. And it wascertainly quite the crew once you got a good look at them: All were men, allwere from varying backgrounds and ages, and all appeared to be struggling withgetting a couch un-wedged from its place in the threshold of the previouslyvacant apartment. But the one you couldn’t help but set your eyes on the mostwas the one who appeared to be the youngest of the outfit. Handsome; awell-built physique visible through the sweat-drenched undershirt he wassporting; his brown hair pressed against his forehead with perspiration …And blue eyes that shot right into you and were probably the main reason whyyou’d been caught staring in the first place. You could feel your face burningin a new kind of way: Not like how they had been due to the heat from before,but something much more innate. Like the source was born inside of you nomatter how long you looked into those icy, blue optics.

They were just cold enough to cool your mind off, your senses resurfacing asyou realized that not only was what you were doing probably considered gawkingat this point, but the blue-eyed fellow, as well, might’ve been gawking rightback. And with good reason: With your shirt hanging low off one shoulder andthe rest of it just barely reaching your knees, you may not have been the mostindecent thing but you were certainly a welcome sight for four souls dying inthe heat. And one of them (whom you’d later know as Sameer) wasn’t afraid tohint that at you.

“Sorry to cause you such a fuss,” he grinned, poising an elbow atop the sofaas though he hadn’t just been cussing up a storm over it moments before. Theman next to him – the tallest and appearing to be of Native descent – rolledhis eyes. The flirter went on, “Once we get this guy” – he nodded at the brunet– “all settled in, I hope we could make this all up to you by … maybeholding a get-together? Some champagne from France, I could use my connectionsto get us some nice cheeses, and maybe –”

“Don’t use my place as your love pad,” the brunet hisses under his breath.He turned his eyes away but that did nothing to stop the red from splotchinghis face. Logic would dictate it as a result of the heat, but it hadn’t been that rouge before. You’d barely managedto utter an embarrassed apology/goodbye before you awkwardly shuffled back intoyour apartment. Deep down you wished that that would be the end of it, thatmaybe the brunet would turn out to be one of those neighbors who was barelyever home either because of work or because of a rich social life.

But deep down, you also knew that this wasn’t going to be the case. And yougot that confirmation about two days later when he appeared at your door,sheepishly offering you a package of “apology biscotti.”

“I, um, yeah, the other day was not thebest way to introduce one’s self to their new neighbors, soooo … yeah,” heattempted to explain.

“… You dorealizethat I’m supposed to be the one giving you a gift, right? Housewarming and all.”The urge to smack yourself in the face for coming up with that response was strong. Thankfully,the brunet took the response in stride.

“Well, yeah,”he admitted. “But considering you caught me and my goofball friends kinda beingungentlemanly, I thought it’d just be more appropriate if I made it up to youfirst. You know, spare you the jello mold.”

This was themoment you began to get a better idea of the man (whom you then learned wasnamed Steve Trevor). Sure, he was hot, but he also appeared to have a sense ofmorality in a way. A principle to live by. And he proceeded to live by it bynot only accepting your later gift of “housewarming meat loaf”, but alsoinviting you in to share it. By the end of the first month of the two of youknowing one another, you thought of him as a very pleasant and rare case of agood neighbor. It actually took his friend, the friend group-famous DianaPrince, to step into the picture and insist to you that he wasn’t secretly ahomicidal maniac. (She had one of the most honest faces you had ever seen, youhad no choice but to trust her.) But thankfully, with backing from his friends (whom you quickly learned weren’tnearly as discomforting as you’d initially assumed), you got the hang of hischaracter: He was pretty kind and a bit hard-headed, but his heart was alwaysin the right place. The makings of a hero you’d normally only read about, they wouldsay. By the time the two of you had been in the tenth month of yourrelationship, you knew that up close and personal. He barely changed from howhe’d been as a neighbor and friend, but he certainly upped the ante in terms ofromance and protectiveness. After all, Steve had a tendency to make his mostbasic self known upfront.

Meanwhile,you weren’t quite as clear but he didn’t mind one bit: He found you to be enjoyablethrough and through. He couldn’t blame you for coming off as bashful the firsttime you’d met, given the circumstances, but he was quite surprised to see youhad some snark in you after the second meeting. Throughout the time he’s knownyou up to the present day where the two of you are a thing, he’s only everknown you as a hard-working woman who knows herself and her surroundings wellenough to determine what she wants and will work to get it. And that’s justgranted you more and more respect from him.

(Of course,the both of you can’t help but appreciate the closer proximity of your bodiesthat this relationship of yours has allowed through the passage of time, butthat’s another story.)

What do their friends/family think oftheir relationship?: “So, you moved in on her before I could, huh?” Sameer teased. Of course, hemeant nothing by it really. He, like Steve’s other friends, were more amused bythe relationship than anything. After all, they hadn’t quite expected for theirbuddy to get with the chick they saw barely dressed their first day at theplace. But that’s not going to stop them from assuming positions in your lifewith Sameer reminding you that “he’s ready and waiting in the wings if Stevedisappoints as a boyfriend” and Charlie and Chief both making it clear to Stevethat if he fucks this up somehow, it won’t be pretty. (“We dinna raise ya li’ that,Stevie!” Charlie would warn.) But of them all, the one who takes the news mostseriously is Diana.

She’s his best friend, after all, and she’s more than ecstatic when hereveals that the two of you are dating (though she also lets you know that ifhe gives you any trouble, she’ll knock his block off). She enjoys slipping thetwo of you date ideas and is honestly your guys’ go-to when the other three aregetting out of hand. She wants to see her friend happy and will do whatever shecan in support of this relationship being happy and healthy for the both ofyou.

Your friends and family are, in a word, amazed. Specifically, at the factthat Steve is, compared to way too much of the human population, nearlyperfect. Sure, he has some flaws here and there, but then again he’s also veryhandsome, very kind, very sweet, very brave, very smart, very dedicated, andvery much into you. When your loved ones learn that he once served in themilitary, some begin to joke that you mean he was grown in a military lab as aperfect boyfriend/distraction rather than serving as a pilot.

All in all, everyone’s supportive of your union on both sides of the couple.

How do their personalities/skillscomplement or contrast with each other?: The two of you both have traits of yours wherein you’re comfortable in takingcharge of certain situations. Of course, Steve’s is the result of years ofmilitary service, but you ain’t no slouch either. You both seek to turn outideal results in whatever the two of you may do and, in that way, you’re a bitof a power couple. However, Steve is also a bit more grounded (ironic,considering his occupation). You’re definitely more of an idealist, given thatSteve’s time away has forced him to witness some pretty gruesome stuff orthings that have given way to more jaded thoughts. The result here is thatwhile you’re a comparative idealist, Steve is a cynic. He is capable of stillbelieving that there is good in the world, but he’s not going to act as thoughit’s anything short of complex.  

What is their favorite aspect of eachother?: You love how brave Steve is – and not just in the way that means he’ll kill thespiders. When you’d first been told stories about Steve’s antics as a pilot,you’d felt as though you were hearing a radio drama of sorts, hearing all typesof daring do and then glancing at the very subject of the story sipping aFrappuchino and taking a bite out of a cookie. Most starting to you, though,was the fact that usually they were things he was clearly terrified of doing.There were plenty of servicemen and women who would lie through their teethabout how they’d felt while on duty and even though Steve, with his boyishlooks, appeared to be one of them, he wasn’t nearly so much.

Sure he could pretend to be brave in a moment that required it but, if askedabout it later, he wasn’t going to put up the energy to go and lie about it.And you appreciated that about him: True courage was being scared but doingwhat was right anyway. That was whatmade him a hero to you, not spy missions and infiltrations.

Steve, in spite of his gusto and apparent inherency to take command, enjoysit when a woman knows herself and what she wants and will take the steps to getit. Headstrong may be a bit of a harder word to use, but that’s not far fromthe truth, actually. Maybe it’s a little weird, but he finds it kind of sexy tosee a light go off in your head, followed by you hunkering down on a project ortask with a specific goal of some kind set up in your mind. You both are sortof like a power couple in that way: You take charge in different ways and caneven be a guide for one another if need be. But watch out because …

Do either of them have pet peevesabout each other?: Interestingly, the both of you seem to find about the same thing to be oneanother’s pet peeve: The other’s sense of stubbornness. While Steve’sdedication towards whatever cause he sets his sights on can be endearing, itall too easily drifts into martyrdom/hero syndrome if left unchecked. Apparently,he’s always been this way since he was a child, always stepping in to defendthose weaker than him but upon reaching adulthood, it’s developed into a mix ofthat plus him sticking his nose where it needn’t even go. According to hisfriends, back when they were all on tour, Steve had performed way too manyoccurrences where he’d nearly become a victim of a suicide mission. Sincereverting back to civilian life, it’s not nearly as hectic. But still, youcan’t say you enjoyed starting off date night at a tavern only to end it in thehospital because Steve decided that warning your gawker wasn’t enough and heneeded to break his fist on the guy’s face in a parking lot fight.

While your form of stubbornness doesn’t take you towards the cusp of deathor physical injury nearly as much, it still manages to exhaust Steve after acertain point. Look: He loves thatyou know what you want and use hard work to get it. He even sometimes admiresyour idealism from time to time, given that it empowers you to a degree. Butsometimes you set your mind to situations that are far more complex than whatyou make them out to be and go head-on with a plan that just barely covers thesurface. He’s seen you work yourself to physical and mental exhaustion to getpromotions you knew deep down weren’t going to get passed to you because ofyour bumfuck employers, or to complete tasks that just weren’t going to be donemuch less to the degree you wanted them to be. In those moments, he tries very hard to reel you back in and console you andmake you rest so that you can think clearly about the circumstances. But thatdoesn’t always work, much less not earn him your ire. And sometimes, thoseattempts to console are him just barely off the cusp of hollering at you tocome back to earth and recognize what’s going on. It’s … not pretty to comeback to reality, let alone to your boyfriend being upset with you. Likewise,when you try to do the same to him after he’s put his ass on a line that didn’tcall for it, tensions can run just as high.

How would each reconcile with eachother after a fight?:Steve was raised by old-fashioned parents. That would probably explain whymost of his methods of reconciliation are more reminiscent of an older era. Hisfather taught him that “if Momma’s not happy, nobody’s happy”, and while you certainly aren’t a momma yet (God bewilling), the principle of the matter still apparently stood with you as hisgirlfriend. Probably because so much of his own social circle was fond of youto the point of being more than willing to throttle him whether he was theactual source of the argument or not. The first time the two of you had a bigargument, it was Diana who stepped in and had to push the two of you togetherto reach an understanding and apologies. All people involved (and watching fromthe sidelines) agreed that it wasn’t exactly an ideal method, so she had tojust trust that Steve would do a better job in the future. And indeed, he did.This is where that “All-American Boy” persona of his comes into play, utilizinga bouquet of your favorite flowers, coupled with chocolates flown in fromFrance (he has connections [read: Sameer]), and a night on the town in abrand-new outfit that he had to lurk on your Pinterest to get the basic feelof.

Of course, date night’s going to be all about you, so that means you get todecide what actually happens. You wanna go see that cheesy chick-flick? He’sdown for it. You wanna go to that upscale restaurant because “you can’t livelike you’re still only allowed to ration food, Steve”? He’ll make it happen.You wanna just stay home and cuddle and talk or have him massage your achingfeet? Hell to the yes. Heck, he may even try to cook you something if you’dlike to take that risk but be warned: This man spent just enough years with themilitary to be used to rationing and eating crummy food. Don’t mistaken hisability to make something out of very little for competence: The only one whocan do that well is Chief.

However, food is a great way to this man’s stomach and the best part? He’lleat nearly anything, given how that’s what he’s been trained to be able to do. Granted,he might’ve already been like that by nature. Anyway, you make note of thiswhen you try apologizing to him and it has served you well since. Of course,there’s more to it than just that but it’s a decent place to start. Steve issurprisingly in tune with his emotions and isn’t afraid of his feelings, sotalking things through really is a great way to go in the end. Be real withhim, but also be sensible about it. Don’t just bulrush into the conversation,that’s how you guys got into this mess in the first place. But also don’t betoo afraid to tell him how the situation makes you feel. Remind him that he’ssupposed to be back in civilian mode: He doesn’t have to keep jumping intoaction and throwing himself between you and a fist or something and be the heroof everything. Nobody’s expecting that of him, not anymore.

“You’ve done enough hero-ing,” you once said. “I’m already impressed. I justneed you to be my boyfriend ow. Okay?”

He understands. The apple pie a la mode was a pretty sweet closer anyway.

What would be their ideal vacationgetaway together?: His job’s taken him around the world, so it’d be easy to assume that he’d beindifferent to going anywhere. But considering that, for the most part, thosejourneys had mostly been work related, Steve’s never truly had the chance toconsume the realms to their fullest enjoyability. So actually, he has quite alist of places he wants to go, starting with a cross-country roadtrip. The oldboy floats on a cloud that romanticizes the idea of the two of you packing uphis car with snacks and clothes and junk and his guitar, and driving from onecoast to the other. You would only stop at the greasiest of food stops, sleepin either the car or a motel (whichever was cleanest), and just take in thesights and odd roadside stops from the Beagle B&B in Idaho to the EnchantedHighway of North Dakota and beyond. All the while singing along to the radioand driving each other nuts with car games and just talking and bonding throughthe shared experience of dwindling sanity.

Aaaahhh … Simply the life.

Of course, if you want something a bit more practical, there’s alwaysGreece. Diana had hyped up her homeland to such a degree that of course Steve’scuriosity was stoked. He really wants nothing more than to whisk you away on aromantic vacation to an island or a city by the sea and wander the streets,hand in hand, basking in the culture and touring museums and, of course, gorgingyourselves on the local cuisine. It’s a pretty stark contrast to the, ahem, homely ways of the cross-countryroadtrip but it nevertheless sounds beautiful just through him talking about it. Just keep your witsabout you come your next birthday, that’s all I’m saying.

Think of a new way (AU, differentsituation, etc.) they could have met for the first time:You bit a curse back as you shuffled through the snow. Frankly, this wasn’tan ideal situation: After a long shift, rather than settling in for a warm,cozy evening, you were headed to the house of somebody you didn’t know, bearinga gift for an unknown recipient.

“It’s just a small get-together with some friends of mine from when I waswith the military,” she explained a few days ago. “I think it’d be great if youcame!” God knows you did not really want to attend all that much. But God alsoknew that Diana was painfully hard to say no to once she flashed that smile ofhers. Plus, she was like a human lie detector: Any excuse you’d make wouldsurely come into light just by the sound of your voice, no matter how rehearsedthe line.

Though when you knocked on the door and were greeted by a red-faced manbellowing cheerfully in a thick Scottish accent, you began to wonder whichwould be worse: Possibly disappointing Diana by failing to be her plus-one, orenduring the loudness that was flowing from inside the house.

… Definitely disappointing Diana.

As you awkwardly stumbled through the threshold, your fate was sealed.Immediately, your senses were filled with the sounds of Christmas musicrumbling through some speakers and people both drunk and sober attempting tochat right over it. A small table with a red plastic cover hosted simple partysnacks of chips and pretzels and Christmas cookies and a box of pizza (of whichstood on three other boxes that you had a suspicion where empty at this point),a small cooler by his leg revealing cans of beer and soda like a treasurechest. It wasn’t the energy-restoring manna you’d been hoping for, but it wouldhave to do. But first, you had to take care of the present. It was a godsendfor you to have your sights land on Diana, whom was sitting on a small couchand chatting avidly with someone sitting beside her. You took no notice of them:You just needed to do one thing and one thing only.

“Diana,” you sighed as you neared her.

To your surprise, she actually managed to hear you. At the sound of her namebeing called, the brunette stopped talking to glance up at you, her facelighting with joy.

“You made it!” she exclaimed, pleased. You tried to offer a weak smile butcouldn’t find the ability to do so completely. You lifted the present into herview.

“So what do I, um – ?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she insisted. “We’ll be starting soon; you may as wellkeep it on your person. Anyway …” Your brows furrowed in the suddendiversion away from the original discussion topic. She posed a hand in anintroductory manner to her side and your eyes followed. They led to her speakingpartner, the one whom you had paid no mind to before. But after taking note ofhim, you sort of which that you had.

He was quite handsome, almost boyish in a sense. So much so, in fact, thathe actually managed to make his ugly Christmas sweater look decent – and youwere pretty sure he hot glued that rhinestone reindeer and snowman portraitinto place! While his eyes were an almost icy blue, though, they didn’t comeoff as cold at all: In fact, they were warm and clear and rather focused.Specifically on you. Shit, weren’t you supposed to say something?

“Oh, uh …” Smooth.

“(Y/N), this is Steve. We’re friends from way back, but he just now decided to move here and join therest of us ‘civilians,’” Diana teased, playfully smacking the man on hisshoulder. You’d known Diana long enough to know that the woman sometimes didn’tknow her own strength. The average person would’ve ached in pain after even themost lighthearted smack of her hand. And yet, to your innate shock and awe,Steve did not appear to be bothered whatsoever. In fact, he merely returned thesmile (no trace of pain-induced teeth-gritting, no hiss of pain)!

“I told you, I was busy!” Steveinsisted. His blue eyes glittered (and your heart might’ve fluttered). “Theywouldn’t just let me leave, I was – ”

“A valuable asset, I know, I know,” Diana groaned with a roll of her eyes. Shelanded them back on you. “Such the hotshot. But you should hear about thethings he did, it will ruin that entire image for you.”

You could feel your eyes widen at the prospect (or maybe it was becauseSteve was now smiling at you). Whatever the case, you weren’t going to take anychances. You were on a singular mission and you refused to be compromised, nomatter how pleasing to the eye youropponent’s distraction for you was. In fact, just to assure that you would notfall prey to the pretty boy, you gently requested that Diana follow you to asomewhat quieter corner. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but at least thereyou didn’t have to worry about Steve distracting you with his boyish goodlooks.

“What’s the matter?” Diana asked. Her brows furrowed with concern. “Ithought you’d like to hear some of his stories; you always seemed keen to hearmine …”

“Look,” you sighed, “I think I’m gonna make off with some of the snacks andthen do an Irish goodbye.”

“You just got here! Besides, you can’t do a white elephant with only fivepeople; you need at least six for a proper exchange.”

You bit your lip. She had a point but you couldn’t just give up. Not yet, atleast. “Yeah but I get the feeling that maybe I don’t … I dunno. These are your friends.” At this, Diana’s facerelaxed. A confident smile spread along her features.

“And they can be yours, too, just as easily,” she proclaimed. Somehow youdoubted that.

Mainly because, at that moment, you heard a Moroccan accent belt from thekitchen, “Who wants to hear me sing ‘Santa, Baby’?!”, followed by the sound ofglass shattering and the Scottish accent from before screeching about “the goodwhiskey going to waste.” At this, Diana’s smile flicked for only a moment.

“With … some moments of sobriety, of course,” she admitted. Your browsraised high, but your lids stooped low. You were the very essence ofunconvinced and Diana knew it. She clicked her tongue in thought. “How aboutthis,” she started. “If you stay for just oneof Steve’s stories, you can go.”

“Holding me hostage, Ms. Prince?” you snarked. Unfortunately, the effectwasn’t as promising as you’d pitifully hoped for. You should’ve known that noamount of sarcasm or lampshading could hold its own against Diana’s charming expressionof hope. As gentle as it was, it still packed a punch. Just enough for you torelease a sigh of defeat.

“Fine,” you rasped, your body even beginning to slouch in composure. “Irevoke my perfectly cunning plan in turn to keep you company – in a house whereyou already know everybody.”

“Oh, don’t be such a sourpouss,” Diana said in spite of her grin. It was atalent of hers to flash a type of smile that would instantly infect anotherinto returning it right back. Try as you might, you were not yet immune tothis. Dammit. So much for avoiding being compromised.

Well, you tried to think as thetwo of you began to return back to the couch, at least I’ll get to listen to a hot guy talk.

“Alrigh’, everybody!” Charlie bellowed. “Time for the whi’ elephant!”

Shit. You were doubly compromised.

++++++++++++

This probably wasn’t going to end too well. To be fair, white elephants wereless about gaining and more about the entertainment that surrounded the giving.But as you took in all those who were involved, you weren’t entirely sure ifthe gifts being given were going to be safe. The first hint of this had beenwhen the one called Sameer, a chatty and rather flirtatious fellow, opened thefirst box and pulled out a nightlight cover in the shape of a very famous leg. The leg lamp from A Christmas Story in all its tacky, tiny glory. Charlie from beforebeamed proudly, cueing it in that this was his contribution to the festivity. Diana,on the other hand, seemed to fit in just fine: She laughed right along witheveryone else when she unwrapped a misshapen package to reveal a bowie knife ofall things.

If you ever needed a blatant reminder that you were surrounded by veteranswho’d seen so much that very little fazed them, then that was it.

“Oh, wow,” she breathed, marveling the blade. She began to chuckle. “Chief,was this you?” The tallest of the bunch attempted to appear mysterious only fora smile to break and give himself away.

Great, you mentally groaned. I run a 50/50 chance at getting eithersomething from a Cracker Barrel sale, or an actual weapon that may or may nothave already been used on someone.

You apparently didn’t look unnerved by the prospect, however, given that oneof the partygoers then turned to you and told you it was your turn. You glancedat what gifts remained in the small pile and selected a package wrapped in thevague shape of a rectangle. It soothed you somewhat to find that whatever wasinside was quite plush, but then again you had no idea what could’ve beeninside.

Oh, god. Your mind began to raceas you peeled away at the wrapping paper. Whatif it’s something soft but contaminated? What if one of these guys snuck somethingout of a government lab and now they’re trying to hide it amongst civilians? Thathappened, right? That was a thing. Who’s the say it wasn’t – What if it was Steve, who had only just “becomea civilian” again?! This was a cover, this was a setup, this was –

“T-shirts?” Chief grunted. “Who brought that?” Indeed, there in your lapamongst the paper debris, was an eight-pack of plain Hanes t-shirts. The typethat was always on sale at Walmart. And yet, due to your overactiveimagination, it was magnificent. You were prepared to relax in the gift’smediocrity when a ruckus of laughter began to start up again.

“Oh. Oh, wow,” you heard a voicemurmur. You looked up. It was Steve, post-unraveling his own selection. Helifted his hand to reveal straps, dark red and dangling with lacy trim. Agarter belt. A wheeze followed by a sound barrier-shattering cackle eruptedfrom Charlie. The man bent over in laughter, and the others weren’t too farbehind either. Sameer and Chief had all but collapsed on top one another whileDiana just barely attempted to hide her own giggling behind her hand. Sheplaced her free one on Steve’s shoulder as if you console him, though shecouldn’t offer any words straight. Not for the moment, at least.

“Who brought that?!” cried Chiefonce more, his voice ablaze with amusement and bewilderment. While he never gotan answer amongst the chorus of laughter, he didn’t appear to be disappointed.If anything, he was just as amused as everybody else was. Everybody else, thatis, except for Steve and yourself. For his part, while he didn’t look upset oranything, Steve at the very least responded to the lingerie pieces with bafflement.At least, that was what you thought you were detecting. Of course, he had awobbling smile in place but what else could he do?

As for you, a sense of secondhand embarrassment was threatening to bubble upto the surface. You weren’t certain as to why, given that Steve himself didn’tappear particularly troubled. You didn’t even know the guy; pretty or not, whyshould you feel intense enough to conjure up even pity? Perhaps it was becauseyou were more tenderhearted than you enjoyed letting in on. Or perhaps it hadto do with the fact that, as you observed even longer, you noticed his cheekspinken. Or maybe you just wanted the game to move on already. Whatever thecase, it wasn’t long before something within you snapped.

“Trade you,” you blurted. The laughing trickled into silence as Diana,Chief, Charlie, and Sameer watched you hold out the pack of t-shirts. Steveblinked rapidly.

“Sorry?” he coughed.

“I said I would trade you,” you repeated. You nudged the pack even closer tohim, praying that he would take the hint and end this already. But he didn’t;at least, not immediately. He seemed to be stuck on a buffering mode, in fact,with the only things moving being his eyes… . Of which seemed to drift downon you, down and down to meet your legs –

“Naughty, naughty, Steven!” Sameer chided with a hiccup. “When a young ladyoffers to relieve you of a problem, you don’t just gawk!” Immediately Stevetensed, eyes snapping back up to your face.

“Shut up, Sam,” he hissed. He madequick work of the swap but that didn’t seem to do much for the taunts aimed athim by his friends. Well, most of them. Because while Sameer, Chief, and Charliebecame sidetrack with calling Steve “a feisty young man” and having “needing tolearn how to be a gentleman”, Diana remained focused on you. She had a look inher eye, a mischievous glint she only seemed to have whenever she was connectingthings. Plotting. You knew that look all too well at this point: You were, mostoften, the victim of these schemes. As much as you wanted to snap at her to justfess up to you whatever she was planning, you were just too exhausted for this.You glanced down at your newly acquired gift and wondered what possessed you totake them on so boldly, much less in front of four men.

You sincerely hoped that Diana’s expectation that you become friends withthe group wasn’t set in stone because after this, you knew you were going to beknown as Garter Belt Girl. And, inevitably, at least one of them was going toimagine whether or not you had even worn them.

Steve, by the looks of it. Thethought made your heart flicker, remembering the way he’d been right beforeswapping your gifts. You didn’t stop your eyes from trailing up in spite ofwhat your innermost worries had screamed. You saw blue. And this time, theywere staring right back at you. Against your better judgement (and throbbingheart), you didn’t look away immediately.

+++++++++++++

Surviving the white elephant gift exchange had been about as lively assurviving an encounter with an actual white elephant. It had taken longer thanwhat such a small group should have, given the constant drunken laugh breaksand a small, playful argument between Sameer and Charlie about whether a large,sparkling glitter bathbomb was within the price range. However, you had done yourpart: You had survived the ordeal and gotten a nice garter belt out of it, theuse of which you were still questioning. And now it was time to take your tiredbutt home –

“Uh-uh,” Diana hummed. You felt her hand land on your shoulder just as youcame a few steps short of the front door. Crud. So much for the Irish goodbyeyou’d been hoping to use. “You still have one thing left.”

You probably looked like a toddler as you poutily turned around to face her.

“Diana – ” you started.

“Just trust me,” Diana insisted. She leaned in close to your ear, “I have agood feeling about this.” You wanted to doubt that. But as she led you back tothe couch and gently ushered you down, you found yourself unable to think specificallyof that: All you could think about was the man also seated on the furniture. Youwere quite surprised to find that Steve was still awake; Charlie had passed outnot too long ago, Sameer was following suit, and judging by the soft clatteringin the kitchen, it was safe to assume that Chief was taking it upon himself totidy up a bit. But Steve? Awake and alert. And, judging by the hint of smirk onhis lips, quite pleased to have you join him.

“Thanks for saving my ass back there,” he greeted. You gulped and nodded.

“N-no problem.” You couldn’t see her from your position but if you could,you would have seen the expression of accomplishment present on Diana’s face.

“Nah, really, I know these guys: If I’d kept them, I’d never hear the end ofit,” insisted Steve. To that, you could only shrug.

“I dunno about that … I’ve only known these guys since I got here, and Iget the feeling they’ll still neverlet you hear the end of it.” You paused. “Provided they even remember thisafter the hangover.” His response was a small yet genuine-sounding chuckle.

“You’re catching on quick,” the brunet declared. “But seriously, I owe youone. And, according to Diana” – he nodded at her – “it has to be the TransylvaniaIncident. That way you can have an actual laugh at me with no expense.”

Frankly, this normally wasn’t an ideal situation: After a long shift, ratherthan settling in for a warm, cozy evening, you had headed to the house ofsomebody you still didn’t entirely know and had become the recipient of asomewhat intimate gift. And yet, as you took in the features of this Steve guy,you didn’t mind. Not as much. And you told him that with a simple nod of agreement.

“Great!” Steve exclaimed. “So some keywords here are ‘paint grenades’, ‘popsiclesticks’, and ‘bee allergies’ – ”

+++++++++++

You never noticed when Diana left the two of you to carry on the storyexchange. In fact, you’d become so engrossed in story after story – from Steveand from yourself – that you didn’t even seem to notice that it was pastmidnight until you happened to glance at your phone. A flustered amount ofapologies and goodbyes and “We should do this again sometime” were exchangedbefore you both went your separate ways. And although a piece of hope dwelledwithin you that such a suggestion would get carried out in the near future, youweren’t going to cling to it.

A mere two days later, you had a brunch date with Diana. It was somethingthe two of you did often enough, so you had no reason to suspect anything outof the ordinary – which was why you were caught off guard to find one Steve R.Trevor present at a table set for two.

“Lemme guess,” he murmured, pulling out his phone, “she called you forbrunch, then told you she’d be late but to order without her?”

“… I’m sorry, what?” youquestioned before scrambling to retrieve your own phone. Sure enough, a messageilluminated the screen:

Lookslike I’ll be late. Be a dear and enjoy yourself 😉

It took everything in you not to heave a sigh of defeat. Well, you’d alreadycome out all this way. And though you’d never admit it to her face, this wasn’ta compromise you minded. Not that you needed to ever confess that to her: Thatlady was a human lie detector for one thing; and for another, this was exactlywhat she’d intended from the start.

[rt-reader-inserts]

Valentine

Pairing: Trevor Collins x Reader

Word Count: 2,391

Description: You find yourself alone on Valentine’s Day, working after hours on editing with nothing better to do. That is, until a certain someone walks in. (This was a commission for @trevc0, thank you so much!!)

Warnings: None!

It is… somewhat disheartening to see all your coworkers leaving the office, either with their loved one, with gifts from/for a loved one, or with plans to see their loved one when they get home. Meanwhile, you’re just staying after to catch up on some editing, seeing as you had the time for it. No partner means no plans so, it’s not like you have anything better to do. Work’s better than staying in, watching netflix, and thinking about how nice it’d be to be with someone tonight.

That doesn’t stop those thoughts from lingering in your subconscious.

With a deep breath, you try to keep you entire focus on your work. Balancing the audio levels of six microphones, finding the best footage to switch to at different points in the video, it’s at least an easy thing to get fully absorbed in.

So it startles you when you feel a tap on your shoulder, and you look up to see Trevor standing behind your chair, shooting you a smile as you take your headphones off. “Hey, (y/n), is there, uh, a reason you’re still here? Office hours ended like, ehh two hours ago.” You check your phone to see that it is, in fact, seven o’clock, and it surprises you how fast the time went by. (It’s not surprising, however, when you see your only notifications are from Twitter and Tumblr.)

“I just stopped by to grab my jacket, wound up leaving it since the weather was so nice, and then I saw the light was on and… there you were, editin’ away.”

You laugh under your breath, shaking your head slightly before replying, “I dunno, figured I could get some work done since I have no plans; plus, you dorks aren’t here to interrupt with your ‘shenanigans’ so…” You shoot him a grin, and he rolls his eyes.

“Wow, you walk in on flinchless kickie doo one time—”

“It hit me right in the face, Trevor; and I had a fuckin bounce house dropped on me one time?”

“ —alright well, yeah, but it’s not like that really interrupted anything. Just… delayed things a bit.” He fires back, crossing his arms with a slightly guilty expression.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night,” you tease, sitting back in your chair as you look up at him. “Is there a specific reason for tonight’s interruption? Outside of curiosity, of course.”

“Well, uh, since you don’t have plans or anything,” he rubs the back of his neck, gaze darting over to a random spot in the room before looking back at you, “would you, like, wanna go get dinner?”

As if to answer his question, your stomach rumbles, and you both laugh. “Yeah man, I’m absolutely down for dinner.” It doesn’t occur to you until after you’ve already answered the question, but you realize you have no idea what the connotations surrounding dinner are.

Well, too late now.

He shoots you another smile, moving to grab his jacket from the couch. “Better save your work then, cuz I’m a hungry boy,” you can’t help but snort at that. You’re a dork, that’s what you are. “And, judging by the whale noises, I’m guessing you’re in the same boat.”

“You know I’m the hungriest boy around,” you shoot back, spinning around in your chair and quickly saving what you have. “Honestly, I would devour the entire McDonald’s menu right now, and I don’t even like McDonald’s.”

“Dammit, there goes my plan for good ol’ MickeyD’s.”

With a slight eye roll, you sit and wait for your computer to shut down, placing your headphones on your desk.

You can’t help but let out a surprised gasp, almost squeal, when your chair suddenly begins moving backwards. “Let’s get movin’, kid,” Trevor says as he starts rolling you toward the door, unable to keep from chuckling at his own dumb antics.

With slight difficulty, you jump out of the moving chair, quickly stepping to the side and laughing as he stumbles through his momentum. “Hang on, dude, I can’t leave my bag behind,” you tell him as you walk back to your desk, “and I can walk on my own, thanks.”

“Well, if you insist,” he retorts, sliding your chair back to your desk as you pick up your bag. Tossing your phone inside, you turn back to him, and he smiles. “Ready to roll?”

“If by roll you mean walk, and not take my chair out in the parking lot, then yeah, let’s roll.”

“I mean, there aren’t any cameras around, so I think we can leave the safety violations at the office tonight,” he replies, walking backward toward the door as he waits for you to follow.

With a combination of a laugh and an exasperated sigh, you walk after him, hitting the switch on your way out.

The two of you wind up at a hole-in-the-wall Italian place, one that your coworkers have been raving about (and that was thankfully small enough to not be completely booked on Valentine’s Day). You’d felt somewhat embarrassed when you’d had to admit to Trevor that Steffie was normally your ride home, and you’d been planning on taking a Lyft home tonight. Of course he assured you that driving you home was no problem, and that it made things easier anyways, not having to figure out what to do with two cars.

He had a point, but that doesn’t stop you from being anxious about inconveniencing him.

However, the weird conversation you find yourself in does more than enough to distract you from that anxiety.

“Wait, wait, so hang on,” Trevor speaks through suppressed laughter, “you’re telling me— that you were afraid of swimming pools until you were nine??”

“Listen, it was a valid fear!” you defend yourself, crossing your arms in a slightly exaggerated manner. “I mean, at least at the time. Of course I knew that sharks probably didn’t swim in public swimming pools, but was I one hundred percent sure? Nope, and I wasn’t about to take that chance.”

“Had to wait until you were at least ten for that.”

“Now you’re getting it,” you shoot back with a grin, which he cheekily returns.

You’d been at the restaurant for only twenty minutes, when suddenly the waiter sets down the appetizer in front of you; it looks nothing short of amazing. Of course, neither of you are surprised, suggestions from the podcast crew rarely let anyone down. In all honesty, it’s really just the price makes the quality astonishing.

“Jesus christ, I could eat that entire plate in two seconds flat,” Trevor absentmindedly mumbles, and you’re drawn back to the present, quickly grabbing a ravioli as you narrow your eyes at him.

“You better fuckin’ not.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, fork still between his fingers. “Hey, I said I could, not that I will. You think I’m gonna pull something like that when you have a fork and knife at hand?”

“I mean, we have the same silverware, you could technically defend yourself, if it came to that.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning back against the booth, “Please, I was born to fence with silverware. I would crush you, easy.” He can only keep up his cocky demeanor for another small moment before cracking, shooting you a grin.

“Oh, is that so?” you raise an eyebrow before sinking your fork into the toasted ravioli on your plate, twirling it around as you hold it up. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

You take a bite of the ravioli, and he’s quick to retort, “Are you challenging me to a duel? In the middle of this refined establishment?” His voice is practically dripping with faux shock and horror, and you can’t help but let out a small laugh.

“I’m just saying, you gotta be able to put your money where your mouth is, Collins.”

He smiles, grabbing a ravioli for himself as he replies, “Well, maybe sometime when we aren’t surrounded by innocent civilians, I’ll prove my fork dueling skills.” After a quick bite, he adds, “Besides, I don’t think that old lady would be too thrilled about it, our laughing was offensive enough.”

You glance over to where he subtly gestured with his fork, and see a very old couple. It’s almost as if the woman can sense you looking, because she immediately turns and meets your gaze, with a glare that you think could probably kill you. You return your eyes to Trevor, trying to hold back a laugh as you say, “Holy shit, yeah, no, let’s hold off on this duel for now.” He doesn’t have time to respond before you add, “She also definitely caught me staring so… pretty sure I’m on her shit list now.”

Trevor locks eyes with you, deadly serious as he tells you, “You better watch out, pretty sure that red wine she’s drinking isn’t actually wine.”

You mimic his demeanor as you lean in closer, whispering, “Can you see her reflection on any of the silverware? Is there any color in her cheeks, like, at all?” He quickly glances over, and shakes his head. “Well, fuck.”

“Listen, you’re cool and all, but if you’ve got a vampire after you, you might have to find your own way home tonight.”

Your eyes are still locked as you stay quiet for a moment, the two of you almost daring each other to break the stare, but then the corner of Trevor’s mouth quirks. You can’t keep from laughing at that point, and neither can he, neither of you paying any mind to the dirty look the same woman throws your way.

“If we get kicked out of here before my pasta shows up, I’m blaming you.”

Trevor laughs under his breath, grabbing another ravioli as he replies, “I mean, you’re the one staring at harmless old ladies.”

“You told me to! And I’m not sure how harmless she’ll be when she catches me in an alley, ready to snap my neck; did you see the look she gave me?” You try your best to keep your voice accusatory, but the smile on your face immediately betrays you. God, how could you not smile when this man was smiling right back?

“Eh, you’re a tough kid, you’ll manage.”

You laugh as you chew your next bite, swallowing before adding, “Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

“Oh, anytime.”

You’re not sure how someone’s smile can look so smug and so sincere in the same moment.

It’s surprising how easily the conversation flowed between the two of you at dinner. Sure, you talked to each other at the office, got on fairly well, but that was usually with other people around. You never expected to spend so much one-on-one time with someone and not fall into an awkward silence at some point.

And yet, here you are, in the passenger seat of Trevor’s car as he drives you home, the silence between the two of you something comfortable, safe. He hums along to whatever Spotify playlist he has going, tapping the steering wheel, and you watch the Austin city streets go by in a blur of lights and nightlife.

“I had no clue you were in the same neighborhood as me,” you break the silence, “but I’m glad you don’t have to go too far out of your way to get my dumb ass home.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have minded going out of my way to get your dumb ass home,” he fires back, shooting you a grin. You roll your eyes with a laugh, and he adds, “For real though, don’t sweat it; Lyft fare is bullshit, and I’m more than happy to help.”

You smile over at him as you reply, “Well, thank you.”

He pulls his car into the one available spot outside your townhouse, meaning one of your roommates is out for the night, and he parallel parks with an ease you can’t fathom. As he puts the car in park, you unbuckle your seatbelt, turning towards him to say, “Thanks for the ride, and for the company. I definitely had a way better time than I thought I would tonight, working after office hours on Valentine’s Day.”

“Hey, anytime!” he says as he opens his door, and you get out of the car as well. “I had fun laughing at old ladies and disturbing the peace with you.”

“I mean, the latter is Achievement Hunter’s specialty, isn’t it?”

“Gotta represent the brand,” he adds as the two of you make your way to your door, both exchanging dumb smiles.

“So, can I ask a dumb question?” you ask, standing in front of your door, shifting on your feet slightly.

“Hit me with it.”

You know you’ll probably regret asking, but you’ll also regret not asking so, might as well. “Would you wanna, um, go out again?” Before he can even respond, you’re quick to add, “I understand if this like, wasn’t a thing, though; I just, figured I’d ask.”

He laughs under his breath, smiling down at you. “This definitely was a thing, yeah. I would’ve asked you out legitimately weeks ago, but I kept second guessing myself; and when I saw you in the office tonight, I finally kicked my own ass and said something, though uh… clearly not well.”

“Hey, we got there eventually, and I had a great time so, I’d say you did well enough.”

Your smile is incredibly teasing, and honestly, he looks like he wants to kiss you right there. But, instead, he settles for kissing your forehead, and you can’t fight the blush that rises to your cheeks. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early,” you reply, unlocking your front door, “and I’m taking that as a yes, you do wanna go out again?”

“You’re a nerd.”

You stick your tongue out at him as he smiles, kissing your cheek before continuing, “But yes, that’s one hundred percent a yes.”

You’re practically beaming as you say, “See you tomorrow, Collins.”

“Bright and early,” he grins before walking back to his car, stopping before he opens the door. “Goodnight, (y/n).”

As you say goodbye and close the door behind you, you can’t keep from giggling to yourself, still blushing. Maybe, maybe Valentine’s Day was kind of okay.

If it was with him, anyways.

[rejectedusername-trashfics]

New Life With the Mad King- Part 2

Summary: Mad King goes to the bar with his younger brother, Rimmy Tim, in their civilian identities. A drunken MK gets intimate with a man who looks like his guilty crush. Turns out the man actually was his crush, and their actions lead to unforeseen consequences. Perhaps the consequences will be what permanently defeats the Mad King.

Part: 2 of ?

Word Count: 2,433

Previous / Next

Life went on for Vav as though nothing happened. As the weeks went by though, Gavin felt like he was starting to come down with something. Ten or so weeks after that night, X-Ray and Vav were doing their nightly patrols when they discovered a robbery going down on the main street of town. X-Ray ran up to the robber, a man twice as large as a normal man, while Vav slowly caught up.

“Freeze!” X-Ray yelled as he reached the thief. “You’re no match for X-Ray and…” he turned to see that Vav had not caught up to him yet.

The giant man laughed manically. “X-Ray and who?” the thief asked, sounding like two people were talking.

X-Ray turned around. “Vav, hurry up!” he shouted. Vav rolled his eyes and sighed. He sprinted to X-Ray and was out of breath when he finally caught up with him. “Dude, what the hell!?! You’re supposed to shoot slow motion, not live in slow motion!”

Vav sighed and rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m so bloody sor-RY that I don’t have as much energy to fight right now!” Vav replied with a scowl.

The thief laughed. “We can use that to our advantage. We knew that you were no match for Alfreyco!” he said as he began running at Vav.

“Vav! NOW!” X-Ray shouted. Vav nodded and shot his slow-motion at Alfreyco. The thief began running in slow motion at Vav. “Great. Now let me just melt their shoes with…” Suddenly, Vav began to gag. He lifted his hands to cover his mouth, stopping the slow motion. Alfreyco got back to regular motion and ran up to Vav. They grabbed Vav and lifted him in the air. “Shit, Vav!” X-Ray called out in alarm.

Alfreyco laughed manically again. “Any last words?” they taunted. Vav gagged a few more times before he finally threw up on the thief. The thief turned into a glowing light and Alfreyco separated into two men. “Ew, this is gross!” one of the men said.

“Don’t be a bitch about it, Alfredo!” the other man responded.

“Trevor, we just got vomited on! That can’t be sanitary!” Alfredo yelled.

“You’re a criminal! Who cares about sanitation!” Trevor yelled back.

X-Ray couldn’t take much more of their arguing, and lasered their feet to the ground. The cops arrived soon after to collect the two thieves. X-Ray looked around to try and find Vav and found that he was laying next to a pool of his own vomit. He stomped over to Vav. “What the fuck was that?!” he demanded.

“A bloody embarrassment is what it was,” Vav replied with a groan.

“What the hell been up with you, lately?! You’ve been sleepy, moody, peeing 24/7, complaining about chest and back pain…”

“I already freakin’ told you I’m sick with something and I need to see a bloody doctor!”

X-Ray scoffed. “You don’t need to see a doctor. I can x-ray you to figure out what the problem is,” he said as he began to X-ray Vav.

“X-raying me is not going to diagnose…”

X-Ray finished x-raying Vav and sighed. “Welp, the x-ray in here is busted. We gotta go to Hilda to fix it,” he said with a sigh.

“Alright, you go ahead. Just leave me here to die,” Vav said as he closed his eyes.

“No, asshole, you’re coming, too.”

Vav groaned and got up. They made it back to Hilda’s makeshift lab in X-Ray’s basement. “All I’m saying is that putting siracha in miso soup would make it spicy and really good!” Vav said as he walked in.

“Vav, that’s disgusting.” X-Ray replied with a sigh.

Hilda and ORF turned away from their work to acknowledge that they came in.  “Greetings! How are you functioning today?” ORF greeted.

Vav sighed. “Not very well.”

“Why? Did you not get the bad guy or whatever?” Hilda asked.

“Oh, we got the guy. Turns out he was two guys combined into one,” X-Ray answered.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“Vav didn’t rush into save the day, couldn’t keep the guy slow-moed, and when the guy caught up to him, he threw up on him.” Vav looked away and rubbed his arm, sheepishly.

“Sounds like you need to go to the doctor, Vav.”

“I know…” Vav replied with a sigh.

“Well, I tried to x-ray him to figure out what the problem is, but the x-ray feature is broken,” X-Ray explained.

“X-raying him isn’t going to figure out his sickness,” Hilda said as she rolled her eyes.

“Alright fine. But anyway, the x-ray is broken because for some reason it made strobe lights appear in his stomach.”

“Strobe lights…?” Vav asked hesitantly.

Hilda sighed and held her hand out for the glasses. X-Ray handed her the glasses. She put them on and looked at X-Ray. “Glasses appear to be functioning properly,” ORF announced.

“No, but look at Vav!” X-Ray exclaimed.

Hilda x-rayed Vav. “Yeah, that is way too small to be considered a strobe light…”

Vav’s thought about any possible sickness he may have that would lead to a strobe light. Maybe he had gotten something from his unprotected night that he had been trying to forget about. he had gotten himself tested for STIs afterwards and they confirmed that he was still clean. Then it dawned on him what his sickness might be. He knew he missed HRT about three months ago, and he had had unprotected sex with him arch-nemesis.

“Oh, bollocks,” Vav murmured quietly.

“Vav?” X-Ray asked.

“Let’s just forget about this, yah? I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow and figure out what all this sickness nonsense is, yah?” he replied quickly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, a blinking light in your abdomen is pretty concerning,” Hilda said.

“Nope, no, neither of you worry about it. I’ll take care of it in the morning!” Vav nervously exclaimed.

“Okay…” X-Ray said slowly. Vav sighed. He really hoped it wasn’t what he feared.

The next morning, Vav covered up his superhero identity for the morning and went to a walk-in clinic as Gavin. Once his appointment started, the doctor asked him about the symptoms of his illness were. Gavin described daily vomiting, sudden sleepiness, sorer than usual under his binder, random crankiness, and having to pee all of the time. The doctor asked for a urine sample and Gavin was more than happy to relieve his bladder at the moment. After the doctor read his results from the urine sample, he requested a blood sample then said Gavin could wait in the waiting room. Gavin found this very disconcerting.

After about a half an hour, the doctor called Gavin again. Gavin gulped as he went back into the examination room. He sat down on the examination table and twiddled his thumbs.

“I got surprising result back from the urine test and the results from the blood test only confirmed them. So, I’ve got to ask, are you sexually active?” the doctor started.

Gavin gulped again. He could hope that the results from his STI testing had originally been wrong, but he expected the worst. “I’m not at the moment,” he finally answered.

“When was the last time you were sexually active?”

Gavin wracked his brain for information he had been trying to forget. “Maybe two, two and a half months ago?”

“Well, we’d need an ultrasound for better confirmation, but it seems as though you are in the early stages of pregnancy,” The doctor finish. Gavin dropped his head in his hands. He was pregnant. And to make matters worse, the child was the Mad Kings. “We could give you an ultrasound to determine how far along you are.” Gavin gave a deep sigh. “Or, we could discuss options if you don’t want to keep this child.”

“I… I don’t know…”

“You could always consult the father of the child to discuss your options.”

Gavin looked up. He knew he didn’t necessarily was to give rid of the kid, but he didn’t want to be a single parent either. He had to tell the Mad King that he was pregnant. He had no idea how he’d react to that. “I… think I will talk to the dad about it…”

“Alright. Would you like an ultrasound?”

“Yeah…”

The doctor gave Gavin an ultrasound. While the gel for the ultrasound was cold, Gavin was too afraid of what he’d have to do next to notice. It was determined that Gavin was ten, going on eleven, weeks pregnant. The doctor printed a copy of the ultrasound and gave it to him to keep. After the appointment was over Gavin took a taxi over to Monarch Labs.

When he got to the labs, he went into the public restroom and changed out of his civilian clothes. As Vav walked over to the receptionist in the lobby. “Excuse me miss?’ he asked to get the receptionist’s attention. She turned towards him. “I’d like to speak with the Mad King. I’m not here to fight, I just need to talk to him. You could tell him that Vav is here to offer his unconditional surrender if that will get him to know that I’m not here to fight.” The receptionist nodded and began paging the Mad King.

Gavin walked over to the waiting area and sat down. After about ten minutes, someone walked into Monarch Labs with a meatball sub for lunch. When the smell of the sandwich hit Gavin’s nose, he immediately got nauseous. He jumped up and ran over to the nearest garbage can.

As he was throwing up, Mad King entered the lobby. “So, I hear that X-Ray and Vav are unconditionally surrendering. I don’t know what the occasion was but…” Mad King paused to look around the room, but he couldn’t spot the hero. “Where is he?” he asked. the receptionist pointed to the garbage can Gavin was throwing up in.  He marched right over and waited for Gavin to finish.

When he was finished, he leaned up and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “So, that was the vom of the day…” he said to himself.

“So, I hear that X-Ray and Vav are unconditionally surrendering,” Mad King began, again. Gavin turned around to face Mad King. “I don’t know what the occasion was but…”

“No, no! You bloody dolt!” Gavin interrupted. “X-Ray’s not surrendering, It’s just me. And I’m not really surrendering. It’s just…” he paused and sighed. “I got some news this morning and I really think you should know it…”

“What new could you have gotten that makes you think you should fake your surrender just to get me to listen?!”

“It’s… rather personal. Can we go in private to discuss it?”

Mad King scoffed. “It can’t be that personal.”

Gavin sighed and shoved his hand in his over-undies to grab the ultrasound. “Here!” he shouted as he shoved it into Mad King’s hands.

Mad King looked at the piece of paper, puzzled. He knew it was an ultrasound, but he wasn’t sure what it was of. “What am I looking at.”

Gavin “It’s an ultrasound, you dunce!”

“No, I know that. But what is it an ultrasound of?”

“It’s an ultrasound of my uterus because…” Gavin paused and took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. “I’m pregnant.”

Mad King began to chuckle. “You’re in a delicate state, and you could have gone to the father of your child for care. But instead, you surrender yourself to me. How foolish.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Well, considering you’re the first and only man I’ve shagged. You ARE the flipping father!” he exclaimed.

This caused Mad King’s brain to short circuit. “… What…?”

“Take a damn paternity test for all I bleeding care! You knocked me up and you need to be held accountable!”

“I… you know what? Fine, we will do a paternity test to prove I’m not the father!”

“FINE!” Gavin shouted.

“COME WITH ME TO THE LAB RIGHT NOW! I’LL PROVE I’M NOT THE FATHER AND PUT YOU IN CAPTIVITY!” Mad King yelled.

“PERFECT!”

Mad King grunted and led Gavin up to the lab so they could do the test. Mad King said he’d need a blood sample from Gavin and Gavin willingly gave it. He then swabbed the inside of his cheek to get his DNA. They put both DNA samples in the computer to see who the father of Gavin’s child is. The computer began computing the results.

“When this says I’m not the father of your child, you’re going straight into a holding cell.” Mad King said with a growl.

Gavin scoffed. “Bloody counting on it. To bad it’s gonna say you ARE the father.”

Mad King growled again in response.  After a few minutes, the computer dinged with the results. “SEE?!” he shouted.

Gavin looked at the results and smirked. “If you’re so sure you’re not the father, why don’t you look at the results.”

Ryan grit his teeth and turned to look at the results. His jaw dropped in shock to learn that he was, in fact, the father of Gavin’s child. When he got to get intimate with his guilty crush, he never imagined doing this to him. He never wanted to be cruel to him in this way, even if he was his arch-nemesis. And he never imagined he’d ever be a parent, but no he was going to be thrust into parenthood. He had no idea how he should go about this. “…I…”

“So, whatcha gonna do then, hun?” Gavin taunted.

“I…”

“Gonna make me get rid of it?”

“…I,”

“Put me in a hibernation chamber while I grow your heir?”

“…I…I,”

“I’m all ears, luv.”

“I…” Mad King paused and sighed. The fate of this child shouldn’t be his decision to make, it should be Gavin’s. “It’s your body. You choose what happens to it.”

“Perfect. Then we keep it and you’re helping me raise it. And the kid will be a good one, got it?”

“Only if you’re making me do this, we do this as Ryan and Gavin, not Mad King and Vav.”

“Fine.”

Ryan rubbed his face and sighed. “Let’s go back to my penthouse. You can stay in the guest room for the time being if you desire. I wish to discuss things further, later. I need a diet coke.”

“Top,”

Ryan nodded and began to walk out of the lab. Gavin followed closely behind. The two of them had no idea what this baby would mean for them. but if they were going to do this, they had to take it one step at a time.

[theamazingcaptdeadpool]

That One Time Shit Went From Bad To Worse

Summary: The past downright sucks when it catches up.  Pairing: Silverpool (Wade Wilson x Pietro Maximoff)  Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of torture, mentions of abuse, narrowminded shithead army fuck, injuries, this might turn into a RP thing which does not ever have to be matched in length.  Word Count: 1648

Wade was heading home – he’d spent the evening at Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children. It had (eventually) been a fun night, though it took him some time to get back into his game, mainly because he missed Pietro. He’d shot some pool, thrown knives (instead of darts) and won, arm wrestled some bikers, shared some of his latest adventures and mishaps – and more importantly, caught up with Weasel. As he said bye to the guys at the door everyone seemed to be in good spirits, telling him not to forget them, come back soon, bring the Silvery guy. It made him smile; how easy it was to jump back into his old lifestyle.

Wade cut through a back alley. It was faster, besides, he wasn’t afraid that anyone would jump him. I’m friggin Deadpool after all. I can hold my own. It was dark, he could hardly see the contours of the trash bins and flattened cardboard boxes that told tales of hobos and junkies. They’d be off the street at night, though. Dark shadows moved between them. Rats or cats most likely. The street lights were like small glowing dots far up ahead – it gave him the whole “light at the end of your tunnel” feeling – though he was pretty sure there was no light at the end of his. Hell, I won’t even get to do the tunnel. I can’t die. He huffed to himself.

Somewhere someone hummed an all too familiar tune. At first he thought it came from one of the apartments above him. It floated in and out of the noises of the city, but grew more solid as he walked forward. It’s tones were in minor, sad but oddly comforting. How they moved up and down felt like being rocked back and forth, safe in someone’s embrace. Maybe because that’s what he tied to them. The melody drew him to a place he thought he’d left behind ages ago. Wade froze and listened. The hum broke into song with actual words – and it became painfully evident that it wasn’t performed by the one he expected to hear it from. Even he noticed that it was accented; not native Ukrainian. The tiny hope he had that Pietro had sought him out was ripped away from him.

“That does not belong to you,” Wade spoke to the street lights up ahead, as he glanced around. He couldn’t actually see anyone… Could he? “No? I don’t think it’s yours either.” the voice was raspy, as if they’ve had too much whiskey, which wasn’t too far from the truth. He instantly recognised the owner of it. “You’re still alive, eh? I thought you drowned yourself in a barrel of Jack.” Wade muttered, still trying to figure out where he was hidden. “Why don’t you come out and play. Did you bring your tasers this time? I love that electric tingle.” Wade went for his gun and realised far too late that he wasn’t carrying. Shit. Well, the throwing knives would have to do. Wade reached under his jacket – finding that most of them had been left in the target back at the bar. Fuck. That’s unfortunate. Fists it is, then. Ladies and gents. I give you Lieutenant Trevor Blake. A tall guy. Buzz cut. Grey eyes – to match his soul. Broad shoulders and slim waist; used to lift a lot. Intimidating. The kind of man you’re silent around. That instils fear and/or respect in people. Old Trev was a friend of my father’s. They served together. Were practically bros. When I enlisted - he was the guy to make sure I got kicked down. Not that I didn’t deserve it, but that fucker seemed to enjoy taking the crap out of me as much as my father had. Maybe he held me responsible for his death… Hell do I care. Shortly after I left the military to start my mercenary business, he got kicked out too. Unruly conduct with the soldiers, they said. Drunk at the job, too. Dealing with shit from the pasts. Screams of victims, gunshot echoes. He got what he deserved. If he wasn’t such a miserable fuck a veteran, I would have taken him out myself. For free. I thought he died. How wrong was I? After I signed up for Weapons-X he turned up like the fucking pest he is. Stryker must have pulled him clean out of AA, given him the green suit and patched the stars back on him. They probably share the same fascist mind set. I don’t want to talk to him long enough to find out. Our very last encounter had him trying to get me to pass out and giving me verbal hell at the same time – and I was mouthing off. It turned ugly. Let’s say he hit a nerve, I broke free from my restraints. Beat him raw and bloody. Got knocked out of course. Punished. I never saw him again. My guess is his pride took a hit for the worse… Or maybe I actually got him hospitalised. At least I made sure no one else would suffer him.  

Trevor chuckled darkly as he appeared from the darkness, nothing more than a silhouette in front of him. A fucking ghost from his past. He hummed some of the tune to taunt him more before he spoke; “It was a cute song you homos shared back there.” Wade’s jaw clenched. “Yeah? Are you jealous Trev? Too bad I never was into the old abusive shits huh?”   “And I never was into the scarred freaks. How you holdin’ up, boy?” The last word was condescending. It took all of Wade’s effort not to cringe, not to remember all those times he’d said it like that – with the physical upper hand. “Far better than you, lieutenant mc-drunk face.” Wade pulled out one of his knives. The streetlights betrayed him – and it glittered in the darkness. “I see your insults haven’t gotten any better.” Trevor pressed. “Tell me – what are you doing with that mutant, huh? If your father knew…” “How was it you worded it? Homo? Yeah. I’m totally gay for that guy.” Which wasn’t a lie. His chest swelled with love whenever he talked of Pietro, and he knew it stung the old man. “And my father is dead.” He added coldly, and flipped the knife before he sent it flying. Trevor was experienced, and despite his age he hadn’t slowed – so he was able to deflect it. Wade felt the knife belt. He had one more. Be careful now. “Thank god. To think of how he’d feel, knowing what you’ve become.” Trevor spat. “I don’t give a rats ass about either one of you. But hey, since you care so much about him – how about you join him?” Wade tried not to let the anger he felt colour his voice. “You’re gonna take me out, boy?” he laughed. Wade’s blood boiled. He drew a deep breath, to keep focus.

Several things happened at once, once he let go of that knife. He felt a jabbing pain to his neck. He heard Trevor grunt. Someone kicked him behind the knee and clawed at his shoulders. The next thing he knew, he was facing the smog of the city, groaning. His head was spinning. He tried to feel his neck, but someone stepped on his hand. He saw two, no… four? Eight? Figures standing over him. Hallucinating. They’ve drugged me. “That’s clever of you, but fucking weak. You know I’d take you out, old man.” Wade slurred, trying not to let whatever they have injected him with pull him under. “What do you want?” He actually feared that they’d lock him back up, torture him again - - - and keep him from Pietro. Wade attempted to trash, but it felt like he was under water. He just couldn’t move properly.

Trevor moved into view. He pulled the knife out from his side, groaning as he did so. “Amateur throw, boy. Missed my vitals.” Trevor turned the knife and jammed it into Wade’s heart with massive force, drawing an awful scream from his lips. “That’s what you want to aim for. Try to get some practise in, eh?” Trevor patted halfway slapped his cheek with bloody fingers, Wade desperately tried to turn his head away – but couldn’t. Trevor searched Wade’s pockets – found what he was looking for and sniffed as he straightened up, looming over him.

“That injection we gave you? It slows your healing for a while. Won’t stop it – but it’ll make you feel like hell for a little longer.” Trevor leered, before he whispered the last four words. “Ajax sends his regards,” Wade’s eyes widened. Fuck no – not those two together. He wanted to call Ajax out, say that he was a fucking chicken for not coming after him himself – but he never got the chance to. He saw the underside of Trevor’s boot, who stepped on his face, knocking him clean out.

Trevor tossed Wade’s cellphone over to one of his guys – getting him to unlock it. He went through his messages, not surprised to find Pietro on top of his texts. He took a photo of Wade, knocked out, with the broken jaw and nose – bleeding from the face, syringe standing out of his neck and oh – the knife in his heart, wrote “If you want him, come get him.” hit send and threw the phone on top of Wade.

“Let’s move out. The mutant freak might be here in no time.” Trevor instructed his guys – and they disappeared back into the shadows. They’d have time to leave because Trevor hadn’t revealed their location. And Wade? He was left bleeding, injured, drugged and alone – except forthe rats and cats that still lurked in the shadows. Trevor smirked as he saw the little figures moving up to the body.

@runfastgivesass

[vagrantblvrd]

Last Stand (1/1)

Summary: Ryan knows he has a lot to make up to Jeremy for the way he handled the situation with their former agency. He just didn’t expect Jeremy to take such ruthless advantage of his guilt over the matter.

Notes: Playing around with this prompt generator again and found a couple of prompts that gave me Ideas for the Battle Buddies. >:D

(Read on AO3)

Ryan knows he has a lot to make up to Jeremy for the way he handled the situation with their former agency. He just didn’t expect Jeremy to take such ruthless advantage of his guilt over the matter.

“Jeremy,” Ryan whispers, holding as still as he can to avoid detection as though it’s not too late for that. “Jeremy, I’m sorry.”

Jeremy shoots him a narrow-eyed look.

He’s hurt, black eye from a hit he took earlier starting to form, other marks on his bare arms. Another low on his leg that’s slowed him down.

They’re surrounded, and the others are already gone. Bodies motionless where they fell. Some were necessary sacrifices, some unfortunate casualties of this brutal battle they’re not going to win.

Ryan’s latest plan, brilliant strategy, has failed them and it’s all come down to this.

He can hear noise beyond the ring of light they’re under. Hushed whispers and this unsettling laughter, giggling. Pitter-patter of stone-cold killers repositioning for the final blow they won’t see coming.

Jeremy’s head follows something Ryan can’t see, shoulders tensing, empty hand. clenching into fists as he turns to look at Ryan.

“You know,” he says with a tired sigh. “There was a time I would have died for you, but then you pull shit like this.”

Ryan looks at him helplessly, all these words he’s never had the courage to say caught in his throat – and Jeremy lunges for him. Uses that compact muscle of his and the element of surprise to throw Ryan into the line of fire as a volley of projectiles come at them from the shadows.

Each hit hurts more than the last, and Ryan goes down in a tangled heap and a pained cry. The last thing he sees is Jeremy standing over him with an unreadable expression on his face.

=======

Jeremy stares down at Ryan’s body. Thinks he should feel something, but there’s nothing there. Numbed by the recent losses or something else, and Ryan just another casualty he doesn’t have the time or luxury to deal with.

Movement at the corner of his eye has him turning to look for the source.

Sees shadowy figures darting around him, fast and deadly as hell. They never had a chance, but Ryan had been so goddamned confident the way he always is. Certain he knew better and it’s fucked them over more times than he can count. Gotten them into scrape after scrape and somehow coming out the other side.

Not this time, though.

No.

“Just do it, you monsters!” he yells, head snapping around at a high-pitched giggle to his left.

Soft scuff of someone trying to sneak up on his other side. Squeak of a sneaker he can’t pinpoint that has him wishing for something solid at his back.

“Come on!”

There’s a pause, ripple of silence that moves through the shadows, and then Jeremy gets his wish.

Yelps as the final attack happens, stinging pain that drops him to his knees and victorious cries as he falls, fate or destiny or some petty force that has him landing over Ryan’s prone form as everything goes black.

========

There’s an elbow in his kidney and dust in his mouth. He hurts like hell and -

“Are you okay?”

Ryan opens his eyes to see someone’s hit the lights, illuminating the battlefield and all its carnage.

Bodies everywhere and spent projectiles.

Pained groans and quiet murmuring from the attackers checking on the fallen. Vicious killers, every one of them and merciless as anything.

And yet?

“No,” Ryan wheezes, because Jeremy’s elbow is still trying to gouge a hole in his side and the bastard doesn’t seem like he’s going to move it.

There’s an annoyed sigh and a small foot kicking lightly at his leg.

“C’mon,” the voice whines. “You guys promised us ice cream if we won.”

That.

Yeah.

That was a thing that was promised.

By Jeremy, who is still dead. Sprawled over Ryan after his dramatic death scene and milking it for all it’s worth to avoid ponying up the cash for the promised reward.

“Hey now,” Ryan says, shoving Jeremy off of him as he sits up and points at his body. “That was all that guy. Take it up with him.”

He can hear the others getting up, complaints from Geoff about his back and his aching joints and playing up his old man status to the nth degree for sympathy he won’t get here. Not from a bunch of little terrors who idolize the likes of Jeremy and Michael.

Ryan gets an impressive eye roll from someone who barely reaches his waist and a disgusted look the kid must have learned from Michael.

“Jeremy’s dead,” the kid says as though Ryan’s too dumb to live. “Dead people don’t buy ice cream.”

Well that’s a damn lie because you can loot dead people, but that’s not a life lesson he should be teaching Jeremy’s kids.

So.

“Go ask Geoff, he’s the boss of us,” Ryan says, and laughs as the kid scurries off to do just that.

Glances to the side at a low chuckle from Jeremy's supposed corpse in time to see him grin before he sits up.

“Geoff’s going to get you for that,” he says, examining the red marks left behind by the hail of dodgeballs that brought him down. “And Jesus, I don’t remember this hurting as much when I was a kid.”

To be fair, neither did Ryan. Part of the reason he allowed Jeremy to drag him into this bloody little war he’s waging with the kids who flock to the gym Jeremy volunteers at sometimes. He brought Michael in a while ago, and where Michael goes Gavin follows sooner or later.

And then Trevor had gone snooping, Matt drifting along behind him. Lindsay and Fiona just. Here one day, and the chaos that followed.

Jeremy dropping the least subtle hints at how great it would be if he had Ryan on his side for this climactic battle months in the making, and the disastrous results that got them all killed by Jeremy’s kids.

Horrible little goblins whose parents are looking for ways to keep them off the streets and getting into shit they shouldn’t. Monsters who won’t hesitate to kill if ice cream is on the line. (Take a terrifying sort of glee in it.)

Ryan shrugs, even though it pulls at these new bruises he’ll be dealing with for a while, because Jeremy’s kids don’t pull their hits.

“If he can afford a goddamn yacht he can buy ice cream for your little monsters.”

Another chuckle from Jeremy, and his hand inches away from Ryan’s nose. Grin on Jeremy’s face as he hauls Ryan to his feet with ease, both of them turning at a burst of laughter and Geoff’s voice gone high and shrill and oh so indignant.

The kid who tried to shake Ryan down is staring up at Geoff, fearless as hell. Making demands that his army of hellions be paid for their victory.

Michael and the others are watching the negotiations, such as they are, in amusement as the kids around them move closer. Some still skittish with all the new faces Jeremy brought in for this particular battle, but starting to warm up to them. (Something to do with killing them, probably.)

Jeremy hums, his shoulder brushing Ryan’s arm.

“Thanks for playing along,” he says, sounding happy. “I know it’s kind of outside your comfort zone, but they love when you come down here.”

That wouldn’t be the case if they knew who he was, but they don’t.

Just know him as one of Jeremy’s friends. An idiot who doesn’t know anything important, useful, so they need to teach him. Nice guy but real dumb, and Jeremy loves to play it up, laugh at Ryan’s expense as the kids bully him into learning how to play some game or other, pick up useful social skills.

“You’ve been watching Geoff’s terrible movies again,” Ryan accuses, because Jeremy brought the drama this time, didn’t he. “Also, since when were human meat shields a legal play in dodgeball?”

Jeremy’s what are you talking about, Ryan? act would be more believable if the asshole wasn’t laughing, but sure, sure.

“Nobody plays fair in Los Santos, Ryan,” Jeremy says, like Ryan doesn’t know. “And come on, or we’ll miss the best part.”

Ryan watches Jeremy join the others watching Geoff lose an argument with a kid a quarter of his age and sighs because yeah okay. That’ll never not be funny, and also if they’re lucky they can squeeze some ice cream for both teams out of Geoff.