#Trevor Belmont: the filthy one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

poorlyyy · 4 years ago

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YOU ARE SO SWEET! So as for my request Can I have a one-shot with Alucard from Castlevania and Phoenix reader? She was great friends with Belmont family but went into a very deep sleep and then the tria found and awakened her before they went to figgt with Dracula. After that she devoted herself to Alucard and stays with him. It's obvious they have feelings, like they hold hands, kiss each others forehead etc. Then Sumi and Taka comes, she senses somerhing evil from them and tries to warn him mulriple times and then he snaps and breaks her heart so she leaves. At that rime The other two prays for help to her, Alucard understand his mistake and prays for her as well before... you know the scene.

So she chooses Alu and literally comes througg the window with her wings and they fight but she gets terribly hurt especially her wings and they stabbed ger heart. But she comes back to life and tease him like "I don't die, remember?"

Something angst and fluffy would be appreciated. I'm sending you big bear hugs and hope that you will be able to write my request soon, because there is almost no one who writes for my baby! 🥰🤧

This took a long ass time to write lol I changed some things but I really like how it came out! Enjoy❤️❤️

My Angel

Summary: You and Adrian have an disagreement about two new guest residing in the castle.

Word Count: 1.9k

His beauty was almost intimidating. Silky blonde hair, that you love to gently run your fingers through. Golden eyes that have seen so much pain and suffering. His skin was pale and flawless, long faded scar across his chest only adding to his perfection.

Adrian likes to lie and say that your beauty goes beyond his. In his eyes, you’re an earthbound angel sent to him as a gift. Not only just referring to your perfect face or body, but the large wings that sprout from your back.

White wings with light brown roots, that usually lay folded on your back when you aren’t using them. There’s been some embarrassing incidents between you and Adrain, mainly dealing with your feathers. Sometimes they’ll get ruffled and need to be smoothed in a place you can’t reach, leading you to drag yourself to his doorstep, desperately trying to avoid eye contact as you ask him for help.

Choosing to live with Adrian after he was forced to kill his father, you two have been through a lot together. So the switch from constantly moving to a domestic lifestyle was an odd but welcomed change.

Sitting at the kitchen table watching him gracefully move through the kitchen was always so entertaining. His hair fell in soft waves over his shoulder, but never seemed to get in his way.

“You could always help you know.” He spoke with his back to you, as he bent over peeking at the fish in the oven.

“I would only get in your way,” You threw back, a perverse smirking finding its way onto your face. “Besides, the view is much more appealing from over here.”

He snaps upright, casting a playful glare your way. “Go clear the table, and your filthy mind.”

Standing to gather the books you had on the table, you pile them on the counter. The research materials from the Belmont Hold was always so fascinating, you constantly found yourself entranced with the knowledge contained in the pages.

Adrian doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s a bit jealous of your admiration for Trevor Belmont’s Hold rather than the vast scientific knowledge his father has collected. You try not to acknowledge the petty rivalry, but think it’s sort of endearing.

Opening the cabinet to get the plates and silverware. He moves behind you, gently pushing past your wings. His presence stays near you, and you feel his fingers run across the middle of your right wing.

“Adrian!” Letting out a loud giggle as you push yourself further into the counter, trying to escape his attack. He laughs at your wiggling, and the way you unconsciously flap your wings.

He seized his attack, his hands finding their way around your waist. He rests his chin on your neck and pulls you back so your wings are flush against his back. Leaving a soft kiss on your neck, you run your hand down his cheek caressing the soft skin.

Comfortable silence fills the room as you both basking in each other's presence.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

Those twins were up to something, you just had this bad feeling in your gut.

Taka and Sumi were their name, and their story was heartbreaking. And you felt sorry for the suffering that they were forced to go through. It was easy to see that they were extremely desperate, and you know all too well how desperate people can do awful things.

Adrian, on the other hand, welcomed the two into his home with open arms. Cooking for them, training with them, and even brought them into the Belmont Hold.

They constantly asked about moving the castle, making you even more suspicious of their true nature.

Adrian didn’t want to listen to any of your concerns though. “You’re simply overreacting.”

“Overreacting? Adrian you just met these people, you don’t know them!” He rolled his eyes brushing past you.

“I will not listen to you if you’re going to yell.”

Reaching out you grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving, “Please Adrian. I know you feel like this is what your mother would have wanted.”

“I just don’t want you to place your trust into people who will only end up hurting you in the end.” You trail off, eyes searching his for a hint of understanding.

He yanks his arm out of your grasp, “I think I already have.” His words hit you harder than you thought they would.

“What?” Is all you manage to say, his glare hurting you as much as his venomous words.

“I am passing down the knowledge of the world to two people who want to use it to help others.” He pauses, looking away. “If you can’t want to accept that, then maybe you should go.”

The tense silence that fills the room weighs heavily between you two.

An eternity passes and you manage to hold your tears back, straightening your back and put on a strong face.

“Fine.”

Your feet feel heavy as you walk past him, pausing at the door for a moment. You prayed that he would pull you away from the door, tell you how much you mean to him and how he needed you to stay.

When that moment never came, you yanked the door open and left the blonde alone with his thoughts. “Goodbye, Alucard.” He visibly flinched at the use of his other title.

If he wanted to push you away to act like the people’s hero, then so be it.

Packing a small sack of clothing, food, and money that would last you at least a week. But the nearest town was only a three days flight away, so it should be enough. You didn’t know where you were going to go, but you didn’t really think that far. Pride tended to lead you to make rather drastic decisions without thinking.

You couldn’t see Adrian standing by any of the windows, giving you even more initiative to open your wings and take flight, leaving the man alone with his new friends.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

A few hours of flying gave you some time to think and maybe you had overreacted. If he felt he was doing his dead mother justice by helping strangers in need, then who were you to stop him.

He needed some sort of closure after all the trauma he had suffered, and perhaps passing down this knowledge would help him mentally.

‘I really hate my big mouth sometimes.’ You thought mentally slapping yourself for all the awful accusations you made about the twins.

If you turned around right now, you could make it back before the sun rises. Swallow your pride and apologize to Adrian for being awful, and try to help him in any way you can. He’s been through enough and needs someone to help him.

“Shit!” You growled out, wings fluttering to a holt before spinning around and flying back.

It’s been a few months since you’ve flown this long, obvious from the slight ache coming from your wings. But despite your cramping muscles you still pushed through, moving faster through the air.

Two hours of flying south, turned into only an hour back north. It didn’t take much longer til you could see the trail leading up to the castle through the trees. A feeling of dread used to wash over you at its sight, but now filled your heart with joy.

Adrian’s three bedroom windows sat on the top floor, and despite his vampire blood he slept at night. The sun was full set now, meaning that he was most likely in his room. Only a few more minutes flying until you reached the castle.

This was a perfect opportunity for a dramatic entrance. Like something you’ve read in one of those romance novels in the library. Land on his window seal, large wings casting a dark shadow across his room waking him from his slumber. He would rush to open his window and you would collapse into his arms, sorrow filled words as you apologized for your cruelty. He would have one of his witty comebacks and embrace you in return.

Your daydream was ruined when you caught sight of multiple bodies on his bed. Instantly recognizing the two naked bodies as the twins.

Abruptly, you seized your flying choosing to not get any closer. Wings flapping to keep you in the air as you stared in horror at the imagery in front of you. Bodies entwining together with a sheen layer of sweat. The light skin woman moves to the side, exposing the naked pale beauty beneath her.

Your heart pounded in your ears, brain and heart struggling to agree on what to do. Part of you wanted to fly away, continue your journey. But another part of you wanted to throw a fit, scream at the half vampire for hurting you like this.

The pale body made a fast movement, his torso jerking off the bed slightly. But something about it didn’t seem right, the twins were sitting upright looking down at Adrian. The jerks at first appeared to be fits of pleasure, are clearly out of distress.

The twins pulled out daggers, exposing their true motives. Without think you flew towards the window, there was no time to run up to his room. Moving to enter through the window on the left of his bed, you prayed you would be fast enough.

“Adrian!” Your screams were dorwned out by the crashing of bokeh glass. Landing on the burgundy carpet, you groan in pain, thick drops of blood stained the ground around you. Shards of glass fall from your wings, some stuck withing the muscle.

Running over to the bed, the twins no longer sit above the half blood. Instead the two lay flat on there backs, pool of red spilling from their twitching lips. A floating swords with a thin trail of blood leers above the bed.

Despite the pain you staggered over to Adrians still form. His head turned to the side, splatter of blood across his cheek. Blonde hair spills over his eyes blocking his true expression.

“Dear God! Adrian…” There were heavy silver wires wrapped around him that must have been tying him down to the bed.

Loosened drastically by the twins losing control of the magic weapon, you were able to peel them away from the man. Carefully trying to avoid having the silver coming in contact with his skin, but based on the scarred tissue it probably didn’t matter.

“I shouldn’t have left,” your voice wavered at the empty look in his eyes. Hollow like a corpse, a broken doll.

He layed limply, allowing you to move him around. You move onto the bed, feeling him flinch at your close proximity. Moving back slightly, you pull his white sheet over his body. There’s a moment of silence before you hear a soft exhale of breath leave his body. Followed by another, then another. Soon he’s shaking besides you, tears flow freely down his cheeks.

Turning on his side, he reaches out to grip your sleeve bringing your hand closer to his face. As much as you long to hold him, you know he needs time so you allow him to touch you however he's comfortable with. He clutches your hand close to his face, you feel the wetness of his cheeks.

The moon shines down on both of you.

Sobs fill the icy night air, making it clear that God has long since abandoned this castle.

#x reader #alucard #castlevania #alucard x reader #adrian tepes #adrian fahrenheit tepes #adrian tepes x reader #fanfic

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msbelmonttepesbelnades · 5 years ago

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A/n: Trevor is my favorite... so enjoy ;) Also as I’m writing and looking at the other a-z I’ve written. I can see I missed a few letters in some of them lmao.

Trevor

Aftercare

Trevor is a tad bit indolent with his aftercare. He likes to lay there with his partner, usually behind them or on his side. Just so he can plant soft kisses on your back and shoulders. He’s one to wrap his arms around you and hold you close to his broad chest.

Body Part

For himself, I can see Trevor liking his hands and forearms. His hands are strong and warm, they’re what keep you safe from harm. He also knows he has an angular jaw. He likes when you trace your fingers along his chin and jawline.

On his s/o, Trevor can’t seem to choose because he likes everything. Relishing the fact that he has you naked and in his hands. But, I suppose if he had to pick it would be your thighs. He loves to squeeze them, bite them and lay his head in your lap. His stubble tickles when he’s in between them.

Cum

It’s very thick and hard to swallow at first, it’s not very sticky but don’t let it dry cause it’ll be a bitch to try and get out later. Fucking cements over lmao. Despite that it surprisingly tastes great and it isn’t very salty. He says it the beer and ale he drinks that makes it tastes so...intoxicating.

Dirty Secret

In his younger days whilst traveling around, he would often drink himself into a coma just to get to sleep at night. He does it less now that he has the company of Sypha. But one night while staying in an inn he saw this servant girl working down in the tavern. As the night went on, Trevor would catch her stealing suggestive glances his way. Trevor tried to ignore it but he couldn’t, it had been ages since his last lay and he was definitely aching for the touch of a woman. So, that night he invited her to his room. He had every intent on fucking her filthy but...didn’t? Or rather he couldn’t, not the way he intended. She had brought him a complimentary tankard of ale. She drugged him, tied him up to the bed post and had her way with him. In the midst of the haze that was inflicted on him he could see through cloudy vision that she was robbing him. She took everything. The next morning he woke up still tied down and with an intense headache. He had to call for help, it was extremely embarrassing and when he was asked what happened he didn’t say. It’s a dirty little secret he’s taking to the grave. He actually saw the girl again but didn’t have the heart to go confront her about it.

Experience

He’s got it under his belt, he’s not a horn dog but he’s slept around enough to know what he’s doing. How to do it right, how to do it even better. As well as knowing what he likes and what turns him on. Surely there will never be disappointment when sleeping with Trevor. Unless he’s completely wasted.

Favorite Position

Kneeling missionary, he likes hovering over you. Your back on the ground while he’s thrusting into you at an angle that’s extremely difficult to not let drive you mad. He likes looking at your face, he likes seeing your chest heave and your lips parted. It makes him hard and his thrusts harder. He also likes it when you’re on top riding him, he likes it playful and a bit rough so do whatever you want to him.

Goofy

It’s not overly silly with him but you can’t have sex with Trevor and not laugh. He likes to joke about how flustered he makes his you. This man is so much fun, but when the night calls for passion. He makes you giggle a little less and moan and whimper a lot more.

Hair

He’s mildly hairy at best. He’s got a happy trail but surprisingly very little chest hair. I’m not gonna lie you might catch a pube going down on him lmao. Which will make him actually trim, but very little. He likes having quite a bit of hair down there.

Intimacy

He can be very intimate, it won’t ever be awkward with him. He makes sure you’re comfortable and let you know that he adores you when his words aren’t enough. Trevor is likely very sensual too, so it’s not always about an orgasm with him.

Jack-Off

He does it, not very often he’s usually good at holding it off while he’s traveling. It doesn’t resonate when he has to climb through shit pipes and fight drunks at taverns who have a personal vendetta against his family. But, when he’s finally relaxed and not dealing with any imminent stress or danger it sets in. He can’t ignore it once he starts think about it and it tends to help him feel better.

Kink

Trevor likes bondage, has an oral fixation when it comes to his partner. He loves their lips and mouth. Suck/lick on his fingers playfully or do the same to yours and he’ll just stare. He doesn’t fancy hurting his partner but he will choke playfully. He also likes to Roleplay, I could see him being into fucking you dressed up as a nun. His dirty talk is better than anyone else’s too, it’s probably bc he swears a lot.

Location

Back of the wagon, anywhere you’ll be covered and undisturbed. He doesn’t mind getting caught but he doesn’t want to have a too high risk of it happening. Mainly because he wants to finish what he’s started with you and because he likes being thorough with his fucking. He doesn’t care if people hear though lmao.

Motivation

When he’s relaxed and is able to let his guard down without any fear of something crazy or outlandish happening he will fuck as much as you want and may even ask for it on his own. His libido is medium to high depending on the day. During the winter it’s much higher for some reason? Maybe it’s the need to keep a regular body temperature.

Nothing insanely public, he won’t do anything they involves a risk of life endangerment. Like fucking in the middle of the night outside in the forest where night creatures run amuck. Sex is supposed to be fun, adventurous and experimental. No excess adrenaline pls, be gets enough of that already. Other than that he’ll probably do whatever you ask for.

Oral

A receiver however he can give, he’s good if he’s walked through it; a bit messy but still decent. He can definitely make your toes curl a few times if he’s really into it. But, nothing beats him seeing his your lips wrapped around his dick. It’s thick too, so if you can take the whole thing then he’ll blank out. He loves how it makes him weak in the knees and writhe a bit when he’s sitting. Trevor will gladly face fuck you. If you swallow he’ll do anything you want I swear lmao.

Pace

Given Trevor’s size, he has to go slow. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he wants to make you feel good. His pace quickens the more adjusted you become. His thrusts are deep and extremely filling, there’s no part of you that will be left untouched and stretched out.

Quickie

Yeah he’s down, definitely down to fuck. All you need to do in those small moments of relaxation and peace that you both share together while on the road traveling, is to ask. He’s down to have you to himself during these moments and they’re surprisingly sensual and intimate.

Risk

Not into it, I mean he might fuck in risky places but he definitely prefers not to. He’s always on edge and needs to relax and if he wants to really enjoy the time he has with you, he wants to do it risk free.

Stamina

If he rushes, two-three rounds with a 10 minute refractory period. If he takes his time, about 4-6 rounds and that is not counting when the sun comes up. One round lasts between 35 minutes to two hours with him, maybe three if y’all are getting kinky.

Toy

I don’t believe he owns any ‘toys’ with the exception of his whip. He won’t hit you with it lmao but he will tie you up with it.

X-Ray

He’s got girth, 4in inches thick he’s a bit above average in length aground 7.5in maybe 8in. He as a prominent vein going up the underside of his shaft to the base of his head. It would be wise to listen to him when he says take your time.

Yearning

His yearning is about average, possibly above average with his s/o constantly around. The Belmont has an unbelievable amount of self control, except when he’s drunk lmao.

Zzz

He has trouble sleeping when he’s alone but, after the act and when he’s with you cuddled up in bed he’ll KO and will happily sleep through the night. Though there are times when he’ll wake up during the night and his movements will stir you. Just hold him close and tell him it’ll be okay and he’ll go back to sleep!

#castlevania fanfiction #castlevania trevor #castlevania #imagines castlevania #trevor castlevania #trevor belmont #trevor #castlevania x reader #trevor x reader #trevor belmont x reader

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sunny-mercya · 5 years ago

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Extraits II|Trevor Belmont x Male Reader

Fucked up again

The sudden rainstorm took the trio by surprise, forced them to take shelter under some trees—which really didn't do much for protection. The next village was more than miles away from their current standpoint, leaving them no choice but to wait. Which would mean wasting a good chunk of time and losing the trail of their current target—a human looking demon—. Though they needed some help with the demon, a feisty one. Gave them enough wounds.

Trevor inhaled the fresh rainy air, rubbing his temples. There was only one person he could ask for help, their holiday castle not far from here. Nearer than that damned village for sure. On the other hand, Trevor wasn't sure if he was welcomed. Not after his little asshole stunt he did again.

They had no other choice though, if they wanted to beat that demon.

«I know a place, not far from here, where we can take shelter and get some assistance......» said Trevor after a while, nodding towards the way to the village. Without waiting for any answer Trevor started to walk again.

It was already night when they reached the castle, rain still present and pouring down like needles. They were soaked to the bones, drenched with mud and a bit of blood. Nothing new.

«uhh it's the best if I talk, just stay quiet you two and only speak when he ask you directly something» grumbled Trevor out, preparing himself to knock on the heavy wooden door and how to start his request, if he was to open the door.

«It sounds like you have pissed your friend off» comments Alucard but got no answer from the other man. Trevor finally knocked.

The door opens and they came face to face with an servant, a familiar face for Trevor.

«Milord Belmont! I'm so glad you're back, come in come in you and your friends must be cold and soaked. Please give me your coats I will let put them to dry. Milord I believe you still know the way around the castle, yes?» the servant spoke a bit fast and with a kind of accent.

«It's good to see you again too Elijah» nodded Trevor to an already disappearing Elijah. He mention with a hand sign to his two comrades to follow him.

Once the three took a seat on either the armchairs or the couch near the chimney , Elijah appeared again—carrying an tray with tea and something to eat. Placing it down onto the table, he now stood next to Trevor—.

«Say Elijah is [Name] home?» Trevor hoped not, he still had the chance to left.

«Yes the young lord is indeed home, but he's in no condition to greet you and your friends, Milord.» explains Elijah, while taking a good look which his stern and judgmental eyes at Alucard and Sypha. Trevor wanted to ask why but wasn't able to.

«Elijah! Would you be a dear and prepare another kettle of Tea? And two slices of butter bread please?» a women in her mid twenties walked inside, stopped in her tracks though once she saw Trevor.

«Of course miss Lizzie,»

«Thank you Eli, and you! You filthy bastard of an Belmont! What gave you the right to show up?!» asked Lizzy angry, stabbing her index finger into his chest. After saying another word she slapped Trevor right across the face.

«Ok ok, I might have deserved that slap.......but I'm here to ask [Name] for some help-»

«Forget it Belmont! Lord [Name] is not feeling well to do anything right now and I don't think he will be delighted in the slightest to see your shitty face here. So I would advise to kindly fuck off.» snapped she, ready throw a punch at him. She wouldn't let that filthy Belmont near [Name] again, not as long as she lives. Lizzie glared at the trio, making it clear as daylight that non of them were welcomed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Name] opens his eyes once he heard the doors of his chambers being open. Someone heaved him up, against the headboard. It was Elijah.

«Elijah?» asked he groggily, rubbing his eyes a bit not fully awake at the moment.

«I've brought a new Kettle of Tea and two slices of butter bread, Milord.» hummed Elijah, filling a Cup and gave it to [Name].

He took a few sips, enjoying the hot soothing liquid down his throat. He hated getting sick, he always felt so weak and vulnerable. A miserable situation.

«Did someone come to visit Elijah? I'm hearing voices downstairs, but I can't remember that I have invited anyone.»

«Well my young lord, we have indeed a few visitors. Milord Belmont have returned with, I suppose, two of his friends.» explained Elijah already refilling the Tea cup.

[Name] was quick to get up from his bed, making himself dizzy—not that he cares about it at the moment—when Elijah told him who was downstairs. The asshole is back. That asshole of an fucking Belmont returned. He couldn't believe it, how dare he?!

«My lord, please go back to bed, your still not healthy enough to walk around and-» but his young lord was already out of the room, probably running down the stairs. Elijah just sighed.

Trevor hadn't expected that his [Name] would wear something so daring, a simple white nightgown with laces and only stopped above his (s/c) knees. If it wouldn't be such a complex situation, Trevor surely would have taken [Name] right in front of the Chimney.

«YOU! How dare you to come back?! After all those years and what you have done to me again! Tell me Trevor fucking Belmont, what no who the fuck gave you the right to come into my castle?! Do us all an favour and take your friends and fuck off!» [Name] raised his voice more and more whenever Trevor took a step towards him, screaming at him till his lungs were crying out for a air and a break. Lizzie has already lead Alucard and Sypha out and into their guest rooms.

Trevor was quick to catch [Name], once he collapsed due to all the current stress. Lifting him up into his arms, Trevor made his way towards the stairs up to [Name] chambers. Laying him down onto the bed, Trevor walked towards the closet, happy to see that his clothes are still there—which means he wasn't so much hated by his Husband—and took a simple set of white pants and an shirt.

After having himself stripped off and clad into his night clothes, Trevor took place next to [Name], pulling him softly into his arms and cover them both up. Elijah walked in with a bowl of water and some cloths, wordless putting it down onto the nightstand.

«Milord Belmont, Miss Lizzie is not amused at your sudden staying. She already rants threats about you.» told Elijah, already at the door.

«I don't care.» grumbled Trevor and Elijah just chuckled quietly as he closed the door behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~

A single candle on his nightstand was the only light source, giving everything a sort of glow. Trevor changed the already warm cloth to an cold one. He was glad that the fever was finally going down.

«........mhm.....Trevor? Why are you........here? Didn't told you-»

«To fuck off? Yeah you did, but what kind of Husband would I be if I wouldn't take care of my sick vulnerable, little adorable husband? You know when I saw you in that nightgown, I wanted to take you right in front of the chimney, just like we did it in that night when I realised how much I have fallen in love with you» murmured he into [Name]s ear and nibbles at his earlobe.

Trevor trailed then kissed down to the neck and sucked at a few spots, leaving some pretty hickies behind.

«.......why are you here in the first place?»

«I was in the area and I wanted to ask you for some help, but that can wait a few more days. After all the rain won't stop for a few more days and your getting better is my first priority at the moment now.»

~~~~~~~

Elijah slammed the door to his young lord chambers open, waking Trevor in the process up. Not his concern at the moment, to busy to pack a bag with only the bare necessities.

«What is wrong Elijah?» asked Trevor, voice heavy with sleep and still not fully awake. He glanced at [Name] who thankfully was still asleep.

«No time to waste Milord! The castle is burning and under attack, we need to get out as fast as possible!» now that got Trevors attention. He jumped from the bed and changed his clothes in a rush.

«This is your fault! Your fucking fault!» screamed Lizzie at Trevor with so much hatred that she was ready to break his neck. Elijah took [Name] from Trevor arms into his own, not giving him one single glance.

«How is that my fault woman?!» screamed he back, not understanding how this was in the slightest his fault.

«You moron! If you haven't showed up than that fucking demon wouldn't have attack us and burned our only home to ashes! And to answer you unspoken question, yes lord [Name]s holiday castle was the only cast left, the only home we had. Thanks to you though, it's gone and we're homeless! So it is your fucking fault!» her once pale face was now red from fuming anger and constant screaming, Elijah feared that miss Lizzie would get an heart attack.

His throat felt so dry at the moment, that he couldn't form any words anymore and it hurt to even breath. He looked back at the ruins of the castle, this was his doing? Fuck.

«Elijah we're going, we should be able to reach the village around lunch.»

«Yes miss.»

Lizzie glanced one last time at Trevor,

«If I see your disgusting face one more time, I won't hesitate to kill you. Belmont.» Trevor could faintly hear how Lizzie gently shushed a delirious [Name], tell him that Trevor again fucked up and just left. Which was partly the truth, but still.

But she was right, he did fucked up again.

#sarah's trash #male reader #trevor belmont #castlevania netflix #Trevor Belmont x Male Reader #please don't ask what this even is

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cagastri · 4 years ago

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✋ – a kiss on the hand

Kiss Symbols

It’s hard to ignore the high pitched fervor undulating notes between conventional means of hearing as the vampiresses celebrate their hard won catch. Even harder still to ignore the graphic depictions of what each of them would do with him in turn if given half the chance and, might he say, their fixation on castration has his balls shriveling up to sun dried grapes so fast he swears he can pinpoint the exact moment he’s become a woman.

Fuck. Trevor what have you gotten yourself into this time?

A madman...er...vampire, sure. He could handle thousands of those. Would in his lifetime if he could but women? Vampiric bitches in tight corsets lording their beauty over the wayward man, drawing him in for a ravenous feast? He’s surprised their skulls don’t decorate the lavish surroundings. Almost looks...normal. He shudders to think.

Oh but the worst of them he can tell isn’t the tall blonde currently exercising her Satan given right to intimidate him with daggers for nails, flashing her gaudy painted talons every chance she got, gesturing wildly and- he’ll admit- it works. He can practically feel the drag of their razor points across his skin. No, the worst of them, is the smallest of them all.

Batting rouge lashes at him as if it weren’t her filthy tricks he’d fallen for, as if it weren’t her chains around his neck, his wrists, as if the fucking blood pooling beneath him isn’t her own doing. She was the worst, only for the false humanity she showed the world. Caring. Saccharine. A poisonous viper in the guise of welcoming arms. He despised her even as he revered her beauty he, like all men, falling for the wiles of a feminine form.

The devil’s own whore and yet...

and yet...

Exhaling sharply at the tug of rusted chains, grimacing at the bite of their ragged edges where no doubt countless men have been bound before blood stagnant in the cradle of metal links left to rot away until the next victim arrived, in the weight of them and the tremble of weak limbs Trevor could do little more than crawl at her urging.

“Trained him already? My I am impressed.” Serpentine tongue flickering behind flashed ivories and out of bitter spite the hunter cast a scathing glare at the...woman(?) twice his size with the most untameable hair he’d ever seen, and he’d been in plenty brothels. Another tug, another inch forward, dragging sopping clothes against his shrinking form and a stroke of a paintbrush behind. Oh he bets they’re in heaven right now. Like fucking catnip, a Belmont’s blood. Would they stoop to lick up the trail left behind when he’s gone? The thought amused him more than anything ever should.

“You know Lenore likes her pets. She’s getting greedy with this one. Better we don’t keep him around for too long.”

“Ah ah- slower.” That silken voice, fucking purring her delight and how he detests the way the hairs on his arms lift in eager anticipation of being caressed by it. Unwittingly, unwillingly, his gaze is drawn to her. The vibrancy of her eyes, the plush lips spread in the worst sadistic fucking grin he’s ever seen. She could have killed him. She didn’t. He won’t pretend she’s an ally, but neither is she an unruly beast incapable of self restraint. That first drop of blood she’d drawn...

Every inch closed between the two of them, beckoned by her charms and the heavy reminder hanging around his sore throat, his bleeding wrists, he felt each grain in the stone beneath his palm like an accusation. He wasn’t strong enough. Not by a long shot. Let himself get soft fighting lower level beasties. Things beneath the Belmont’s nose. And now...now he was a fucking goner and he had no one else to blame but himself.

In the same moment he realized the party of four had all but surrounded him, making a spectacle of him dragging his near lifeless corpse across their foyer, a hand drifted into the wavering purview of his dwindling consciousness. The rough edges which had been sharp with pain grew dull and dim as if a candle flickering out as it extinguished itself in its own wax.

Whatever that hand intended, he seized the opportunity to buy himself time. The promise of perhaps another day, another battle to be won. Peeling blood spattered hand from gushing wound, he reached for that delicate pale skin, feeling porcelain against his callouses as if cradling a child’s doll depicting the woman she longed to grow up to be.

As his lips pressed against the marble flesh as cold and unmoving as, he succumbed to the chilling dark and its blessed relief of nothingness.

#👀 don't mind me while i simp for lenore #fuck i love her okay #diplomct

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ethereal-mists · 5 years ago

Text

Of Fame and Misery

I decided to start writing a Hollywood AU/Bodyguard AU for Castlevania

Summary:

Trevor is a fighter in an underground ring. Adrian is an actor and model for his father's esteemed agency. It seems unlikely that their paths would ever cross, until Adrian starts receiving death threats with no idea who's sending them, or why.

With his son's life at risk, Vlad Tepes hires him a bodyguard. Though they don't quite get along, Trevor and Adrian are stuck with each other now, and with the help of Adrian's co-star Sypha, they will find a way to keep him safe.

( Also on Ao3 )

Chapter One

“HIT HIM IN THE NOSE!!! THE NOSE!!”

The crowd cheers ravenously, circled around Trevor and his opponent and eagerly watching as the two men beat the ever-loving shit out of each other in the middle of a dusty old basement. Who exactly the crowd is cheering for, he doesn't know and doesn't care. This fight isn't about pleasing the crowd, at least not to Trevor. No, it's about money. Like it always is. And with rent payments due soon, Trevor has no intention of losing.

Each powerful blow sends another painful jolt through his body, and he knows that by tomorrow he will be a bruised and aching mess. But right now that doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is bringing down the ugly bastard in front of him. Gerard, he thinks his name is, if he goes off of what a good chunk of the crowd has been cheering. If he had to guess, Gerard must be in his mid thirties, balding, crooked jaw - no doubt from a long career of underground fighting - and is probably twice Trevor’s size. Gerard grins and swipes a meaty fist at him, and Trevor takes a step backwards on instinct. The fist harmlessly swings by only inches from his face, and he feels both immensely relieved and proud of himself for dodging a blow that would have surely left a nasty bruise.

“Ha! You missed.” Trevor goads, taking a moment to catch his breath. He’s panting heavily from the exertion of the match, and he's reached the point where he can no longer hide it. And although he's disappointed in himself for showing how worn out he's getting, Gerard doesn't look too much better, face reddened and body entirely drenched in sweat. This match has been going on for far too long. Gerard scowls and lunges forward, his other fist poised for another attack. Trevor is ready for it, but the punch doesn’t come. Instead, he kicks at Trevor's legs and sweeps them out from beneath him, and Trevor is falling, falling, falling onto the filthy concrete floor of what was affectionately dubbed The Brawl Hall. “Oh shi-!” He yells out as he goes down.

If he wasn’t already covered in dust, he sure as hell is now. Every bit of dirt and grit that makes contact with him clings to his sweat soaked skin like he’s some kind of swiffer duster. But really, that's the least of his worries.

He manages to catch himself as he falls, preventing his head from smashing into the concrete floor. The last thing he needs today is a concussion. There’s no time to thank himself for his quick reflexes however, because that bloody fist is back and it’s connected with Trevor’s left cheek. He does his best to scramble backwards on the floor, away from the brute, but he can only go so far before he feels the boots of spectators nudging him to get back in there and fight, or at least, take it like a man.

His opponent saunters towards him with a smug look. He knows he has the upper hand now. He knows he’s going to win. Trevor can feel the adrenaline - and alcohol- pumping through his veins. He can hear it in his ears. It’s deafening and desperate, and begging him to do something, anything, to just keep going, keep on fighting, even though his body is screaming at him to give in and yield.

But Trevor Belmont doesn’t give up so easily.

As the man bends down to grab him, Trevor doesn’t try to duck out of the way. Instead, he reaches up to meet him, grabs him by the shoulders, and pulls him down and forward as he uses one of his legs to kick at his stomach, pushing his back-end up in the air. The man, rightfully surprised, flips over Trevor and onto his back. The crowd has to jump out of the way to avoid getting caught in the crosshairs.

Gerard lays on the ground groaning, and Trevor uses that moment to climb on top of him and knock him out with a quick fist to the chin.

There’s a moment of silence, and then the crowd is cheering. Most of them, anyway. Some bystanders boo him and yell that he got lucky. Trevor flips them off and spits in their direction. Luck or not, he doesn’t care. He’s won. And that means he gets to collect his prize.

And that means he can go upstairs to the bar and get himself a nice drink before he fully sobers up.

God forbid that happen.

—————

By the time Trevor is all cleaned up and paid, two other fights have started and finished, and most people seem to have either cleared out and headed home, or gone upstairs to grab a drink like Trevor planned to do.

Everything hurts, just as he knew it would. Just like it always did after a match. It somehow feels good, in a way that Trevor can’t quite put into words, but it’s still a bitch to deal with, and Trevor knows that it will be no better tomorrow. But that's how life goes when you make a living with your fists, he thinks absentmindedly. He’d do something else if he knew how to, but with no high school diploma, and no so-called ‘dreams and aspirations’ beyond getting his next meal and drink, there was no reason to go to the trouble of changing what was already clearly working for him. After all, he was still alive, still had a roof over his head, and in the end, that’s all a person needs, right? Somewhere to sleep, something to eat, and occasionally, someone to fuck. That’s what he tells himself. That’s all he needs, he thinks, and the aching emptiness that creeps up on him sometimes, threatening to suck him in and swallow him whole… well. That’s what drinking is for.

He climbs the creaky stairs and gives a quick nod to the bouncer that guards the entrance of the Brawl Hall. The upstairs area is much nicer than the dusty makeshift arena hiding beneath, and even the old storage room where the hidden entrance is, is much cleaner at the least. The rest of the place is just your run of the mill bar, with all the expected amenities that a bar might have, including an old jukebox that sits in the corner and never works and a neon sign above the bar that says ‘Harold’s Pub’.

The smell of old varnish and whiskey is warm and welcoming by now, and if he’s being honest, this shitty little bar is the closest thing Trevor has had to a home in years. Landlords kick you out, apartments come and go, but Harold’s Pub never changes. It’s still the same shithole he walked into years ago, searching for work. Still filled with the familiar faces of lonely broken people that come here night after night, hoping to drown their sorrows in the bottom of a pint. Trevor can’t help but feel sorry for them, but sometimes he wonders if he’s any different. Maybe being an old man, drunkenly passed out and alone in the corner of a shady bar was what the future had in store for him. The thought always unsettles him more than he’d like to admit, and yet he feels almost resigned to it. It’s not that he never had dreams or ambitions for himself. He had plenty of them when he was younger. But that was a different time, and a different Trevor. One who was young and naive and not yet broken, one who didn’t know the meaning of loss and how it can haunt you endlessly, even in your dreams.

He slides onto one of the barstools and raises a hand to get the bartender's attention. Clearly, he’s sobered up a bit too much.

The bartender is an old man with a kind face and greying dreadlocks named Carlson. He’s familiar with Trevor, and doesn’t bother asking what he wants - just pours him a pint and slides it over without a word. Good man, not very talkative, but Trevor likes him. Too many people these days like to stick their noses where it doesn’t belong, like they’re entitled to know your personal history simply because they’re bored.

He takes a sip of his beer and peers around the room. It's not too busy, and he can recognize a few familiar faces. Like the tough looking woman he knows as another fighter, sitting on the other end of the bar. He doesn’t know her name, but he sure as hell remembers her face (it was the last thing he saw before she knocked him out in their match last week). Trevor makes a point of not spending too much time looking in her direction. Asides from her, there’s a pair of old men huddled in a booth over their whiskey, whispering amongst themselves, a shifty man sitting in the back corner, and a few of other fighters celebrating their victories or drinking their losses.They"re all regulars. But there are a few unfamiliar faces too. A young couple flirting in a booth, and a beautiful woman with platinum blonde hair and sanguine lips that smile as she meets Trevor's gaze. He freezes momentarily, but quickly gets his bearings and gives her an awkward smile in return, throwing in a little wave for good measure. Compared to the rough-and-tumble appearance of the usual patrons this place attracted - Trevor included - she looked like she belonged in a museum, as if she was a marbled statue of a Goddess that a man might pray to.

Maybe if Trevor played his cards right, he could pray to her too.

Hes considering whether or not he should send a drink to her table when she gets up, heels clicking on the old wood panelled floor, and comes to settle on the barstool beside him. He flashes her a smile, which he hopes passes as charming.

"Can’t say I’ve seen your face around here before." he begins, "Though I must admit, I'd like to see a lot more of it."

She scoffs, and he can feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up on him. He rubs the back of his neck nervously, and she watches him like a hawk - no, a tiger, analyzing its prey. And then suddenly she’s all smiles.

"Listen, Trevor - it’s Trevor, right?” She asks, and he wonders how she knows. He could swear that he’s never seen this woman before in his life. He opens his mouth to respond, but she waves a hand at him before he can get a word out. “It doesn’t matter. Now listen to me…” her eyes narrow and her smile disappears, “I'm not here to listen to your pathetic pick up lines." she states, “nor am I here to flirt and make pleasantries.”

"I... see." Trevor responds, for lack of anything better to say. There’s a moment of silence, and he doesn’t know whether or not he’s supposed to say something. He can feel her eyes boring into him, sharp and glinting like ice against the warm light from the neon sign. He supposes that he is meant to say something after all, and sighs, too tired and worn to play into whatever game she’s after. "Well, if you’re not here for a hookup, what do you want from me?”

"To get to the point, I saw your fight.”

Ah. That explains how she got his name.

"And?” He prompts, “What did you think? You don’t strike me as the type who likes that sort of thing."

"Oh, please. You think I’d debase myself by stepping foot in this establishment without due reason?" she scoffs as if affronted by the very idea of it, but seems to settle down, relaxing her shoulders and replacing her slightly annoyed expression with a more neutral one as she idly picks lint from her dress and then smooths it out. "I’m here on behalf of my employer, Mr. Vlad Tepes. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

“Can’t say that I have." Something about the name sounded familiar, but there was no way for him to really be sure he wasn’t just imagining it.

She looks at him, incredulous. "Well, I can assure you, he’s a very powerful man."

The way she says it has images running through Trevor's mind of men wearing suits with guns blazing, gambling houses filled with the heavy smoke of cigars, and a man smiling as he cracks his knuckles. A very powerful man could be many things, but given that this Mr. Tepes guy wants to hire a bodyguard straight out of some dirty underground fighting ring, Trevor is placing his bets on him being some mafia boss or something. And that’s a mess Trevor does not want to get mixed in with.

"That’s great and all, but I still don’t see what that has to do with me." He says gruffly, eyes narrowed.

"I’m getting to that. You see, Mr. Tepes has a son, Adrian. Recently he’s been receiving death threats. We have no idea who's sending them, or why, and as you can imagine, Mr. Tepes is beside himself with worry. He’s given me the task of finding and recruiting a capable bodyguard for the boy."

"So… you want me to be that bodyguard, I'm guessing?"

"Yes. I’ve seen you fight, and I can say with confidence that you’ve impressed me. You’re quick on your feet, and your reflexes are fast. You’re obviously strong. Judging from what I’ve seen… I believe you just might be the man we’re looking for."

He wasn’t sure what to make of that. The praise was unexpected, but it sure as hell felt good. It wasn’t often someone pointed out his skills like that, even though it’s really no secret -at least in Trevor’s eyes. Guarding some kid didn’t sound too hard. The death threats were probably just bluffs anyway, something to put the kid’s old man up in arms, or put pressure on him to do God knows what. Still, this whole ordeal was a little odd, even for Trevor’s liking.

"Hang on," he says, slowly, "don’t people normally collect resumes for this kind of thing? Put out flyers or whatnot?"

She waves a hand as if she can just shoo away his worries. "A piece of paper won’t divulge whether or not a person is a capable fighter. I talked to Mr. Tepes, and he agreed with me that this would be the best way to access our options. Are you interested in the job or not?"

Trevor took a sip of his beer as he mulled over the proposition. Sure, it was strange. Some mysterious beauty shows up out of nowhere and offers him a job? Trevor almost wants to laugh at the absurdity. Maybe it’s not that funny, maybe it’s just the beer, but either way, he stifles a chuckle.

“Is something funny?” She says, wryly.

"No, not at all.” He assures her, clearing his throat and gathering himself. A deep breath, and he’s back to business. “How much will I be paid if I take you up on your offer?"

"Payment will be discussed between Mr. Tepes and yourself. But I assure you… You will be paid very, very well."

He likes the sound of that. Really likes it. A steady job that pays well and doesn't involve getting the shit kicked out of him on a regular basis (hopefully), and all he has to do is guard some kid.

"I’m interested."

"Good." she says, obviously pleased with his response. She pulls out a slip of paper and a pen from her purse, and scribbles something down in elegant writing as Trevor tries to peek over her hand to read it. She finishes and passes it over to him. He takes it, and notices her long, red painted fingernails as he withdraws his hand. Something about them sends shivers down his spine; and not the good kind. Eager to look at anything but her hands now, he examines the paper. It's an address. "Be there at noon sharp. Don’t be late. And please," she pauses, her face scrunching up in disgust, "wear something clean, or at the very least, presentable"

He looks down at his shirt and notices just how dirty it is. Dried sweat, dust, and a bit of blood (whether his or his opponent’s, he doesn't know). “Uh… right. Presentable.”

She seems satisfied with that and gets up from her seat. “Good. It’s been nice meeting you, Trevor. I hope to see you soon.” She turns to leave.

"Wait." he pipes up before she can walk away. She halts and turns back to give him a pointed, questioning stare, "What's your name? Seems a little unfair that you know mine and I have no idea who you are."

"Carmilla. I’m a personal assistant to Mr. Tepes.”

And with that, she leaves.

#Castlevania #Trevor/Sypha/Alucard #fanfic #hollywood AU #Bodyguard AU

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castlevania-afterdark-imagines · 6 years ago

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Hector, Issac, and Alucard with an s/o who loves to talk dirty

Hector

The best part about talking dirty to Hector? Doing it outside the bedroom.

In the bedroom, he’ll take your filthiest suggestions in stride- even if he’s turned bright red and can’t form any kind of response beyond a gasp or a nod.

But elsewhere…

One time, you walked into a meeting in the entrance hall.

The vampire generals were bickering again, and Hector was trying not to engage in the quabble.

You walked up beside him, reached a hand out to stroke his face, and whispered:

“Is this seat taken?”

Thankfully, everyone was too busy arguing to notice his blush, or the bulge in his pants.

Another time, he was forging, and you were off to the side, painting your nails.

He looked over at you to check in after a bit.

“That color looks lovely.”

You smile, “Thank you, Hector.”

He turned back to his forging and lifted his hammer, when you added:

“Shame I’m going to ruin them tearing up your back tonight as you fuck me.“

He nearly brought the hammer down on his other hand at that one.

All your teasing paid off in the end though.

Once his work was over, he would tend to your every need, and it was obvious that he’d been thinking all day on how best to do so.

Isaac

Much to your surprise, Isaac had quite a skillful grasp of dirty talk himself.

His was different, however.

Carefully crafted language was carried by his deep pitch and sent shivers down your spine. His innuendo moved you like a song, invoking desire as if you were a puppet- and Isaac controlled the strings.

How could he speak of such filthy things, only for them to sound as innocent and pure as the amatuer poetry of a teenage boy proclaiming love below your balcony?

By comparison, your dirty talk was unpolished and primitive. Anyone’s would be, surely.

But Isaac loved it. Not in spite of your crude verbiage, but because of it.

It was tit-for-tat, almost a competition, with each side having opposing strategies.

“Fuck me, Isaac. Fuck me any way you want to. I want to feel your cock inside me. I want to feel your cum filling me up.”

“Do you now? And what if I want to see it leaking out of you? Perhaps I wish to see my seed dripping down your legs. What if I wanted you to leave it like that, hidden under your clothes? To tempt the vampires of Dracula’s court with the scent of our passions- something they can only dream of, but never have?”

Even you were visibly caught off guard by that.

You were constantly having to improve yourself to match him.

And then Isaac would rise to that challenge as well.

Alucard

This kid is very, VERY, used to hearing filthy language from Belmont. So when you first started using simple phrases like “fuck me up” around him it didn’t seem to get too much of a response.

Other than maybe a slap on the ass for your cheekiness.

Finally you decide to let loose, cornering him in a lounge chair mid book with your arms pinning him in. He barely looks up from his book, his eyebrow arched in a question as you lean close and whisper in his ear.

“Adrian, I don’t want to walk tomorrow. I want you to mount me, fill me up with your cum, and claim me until my hips give out. I want the next three towns over to know exactly who owns my pussy. Can you do that for me?”

His jaw might have broken from how fast it hit the floor.

You almost worry if you upset him by how long it takes his brain to start firing again, eyes wide and a pink flush creeping over his face. Then you see his eyes glimmer red, and he very carefully removes the book from his lap before carelessly tossing it to the floor.

“Yes, I can most certainly do that for you.”

You can hardly blink before he’s got you on the floor, ass up, clothing roughly removed just enough so he can get access. You got your wish much faster than you’d anticipated.

From then on he’s on the border between wary and excited when he sees you smirk in his direction, clearly concocting the next elaborate string of filthy dialogue to spin for him.

He’s never as good as returning it, though he tries. Sometimes it’s perfect. Pulling your head back to expose your neck, purring against the skin, “You’re so quick to bend for me, just how badly do you want my cock tonight?”

Other times you both have to stop mid penetration because you break into howling laughter and he needs a minute to regather himself from mild embarrassment. He keeps a diary of exactly what words do NOT sound good together.

Bonus round: Adrian comes up with another terrible combination while you’re traveling with Trevor and Sypha (you have told them why they sometimes hear stifled snickering when they politely pretend they don’t know what you two are doing in the wagon). You had been cuddling with Adrian by the fire, your companions doing similarly on their side, when he started to whisper something in your ear. The sudden snorting, gut wrenching laughter followed by a very flustered Adrian storming out of the camp breaks Sypha’s curiosity. “What did he say!? You can’t not tell me this time!” She’s pleading with you while you’re slamming your fist into the ground trying to get your lungs to function properly again. Trevor goes off to find the sulky vampire lad, only able to bring him back once he swears you did not relay what he said. For the next few days whenever there’s a lull in conversation you’ll barely stifle a snort thinking back on that night and your lover has to threaten you with no sex for the next millenia to keep you from melting into the giggle-fits again.

~Mod Rose (Hector, Isaac)

~Mod Soviet (Alucard)

#Hector #Isaac #Anonymous #gender neutral reader #mod rose #mod soviet #imagines #Castlevania #adrian tepes #fem reader

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belmontsfate · 5 years ago

Text

Day 1: Home - Marie & Trevor

- The Year of our Lord 1046 -

Marie was exhausted. Her whole body was drenched with sweat, soaking her nightgown in the process. The bed she laid on was filthy, stained with her bodily fluids as well as her blood. After roughly twelve hours of gut-wrenching pain followed by an hour or so of pushing, she had successfully given birth. It had been terrifying, to say the least, a memory that would most likely scar her for the rest of her life. However, despite everything that had happened, she found that she was happy.

She had always been an optimist, focusing on the good things in life rather than the bad. While it was true that she was completely alone throughout the ordeal, unable to afford a midwife to help her, the fact remained that both her and her child were alive and well, a privilege that not all women were given. God had blessed her greatly in that way.

As she lay in her bed, leaned against the pillows that she had piled up against the headboard, she couldn't help but smile down at the baby in her arms. She had a son … Her and Gabriel had a son … After four years of marriage, they were finally given a child. Tears of joy trickled down her face, mixing with the beads of sweat. It almost seemed too good to be true, yet here he was.

If only she had known that she was pregnant before her husband left on his mission. Surely that would have given him the motivation to return before she gave birth. It pained her to think that he was not with her to share in this beautiful moment. There was no doubt in her mind that Gabriel would love their son just as much as she did. He would be an excellent father, doting on the boy with every ounce of love in his heart. She couldn't wait to see his reaction to the news.

"Welcome to the world, my son," Marie cooed at him as she gently stroked a finger across his chubby cheek.

She watched him sleep, examining every inch of him in awe. He was absolutely precious. The most beautiful little boy she had ever seen. His eyes were a brilliant bright blue, though she had heard that babies' eyes often changed with time. A part of her hoped that they wouldn't. She liked the idea of her son having blue eyes like his father. He had a full head of dark hair that already looked so beastly that it could only have come from Gabriel. It was hard to tell who he looked like, seeing as he was only a few minutes old, but for some reason, she saw mostly Gabriel in him. Though she had to admit that it looked like he had inherited her slightly thinner lips.

"One day you will grow into a brave warrior just like your father," she told him, giggling softly as he grasped onto her finger in his sleep.

She could already imagine the father and son fighting side by side, protecting mankind from monsters. It both frightened and delighted her at the same time. Her maternal instincts screamed at her for even considering the possibility of letting her son be put in danger, but her lifelong admiration for the Brotherhood made her feel pleased by the thought of her son fighting among their ranks.

"I suppose I should give you a name."

She hated the idea of naming their son without Gabriel, as she would have liked for him to choose the name, but she wasn't sure of when he would return. It could be days, weeks, or even a month. Gabriel had warned her that he might be gone for up to a year, but she stayed positive, believing in her heart that he would come home sooner than that.

Her and Gabriel had discussed possible names for children quite a few times over the last four years. They had come up with a few names that they liked for both boys and girls. Gabriel had favored the names Michael and James for a boy. As tempted as she was to name their son Michael in keeping with the angel name theme, there was a particular name that she had always liked.

Trevor ... It was an interesting name with two different meanings. The name was sometimes selected by parents who wanted their child to grow up to be prudent and ambitious, and while she did hope for that as well, she favored the second meaning more. The name also meant "home" or "homestead". Marie thought that meaning fit very well with her son's birth. For he would be a surprise for his father to come home to.

"Trevor Belmont…" she tested the name out to see how it sounded. She smiled. It was perfect. "My little Trevor."

With that settled, she carefully shifted herself over to the edge of the bed and pulled the crib right up beside it. The crib was a gift from one of Gabriel's fellow warriors, one of the men he had grown up training alongside. His father was a carpenter, and although he usually built things like doors and ceiling beams, the warrior had managed to convince him to step out of his comfort zone and try making a crib for once. Marie had to admit that he had done a good job. It was nothing fancy, but it was sturdy and safe, and that was all that mattered.

Placing a kiss on Trevor's brow, she placed him into the crib, making sure that he was swaddled securely in his blanket. The babe let out a tiny snore but seemed content aside from that.

"Sweet dreams, Trevor," she said as she slowly laid back down in bed, caring not for how filthy it was. She was too tired to care about that. All she wanted was to sleep. "Mama loves you."

Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

#Castlevania #Castlevania: Lords of Shadow #Castlevania: Mirror of Fate #castlevania fanfiction #marie belmont #trevor belmont #trevorcard #31 days of writing #writing challenge

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lantur · 6 years ago

Text

Castlevania: “The Journey,” Part One

Summary: The story of Trevor and Sypha, post season two. [Part one: Trevor and Sypha reunite with Alucard, Sypha and Alucard have a confidential talk, and Sypha helps Trevor with an issue that's keeping him up at night.]

Sypha is the one to kill the last vampire in Braila.

It isn’t her most elegant spell. She simply lights him on fire. When it is over, she sinks to her knees where she stands, in the middle of the dark alley. This hadn’t been a fight on the scale of defeating Dracula’s generals, but her exhaustion is cumulative. That had been one explosive fight. This has been close to a week of combat night after night, flushing out every last vampire in the town.

Trevor comes to her side. He eases her to her feet, supporting her with one hand on her back, and the other on her arm. His hands are gentle and warm. She leans against him, weary to the bone. Maybe it’s just her exhaustion getting the better of her, but she wishes he would never let go. “Hey,” he says. “Are you all right?”

Sypha closes her eyes. “I’m tired,” she says, and she means it, from the bottom of her heart. Not just from the past several nights in Braila, but from the three months before this, of ceaseless travel and combat and tension. “I need to rest.”

“We’re done here,” Trevor replies, eyeing the piles of ash in the alley. “We’ll get you to bed. It’s going to be okay. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Thanks,” she says.

“Actually,” Trevor adds, as they slowly make their way out of the alley. He’s limping a little, and she resolves to check on the injury later. “You are going to feel better in the morning. You know why?”

Sypha winces, placing a hand to her side. One of the vampires had thrown her hard against a the side of a building, and she’s worried that the rib might be fractured. She’s too worn out to banter with him as they usually do. “Why?”

“Because we are going on a vacation.”

Sypha brightens. “We’re going to see Alucard?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of those hot springs in Craiova, or that beer festival in Iasi we heard about when we were traveling through last month…” Trevor looks down at her and smiles. “But sure, we can go and see Alucard.”

She squeezes his arm. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

They’re moving slowly, nursing their various injuries, and it takes them more than forty painful minutes to reach their inn, on the outskirts of Braila. They’re both similar degrees of filthy, dusty, and bloody, but they collapse into the narrow bed fully clothed, shoes still on, curled toward each other, and fall asleep within moments.

It takes a week of travel from sunrise to sunset to make their way back to the Belmont Hold and Dracula’s castle. For the first time since setting out on their journey after Dracula’s defeat, they travel at a leisurely pace and don’t go seeking trouble. No demons or monsters to vanquish from towns and cities, just the open road.

It is the break Sypha needed. It is nice to have a brief spell of peace and quiet, a respite from bloodshed and injury. Besides, as naturally as magic comes to her, it does drain her energy and physical reserves. This is the first opportunity she has had to recover fully in a long time.

There is just one reason she misses the thrill of the fight. For months - ever since they met, actually - combat against the monstrous night hordes have been a distraction from her travel companion.

Not that Trevor is so insufferable and obnoxious that she needs to be distracted from him. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Sypha has never been prone to crushes. Ever since she was a teenager, she could acknowledge a handsome man with one look, and a brief, clinical observation in her mind that yes, he was attractive. And then she would move on, her mind already occupied with more pressing matters, like a new spell she was studying or creating, or how to modify an old one she had mastered, or her Speaker duties.

She’d only had one real, significant experience with attraction, before. He was a physician in the town of Szolnok. Soft-spoken, kind, passionate about helping the townspeople, and so very intelligent. She had hung onto every word out of his mouth. But she was sixteen, and he was twice her age. When she found out he was engaged to be married, she had cried for the rest of the night and avoided him until the Speakers moved on to their next town. For two months after leaving Szolnok, she had thrown herself into her studies with zealous passion, redirecting every bit of longing she had felt for him into the study of magic.

For four years, Sypha lived in peace, until Trevor Belmont rescued her from a cyclops under the city of Gresit.

It was all downhill from there. She had developed feelings for him, completely by accident, and they had hit her with astonishing force and suddenness. By the time they had spent their first night in the Belmont library, she was already too far gone.

Monsters, demons, and vampires distract her from Trevor’s presence. They distract her from her frustrating, involuntary, ridiculous intrusive thoughts about how he’s feeling today, his voice, his face, his hands, when he smiles, how incredibly brave and determined he is, how smart he can be when he actually makes an effort, how stupidly happy she is just to talk with him and have his company as they travel. Whether they’re trading insults at one another or at the Church, or speculating about what they will encounter in the next village they happen upon and how they can help the people there, or sharing memories and stories of their pasts, or discussing something deeper.

Without the monsters, demons, and vampires, it is just the two of them. Trevor seems relaxed and unbothered. He sleeps more soundly at night than she has ever seen him sleep before, one arm thrown over his face, snoring lightly. Sypha lies awake beside him for a good portion of each night and wonders at the perversity of it all, at how she can be so happy and so filled with hopeless, melancholy longing at the same time.

They arrive at Dracula’s castle - Alucard’s castle, now - late on the eighth afternoon of their journey. Trevor and Sypha make their way up the steps of the castle, and Sypha raises her hand to knock politely. Trevor just pulls a knife from a pocket of his cloak and bangs on the door with the handle until Alucard pulls it open.

“I see that Sypha still hasn’t taught you manners,” he says dryly, but the effect is somewhat spoiled by the fact that he is smiling like Sypha has never seen him smile before.

She leaps forward and gives Alucard a hug, and even Trevor manages a companionable pat on his shoulder.

The three of them start talking almost at once and they continue for hours, lingering over a dinner of an enormous roasted chicken, sliced strawberries covered in sugared almonds for dessert, and then drinks. One glass of warm mulled wine for Sypha, a couple of tankards of ale for Alucard, and more than a couple of tankards of beer for Trevor.

She has countless fond memories of nights around the fire with her Speaker caravan. Dinners with Trevor, either huddled around a campfire or shared at some disreputable tavern or another, are more of a treasured part of her daily routine than she would ever admit. But this is comfortable, truly, classically comfortable, in a way that those nights haven’t been. Each of them has a velvet armchair to settle in, not a spot on the ground or a narrow, splintering bench. (Alucard sits upright, like a perfect noble gentleman. Sypha curls her knees to her chest and settles against the back of the chair. Trevor sprawls and slouches in a way that can’t be comfortable, although he looks as content as a cat who has gotten into the cream.) A large fire roars in the hearth, warming her cheeks and hands, and there is no need to retreat into a cloak or blanket for shelter.

“I can’t believe it,” Alucard says, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t believe it if Sypha hadn’t corroborated your story.”

“Your distrust wounds me,” Trevor deadpans, taking a long draft of his beer. “I’m a reliable source all on my own. When have you ever known me to falsify or exaggerate a tale?”

Sypha deliberately looks at the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the room. “Oh, about fifteen minutes ago. Our prison guards were little more than pimply teenagers. Hardly as menacing as you painted them.”

Alucard laughs, and Trevor halfheartedly tosses a throw pillow at her. “Quiet, you. One of them certainly looked like he had some troll blood in him.”

“Seriously, though,” Alucard says. “I’m surprised that a human acted with such depravity. Dismembering ten townspeople and scattering their limbs about the village. I would have believed it was a werewolf or a demon from the night hordes, as everyone suspected.”

“We thought so at first too. That it would be a simple matter of finding and destroying the creature. It was only after Trevor and I were framed and arrested that we realized that of course a demon or any of the creatures from the night hordes wouldn’t have the ability to do such a thing.” Sypha shrugs. “And then he slipped up. He made a kill outside of the full moon. It was clear we were looking at a human suspect then.”

Trevor does a mock bow. “Another mystery solved by Belmont and Belnades.”

“Belnades and Belmont,” Sypha corrects, and then plunges ahead before Trevor can whine about it. “Tell me everything that you know about werewolves, Alucard. Trevor didn’t remember anything about them being written in the Belmont library. It wasn’t a werewolf this time, but if we ever encounter another situation where we suspect werewolf involvement, we need to know what to do.”

“Trevor doesn’t remember anything about werewolves in the Belmont library due to memory loss from years of gratuitous alcohol abuse,” Alucard replies, straight-faced. “There are three whole volumes on werewolves in the Sara Wing. Bound in werewolf hide, no less. It’s pretty disgusting. At least your ancestors managed to get the wet dog smell out, Belmont.”

“I have had it with the verbal abuse,” Trevor declares, before draining his tankard to the last drop and standing a bit unsteadily. “And the last thing I want to do is talk werewolves before bed. It may give me nightmares. Should we save this for breakfast?”

Sypha is starting to grow tired, after the long day and the heavy meal. It’s been so nice to catch up with Alucard, though, and she isn’t ready to end the night yet. “I’ll stay down here for a while,” she says, looking up at Trevor. “Good night.”

“Night,” he says, turning away and lifting a hand. “Also, fuck you.”

This last is directed to Alucard. Sypha sighs, and Alucard cheerfully gives Trevor’s back the finger. “Don’t get lost,” he calls.

They hear his slow movement out of the sitting room and up the stairs, and then his footsteps fade from earshot. Alucard glances at her. “Does he really get nightmares?” he asks, lowering his voice. “I couldn’t tell whether he was just being Trevor, or being serious.”

“Yes,” Sypha admits, after a moment. “I think we all do. But I think that Trevor’s pre-date ours.”

Alucard’s face settles into the familiar lines of sadness. “Yes,” he says softly. “That makes sense.”

Sypha reaches over and takes his hand. “How have you been?” she asks. “I’ve thought of you every day. Both of us have, really. Neither of us wanted to leave you alone here. I can’t imagine how hard it must be.”

Alucard looks away, but he doesn’t pull back. “It’s been difficult,” he says, after a long while. The light from the fire casts flickering shadows on his face. “I would like to tell you it’s easier every day, but it’s not quite. Some days, some weeks, it is easier every day. Then the next day, I’ll wake up and I’ll see something that triggers a memory of before, and it’ll be four steps back.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sypha whispers, squeezing his hand. She hates feeling so useless, so powerless to help. If there was only a spell she could cast; but this is something even beyond the powers of magic. “Is there anything I can do to help you? If you want to talk, about anything, I will listen.”

Alucard looks back at her, and with effort, he gives her a small smile. “That’s a kind offer,” he says sincerely. But…” he sighs. “I spend enough time with my own thoughts, in my own head. I don’t want to dwell on any of that while I’m in your company…and Trevor’s. I’d rather hear about what’s going on with you.”

He fixes her with a rather perceptive look, then, and Sypha fidgets. “You’ve heard the good stories,” she says. “Although, now that you mention it, I forgot to tell you about this time that Trevor had to pose as a baker in Sebes.”

Alucard raises an eyebrow. “As intriguing as this sounds, that’s not what I was getting at, and you know it.”

Sypha unwittingly channels Trevor and slouches in the armchair guiltily. “I don’t,” she says unconvincingly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, you’re going to make me get embarrassingly specific. What’s going on with you and Belmont?” Alucard asks. “Are you f--”

“No!” Sypha snaps, feeling her face growing hot. “Absolutely not!”

“Okay,” Alucard replies, unfazed. “But you want to be.”

“No!” she protests, and it takes an effort to keep her voice low. The last thing she needs is for Trevor to overhear this conversation. “Not at all! It isn’t like that!”

Alucard rolls his eyes. “Please, Sypha. Don’t insult me by denying it. I’m not blind, or deaf. I see how you two are together. I saw it back when we first found the Belmont library, and you two have been off by yourselves for months now.”

She grabs the pillow that Trevor had tossed at her earlier and squeezes it hard. “Ugh! You’re just as bad as he is!”

Alucard laughs. Sypha groans, burying her face in the pillow and wondering if she could smother herself with it. “Don’t laugh,” she says, muffled by the pillow. “This is embarrassing enough without you rubbing it in.”

“It’s Trevor Belmont you’ve got your eye on. You should be embarrassed.”

Sypha slumps deeper into the pillow. Alucard laughs again, before reaching over and patting her on the shoulder. “I’m just teasing you.”

“I know,” Sypha mumbles, sitting up. She still feels flushed. “There really is nothing going on between us, though. Trevor and I are just friends. As you and I are.”

Alucard looks unconvinced, but he humors her. “You could change that, you know.”

“I think I’ve made my feelings quite clear!” Sypha crosses her arms. “I haven’t been shy or coy about how I feel for him. I haven’t danced around it. I suggested that we travel together, months ago. We walk arm-in-arm, we rest against each other while traveling, we sleep together, literally. And yet--” She bites her lip, fighting a sudden ache in her chest. “Nothing more than that.”

“That’s because Belmont is an idiot. A stone-cold moron. I know you say you haven’t been shy or coy about your feelings, and most normal men would have taken the hint months ago, but again. Belmont is an idiot. You’d probably have to kiss him before he got it.” Alucard rolls his eyes again.”It’s good that that wouldn’t be a problem for a woman as brave as you.”

“I don’t know,” Sypha says quietly, looking into the fire. “I’d be lying to you if I said I hadn’t thought of it. Or been tempted. But - I don’t know.”

Alucard looks at her curiously. “Are you nervous?”

She hears the rest of his sentence, the You’ve fought and defeated the generals of Dracula’s army, and curls into herself defensively. “This - the way I feel for Trevor, the things I feel - it is all very new to me,” she says, making a terse gesture with her hands. “I know that many women my age are mothers. But I have always been more occupied with my studies and with my duties as a Speaker than with boys. Or men.”

Alucard takes it in. “Ah,” he says, finally understanding. He reaches over and takes her hand in his cool one, and Sypha reluctantly meets his gaze.

“You have nothing to be nervous about,” he says simply. “You remind me of my mother, you know. You’re smart, fearless, determined, passionate, kind, and gifted. And beautiful. That’s clear to anybody who’s spent any time with you, let alone anyone who knows you as Trevor and I do. And Trevor - he’s an idiot, yes. But he knows you, and to know you is to love you. I wouldn’t worry.”

Sypha just looks at him, stunned. Before he can move back, she throws her arms around his shoulders. “Thank you, Alucard,” she whispers.

Alucard pats her on the back. “You can repay me by naming your firstborn after me, no matter how he protests.”

She pulls back, and can’t help but giggle. “We will see.”

Alucard glances at the clock in the corner of the room and winces. “I’ve kept you up way too late,” he says. “I forget that humans need to sleep more than I do. I’m sorry. It’s almost one. Do you want me to walk you back to your room, or do you remember where it is?”

“I remember.” Sypha stands, gathering her blue Speaker cloak from the armchair. She reaches down, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Good night.”

“See you in the morning.”

Sypha makes her way up the grand staircase, shaking out her cloak and wrapping it around her. There’s a chill in the air away from the fire, and her heart aches to think of Alucard wandering this great castle all alone. If she could just find a spell to conceal this place from others’ eyes, and lock the studies and the laboratories and the libraries away from plunderers, then he could travel with her and Trevor. It will be much better for him to have their company all the time, instead of once every few months. Besides, It had been nice to confide in Alucard, to speak her mind openly.

She had loved her Speakers as members of her family, but that being said, there had been no one her age that she had been able to bond with like she had with Trevor and Alucard. It’s a strange thing, to love people but still not quite be able to call them friends, she reflects. Before Trevor and Alucard, the only person she had ever truly confided in, sharing her feelings honestly, was her grandfather.

There’s a light on in the small library in the guest suite, down the hall from her room and Trevor’s. Sypha glances in as she passes, expecting that Alucard must have left it on earlier in the day. She stops dead when she sees Trevor, slouched in an armchair near the lamp, absorbed in a book.

He must have noticed her, because he stops reading and looks over at the entrance. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself,” Sypha replies nonchalantly, masking a moment of inward panic. There is no way that he could have heard her conversation with Alucard, right? They had kept their voices down. “I thought you were tired?”

“I was. Am.” He carefully marks his page with the black satin bookmark. “Bedroom’s weird, though. I couldn’t get comfortable. I checked out yours, too, to see if I’d have better luck there. Same thing.”

Sypha frowns. That seems hard to believe. “I’ve seen you sleep like a baby while sharing a stall with livestock in barns,” she says. “What’s wrong with the rooms?”

“See for yourself,” Trevor says. He stands and yawns, before tucking the book under his arm and proceeding out of the library.

Sypha follows, after extinguishing the lamp. “For the record, I resent that you thought of stealing my room.”

“Turnabout is fair play, and all that.” He looks back at her and smirks. “I don’t complain when you steal the blankets at night.”

“I do no such thing!”

Trevor had left the door to his guest room ajar, and he pushes it open, leading her in. The only illumination comes from the fire in the hearth, but that is enough. He gestures expansively at their surroundings. “Yours is the same.”

Sypha takes it in, wide-eyed. It’s a little surreal. The bed is simply massive, covered with not one or two blankets but three, in varying shades of dark blue and gray, and to call them simply blankets would be a disservice. Blankets as she knows them are rough, plain, homespun. She slips her boots off and pads across the room, her feet sinking into the impossibly thick, plush rug that covers the stone floor. She reaches out and brushes her palm across the top blanket. It is incredibly soft and sleek, but heavy at the same time. Just one of them would be more than enough to warm her, and she can’t help but think back to all the nights outside where she’s shivered under three thin blankets.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she says wonderingly. This is even softer than rabbit’s fur. “I’ve heard of it, though. Is this velvet?”

“Yeah, it is.” Trevor comes to stand beside her. He’s very close, and he leans down and presses his palm into the blanket, next to hers. His hand dwarfs hers. “Sit down. Or lie down.”

Sypha settles onto the bed, feeling rather conscious of his presence, but even that can’t distract her from the next shock. “Oh!” she exclaims, startled. It’s like she’s sinking. “It’s like what I thought a cloud would feel like, when I was little.”

Trevor sits beside her. “That’s a good way to put it.”

Sypha stretches her arms out, still feeling a little bemused by the way the bed seems to contour to her body. It’s so soft, so pliant. “What don’t you like about this?” she asks. “It’s very comfortable. It’s more than comfortable, really. This is the definition of luxury.”

“It’s too comfortable.” He grimaces. “It’s too much.”

She sits up. “Explain?”

Trevor shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not used to this,” he says shortly. “I’m used to the ground, sleeping underneath my cloak. Or on a hard bed in some inn. That’s been my life for the past ten years.” He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “Remember how on edge you were, the first time we slept in an inn? You said you missed looking up to see the moon and the stars. You felt trapped.”

Sypha nods. “I remember.”

He opens his mouth as if to say something, and then falls into a brooding silence. Sypha nudges him. “Hey,” she says. “Is there something else that’s bothering you?”

Trevor sighs, running a hand through his already-disheveled hair. “The last time I slept in a room like this was the night before the mob came for my family,” he says, finally, and she notices the pronounced dark circles under his eyes. “My room, when I was a kid - it looked kind of like this. It felt like this. With the blue velvet blankets and everything. I lay down tonight and I tried to sleep and I just…I couldn’t.”

She embraces him without hesitation. “I’m so sorry, Trevor.”

He rests his chin on the top of her head, and places a hand on her back. “That last night, I think I fell asleep excited about some hunting trip my dad was going to take me on the next day,” he says. He sounds so far away. “I had no idea. No fucking idea.”

Sypha pulls back and looks at him, before resting a gentle hand against his cheek. “There’s nothing worse than thinking about the moment before everything changed,” she says. “ And remembering the person who you were before that moment. In that last night when everything was still normal.”

“Isn’t that the fucking truth,” Trevor replies bitterly. To her surprise, he takes her hand, resting it between both of his own. “What was that moment for you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Sypha swallows over the lump in her throat. “It’s all right,” she says. “I remember the last real conversation I had with my parents, before they sickened with the plague. We argued because they felt I was studying magics that were too advanced for me. They were dead within the week.”

He puts an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “Fuck God,” he says, with his usual succinctness. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

Sypha wipes at the corner of her eyes discreetly. “I agree. Though…”

“What is it?”

“You know that I am not religious,” she says, looking up at him. “But one could argue that the God who so cruelly orphaned you and I, and Alucard, is the same one who led the three of us to find one another.”

“You’re such an optimist,” Trevor grumbles. “Such a ray of sunshine. It’s a little obnoxious.”

She can’t help but smile at hearing him sound more like his usual self. She rises, grabbing a pillow from the head of the bed. “Yes, well, now that I think of it, I have a solution for your little bedroom problem.”

Trevor coughs. “Can you not call it that?”

“If the shoe fits…” Sypha tugs at the top blanket until he moves, and pulls it off the bed. It’s incredibly heavy in her arms, and trails against the ground. “Don’t just stand there and stare. Make yourself useful and take the other pillow.”

“I’m not even going to ask.” Trevor does as she says, and follows her as she makes her way out of the room.

She leads him back to the library, and unceremoniously deposits the pillow and blanket on the large rug in front of the bookshelf. She kneels, straightening the arrangement. “Give me the other pillow.”

He hands it to her, and Sypha looks at her handiwork, pleased. “There you go,” she says. “Now you have a hard floor to sleep on. I brought the blanket because there’s no fireplace in here, but I figured that you can use your cloak as your primary blanket so it feels more familiar.”

Trevor looks at her with an unreadable expression, which is a little unusual. Normally he’s clearly either disgruntled, determined, content, hungry, or troubled, with the occasional contemplative or thoughtful look sprinkled in. “Thank you,” he says.

Sypha wills herself to keep from blushing. “I just wanted you to sleep well. You snipe at poor Alucard so much more when you’re tired.”

Trevor snorts. “Poor Alucard, my ass.” He settles down on the floor, stretching out with a sigh and looking much more comfortable. He closes his eyes, and then cracks one open to look at her. “Well, are you coming to sleep or not? You snipe at poor me so much more when you’re tired.”

“Oh, I--” Sypha starts, flustered. They sleep together outside to stay warm, and they share a bed when they stay at inns because they can only ever afford one room and neither of them is going to sleep on the floor. But she has a perfectly serviceable room here, but now that she thinks about it, maybe it would feel strange to sleep away from Trevor after months of sleeping beside him. She’s surprised he even asked, and he’s looking at her expectantly.

“I thought you didn’t like how I supposedly steal blankets,” she manages to recover, settling down beside him as casually as she can. Trevor offers her a portion of his cloak, and she pulls the velvet blanket over both of them.

“I don’t. But the way you talk in your sleep kind of helps me fall asleep. Distracts me from the internal monologue of the grim business of saving Wallachia from the forces of evil, and all that.”

“Happy to be of service.”

They rest in companionable silence for a while. Trevor’s presence is as warm, solid, and reassuring at her side as it always is, and Sypha is on the verge of falling asleep when he speaks.

“You always are,” he says. “I don’t tell you this enough, Sypha, but you’re a great friend. The best I’ve ever had.”

Maybe not quite the words she dreams of hearing, but they warm her heart nevertheless. She turns her head to the side, resting it against his shoulder. “So are you, Trevor.”

Trevor places his hand on hers, another surprise, and she drifts off to sleep with a small smile on her face.

to be continued

#castlevania #trevor belmont #sypha belnades

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the-pug-addict · 7 years ago

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Imagine: Being an Evil Villainess who’s obsessed with Trevor Belmont

Based on my most recent fic. I’m really sorry, but for some reason, I’m strangely addicted to the belief that Trevor’s adventure wouldn’t be complete without some wicked vixen trying to stop him from his quest and trying to get into his pants. Because heaven knows if I’ll ever have the time to write more fanfictions based on this concept, I wrote this thing instead.

As the title so clearly exaggerates, you’re ultimately evil in this scenario. By some strange circumstances, you work for Dracula and serve as his inquisitor. You constantly keep him updated on everything going on in the world outside of his castle, and you will gather him useful information by any means necessary (which most often involves torturing, interrogating and killing people).

Basically, you are what every stereotypical villainess starts out to be. You’re a very powerful witch skilled in the art of black magic. You are probably somewhere high up in the ranks of your coven, most likely as the right hand woman of your coven’s leader, the Witchmother.

You are also well known for your astonishing beauty. In fact, you’ve had plenty of fine lovers in the past, a list which consists of some of the most powerful, wealthy and handsome men in all of Europe.

However, your personality is utterly hideous. Though charming, you are arrogant, manipulative and have an insatiable appetite for power. You feel that you are entitled to the best of everything.

For that reason, you have a very impeccable taste in everything: clothes, jewels, wine, baths,... even men.

Like, any man you have your eye on has to be perfect.

Which is why you’re so smitten by Trevor Belmont the very moment you lay your eyes on that snarky bastard.

Originally, you’re sent by Dracula to investigate the rumors of the return of Alucard and the Belmont Clan. In the process, you find Trevor and the others somewhere in a town, and you simply can’t keep your eyes off the vampire hunter.

Because he’s Trevor fucking Belmont. We don’t need to discuss why you’re suddenly obsessed with him.

From that point on, it becomes your secret main goal to make Trevor your new lover in addition to gaining a ton of power over Wallachia. This, of course, results in conflicts in your loyalty to Dracula as you sometimes stray from his direct orders, sometimes creating irritability and tension between you and the vampire lord.

When first meeting the vampire hunter, you are 100% getting your flirt on. You flaunt your best features. You wear your prettiest, sexiest dresses. You do your hair and makeup perfectly. Anything you possibly can to seduce the hunter.

At one point, when you try to convince Trevor to join you, it almost works. Seducing him with the most cat-like charms, you wind up getting him worked up. Without thinking, he decides to bed you that night.

But here’s the catch: when you both are finished, you ask him to join you.

In response, he decides to be his cocky, sneaky bastard self as he grins and tells you “no.”

From then on, you’re pissed as a hornet. How in the hell would any man have the nerve to tell you no? How dare he?! HOW FUCKING DARE HE?! You’d make him die a horrible death for rejecting you like that.

But oh dear God, you still want him. So, you decide to give him another chance. If not, you’ll kill him.

And when you fail again, give him another...

And another...

With every encounter with Trevor and his group, your interactions are always a mix of both flirty seduction and ruthless anger for destroying your pride.

Whenever fighting against Trevor, every comment you shout at him is almost always suggestive in nature. For instance, as you throw fireballs at him, you won’t stop rambling on about how his whip “adds to his sex appeal” and the things you imagine him doing to you with it.

It definitely throws Trevor off during these fights. He just... isn’t sure what to say....

To be honest, he’s not sure if he’s supposed to feel weirded out or turned on by your sexual comments...

Maybe he’s both.

Dear god, the lines you’ve even crossed during these battles, too. In yet another attempt to get Trevor flustered, you decide to pull of the CRAZIEST thing you’ve ever done.

When Trevor tries to initiate the fight, you simply grin at him. “Do you mind if I take off my dress first? It’s brand new. I don’t wish to get any blood or dirt on it.”

Let’s say you did just that and....

... Well, things got interesting...

Trevor has some pretty mixed feelings towards your advances towards him. He absolutely wants nothing to do with you. He stresses it to you as hard as he can until he’s blue in the face. For God’s sake, you were an evil witch. Yet, at the same time, he feels himself becoming strangely allured by your temptations and tricks, which is why it is sometimes quite tough for him to resist.

Perhaps he caves in once or twice and regrets it afterwards...

((Trevor, the fuck are you doing? Hasn’t anyone told you never to stick your dick in crazy?))

Whenever Trevor decides to give in to you, your lustful encounters with him can range anywhere from sweet and tender to brutally controlling. You always like to be the dominant one. You never bottom in bed. You give him commands and treat him as if he’s your little pet animal.

Oh. Lots of dirty talk, too. Your favorite nickname for him is “dirty boy.”

When Trevor rejects you, though, that’s when your real colors usually come out. You go from giving him praises and feeding his ego to lashing out at him with every insult in the book, calling him a filthy mongrel, an animal, a pig, etc.

And ohhhh boy, what a bitch you turn into when he starts to develop a thing with Sypha...

Seriously, though. Seriously. What does he see in her? She’s not even that pretty. She’s not even that good of a magic caster, either. What kind of a blind idiot would pick that wench over you? You were the one he desired, not her. Really. You were perfect! FUCKING PERFECT JFAOIDCIDCIIJCIAHFIPAJEIAED--

Unfortunately, in the end, Trevor doesn’t wind up picking you. He sees through your BS. He knows that you don’t truly love him-- you’re just in love with the idea of him. All he is to you is a wild beast meant to feed your blooming ego.

In the end, you most likely die horribly. Very, very horribly. It’s Castlevania, so it’s completely possible that your death is a very gory, graphic one at that. It’s either by Dracula’s hand for betraying him, or getting slain by Alucard’s sword.

Or by getting tricked into embracing Trevor in a kiss, only to be poked by something very hard and sharp.

I’ll give you a hint. It’s not his dick.

So, there you have it. In the end, good overcame evil. Your death proves to the Castlevania TV fans that charm and beauty aren’t everything-- even though you were probably the hottest character in the series, you just simply couldn’t get the hero trapped into your clutches. Thus, you lose him to the good girl whose smart, nice and totally kicks ass.

Because brains over beauty, bitch.

#castlevania #trevor belmont x reader #reader x trevor belmont #trevor belmont #castlevania netflix #imagines #headcanons #reader insert #villainess

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terminallydepraved · 7 years ago

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Vitriolic

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The lambent warmth of the fire couldn’t quite blot out the bone-chilling cold of the night. Trevor wrapped himself tighter in his fur mantle, glaring at the crackling logs and flickering flame. If he glared hard enough, would it make it warmer? The night was sure to drag on for several more hours. He wasn’t quite sure how much longer he could take the shivering before he lost his patience for it altogether.

“Something wrong, Belmont?” a voice as cool as the night called out from across the fire. If Trevor bothered to look up, he was sure he would see that blasted vampire lounging against his bag, unaffected and so fucking proud of the fact that the humans were freezing as he watched on. “If you glare any harder, you might find your face stuck like that. Perhaps it would do you well not to make yourself appear any more beastly than you act.”

If there was one thing to be grateful for, it was how Alucard’s presence always seemed to make Trevor’s blood boil on sight. He met eyes with the vampire, turning his glare to him. It wasn’t much of a change to make. Alucard’s brilliant blond hair was nearly as bright as the fire anyway.

“I’ll show you a beast when I rip your lily-white ass to pieces, you enormous cock,” he shot back, baring his teeth to the creature currently showing off his own in a wide, mocking smile. “It’s fucking cold. I’m fucking cold.”

“Crass,” Alucard murmured. “Charming even in your suffering, aren’t you?”

“And how the bloody fuck aren’t you freezing your ass off too?” Trevor snarled, shifting closer the fire. If he got any nearer to it, he might just set himself on fire. “Forgive we mere mortals for daring to let slip our simple human vulnerabilities before Your lofty fucking Highness.”

“If you’ve got that much vigor left, I would hazard to say that you are in no danger of dying this night.” Alucard’s smile was a small thing, but it didn’t need to be big to piss Trevor the fuck off. “I too feel the cold, Belmont. Some of us are just better at coping.”

Trevor snorted. Coping. He could show the vampire bastard coping. Just give him a bottle of whiskey and watch him fucking cope to the moon and back. Trevor Fucking Belmont was the King of Coping—

“Are you talking to yourself now?” Alucard called out incredulously. “I had thought you cold, not mad.”

Was it taking the higher ground to say nothing, or was that simply admitting that the vampire had won this round? Trevor curled his lips into a scowl, glaring. Perhaps at one time Belmonts were known for taking the higher ground, but Trevor was hardly a Belmont with nothing but the name behind him. “Go back to your brooding, vampire,” he muttered, drawing his mantle as tightly around himself as he could. “I’m in no mood to play with you.”

Alucard hummed, his golden eyes flashing in the darkness like a cat’s. “Then I suggest you find a better way to occupy your time, if that is the case, Belmont,” he said coolly. “If you recall, you are the one who started this.”

If Trevor recalled, Alucard was the one who decided to start a bloody conversation. He didn’t say at much, though, knowing what the vampire would say. “Then why are you continuing it if you find my humble company so distasteful?” The pompous fucking mosquito. Trevor glared at him freely, narrowing his eyes when Alucard simply looked up at the sky instead, effectively dismissing him entirely. Trevor told himself he didn’t care. It simply gave him permission to look his fill of the creature before him.

It was hard to tell if Alucard had been lying about being cold too. He certainly didn’t look it. Sure, he was deigning to wear his shirt, his elegant coat wrapped around his svelte frame, but there were no moves made to tug it tighter, or even to button up the front. He lounged like an aristocrat against his propped-up bag, his wrist resting on his crooked knee as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Disinterest sat like a familiar friend along his sharp cheekbones. When he bothered to blink, the firelight caught on his eyelashes, sparkling like stray sparks. Trevor’s shivering settled a bit, his body no longer aching with the repetitive tremors. He hated how Alucard wore the cold like cloak. With how effortless he made it look, Trevor had to wonder if the blasted vampire had just lied to him before.

When Alucard stood, it was impossible to look at anything but him. Trevor swallowed the foul barb on his tongue and tipped himself onto his back, watching the vampire look up and stare at the moon. Snow fell silently around his head, catching errant parts of the fire’s light to glisten like stardust alongside Alucard’s brilliantly light hair. When Alucard sighed, no breath misted in the air. He turned his eyes to Trevor, cocking his head. Was he speaking? Trevor couldn’t tell. He shook his head, breaking the spell put over him. Blasted cold, stealing away his senses like that.

“What did you say?” Trevor asked, hating how Alucard smiled that slim, knowing smile of his. “I couldn’t make it out over the sound of your blood-sucker pomp rending the night.”

“Are you sure my pomp is to blame, Belmont,” Alucard took a step closer, moving with that inhuman grace all vampires seemed to possess. In the time it took to blink, he was standing before Trevor, blotting out the fire entirely. He crouched down before Trevor could summon up an insult, his slender hand cupping him beneath the chin to force their eyes to meet. “Or perhaps it is simply your own inattentiveness?”

Trevor couldn’t quite summon the strength to breathe. True to Alucard’s word, his hand was anything but cold. Perhaps not as warm as a human, but certainly not the clammy touch of death he knew of most vampires to have. Somehow, he forced his lips to form a scowl. Somehow, he forced himself to speak.

“What are you doing, vampire?” he whispered, his anger sterilized by the proximity, the shock.

“If you stare at me so intently,” Alucard said softly, dipping lower, “I must assume you want something more than my stimulating conversational skills. Am I wrong, Belmont?”

For the life of him, Trevor couldn’t say no. He swallowed. “You don’t have the balls,” he whispered, caught in the wake of his golden-eyed stare.

Alucard smirked, and that was all Trevor saw of it before he was feeling it himself against his own lips. The hand holding his chin tightened, keeping him from tearing himself away on reflex. A warm tongue teased the seal of Trevor’s lips, shocking him to part them, to allow this fucking vampire inside. Trevor gasped, throwing up a hand to tangle in Alucard’s long, silken hair, dragging the vampire onto his lap before he did something stupid like whine for more.

“Your breath is abhorrent,” Alucard murmured against Trevor’s lips.

Trevor responded with a hand to the vampire’s ass, groping him roughly to drag their trapped cocks together in a messy roll. “Deal with it,” he groaned, surging forward to kiss him again. The night was cold but Alucard certainly wasn’t. His skin nearly burned when Trevor managed to slip his hands beneath the hem of the man’s shirt, his fingers scrambling against soft pale skin in a hungry need for more. How far were they going to go? How far would Trevor let himself go? This was so fucking wrong. His ancestors were turning in their shallow graves, weren’t they? A Belmont embracing a vampire, the son of Dracula no less.

But, God, if blasphemy didn’t feel good.

There was nothing classy about how they came together. If there was, Trevor was probably too crass to see it. Alucard’s hips were sharp, deathly sharp, his damned belts far too difficult to unbuckle and his voice too lewd in Trevor’s ear to inspire much confidence that he would ever be able to forget the sound of it. Trevor rolled them over, laying Alucard out onto the ground, grinding and rutting into the vampire like a beast in his need to get off. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t even that gratifying. Alucard threw back his head and writhed in the dirt, and Trevor knew it was perfect for that alone.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” Trevor grunted, wrestling with the laces on his trousers, encouraging Alucard to do the same with his own. “Laid out in the dirt like a peasant. How does it feel to come down onto our level, Your Highness?”

“Perhaps it might feel good if you weren’t as desperate as a dog in heat,” the vampire muttered, punctuating it with a low groan as their bared cocks finally came together. Alucard gripped Trevor’s shoulders tightly, too tightly, tight enough to bruise and then some, guiding him in a slow rut that felt entirely too good.

Trevor couldn’t respond even if he wanted to. He settled for wrapping a hand around the both of them, holding them together as they bucked. Filthy. This was so filthy, and with a vampire. A blood-sucking spawn of Satan, but beautiful enough to make the heavens weep. Trevor’s life really did seem to be one giant cosmic cluster-fuck, so he really shouldn’t be so surprised. This was on par for him, really, and as mistakes came, this one at least had the potential to end pleasurably.

More, more, more— The words echoed between Trevor’s ears, his need pounding like a heartbeat all its own, like a beast urging to be sated. With blood or pleasure, it didn’t seem to care. Alucard dug at his shoulders and rolled his slim hips, arching his back as gracefully as a dancer when the situation never should have allowed him such lofty beauty. Trevor felt like a mess personally. It wasn’t fair at all, but little in this life was.

“Belmont,” Alucard seemed to urge, clutching at his shoulders, eyes burning with need. “Belmont, Belmont—”

Trevor sped up, desperate to hear more. “Close, so close,” he groaned, burying his face in the vampire’s soft, fragrant hair. “Just a little more. So damn close.”

“Come on, hurry. Don’t keep me waiting,” the smooth, aristocratic voice said as he combed through Trevor’s hair with his fingers. He sounded almost smug, not so breathless anymore. Why? Why did Alucard get to sound so composed? “Belmont? Are you listening to me?”

So close, so fucking close, can’t stop now. Trevor bit his lip and focused on the edge rapidly approaching. Just a little more, just—

A sharp blow tore Trevor from his sleep, pain rolling down his shoulder from the boot he could just see in his field of vision. “Finally awake, are you, Belmont?” Alucard stood above him with a delicate brow raised, looking impatient as ever in the cloudy, miserable light of day. “Get yourself up already, you lay about,” the vampire ordered, crossing his arms. “We’ve distance to cover today and no time to sleep the daylight away.”

Trevor flushed messily, knowing the damp feeling in his trousers intimately. He pulled his mantle around himself as surreptitiously as he could, mouth dry and ears still filled with the sound of the vampire’s moaning pleas. Christ knew no mercy, did he? Not when he continued to grind his heel into Trevor’s cock every chance he fucking got.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Trevor grunted, shoving Alucard’s boot away from his face. Could the vampire see the furious red on his cheeks? Knowing God’s sense of humor, he certainly did. “I’m fucking up, alright?”

“You certainly were,” the vampire murmured, turning on his heel to make for the bag he had left on his side of the fire. Trevor’s blood ran cold the moment the words caught up with him, and when he looked up, Alucard was smiling his damnable smile that told Trevor he knew. “Clean yourself up and let us move on. You’ve kept me waiting long enough as it is.”

“Who’s being crass now?” Trevor flushed an angry red, glaring as Alucard shouldered his bag.

“Still you, Belmont,” Alucard said simply. “Always you.”

#castlevania #trevor/alucard #check ao3 for more warnings #fic #trevor belmont #alucard

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belxmont · 7 years ago

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★ FILL IN THE QUESTIONS AS IF YOU ARE BEING INTERVIEWED FOR AN ARTICLE AND YOU WERE YOUR MUSE.

TAGGED BY: @adrianfarenheightstepes TAGGING: @lily-of-the-night @bloodxinxthexshadows @jxachim @petitlionfidele @consiliarium @showmethehotpods @monochromaticoccultist @anubisienpw && whoever else wants to do the thing.

Disclaimer: All of these answers are based around the main verse I have with @lily-of-the-night‘s Adrian!!! So that’s where most of these answers come from!

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME? "Jesus of Nazareth.”

2. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME? "Jesus of Nazareth... fine, bloody Christ, it’s Belmont. Trevor Belmont.”

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU’RE CALLED THAT? "Well Belmont cause it’s my Clan’s name, obviously. And Trevor? Probably some biblical meaning I don’t care to learn.”

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN? "Taken. Very much taken.”

5. WHAT ARE YOUR POWERS AND ABILITIES? "I hit things. In the face. With my whip. Very hard.”

6. WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EYES? "Blue. Got them from ‘m mom...”

7. HAVE YOU EVER DYED YOUR HAIR? "Nope, but the dirtier it gets the darker it gets. Does that count?”

8. DO YOU HAVE ANY FAMILY MEMBERS? "... Next question.”

9. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? "Does a werewolf count?”

10. TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE. "How much time you got? Cause I’ve got this list.....”

11. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES OR ACTIVITIES YOU DO IN YOUR SPARE TIME? “I like to fight. And drink. And fight while I drink.”

12. HAVE YOU EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE? "Probably, yeah.”

13. HAVE YOU EVER… KILLED ANYONE? ”I’ve killed a lot of someones. Nature of the job.”

14. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU? "I’ve been called a filthy rat bastard and a damn dirty dog before. Personally, I see myself as more of a wolf, you know? Lone wolf, hunting my prey. Wait, why are you looking at me funny? I’M BEING SERIOUS!”

15. NAME YOUR WORST HABITS. "Apparently ‘excessive drinking’ is a bad habit? And here I thought keeping the taverns supplied with coin was a good thing. Oh, and according to Adrian I snore and hog all the blankets.”

16. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE? ".... Yes. Though I sincerely doubt it matters, he’s long since been dead. Probably rolling in his shallow grave as we speak.” (He may or may not be referring to Leon here.)

17. GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL? "Technically I like ‘em both, but I got a strong preference for that dick game. Can’t be helped. Men are gorgeous and I like cock.”

18. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL? “Nope.”

19. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS SOMEDAY? (verse dependent) "I..... hadn’t really given it much though, I mean. Not until I met Adrian. And then.. a lot of things sort of... changed, I guess. My perspective changed. I wouldn’t mind getting married, and I wouldn’t mind having kids, but how do you do that, when your soulmate is not only male but also not entirely human....”

20. DO YOU HAVE ANY FANS? "Don’t know. Don’t care.”

21. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF? "..... never having been good enough. For my family, for my country. For Adrian.... For myself.”

22. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR? "Clothes. The warm kind. The floofier the better, honestly, even though SOMEONE dislikes my cloak.”

23. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE? "Irrevocably. Undoubtedly. Passionately.”

24. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU? “Upper-middle class. Well, at least I was. Haven’t checked since, I don’t know, my entire Clan was killed off and my home was burned down. I don’t have much bearing in society as it were.”

25. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE? "Oh, plenty! Wait, you mean friends that wouldn’t sell me out for a few silver? A few, then, perhaps. Who knows.”

26. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE? "... Depends on the pie. We talking a fruit pie, a meat pie? Gimme specifics here.”

27. FAVORITE DRINK? "Ale, by far. Though I’ve been known to enjoy wine whenever I can afford it.”

29. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE? "Anywhere outdoors. Further up north the better. I enjoy the cold. There’s a spot I used to train at, when I was younger. First venturing out alone, I... visit there when I get a chance. If just to think. I’d like to take Adrian there one day, but I do not think he enjoys the outdoors as much as I do...”

30. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE? "I’m... not interested in anyone other than Adrian, if that’s what you mean. I’m kind of a one-lover kinda man. Boring, I know.”

31. WHAT’S YOUR DICK SIZE? *Snickers* “Want to see for yourself?”

32. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN? (verse) "I’ve never seen the ocean, but I’m familiar with nearly all the lakes here and I enjoy swimming in them when I can.”

33. WHAT’S YOUR ‘TYPE’? "Tall, dark and dangerous.”

34. ANY FETISHES? "No.”

35. TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE? "Top. Dominant. Primarily. Though I can be persuaded to... switch... if the mood should ever arise.”

36. CAMPING, OR INDOORS? “Camping is fun. I enjoy it. It’s better at night, though. Keeping warm by the fire, watching the stars...”

37. ARE YOU WAITING FOR THIS INTERVIEW TO BE OVER? “Seven fucking Hells yes.”

#⚔: Stats #{LMAO I HAD WAY TOO MUCH FUN ANSWERING SOME OF THESE F U KC.}#{blblblblbhbh thank you for the tag bby!!!! <3}

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artrixx · 7 years ago

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Flames

[[I am just sort of in the mood to write Castlevania things and used this as a warm-up; I am very rusty and new to tumblr but looking to take requests! This one is Trevor-centric, Netflix inspired.]] -

Trevor was starving.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t hunt, it was that he couldn’t cook.

Not for lack of skill; he’d learned years ago how to handle fresh meat. The killing wasn’t what bothered him, not when he’d seen so much death in his life. Not when he’d been responsible for so much death.

It was the smell of the fire.

When he was younger, he’d always liked the smell of smoke and wood. Mostly, because it reminded him of the nights when he could curl up on the rug in front of the fireplace back home. It was ritual almost; after dinner he’d always wind up there. A full stomach was enough to warrant a nap, and even at a young age, he’d been an active child. He’d been a bit of a schemer, too; his father was not an affectionate man and yet, when he was small and fragile, Trevor had craved his affection.

His mother was responsible for it; she’d coddled him, according to his father. But Trevor was too young to think there was anything shameful about enjoying attention from your mother, and he wanted reassurance that his father loved him as much as she did.

If he went to sleep on the rug, his father had to pick him up to cart him off to bed—and if that was the only way he could get his father to embrace him, that was what he would do.

His father was a strong man, with broad arms and a barrel chest. He was tall and imposing, but Trevor liked that about him. There was nothing scary about his father, unless he was mad.

It was hard to be afraid of his father when he knew what monsters looked like, and he knew his father fought them, like his father’s father, and his father before him, and so on.

One day, Trevor would fight them too, but back then he hadn’t been brave. He’d seen the monsters skulking in the woods, he remembered the sound of glass shattering when they broke into the house.

It only happened once, but he remembered the white of its teeth, and the red of his blood as fang met flesh. The memory of the pain had faded; he might have even passed out. But still, he remembered the sound of his father charging across the wooden floors, and the sound of the whip cracking.

The sound of the monster screaming before it burned away into nothingness.

It was the only time he could remember his father willingly drawing him up into his arms and holding him tightly.

Trevor had been afraid back then, but his father had always made him feel safe. He couldn’t be blamed for wanting the attention, the security.

He would never admit it now, of course. He tried to burn the thought from his mind like the townspeople tried to burn his house from the Earth.

Only, they had succeeded and he still failed.

The smell of smoke and the sound of crackling wood filled him with a cold rage. He’d been sick to his stomach more times than he cared to admit, just by staring into the dancing flames of a campfire.

He made excuses for himself, because that was easier than admitting how deep the feelings of betrayal had cut him.

He told himself that a fire in the night would attract the things he hunted and that he was smartest to conceal himself in the shadows.

The truth was simply that the flames transfixed him. They drew him back to a place where he no longer felt safe; instead, he felt weak, helpless.

As his house burned, he had been restrained by two men—two men he had known since childhood. Two men he’d known his whole life. Two men he’d thought were friends to his family.

Two human men.

Not superpowered monsters, not creatures of the night with enhanced strength and durability.

Two fucking humans, not so different than he. Only, they didn’t have his training.

And still, he couldn’t save the house. Or anything, that night.

It was cold tonight; he was sitting in a small clearing a few distant yards from a well traveled road. The only light was the pale streams of moonlight that flickered through the web of branches and leaves above him. He couldn’t see much but the flask in front of him.

He couldn’t have fire, but he needed warmth, and even his cloak provided only so much.

He was cold on the inside.

But whiskey burned on the way down.

His flask was nearly empty; it was one of the few trinkets he’d salvaged from the ashes. It was filthy and warped from the fire. The family crest was defiled in the same way their name had been, but Trevor kept it all the same.

They were relics, each. Scarred and discarded and useful only for holding alcohol.

He had been reduced to this, to a failing structure of a man. He had once stood tall and proud; he deserved the Belmont name. He had once been filled with resolve and joy and happy memories, but now there were only ashes.

Like the house.

He would not have a fire of his own, not tonight. When he closed his eyes, he only saw flames. He heard the crackling of wood as his home collapsed on itself.

He heard the screams of his parents as the fire ate them alive.

The payment for their protection, apparently, was death.

Despite generations spent protecting the townspeople, in the end it had meant nothing. They had been all too quick to turn on the Belmont family, to assault them in the early morning hours while they slept.

They hadn’t even had the decency to kill his parents then, only incapacitate them.

Their death was painful, and their screams haunted him. Worse, the silence after their screams haunted him.

It was no act of mercy that he had been allowed to live; he had simply arrived too late for them to lock him in the house before the flames consumed it. He had been tracking a monster—one he never found—when the wall of red lit up the sky. He’d run home, fearing some accident, or monster, at worst.

But he hadn’t expected them.

Rage brought him to life; he saw the way they all stared at the flames. Some were still holding torches, as if they expected the roaring wall of fire to suddenly die and they’d be there to rekindle it. The group had come armed. It had not taken him long to understand what had happened. He tried to charge past them, elbows and punches flying just to clear a path.

They would not let him pass. They subdued him, but they did not kill him.

Perhaps they were just so eager to see the pain in his eyes that they let him live. Like they needed to see him suffer to make any of this count.

The only members of the church he had ever spoken with seemed the sort, poisoned with power and self-righteousness. They had enjoyed looking down at him as he was shoved into the ground by his friends. They had enjoyed telling him that this was his own fault. That his family had brought this on themselves, that they were evil and that all evil must be purged.

Trevor fought evil. Willingly, back then. He had looked evil in the eye. Demons, vampires, all sorts of creatures of the night.

He knew evil.

And yet, no beast, no monster, had ever reeked of such evil as that of the men before him.

When the flames began to die, they beat him. Revenge, perhaps, for his initial assault on the crowd. His weapons were stripped and discarded somewhere in the darkness. He remembered fists and boots and sticks.

And the faces of the people his family had protected.

When he’d come to, he awoke to glowing embers and smoke, and crumbling wood.

Nothing was left. He searched for his parents, for any remain of them, until dawn, but he found nothing of them to bury so they received no formal service.

As if the church would have allowed it, anyway.

He hadn’t been able to leave. He’d collapsed in the ash and destruction and sat there, staring at the life he used to know.

Days after the fire had faded, the area still smelled of smoke. It choked him, it burned him. It poisoned him.

Starving, drained, and empty inside, he left.

But the smell of smoke followed him.

He would rather starve than hear the crackle of wood, or smell the smoke, or be reminded of the white hot flames that consumed everything he’d ever loved.

The alcohol was the only warmth he needed.

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree he’d designated his bed for tonight and took one final swig before sealing up the flask and tucking it away.

He just wanted to sleep without dreaming of flames and screams and betrayal.

The alcohol didn’t help that night, so he dragged himself into town and had twice as much for breakfast.

#Castlevania #Trevor Belmont #fanfiction #Castlevania Fanfiction #castlevania netflix #idk i just rambled sorry

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