#money headers

[kthice]

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[cycat-carisi]

Take From Me My Lace

Pairing: Hetty x Trevor

Summary: Trevor learns about Hetty's most well-kept secret. (Takes place sometime before "Holes Are Bad".)

Tags/warnings: Spoilers for CBS Ghosts 3x08 "Holes Are Bad", some pg content, (implied) suicide.

Words: 1026

A/N: Heyyo! I'm new around here *waves frantically* I've been watching the show casually for 2 seasons. A rerun of the episode where Pete meets his grandkid SOLD me hard, and then the whole Tretty/H-Money affair started up, and I was a total goner, lol.

After watching "Holes Are Bad" I'm on the side that's convinced that Trevor knew. The look on his face, I think, is more sympathetic as if he's sad on her behalf that she had to reveal her secret, and not even on her own time. And when the other ghosts talk to Trevor afterwards, it feels like he's covering up what he knew.

So yeah, long story short, all of that inspired this little fic thing. I have not read any other fics in this fandom yet, but needed to get this out in the world to help kick off my full-blown obsession 😁🫶🏼

AO3: link (or below the cut!)

The pulse point just beneath her jawline.

He would never admit it out loud, but that was Trevor's favourite place to kiss Hetty. He loved that spot because his tender touch would send her eyes fluttering shut amidst hushed moans.

At first Hetty was apprehensive when Trevor's lips would trail close to the intricate neckline of her dress. Yet, as their relationship progressed, Hetty allowed Trevor to explore more and more of the places she had never let anyone else reach.

Still, most nights she would redirect Trevor's affections when his lips strayed even a little too far down towards the lacy seam. Trevor initially wrote off the abrupt change simply as Hetty's insatiable passion taking over, until one night he finally learned the truth.

"Mmm, Trevor," Hetty sighs, her voice heavy with sleep. Limbs tangled with hers, Trevor continues his ministrations, enjoying the feel of her soft murmurs echoing under his lips. "Ready for round two, are we?" quips the Victorian woman as she rouses from her slumber.

"Just lemme make you feel good instead," Trevor insists as he finds the spot beneath Hetty's ear that makes her keen.

She instantly gives in when his hand trails up the front of her corset, arriving to cradle her face. His thumb rubs delicately along the apple of her cheek while Trevor leans overtop his lover to place a languid kiss to her plush lips.

Hetty arches into the kiss, groaning when Trevor begins to trail his lips down to her pulse point. One of her hands grips his shoulder while the other seeks purchase in his styled hair. "Don't stop," she whispers when Trevor suckles lightly on the tender flesh beneath her jawline. And who is he to say no?

Trevor moves his lips inch by tantalizing inch along her neck, pausing to nip and lave his tongue over her ivory skin. He works further down towards the delicate lacework, and this time, without realization, Hetty tilts her head back to grant her lover greater access.

With her fiery red tresses pressed into the pillow, Trevor takes advantage, soothing her features with his thumb and slowly navigating his fingertips underneath the lace.

He feels it at the same time that she does.

Hetty's bright eyes fly open. She recoils, panic surging through her as she scoots herself up towards the headboard.

Trevor pulls back, startled; concern is written all over his face. "Hetty," he speaks gently. "What was that?"

The Victorian woman's vision turns glassy. She has kept her secret for so long, and now she has slipped up. She could lie. She could run. She could get angry at her pantless, horny lover. But she knows that none of those options would be fair. She is just as responsible for their affair as he is, and she concedes that this moment was ultimately inevitable.

Hetty swallows hard; fear and something akin to defeat are etched deep into her features.

Trevor leans in cautiously, his hand coming to rest reassuringly upon her clothed thigh. He sits patiently, waiting for her to be ready to speak.

"Ohh hoo," she exhales shakily, shifting to sit up further. His dark eyes never leave hers as she does. Except instead of speaking, Hetty simply reaches upwards, and her nimble fingers work to roll down the lacy fabric.

Trevor's brows pinch, and his heart sinks when the bruises and golden cord come into view.

Hetty scrunches her eyes closed, bracing herself for judgement–for Trevor to draw back in disgust. Instead, a soft voice engulfs her. "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry."

What Hetty sees when she opens her eyes is a handsome face laden with tenderness. There is no aversion, only warmth. And so, Hetty Woodstone, for the first time in the 120 years since her death, confesses the truth surrounding that fateful day.

Trevor listens attentively as the headstrong woman he is familiar with suddenly becomes so vulnerable, revealing her shame and deepest regrets. And as he takes in her words, Trevor feels privileged that Hetty–his Hetty–trusts him enough to bear her soul to him in this way.

Trevor allows her to speak until she has said all that she needs to. And somehow, Hetty finds her hands in his–an anchor to keep her from drifting away.

"Thank you, Trevor," she concludes, voice low and crestfallen. "Thank you for listening."

"You don't have to thank me, Hetty," Trevor soothes. "I just wish you had told me sooner so I could’ve been here for you."

Hetty gazes deeply into Trevor's eyes. Details leading up to his own death had been a secretive topic for the man who hides his compassion beneath a frat-boy persona. Hetty came to understand that part of him, and now Trevor is privy to a similar part of her. "You are here now, and that is more than I could ask for," she replies with a small smile.

Trevor nods, bringing the back of her hand up to his lips.

"Just… please don't let on you know." Hetty whispers, her eyes brimming with the desperation of her plea.

Trevor gives her hands a gentle squeeze. "Your secret is safe with me."

The pair's gazes fix as they drink one another in. The moment is raw, unveiling, and somehow deeply intimate.

Hetty's eyes fall to Trevor's lips. She begins to tilt her body toward his when Trevor decides to break the silence. He wants to hold her, wants to whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and to kiss away the pain she has locked deep inside herself. Instead, he murmurs, "Does it still hurt?"

Hetty feels Trevor’s breath tickle her lips. She pauses for a moment before answering solemnly. "A dull ache that never truly leaves."

Hetty nods, and Trevor slowly closes the distance between them. His nose grazes against her jawline before warm lips softly meet the bruises encircling her neck. Trevor's movements are gentle; there is no lust, only affection, and something that borders on the line of love.

Trevor draws nearer. "May I?" He asks, eyelashes flickering as he drags his gaze between her collar and the ocean swirls of her irises.

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[lovereist]

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