#trevor is too smart for these idiots

[abcdefgoose]

"It's really sad how easily you lie to us Rob," Jonathan murmurs mournfully from the other side of the room where he’s handcuffed to the wall.

From the other wall Max shakes his head, "You said you were a magician.”

"Look, the only reason you can't find a record-"

"Not even a review!" Annie crows smugly.

"Is because one doesn't exist." Sandra finishes for him, earning a glare from Robert that would have anyone else backing into a corner.

Robert grits his teeth, twisting against the handcuffs as though his frustration can give him enough power to break forth from where he's trapped, "It was a long time ago."

"We're all going to die-" Dennis cries out as the doors remained closed and the water started to pool in.

“-We’re not going to die! I can pick these locks any minute-”

“We’re all going to die.” Vanessa seems resolved to her watery grave with all of the elegant tragedy of a renaissance painting.

“No one’s going to die-” Chris’s voice echoes from the speakers above them, “This is a team bonding exercise, you’re all perfectly safe.”

[festivalsofmargot]

Hey I just found you recently and I fell in love with way you write!! I wanted ask for something with Sebastian. Him asking the reader to the Yule ball, then going to the Yule ball together, maybe theyre friends with some secret pining in the picture too. Idk know, maybe him confessing. I just want romantic idiots in love kind of stuff. Thank you!!

The Northcott System

{Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Introduction: Garreth Weasley has asked the infamous Eric Northcott for dating advice. In order to seem more desirable to you, he needs to play mind games. So instead of asking you to the ball, he asks Nellie Oggspire. This is where he pulls in Sebastian Sallow for help with his plan. Garreth knows he doesn’t have feelings for you, so it would be harmless for him to take you to the ball, right? Unfortunately, shoving you and Sebastian together in this way backfires. And Sebastian becomes just as head over heels for you as Garreth is.

Word Count: ~ 5,700 words

Warnings: Kissing, Some Underage Drinking

Author’s Note: Man... I am ALL FOR YULE BALL ONESHOTS! Lol ramielll, I can’t thank you enough for the request.❤ Romantic high school idiots in love kind of stuff is my shit! I think it's so much fun to write. It’s so awkward and lovey dovey, I adore it. I feel so bad making Garreth the sucker in these Sebastian stories but he fits too well 😭 I need to make more Garreth stories to make up for it, he doesn’t deserve this. Fun fact, Eric Northcott’s advice in this came from my father-in-law. My husband is very lucky he didn’t pull that shit or I would have been long gone lmfaooo (The title is in reference to Sunny in Philadelphia’s D.E.N.N.I.S. System, you’re a real one if you caught it 😉.)

Songs (if interested):

Evergreen - Richy Mitch & The Coal Miners

drift/(:( - Alek Olsen

Butterflies (feat. AURORA) - Tom Odell

The Kiss - Trevor Jones

The Reason - Hoobastank

“Eric Northcott says the best way to get someone obsessed with you is to treat them like royalty, then ignore them for a few weeks.” Garreth Weasley told his group of friends in the hall.

“You took dating advice from Eric Northcott?” Ominis asked in disbelief. 

“Of course I did.” Garreth responded proudly, as if he were the smartest person in the world to have done so. 

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Don’t even pretend you haven’t heard about all the dates he’s pulled, Ominis.”

“Oh I’ve heard. Doesn’t sound like he’s been able to keep any of them though.”

“He’s a free man, Ominis. He just doesn’t want to be held down.”

Sebastian was half paying attention to the conversation around him. He knew it was related to the upcoming ball, but that’s all. He was looking over his notes on the recent restricted section find of his. It was too big and bulky of a book to carry around everywhere he went, so he had jotted down all he could to read over throughout the day.

“But this is why I need you, Sebastian.”

“Hmm?” Sebastian glanced up at Garreth.

“I know you haven’t spoken much, maybe not even at all for all I know. But I need you to take the new fifth year to the ball.”

Sebastian raised a questioning brow at him. “Why?”

It took way too much effort for Sebastian to try and follow Garreth’s plan. Garreth was going to take Nellie Oggspire to the ball, so he wanted Sebastian to take you to ensure no one with ulterior motives did. According to dating expert, Eric Northcott, you would be riddled with jealousy seeing Garreth with someone else. Then the day after the ball, he’d go up to you and confess his feelings. After seeing how he had other options, he’d be all the more desirable and you’d be over the moon to be chosen by him.

Sebastian felt like the plan was missing a few steps, or maybe had too many wrong ones to begin with. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to - oh, I don’t know - just go with the person you like to begin with?” He tried not to sound smart, but of course he sounded smart.

“It’s genius, Sebastian. You just don’t get it.”

“Evidently not.” He exhaled, looking back to his notes. But, now that he thought about it, he did need a date. He’d had tunnel vision on research for Anne’s curse, the ball had snuck up on him. There wasn’t anyone else who had popped up in his head to ask either. He had been a bit too preoccupied for anyone to catch his eye in that way.

He thought back to every interaction he’d had with you, which wasn’t many. You had held your own against him well enough while dueling in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, but he couldn’t know for sure how good you were. He had held back greatly considering you had just learned levioso and you were using a second hand wand. The only other time he could remember was when you two were partnered in potions class. There wasn’t a whole lot of getting to know each other then either. Still being so new to the magic world, you asked him endless questions about that day’s brew. He thought it a fine quality for someone to have, eager to learn rather than quick to dismiss what you didn’t understand. You were pretty easy on the eyes too.

Sebastian rubbed at his brows with his thumb and forefinger. “Alright, Weasley. I don’t get this plan but I’ll do it. Now if you’ll excuse me,” Sebastian closed up his notes. “I’m off to get a date to the ball apparently.”

-

How could I be so stupid to think Garreth liked me in that way? You inwardly chided yourself. The sting of finding out he had asked Nellie Oggspire to the ball still hadn’t dissipated. The way he had treated you so kindly lately had you certain he was going to ask you to the ball. But not only did he ask someone else, he had noticeably distanced himself from you out of nowhere. You weren’t sure what you did that seemed to upset him, but you didn’t have the time to chase after him and find out. You were already behind enough as it was, maybe the space between you two would help you catch up and get focused.

You hummed a song as you tended to the carnivorous plants in the greenhouse. You usually would have the energy to at least lightly sing some of the words for them, knowing they enjoyed music. But today, you didn’t have the gusto.

The greenhouse door opening and shutting pulled your attention and your humming ceased. You peeked over your shoulder. “Hello, Sebastian. How are you?” 

“I’m well, thank you.” He answered as he made his way over, becoming suddenly nervous. He realized he didn’t have a plan on what to say as soon as he was alone with you.

Just as you were about to bring your focus back to the plants, you remembered you had wanted to speak with him. “Oh! I’m glad you’re here, I've been thinking about you recently.”

He stopped in his tracks and a blush crept up his neck. You’ve been thinking of me?  “Oh?” Was all he could get himself to say.

“Yes.” You nodded enthusiastically, setting down your gardening tools and walking up to him. You brought yourself close and it put him on edge a bit. Keeping your voice low, you asked, “Do you think you could help me get into the uh -” You glanced at the door making sure it was closed all the way, “restricted section sometime soon?”

“Huh.” He didn’t know what he expected you to say to him, but it certainly wasn’t that. He was taken aback by your request, but, even more so, he was intrigued. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Seems I’ve got a reputation if even you’ve heard about my excursions. Whatever for, may I ask?”

“A book on ancient magic, that’s all I know unfortunately. Have you come across any such thing? Do you know where it would be down there?”

Now you had really piqued his interest. He had been trying to look into ancient magic himself lately for Anne. “Hmm. I’ve come across some passages here and there. But I don’t recall seeing any books solely on ancient magic.”

“Ah.” You said, disappointed.

“But another trip to look wouldn’t hurt.” He said quickly. “No matter how much Madam Scribner disagrees. I can get you down there this weekend.”

Your eyes lit up. “Will you? Oh thank you, Sebastian. You have no idea how much you’d be helping me out, you’d be my hero for this.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, getting a little bashful at the thought of being ‘your hero’, even just a small one that helped you find a book. “Don’t mention it.”

“No seriously, thank you. I’m sorry I have to drag you into helping me at all.” You exhaled, frustrated. “I mean what even is the point of a restricted section? You’d think a proper magical education would include all magic, none of this some are fine, some are off limits nonsense.”

His eyes widened a bit, words seeming to evade him. Seems a kindred spirit may have been closer than he realized.

“Look at me rambling on, now I’m just venting.” You shook your head. “I distracted you from what you needed to do in here, I apologize. I’ll let you get to it.” You went to return to the plants but Sebastian grabbed at your wrist to stop you.

“I came here to find you actually.” You faced him again and he cleared his throat, releasing you. “Garreth told me you’d be in here.”

You tried not to look bitter at the mention of Garreth. “What can I do for you?”

How does one go about asking another to a ball? Especially when it wasn’t his idea. He at least knew it wouldn't be very endearing to mention that part. Maybe he didn’t need to overcomplicate it. Just get the basic idea out, then embellish if asked anything further. “The upcoming ball. Would you like to go with me?”

The surprise was clear as day on your face, but it was a pleasant surprise, Sebastian was relieved to note. Was he holding his breath? 

Sebastian Sallow was asking you to the ball? You weren’t against the idea, not at all. Sebastian Sallow of all people, who would have thought? The two of you had never really spoken, to be honest you didn’t think he knew your name. 

“Y - Yes, I would actually.” You smiled at him, looking genuinely glad he asked you.

He huffed out a breathy laugh and began to feel giddy. Calm down, Sallow. It’s not like this is someone you’ve been pining for. He tried to inwardly deflate himself. This was the first real conversation he’d had with you, how could he possibly feel so elated to you saying ‘yes’ to him? Just happy to have a date to the ball, that must be it.

“That’s -” He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “That’s all I needed, I suppose. So, I’ll be off.” He said, staying in place and shifting on his feet. He didn’t want to leave the greenhouse, he realized. “See you this weekend?”

You nodded your head, a smile still gracing your lips. “You will.” 

Sebastian returned your smile, then went to leave. When he opened the door, he took one last glance at you before he stepped out. His stomach jumped seeing you still looking at him, a little thrilled you were staring after him. He wanted to say something more, but couldn’t think of anything quick enough. He gave a small bow of his head in goodbye, then left the greenhouse.

Was it supposed to be this thrilling when a boy you barely spoke to asked you to a ball?

-

Sebastian rubbed at his jaw as he made his way out of the herbology wing, his face was starting to hurt from grinning so hard. He was thinking he should write down a list of all the books he’d come across that mentioned ancient magic for you. Just in case you were interested. 

He was so deep in thought he hadn’t noticed Garreth watch him leave the greenhouse and walk up behind him.

“How did it go? Is the plan on?” Garreth asked, breaking Sebastian from his thoughts.

Oh right, the plan. Sebastian thought it was more idiotic by the second, but it got him a date with someone he hadn’t realized he had some things in common with, so it couldn’t be that bad. He stopped walking and faced Garreth, glancing over the red head’s shoulder to make sure you weren’t coming out of the greenhouse. “Sure, it’s on. What now?”

“Brilliant.” Garreth was ecstatic. “Now all I have to do is keep my distance until the ball’s over.”

Sebastian seemed to like the sound of that. “Uh - right. Good thinking. Well, best be off.” Sebastian turned to make his way to his dorm, keen on getting that book list started for you.

“You’re a real one for this, Seb!” Garreth called after him. 

Without looking back, Sebastian gave him a thumbs up.

-

Would he look overeager having brought the list of books and this enchanted bag? Merlin, he hoped not. He was already waiting for you outside the library, a little too late to have that regret.

He pushed up off the wall he was leaning against when he saw you approach. “You’re here.” He said, as if he were a little shocked you were actually going through with this.

“Don’t look so surprised.” You spoke in a hushed tone and smirked. “What’s that you’ve got there?” You asked, looking down at the bag and parchment in his hands.

“Oh, it’s - I was thinking - In case you wanted to take any more books that mention ancient magic while we’re down there, you could put them in here. It’s an enchanted bag that can fit just about anything.”

Your eyes widened, it was very thoughtful of him to go out of his way for you like that. “You’re joking. You didn’t have to do this.” You went up and took the items from him, looking over the list and taking a peek inside the bag.

You were right. He didn’t have to. But for whatever reason, he really wanted to. Why did I want to? 

“I usually bring one anyway. It was no trouble.” The first part was a lie. “Now, do you know the disillusionment spell?”

-

It was way too late in the night when Sebastian returned to his dorm room. But he wasn’t tired, not at all, not after what you and him had just gone through to get that book. 

After kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his robes, he slid into bed easily. He folded his arms behind his head and looked up at the ceiling, already nostalgic for the night he just had with you.

You were… Wow, you were something. Sneaking into the restricted section with you was already riveting. Going through all the books on that list he made and glancing over them together had stirred him. You two stood close while he pointed out the relevant passages he had found, and you listened attentively, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. But when you two had found that ancient magic vault, he was done for. What an adventure that was! 

He had so many emotions about it all. Discovering that ancient magic still existed had him ecstatic, he knew there were untouched areas of magic to explore further for Anne. And watching you wield it as if you had done so your whole life had him overwhelmed with hope, hope he was sure his uncle was nearly successful in getting rid of. And to top it off, exploring that vault and fighting giant guardian statues alongside you was… Wow! It was the first time he’d felt so alive since Anne got cursed.

How could someone like you have been under his nose this whole time? He thought back to when you were partnered in potions class, had he really been so blind even then? He couldn’t be wasting any more time. He only had a few weeks until the ball and Garreth would be pulling all the stops to make you his.

-

Sebastian sneaked glances at you during breakfast. You seemed to be busy finishing up some last minute homework, every now and then taking a bite of your toast. Had you always made simple acts look this endearing? Even the face you made while you fixated on your homework had his insides warming like a first year with a crush.

Your gaze lifted from your writing to look around the dining hall in thought. Your eyes landed on him, and he immediately wanted to die, embarrassed he got caught staring. But then you smiled at him, and he didn’t want to die anymore. He smiled back and you went back to your homework.

Gathering your belongings, you got up from your seat and made your way over to him. He got antsy as he watched you approach, but he was able to keep an air of calm. 

“Sebastian, could I steal you for a moment?” You asked in a hushed tone.

“Of course.” Stop sounding so eager, you buffoon. He got up and followed you until you were just out of hearing distance from everyone else.

“I got a lead on where the book’s missing pages are. And I um - Well, I -”

Sebastian eyed you as you started shuffling your feet. Are you nervous? 

“I was wondering - you know, since we worked so well together getting the book - if you’d like to come with me to get them? No need to feel like you have to! I just thought -”

“Absolutely, I’m coming with you.” He found himself saying.

An ecstatic look formed on your features, but you tried to bite it back. “Great, I’ll meet you after dinner tonight.”

Sebastian gave you a nod, trying to hold back an enthusiasm of his own. 

You held your books closer to you as you started to take your leave, but you stopped suddenly, remembering something. “Oh, Sebastian. Before I forget.” You had his full attention again as you dug around in your robes pocket. “Ah, here it is.” You held out a shrivelfig to him, giving him a look of go on, take it.

He took it gingerly from your hand and looked at you, bewildered.

“You mentioned you spent the last of your money on a shrivelfig to try out for Anne, but your uncle destroyed it.” 

Sebastian lifted his brows, amazed you had remembered such a thing. “Thank you.” He said, meaning it more than you knew.

“It’s the least I can do for all your help.” You waved him off. “I’ve been growing some anyway, and I’ve got more on the way if you ever need.” You were getting jumpier by the second and knew you had to get out of there before you made an idiot of yourself. “See you tonight.”

He was about to speak but you rushed off before he could get anything out. He looked down at the shrivelfig and turned it in his hand. You’d only been speaking a few days, and he already had it bad for you.

-

All too soon, it was the night of the ball, the last night he’d have with you before Garreth’s plan came to an end and he’d try to make you his. He wanted to enjoy it. He wondered if he should confront Weasley, but what would the point be if you didn’t have feelings for him any way? You and Garreth had been close for a majority of the year, while you and Sebastian only had these last few weeks together… these wondrous, extraordinary, marvelous few weeks.

He leaned up against the wall with his hands in his pockets as he waited. Nellie Oggspire had just walked down the steps and linked arms with Garreth. The red head gave him a knowing nod of his head as he passed, and Sebastian nodded back, trying not to tip him off that anything was amiss.

He glanced back up at the stairs to see if the person who just arrived was you. He saw it wasn’t and looked back down. Wait, yes it is! He shot up off the wall and stood up straight. He hardly recognized you, you cleaned up so wonderfully. He found you plenty attractive in your day-to-day getups already, yet you still managed to bring yourself up another level? Your smile at him as you walked down the steps was a spell in its own right. That’s not fair. He wanted to whine.

He met you at the bottom of the stairs, holding out his hand for you to take as you walked down the last few steps. He kept his eyes on yours as he kissed your knuckles. The feel of his lips on your skin had you weak, thankfully he held out his arm for you to take. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind if you leaned on him a bit.

The two of you looked out to the great hall, admiring how everything had been redone for the ball. Sebastian caught sight of Garreth gawking at you like he was in pain. Pushing Garreth to the back of his mind, he glanced back at you and was relieved you didn’t seem to notice the green eyed boy.

He cleared his throat, trying to forget Weasley existed. “Would you like to dance?”

“Yes, please.” You smiled sweetly. Dancing was the best next step. Your nerves were wild within you holding onto Sebastian like this, no way you would have been able to keep still.

He guided you to the dance floor and twirled you before bringing you into the proper waltz stance, just as you hoped he would. You looked up at him, holding each other a bit closer than what was probably appropriate for a school dance, and wondered how you two could possibly be so in sync after only a few weeks of getting to know each other. 

You had never thought yourself to be a great dancer. But somehow, with Sebastian in the lead, you felt as if you had suddenly become an expert. It must have been all the dueling the two of you had done together, that was practically a dance in and of itself. Being constantly aware of where the other was at all times, covering each other’s blind spots, not allowing one misstep to let the other get a scratch on them.

Neither of you had any idea how many songs you danced through. If you had the stamina, you two remained on the dance floor. Sebastian couldn’t recall ever liking dancing this much, couldn’t recall ever liking it in the slightest. But you seemed to bring it out of him, he wasn’t complaining. 

It wasn’t until Sebastian started to overheat in his coat that he realized how long the two of you had been going. “I don’t want to stop but I need to take this off.” He huffed with a laugh, slowing the two of you down to a stop. He hated that he had to throw off the momentum at all.

“It’s alright.” You panted. “I need to run to the washroom anyway. Grab us some drinks for when I’m back!” You called to him as you sped off, wanting to return as soon as possible. 

Garreth caught Sebastian’s dreamy stare as he watched you walk off. He excused himself from Nellie to get drinks at the same time as him. 

Sebastian didn’t seem to notice Garreth approach, too caught up in getting a glass for you and him, a pleased smile on his face. Garreth cleared his throat to grab his attention and Sebastian’s gaze shot up, his smile faltering. “Evening.” Garreth said, eyeing him.

“Evening.” Sebastian replied innocently, hoping that was the end of it. With drinks in hand, he went and found the table with your names on it. Garreth, forgetting drinks for him and Nellie, followed close in pursuit. Once he set down your glasses, Sebastian shrugged off his jacket then placed it on the back of the chair. All the while, wishing Garreth would take a hint and sod off.

“Look Sallow. I’m grateful you’re helping me out, but could you tone it down a bit? You two uh… really seem to be enjoying yourselves.” He glanced at the entrance to make sure you weren’t coming back yet, then turned back to Sebastian. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to make a move.” Garreth chuckled amicably, but Sebastian could still hear the warning in it.

“Garreth, relax. It's all a part of the plan.” He’d say anything to keep Garreth away from you that night. “Don’t wuss out now and ruin all your progress. Now off you go, back to Nellie, distance makes the heart grow fonder and such.” He shooed.

Garreth gave him one last uneasy glance, then went on his way. 

Sebastian sat himself down while he waited for you. Catching his breath and trying to recover so he’d be ready to dance again when you returned. He looked up towards the entrance and locked eyes with you as you made your way back. You smiled at each other, both thankful there was still plenty of the night left to go. 

Ominis put his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, giving a quick whistle to grab his attention. Sebastian glanced up then down at the flask he was expertly sneaking to him. 

“Ominis, you bad bad boy.” Sebastian laughed. Looking back at you, he smoothly took it from him. He hid it in his lap as you arrived and slid into the seat next to him. He realized then, he wouldn’t have any if you didn’t.

“You better give me some of that.” 

He also realized he’d gladly share. Sebastian was slightly aroused at seeing this misbehaving side of yours, how sly you were when holding your glass under the table for him to pour some of the flask in. He then swiftly poured some into his glass under the table as well, then put the cap back on to give back to Ominis.

“If anyone suspects anything, you and I had a fight and didn’t speak to each other at all tonight.” Ominis slid the flask back into his coat and left to join Isaac Cooper’s side.

“Bet I can get it down smoother than you can.” You teased, holding up your glass to cheers with his.

“Can you now?” Sebastian brought up his glass, clinking it with yours. You linked your arm with his and then brought the glass to your lips. He did the same, and you two chugged, keeping your eyes locked. 

The both of you handled it about the same, faces only contorting marginally at the dreadful taste. It wasn’t much, but downing it as you both had could get you a slight buzz.

“Do this often, do you?” You and Sebastian released each other, setting down your glasses and standing.

“I had a life before Hogwarts, believe it or not.” You chuckled as he grabbed your hand and pulled you back out towards the dance floor.

The musicians shifted the tone from elegant waltzing music to exhilarant jig music, a vocalist joining in to sing some well known shanties. You and Sebastian joined in the crowd of students, singing and swaying along. 

With the buzz still warm on your cheeks as you stood side by side in the crowd, he threw an arm around you. You gladly wrapped an arm around him as well, reaching your other hand up to hold onto his on your shoulder. This was one of the greatest nights of his life.

-

Both you and Sebastian were exhausted. Try as you might, you couldn’t stay any longer. You were both worn thin, your night had been incredible.

“Ow.” You whined groggily, resting a hand on the nearest wall.

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian shrugged on his coat then put a hand on your shoulder, looking you up and down in concern.

“My shoes are brand new and I didn’t break them in before tonight. My feet are killing me.” You laughed.

A smirk formed on his face as an idea popped in his head. He moved in front of you and bent his knees slightly. He gestured with his head towards his back. “Up you go.” He said.

Your eyes widened slightly as you stared at him, amused. Then, without another word, you hopped on his back, wrapping your arms and legs around him.

“Where to?” He asked as he gripped your thighs and walked on easily.

Holding on tight, you remembered you had a few magical beasts to feed and brush before bed.

-

As Sebastian carried you to the room of requirement, he was feeling bubble headed in the best way. He hitched you up higher, more out of his bustling nerves than feeling like he didn’t have a good enough hold on you. You rested your cheek against the side of his head, and he didn’t care if you could feel his cheeky grin about it or not.

The two of you arrived all too soon even though you took the long way, avoiding taking any floos. Sebastian was beyond disappointed the door didn’t show up, he was hoping this time would be different when you said it never showed up when someone else was with you. He may not have known exactly what the two of you would do in there, but you would be alone, with no chance of anyone else bothering you. A big part of it would have been validation he wasn’t just anyone you’d brought around. He wanted to be someone special, the only one the room felt worthy to let in with you. 

“I suppose this is where I leave you.” He began sheepishly, letting you down gently from his back. You looked delightedly at one another and he ran an anxious hand through his hair. “I had a really great time tonight.”

Your insides went into a tizzy. “Me too.” You beamed at him. You didn’t want to end this night or part ways with him. “So I uh - I know it’s late, are you sure you still want to help me tomorrow morning? I understand if you’d rather sleep in.” You didn’t doubt he would come with you the next day, you just wanted to hear him tell you he wouldn’t miss it.

“Of course I’m sure. I’ll be there.” He unknowingly took a step towards you, the two of you drifting closer without thinking.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling like a dope. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

You two stood in coy silence for a moment, wanting the other to say something, anything to keep your night going a bit longer. “Well, I should get going so the room can appear for you, shouldn’t I?” He chuckled awkwardly, still not making any sort of move to take his leave.

“Ah, right.” You nodded your head, glancing briefly at the wall then looking back at him. You went in to hug him goodbye and he didn’t hesitate to hug you back. You held each other firmly in each other’s arms for a few seconds, then let go, smiles still painfully plastered on your faces. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You told him.

“Bright and early.” He assured.

“Bright and early.” You repeated, no longer caring if you looked like a flushing mess. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” 

The two of you looked at each other for another moment, staying in place and becoming jumpy. You both went in for another hug, holding each other closer and longer this time, letting each other’s warmth envelope you. He took in your scent as you nuzzled your face against his neck.

“Goodnight.” He said again in a whisper.

You released each other, your faces temptingly close for a brief moment until you stepped back. He remained facing you as he started taking small, reluctant steps backwards to leave.

He watched as the smile faded from your face and you eyed him as if you were dispirited he was leaving. He stopped in his tracks, and a starved look took over your features. He was sure his face was doing the exact same thing.

You launched at one another, fusing your lips together. It was such a dizzying collision, the two of you weren’t really aware of where your hands were. The only thing that was clear was that they were on each other, holding the other close while roaming all over. Somehow, Sebastian had gotten you pressed up against the wall. He needed help keeping upright while his mouth moved in earnest, gasping and sighing along with yours. 

Sebastian Sallow’s weight against you was something you never knew you needed. You bit at his bottom lip and sucked, hoping that would keep him anchored to you. A deep, muffled “mmh” noise escaped him and it was the most intoxicating sound.

He pulled back slightly to look at you then, eyes going over your features as he caught his breath. He couldn’t help but drag his fingers lightly down your cheek as you looked back at him, just as breathless.

He returned his lips to yours, taking it sweet and slow then. This time, he didn’t want to be dizzy, he wanted to be sturdy and in his right mind tasting you. Your hands felt so soft as they cupped his neck. A tingling sensation went down his spine when they slowly slid up to the back of his head, fingers running through his hair.

You were so lost in one another, that if anyone were to walk by you’d have no idea, no sense to pull away anyway.

-

Sebastian walked down to the Slytherin common room in a whimsical haze, humming each one of the songs he danced with you to that night. His lips felt swollen from all your kisses, it was wonderful.

His dreamy state came to an abrupt end when he found Garreth pacing frantically in front of the Slytherin Common room. The red head looked up at his arrival and his eyes went wide.

“There you are!” Garreth strode up to him and Sebastian got in a readied stance with his feet. “Where were you?! I saw you two leave and the way you were looking at each other all night and - Oh please tell me you didn’t do anything.” 

Sebastian avoided his gaze. He didn’t feel for a second that Garreth should be with you instead, but damn him if he didn’t feel a little sorry for the poor fool.

“Sallow?” Garreth felt like he was going to be sick, but he held out the tiniest bit of hope. If Sebastian said nothing happened between you two, he’d run with it and never look back.

Man up and tell it to him straight. Sebastian took a deep breath and lifted his chin, physically and mentally preparing to get punched, he’d let Weasley have that much. “We kissed. We’re going to start seeing each other.”

Garreth’s eyes went wild, and he let out an incredulous guffaw. “Are you now? Well that’s just brilliant, isn’t it?!” It wasn’t really directed at him, Sebastian noticed. Garreth began pacing back and forth, looking as if he was going mad. “Why in Merlin’s name did I listen to that knobhead?! Hey Northcott, did you know spending time with someone and treating them right works? Who would have guessed?!” He looked back at Sebastian then, he clenched his hand into a fist like he was going to deck him. “I ought to bash your face in, Sallow. But right now, I’m more itching to have a word with Northcott. Best watch your back, I’m not done with you.”

Sebastian released the breath he was holding as Garreth stormed off. He could take him in a duel no problem, but he’d better keep a close eye on his food and drinks for a while.

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Meghan, thy name is PATHETIC!

These two numpties truly think they have outsmarted the world. Normal people don't repeatedly attempt to fool the world into thinking they are "whip smart" or accomplished by regurgitating childhood and adolescent fantasies. Meghan and Harry are clearly mentally deficient individuals with massive amounts of resources to serve as global court jesters.

During a festival that had absolutely NOTHING to do with the Temu Royal Snowcation 🌨 ❄ Tour, these idiots dashed on the stage to CYA after MegaLiar's poor performance as the "FLUENT duchess" who couldn't be bothered to memorize the pronunciation of their host's proper title: /bee-seh-preh-see-dehn-teh/ but the whip smart MegaLiar referred to her new amiga as /v-ICE / 😬🤦‍♀️

Sparry who has a hot & heavy bromance with Argentinean polo player named Nacho pretended that he was too dumb to say a simple thank you and good night to the crowd. He enlisted the help of his soap actress wife (who snatched the mic) for the Spanish "translation" as if the croud was too dumb to translate the simple English phrase for themselves.

Who is going to tell these idiots that even if she is the bilingual Duchess (which she's not) it would NOT make her special. You'd think the woman could speak Mandarin. 🥴

How pathetic 🤑

MegaLiar's need to overwhelm the internet with a lie about her being bilingual is just another reminder that this woman is a 1 trick pony with 1 ADULT accomplishment: sex with a drug addled brained prince. Sex with a dumb prince. Truly Pathetic.

What is Meghan Markle so desperate to Cover Up for the past 20 years? She literally flunked out of the state department before she could even get her foot in the door, yet she is constantly pushing & promoting "Argentina." She was humiliated into "relocating" to Madrid until her graduation ceremonies. Makes me wonder whether or not those sugarbaby rumors are true?

If she worked in Argentina "early in her career," then why is Meg pictured on the set of General Hospital so she could gain the necessary credentials to work Hollyweird?

She's also pictured with another liar, her BFF Lindsay Roth Jordan, on the day they both graduated from Northwestern as "candidates for degrees in Communications."

The Daily Mail:

Newlywed and newly employed on Season 1 of Suits, and during promo for Season 2 she drops the lie about Argentina. Makes you wonder what else was happening in Argentina.

2011 and Just Married to Trevor Engleson. Finally she booked her 1st TV series, and she's visibly embarrassed by 1 innocent question. She opted to lie. She reached all the way back to ten (10)+ years ago instead of simply saying, "...5 years ago I was looking for work." What are you hiding Megsy?🤔

She couldn't believe the question, "...what was I doing five (5) years ago?" She was embarrassed by 34 episodes as Season 2 Deal or No Deal model # 24 (2006-2007) would have been 8ish years ago so tell the truth Meg.

July 12th 2013 Promotion for one of her blog affiliates "Birchbox" just prior to dumping Trevor. "If I wasn't acting I would most likely be working in politics have a career in politics. I had been working at the US Embassy in Argentina and was certain I'd get into a career in foreign service much like my character Rachel it was really tough for me to pass the foreign service exam, Rachel had trouble passing the LSATs, end up coming back to LA for a break and a friend of mine from college had given a manager a student film that I did, he called me the next day and was like you know what, I think you should be acting. So if you're constantly just on your A game and you're ready for when that moment arises that's when things can take off in a much bigger way. Success is reachable."

She wrote this for Birchbox: "USA's SUITS is one of our top summer TV shows—not least for its awesome female characters. While the guys of Pearson may rule the roost, it's the ladies who steal the show. Case in point: the whip-smart Rachel Zane, played by Meghan Markle. We sat down with Markle to find out about her foodie favorites, her background in Foreign Service, and the one beauty product..."

More lies on the red carpet

Mid Season 2 Promo at The Paley Center for Media Jan 14th 2013

"And I read that you were never originally going to go into acting!?"

Lies: "no I was gonna do politics...I grew up in LA so I grew up in this industry and obviously loved entertainment, my father's a lighting director I just always wanted to do something different and working in politics was exciting for me but I'm saying as we were driving up 2 blocks down the street is paper source. I used to teach gift wrapping classes there. I used to teach calligraphy classes there and so to be here tonight and to see that contrast happen in my life from an auditioning actress just trying to make it work to pilot after pilot to have one that's going into 3rd season with fans who are so supportive I mean I couldn't be more grateful. It's really amazing."

Almost 8 years later and she's on Craig Ferguson's show to promote Suits and still lying about her education and Argentina. Why?

I've always thought it was interesting that Meghan and Sparry were in Argentina around the same time, and of course Diana was there in 1995.

"On 23 November 1995, Diana, Princess of Wales arrived in Argentina to begin a historic, four-day visit to the South American country. While not an official state visit, the trip was undertaken by Diana in her newly-defined role as goodwill ambassador for Britain. The visit, which was the Princess of Wales' first international engagement since her controversial Panorama interview, was seen as an important step in the warming of relations between the UK and Argentina, the countries having fought one another in the Falklands War of 1982 and resumed diplomatic relations in 1990. The footage featured in this edit covers the full four days of Princess Diana's visit, including her famous meeting with Argentine president Carlos Menem, her visits to a number of charities and hospitals in Buenos Aires, whale-watching in Argentine Patagonia, and attending a charity gala banquet."

Prince Harry cuts short visit to Argentina.

Thursday, November 25th 2004 

Twenty year old Prince Harry flew back to London from Buenos Aires Thursday afternoon after the Argentine press revealed he had become a “head ache” for those responsible for his security.

Apparently the Prince was scheduled to return next week but Buckingham Palace decided to anticipate the date given the adverse press coverage he was receiving during his alleged "night incursions" to local pubs and discos.

Although British Airways desk said any information relating to Prince Harry was "confidential", from early hours the reinforcement of security measures in Ezeiza's airport was evident.

Local reports indicate Prince Harry boarded the plane in good humour.

The second son of the Prince of Wales arrived in Argentina November 12 and was staying in estancia "El Remanso" close to the town of Lobos in the province of Buenos Aires belonging to some British friends, where supposedly he was to take polo classes and rest before returning to England for Christmas and Sandhurst military academy next January.

However his sport activities in Argentina were known to be limited since the prince had an injured knee from a recent rugby match.

Mayor of Lobos, Gustavo Sobrero minimized the press versions about Prince Harry's behaviour, particularly last Wednesday early morning when shots were heard in a nearby farm which forced a quick security response in the area.

"This visit hasn't altered normal life in the area. Besides it is quiet common during the hunting season to hear shots", said Mr. Sobrero.

As to Prince Harry's alleged night escapades to town pubs Mr. Sobrero indicated that "as far as we are concerned we haven't been informed".

According to Buenos Aires daily "Página 12" on his return from town partying Prince Harry was in quite "bad condition" given his "uncontrolled consumption of alcohol".

[twiigthetwiink]

🍊 - List one thing you like about each of your headmates! Or if that's too many, choose whoever you'd like!

:3

doing whatever comes to mind so sorry if we forget anyone

twig🌿: easily excitable, remembers the little things

bo🦷: wise and takes such good care of us

miles🎸: funny as shit and protective as shit too

hawk❤️‍🩹: dedicated to making himself into a great person and it’s working, also rly caring, also stands up for himself in the moment

sweetest: she’s so sweet and cute (mind blown i know)

fib: a GREAT fucking time

addy: confident and fun as all hell

malachi🧪: smart as shit and takes care of our friends pretty well

douglass⛓️: cool ass solarpunker and a good time

belphegor: SO fun

halle: helps bo with gatekeeping and running things big time like a bamf

the creature: the sweetest cutest thing alive

kekka: always so happy and bubbly

jimmy: such a stupid idiot /pos

liam♦️: sweet, kind, and amazing flutist

mickey: best music taste lmfao

selkie: tough, witty, takes care of us a lottt

trevor: total crackhead energy

vic: adorable and super nice to us all the time

[spaceorphanssecondbreakfastclub]

SO's Bookclub : The Name of the Game was Murder

Title: The Name of the Game was Murder Author: Joan Lowery Nixon Genre: YA Mystery

Goodreads Summary :

Novelist Augustus Trevor has written a manuscript that reveals the darkest secrets of his guests. Whoever can solve Trevor's clues can have his story removed from the book. But when Trevor is bludgeoned to death, the survivors (along with the reader) are challenged to find both the manuscript and the murderer.

Review:

Okay - back to finishing up reading all of Joan Lowery Nixon's canon YA mysteries. (Because I'm close to the end on these.)

So - this particular book holds a special place in my heart. It was my favorite JLN and quite possibly the first one I bought (if it wasn't On The Other Side of Dark - which, who knows, maybe I bought them together). This is the one that I reread the most -- though upon reread, I had shockingly little memory of what it was about.

And I may have to argue this is the best one that I've read so far.

Interestingly, the thing about this book is that, other than our plucky heroine, there really aren't any of our normal JLN tropes here. No one is from Texas, no matriarch with overlaying Christian values, and no love interest. And while I can tell it's of the same ilk as the rest of Nixon's novels, it does stand out at being a smidge better writing than the rest of the novels.

I'm not sure, though, that it's necessarily good? Just better than what's come before it.

The story is one part Agatha Christie, one part Clue, and one part Westing Game (which -- I can see why I was initially drawn in by this one.) However -- all three of the above are much better in quality, and this almost feels generically mundane in comparison.

Sam comes to a secluded island off the coast of California in hopes that her famous uncle (through marriage) will give her writing tips. It's kind of hysterical that a fifteen year old thinks she can bounce in on a nastier GRR Martin and expect to be given the time of day, but this is also a book where Sam is the only one smart enough to even figure out what is going on.

Sam isn't so bad -- especially when compared to most of the other heroines of these books. She's still a bit altruistic at times, and I find it a little hard to believe that she's the smartest person in the room at all times. But there's nothing egregiously bad about her. I think she's a blank enough slate that the reader could probably put themselves in her shoes without too much trouble.

Her uncle, Augustus Trevor, is a complete asshole -- including to his wife Thea (Sam's aunt being her only friend and ally on the island) and is writing a manuscript that he's using to essentially blackmail famous people. He also put a scandalous story in about his own wife. I realize you're supposed to not be upset about this guy's death but honestly, he is a huge creep - and you have to wonder how and why Trevor and Thea were ever married in the first place.

The famous people are a collection of stereotypes usually found in these kinds of things. A fragile, aging movie star. A Danielle Steele type novelist. A fashion designer (whom I was worried would be gay coded - but even though he was the most vicious of the guests, was not at all painted as queer). An older football star. And a senator (whose politics some what remind me of today's politics.) They aren't all that interesting, tbh, and react to things in the exact manner you'd expect. But mostly they're idiots there because the story needs them to be.

The foundation for the mystery is intriguing enough, but maybe now that I'm older and have read so many more (better) mysteries, it feels stale and standard. The clues given you might be able to figure out if you're very clever - but feel like they're stretching. And I wish the backstories of everyone weren't info-dumped a few chapters from the end.

The ending was as abrupt as usual - and while the book mostly hints at who did it, I wish there had been just a little more to go on. And I wish there had a bit more closure.

Just wanted to make a final note about the atmosphere and setting of the book. Now that we're in the 90s, it doesn't have that same dated feeling as the earlier books did. But I have to add there's a hilarious sequence where everyone argues about how little they know and use computers.

Anyway -- I won't be surprised if I walk away with this being her best book. I think I may like A Deadly Game of Magic a little more due to the creepy atmosphere - but this is probably the best written. I suppose that's as close as a recommendation you're going to get for one of these books.

Rating : 3.75 Stars

[whumpwizard]

Whumptober2022 Day 11: 911 What's Your Emergency?

Trevor didn’t need help. Not from Sypha, not from Alucard, not from anyone.  Sure, maybe he should have at least told one of them before leaving the castle and going into the forest to hunt Night Creatures, and calling for them when he’d been impaled by a claw would have likely been smart. Trevor Belmont had never prided himself on being smart, though. That was Sypha’s job. And anyways, it wasn’t too bad, all things considered.  The claw hadn’t gone deep enough to puncture a lung or any other vital organs, and the blood was…well he could staunch it for the most part.  And he did, in fact, kill the Night Creature, so really, it was worth it. Right?

Leaning back against a tall tree, Trevor pressed a ripped off strip of his shirt to the wound, trying his best to apply pressure to the area. Quickly, it became soaked red with blood, and Trever tried to keep his breathing steady. He had nothing on him to stitch the wound, and he had wandered a few miles away from the borders of Belmont town. It…wasn’t likely that he would make it to the keep without passing out.   The blood just kept on coming, and the best he had in his bag was a single roll of linen bandages.

He pulled off his shirt, and began to wrap the wound as tightly as he could. It was difficult. His hands were slick with blood as he tried to get a good hold on it, and the linen wasn’t staying where he wanted it. It was by no means his cleanest work, and the bar was very low for that.

“Fucking hell.” he muttered to himself, as the blood soaked through the first two layers of wrapping. He was running out of bandage, and by this point he’d go through the whole roll tonight.  And he did not want to die like this. Hell, Trevor had fought death itself and won, and now some beast would leave him bleeding out in the forest?  It was embarrassing, really. Alucard would never let him live it down…Alucard. Sypha. He probably wouldn’t see them again, if he just sat here. He up and left for days at a time sometimes, so they wouldn’t go looking for him for at least a week, for sure. He tilted his head back, resting it against the tree trunk.

If he bled out here, like this, he’d never hear Sypha’s laugh again. Never see her blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight.  Never see their child.  And Alucard…he’d lose any chance with him. Lose the nights of the three of them, pressed close together and breathing. Feeling alive. Feeling whole.  And the poor man, he would live forever, having lost Trevor again. Lost both of them again, eventually. Fuck he didn’t want Alucard to lose him like this. Or Sypha…the guilt she would hold.

He couldn’t die. Not like this.

Trevor heaved himself up off the ground, trying not to groan or scream too loudly, as the sloppy bandages shifted and pulled. He braced himself as his head spun, the trees spinning and the road before him going lopsided. Still, he began to walk.  One step, then the next, he could do this. Just focus on it one bit at a time and eventually he’d get home…eventually…no. No, the world around him was going darker than the night around him, and he had only taken a few steps. No…not yet.

And then his world went dark

When Trevor Belmont woke, he was in a bed. The bandages that he’d applied to himself were rewrapped, and cleaned, and properly done now. He could feel the stitches in his skin, and the lack of hot, sticky blood. And he could smell…he could smell flowers.

Slowly, Trevor opened his eyes, and he could see the bouquet sitting on the table beside him. Fresh, blue flowers with little white buds around them.  He breathed in slowly, groaning at the pain.

“You are an idiot, Trevor.” The voice of Sypha filled his ears, a comforting sound.  Even as she berated him, she threw her body onto his, pressing a kiss to his face. As his vision cleared, Trevor saw her, eyes red with tears despite the smile on her face. Standing behind her, was Alucard.

“Do that again, and I will kill you myself, Belmont.” he said, smirking.

“Yeah…yeah that’s fair.” Trevor leaned back, head hitting the pillow as he thanked whatever God was out there that he was still here.

[alfryco]

thinking of alfreyco so wanna share some headcanons with u since i know how much u love them too. but i love knight!alfredo to prince!trevor for the braveheart nickname alone. but consider prince!trevor like trying to dig into some dark history around his kingdom/palace. investigating things he shouldn’t, finding hidden passageways in the library he definitely shouldn’t go down. all with his unfortunately loyal guard at his side, debating if this is worth his job but loving trevor too much to let him go at this alone bc of course his idiot would. idk what they find but i just love the reluctant guard alfredo to trevor’s sharp mind poking were it might not be safe to.

SHHADEE this is exactly what i want to see in my inbox first thing in the morning :D i love that you came to me with Alfreyco headcanons :3 i am always down for more alfreyco!!

Ok so yes YES i am so here for Knight!Alfredo and Prince!Trevor! Especially with how you put it, that Trevor would be digging in places where he shouldn't be, like possibly coming across some bad family secrets or maybe something hidden in the castle that no one knows about and that definitely should not be in their castle. And poor Alfredo just has to go along with Trevor down these dark and dank spooky hallways because there's no way he's letting Trevor do it alone. The man may be smart and quick, but there's nothing like having a knight with you. Especially a knight that's willing to be a braveheart even in a situation he very much does not want to be in.

Omg I can just see Trevor finding another hidden passage somehow or some hidden room and Alfredo is behind him and just is so frustrated because "How many hidden places does this fucking place have?!" And Trevor just looks back at him and grins and steps into the passageway and Alfredo just groans and grips the hilt of his sword tighter because he's gotta go in there after his boy. The things this poor man will endure for love smh.

[im-constantly-fangirling-backup]

Promotion

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Requested: Yes; I lost the original request, sorry :(

Warnings: Swear Words

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Sorry about the repost, for some reason the old version got deleted so I’m reposting it :) I tried to make the reader badass but like I don’t know how to do that so I guessed. I hope you guys love this!!

Summary: The reader storms into the Garrison which pisses off Tommy, but when he sees what has gotten you so angry and watches your response, he can’t help but be impressed.

[Main Blog] [Masterlist] [Taglist Form] [Requests Open!]

The Garrison seemed to be the hub of all the Peaky Blinders and the people that wanted to meet with them. People were walking in with friends on their arms and out stumbling, drunkenly walking their newfound date to the closes private space they could find. And in the midst of all that celebration, you had walked in with the biggest scowl on your face- a contrast that Tommy easily picked up on from where he was leaning against the countertop of the bar. “What’s got ya so pissed, love?” he asked you, sipping on his whiskey. You sighed. “Nothing,” you grumbled, signaling to Grace that you wanted a glass of whiskey. “Yet,” you said under your breath. Tommy caught that whisper but ignored it, opting to take another swing of his drink. He had noticed every time you walked into the Garrison, you walked in with a sour face instead of your usual bright one. It bothered him that you didn’t smile as much anymore when you were there, but Tom was never a man good with words. So he simply let you stew in your anger, but made sure to brush your hand every now and then to remind you that he was there if you wanted to rant. He might not be able to talk, but he could listen. “Why hello there, love!” you and Tommy heard a deep, baritone voice say from behind you. Turning around, you saw a man with crooked teeth smiling abashedly at you, his eyes lingering on your chest too long for it to be a casual observation. Your nose scrunched up from the smell of alcohol reeking in his breath. “What the hell do you want, Trevor?” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tommy’s eyebrows raise slightly in shock, but when you noted his slight scowl you knew he was irritated. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Trevor held his hands up in mock surrender. “Just askin’ how you’ve been after all these years, love, nothing more. Certainly nothin’ to get all feisty over.” You grit your teeth before smiling at him cockily. “Yeah, now that you’ve done that, can you fuck off?” You added a bit of politeness into your voice- just enough to patronize him. “Hey,” you heard Tommy say. “Calm down, will you love? I don’t need another bar fight on my hands.” His voice was laced with frustration and anger, although his face stayed neutral. The normal glint that was housed in his eyes disappeared, replaced by indifference. It was almost like the deep ocean of his blue eyes froze over into ice. You smiled at him the same way you smiled at Trevor: with a hint of condescension. Honestly, it was a miracle that Tom didn’t shoot a bullet in between your brows at your expression. “Why don’t you stay out of things that aren’t your fucking business, Tom?” Tom clenched his jaw before turning back to his whiskey. “If it’s under me bar’s roof, it’s me fuckin’ business, love.” Trevor chuckled, causing both you and Tommy’s heads to snap towards him. “You let him call you love? What are you, his whore?” You bit your lip out of anger so hard it drew blood, the tang of copper running over your tongue. You tried to focus on the taste in an effort to not cause a scene; if you did cause a bar fight, you’d have to deal with an angry Thomas Michael Shelby, which was much worse than what you were dealing with right now. “Look, Trevor, what do you want?” You arched your eyebrow. Trevor shrugged. “Just wanted to see ya, I swear-” “You never talk to me unless you want something from me, so how about you just tell me and I can be on my merry way?” Trevor’s eyes darkness slightly, his usual energetic (and annoying) bravado slipping slightly. “I need some money.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. “What? So you can go and spend it on more drugs and tequila? No fucking way.” Trevor’s lip curled slightly, and you noticed his fingers twitched as if wanting to curl up into fists. “Don’t fucking humiliate me in front of Mr. Shelby!” Another laugh tumbled out of you, this one full of much more bitterness than the last. “Why? You saw no problem humiliating me in front of my father? Consider us even on that front, Trevor.” Tommy choked on his whiskey slightly, now

understanding why you were being so hostile and angry whenever Trevor was in the Garrison. You had run away from London after a man there- Trevor, apparently- had started the rumor that you recently had an attempted abortion that didn’t work, leaving you pregnant. Although you were only 19 at the time, you weren’t an idiot and eventually understood that he was making you unmarriable to everyone except him. He couldn’t raise his status, so he lowered yours. He would marry you, thereby securing all the riches your family had for himself. Thomas cleared his throat. “I think you need to leave.” His words implied that Trevor had a choice, but his deep and firm voice communicated what his words didn’t: if Trevor didn’t leave of his own free will, he’d be dragged out against it. Trevor gulped. “Please, love-” You shook your head no. “I gave you money that last time, Trevor. ‘S not my fault you can’t budget for shit. So if you want money, get a fucking job.” “If you give me money, I’ll go back to your dad and tell him I lied. I swear, love, I will just please!” Trevor practically begged, a tear slipping out the corner of his eyes. You took in a deep breath, placing your hand on top of Thomas’s when he made a move to get up. “Look, Trevor, I don’t want a fucking apology. I don’t want you to tell my father that you were lying. I want you to leave me the fuck alone.” You stepped closer to Trevor, letting your hand fall off the counter. “If I see you ever again,” you said threateningly, letting your breath fan out over his face, “You’ll only have one good leg.” You turned around and fidgeted with your now empty whiskey glass, tilting and watching the sunlight hit the glass. “If you want money, get a job. You’re smart enough to find you, I’m sure. If you were smart enough to manipulate my family, I’m sure you can get a fucking job.” You picked up Tom’s whiskey glass and downed it in one gulp. “Fuck off, Trevor. And remember my threat, because I will follow up on it. Starting in ten seconds.” You didn’t see Trevor run across and away from the Garrison, but you heard the quick clicks of his shoes against the wood. Turning around after ten seconds, you were pleased to find him gone. Thomas cleared his throat and turned to you. He eyed his whiskey glass that still rested in your hand but made no comment. “This is going to sound really fuckin’ creepy,” he began, “but that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” You chuckled and then groaned. “I fucking hate that guy.” “I can tell.” You hummed. “Still pissed at me for how I talked to him? Or are we good?” Tom turned back to the bar, asking Grace to refill both of your glasses. “I want to give you a promotion, love. Your potential’s wasted as a secretary.” You sipped at your now refilled whiskey. “Hmm, wouldn’t people think I fucked my way to the top?” “If you’d scare them off like you did Trevor,” Thomas pointed out, “I don’t think a single person would voice their doubts.” You nodded. “Then I accept, Tom.” Thomas grinned and extended his hand. “You’re now Y/N Shelby, my second in command.” You laughed and shook his hand. “If screaming at Trevor was all it took to impress you,” you teased, “I would have hunted him down a year ago.” Tom sipped at his whiskey and chuckled. “You about done with that drink, love? I was thinking we could celebrate your promotion,” he said suggestively, winking at you when you side glanced at him. You felt hot, a slight blush making its way on your face. “What are we waiting for then?”

[sinsetcurve]

JATP FIC RECS

Oneshots-

All Those Little Moments- A series of the individual, chronological threads that make up the tapestry of the love of Julie and Luke.

It’s Always Been You (Even if it’s fake)- Julie Molina is not an idiot. She’s insanely smart and extremely talented. But, she does tend to do idiotic things. The most idiotic being telling her family that she's dating Luke Patterson and is bringing him home for spring break.

Ray and Rose and that Guy Trevor- Ray's POV on Rose's friendship with Trevor, through the years. (In which Trevor is kind of guilty but also kind of innocent.)

Head Over Knees- That one time Alex had an existential crisis over his knees.

Wrap Me Up- Julie is absolutely miserable. She’s caught a nasty flu and is so busy pretending to be fine that she’s totally pushed away everyone who could be taking care of her. Luckily Luke is more than prepared to step in.

Promises Kept- This is a missing scene from the fic We Found Wonderland. You need to read that first to really understand what's going on here. This cover's Luke's reactions to major events towards the end of We Found Wonderland.

I’m Still Breathing- Julie has asthma and when he was alive Reggie did, too. So, Reggie helps her out and cements himself as her big brother.

I’ll Love you There, Too- In her heart, Julie knew that Luke was going to propose eventually, she just didn’t know that it would be so soon, or how nervous he really was to do it.

This Hurt that I’m Holding’s Gettin’ Heavy-When Carlos got home from school Tuesday afternoon, he wasn’t expecting to find one of Julie’s bandmates in his bedroom, studying his bookshelf.

Come Again Bright Days- Julie and Luke haven’t spoken since they graduated from high school. But one night during their senior year of college, they find themselves in the exact same bar for the exact same reason: they were dragged there by their friends in an attempt to make them feel better after their respective break ups.

But Suddenly from somewhere out of the blue, I see a different light around you- Julie and Luke, family friends, end up sick together. While cooped up sick at Julie’s, a little conversation leads to a lot of secrets.

Like You Could Love Me- Julie hadn't slept in almost 48 hours. Luke was waiting for her on the porch when she gets home. Exhaustion + unspoken feelings and things are about to get interesting.

Not So Secret Relationship- Alex and Willie have been secretly dating for about a month and they've had yet to tell their friends about it. Alex decided he's finally ready to come clean to them.

There’s one thing on my mind- home didn't seem like home anymore for luke patterson, and so he was desperate to find a new place to write music. after an especially brutal fight with his mother, he finds himself in front of l.a. books. he isn't expecting to get much out of it, it was solely a last resort. but then he sees her, julie molina, and he ends up coming back every week just to keep seeing her. bookstore au

I’m Gonna pop some tags- Alex thinks working at Julie's family's thrift shop over the summer is going to be a good way to make money while also hanging out with his friends. Good. Easy. Fun. He isn't prepared for the skater who ran him over to be Ray's new hire.

Always- Luke is in love with Julie, and she loves him too. But it's not meant to be, he's been dead 25 years and she has a whole life to live. He wants to know why they can't just rewrite the stars, and eventually she finds a way.

He’s a little into it- Willex Hockey AU where Willie and Alex are on opposite teams.

Do a Kickflip!-It's Spring 1995, and Julie wants to spend some time at the new skate park. Unbeknownst to her, five boys are waiting to turn her summer (and life) for the better. Or! 5 times Julie ran into Sunset Curve, and 1 time she met with them intentionally.

Multi-Chaptered-

This is Where I want to Be- Luke is going through heaven and hell in his life and things take a turn when a especial someone drops unannounced into his life making him question his sanity. OR: Luke has a wicked beauty as his guardian angel and loses his mind

I’ve Got This Crazy Feeling This Isn’t our First Time Around- One second he is rocking the night away, the next he wakes up bloodied and battered in an alleyway. Found by a frantic curly-haired girl, he comes to realise nothing makes sense. He doesn't know where he is, who she is or how he got there, but one thing's for sure: It's not 1995 anymore.

Walk a Mile in my Doodled Shoes-The one where the boys use their newfound possession abilities to help Julie out of jams.

If I was you (I’d wanna be me too)- When Carrie wakes up, the morning after Julie and the Phantoms play the Orpheum, her father is gone. When her father has a breakdown, Carrie is forced to move in with Julie's family, and must confront some uncomfortable truths - about her family, her life, and herself. A house full of ghosts just comes with the package.

Time Of Our Lives- Alex, Reggie and Luke have been given an unexpected new chance at life. Will they fulfil their dreams this time?

We Found Wonderland- At the end of season one Julie isn’t able to save the boys and they are jolted out of existence. But what if there was another way? Julie finds herself back in 1995 with a chance to stop the boys of Sunset Curve from ever dying at all. But will she able to find her way home afterwards? Will she want to? Or has Alice really gone down the rabbit hole this time...

Midnight at Mona’s- Julie Molina expected many things on her impromptu road trip to Texas. She expected Flynn to be confused but ultimately supportive; she expected to relax and gain a new perspective; and she expected (or at least hoped) to rediscover the music she’d lost over the past year. What she did not expect was to be bunking with cranky rancher Luke Patterson, or the mysterious (and quite possibly magical) karaoke bar that would lead them on an adventure full of new friends, dangerous enemies, fun music, and a whole lot of love.

How Wonderful Life is While You’re in the World- Red, White & Royal Blue but Willex.

Our Life is a Playlist- They were best friends, they were family, and Julie had come to believe that they were soulmates. By the time the kids had turned thirteen, life had started teaching them the hardest lessons.

That’s Life- Julie Molina feels invisible most of the time. So what happens when she finds herself unexpectedly "married" to her handsome, popular, longtime-crush, Luke Patterson? She is about to find out. When she and Luke are randomly paired up to work on a project together for their Reproductive Health class, they have to learn to navigate the world of adulthood side-by-side for better or worse. All while dealing with the reality and drama of high school. Julie quickly discovers she's not as invisible as she once thought she was, especially to Luke. Does extra time spent together mean sparks will finally fly between them, or will it all go up in flames?

Don’t forget to support authors by commenting on their works

[padfootagain]

Infuriating

Here we go for a new fic for my 4.7k event!! Answering the request made by @inkhearthes​ for Sirius using the following prompt (they are written in italics in the fic):

9. "Does it hurt?"

"Not that... OUCH!"

10. "I can't believe you got punched in the face."

"For you. I got punched in the face for you."

11. "It's dark, and it's late, and I'm cold and I'm drenched with this freaking rain and yet all I can think about is that I love you."

34. "Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles!"

It's fluffy. A tiny bit angsty, maybe? I'm not sure, I think it's pretty fluffy.

Anyway, I hope you like it!!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count : 3683

Of course, you had to be duelling against Sirius fucking Black.

Of course, out of all the students in seventh year with you, you had to be paired with the one you hated the most.

You found him absolutely infuriating. 1000% infuriating. The most annoying person on the surface of the Earth, you reckoned.

You had been facing him for five seconds and you were already so mad at his stupid long dark hair, and his bloody cute chin, and his stormy grey eyes that didn't seem to have an end, and those stupid lips you dreamt about kissing…

Argh! Really, he was insufferable!

And why did he even pick you? You knew the reason, of course, it was just to allow his idiotic best friend to try and seduce your idiotic best friend… as if Lily wasn't already just as head over heels for James than he was for her…

And so, you found yourself paired with Sirius fucking Black, of all people, and you wanted to slap this smirk of his away, or maybe kiss it, you weren't 100% sure yet.

Because, of course, you got along perfectly well with Sirius. You were both playful and full of banter, and he was charming despite being an idiot sometimes, and he was smart too, and talented, and very very sweet, and a little dangerous maybe and…

… and you had a crush on him.

Huge, HUGE crush on him, and that was bad. Very bad. Terrible. Especially because the crush you had wasn't really a crush and more like love.

So, you were mad at him. So mad at him for making you fall for him when you never even intended to befriend him in the first place, let alone love him. And yet, there you were. All this because he was just an absolute sweetheart with a stupid sense of humour and a heart of gold despite all the pain he had been through during his childhood, and had cheekbones to die for.

Of course, how could you resist him?

So now, there you were, about to duel you friend, aka crush, aka potential love of your life, and he was acting so smug about it you heaved a defeated sigh.

Both of you knew that you were better at duelling than he was, and you would soon kick his pretty arse, but you almost felt bad for it. You had your bloody, irrational heart to blame for it all.

Your teacher was gone for just a few minutes to fetch something - you were too focused on watching Sirius laugh at that moment to listen to your professor about what he was leaving the room for.

All you knew was that there was no teacher in the room, which quickly turned into some nasty argument between a few students behind you.

Why was your name even brought up in the first place, you had no idea. All you knew was that before you could understand what was really going on, one of the Ravenclaw boys you had rejected a couple of weeks before was shooting nasty comments at you.

But when the word slut rang through the room, the whole situation got out of hands.

"Hey, Trevor, why don't you shut it!" Sirius snapped before you could have time to reply on your own.

"Sorry, Black, What were you saying? Were you talking to me?"

"I told you to shut your stupid mouth! How dare you talk about her like that? Especially you, Trevor, considering that you have the brain of a mandrake: all you can do is whine all day long."

"Say that again to my face, just to see, Black!"

"Oh, but with pleasure…"

"Sirius!" you tried to hold him back as he strode across the room, meeting Trevor halfway, standing chest against chest and taunting each other to hit first.

James and Remus had taken a step towards the boys too, ready to defend their friend if need be.

You walked over the two of them and pulled at Sirius's sleeve.

"Sirius, please. He's not worth it."

"Yes, Black, listen to your girlfriend… oh wait, you ain't together. Yeah, I bet she rejected your sorry arse."

"Coming from you, who can only insult every girl who refuses a date, I find the blow particularly ironic."

"Don't worry though, I bet she's not a good enough shag anyway. Probably aren't worth the trouble…"

"Say one more word and I'll turn you into a toad," Sirius warned the Ravenclaw, grabbing him by the collar of his robes.

He was so blinded by his rage towards the boy that he didn't see anything else in the room.

How could he dare speak of you like this? You of all people? You, who were a literal ray of sunshine, and so incredibly talented, and bright, and kind, and smart, and hilarious, and he was head over heels for you. Sirius was ready to lose his mind with how much he loved you. Had for years. Had since that night in third year where he had caught you making a trip to the kitchens at midnight and had ended up sharing his snacks with you. Since that moment that you had laughed so much you had ended up chocking on your pudding. Since that night when, for the first time, you talked through the whole night. Since that early morning when you had cried when he had told you about how his family treated him. Since the second you had wrapped your arms around him and promised him that if he needed help, he just had to call you, and you would protect him.

And now hearing some idiotic ghoul insult you was making his blood boil so much that he wasn't able to notice anything happening around him, including Trevor's fist flying across the air to land on his cheekbone and make a clear cut through his skin.

Sirius was hitting the floor before he could understand what had happened, and his body had barely hit the ground that you and the rest of the Marauders were pointing your wands towards the Ravenclaw and his friends.

You were interrupted by the sound of footsteps of your professor coming back, though.

"Y/N, get Sirius to the hospital wing," James instructed, but his friend was already back on his feet, shaking his head.

"I'm fine, Prongs. 'S just a scratch."

"You're bleeding," you argued, but he shot you a grin as an answer.

"You should still go," Remus jumped in. "Or we might all end up in detention."

You grabbed Sirius's hand.

"Come on, you idiot."

"Hey!"

But you ignored his protest and dragged him into the corridor and away from the class, heading for the Hospital Wing.

"Now, I'm not sure that if we truly want to avoid detention, going straight to Mrs. Pomfrey would be the cleverest idea," Sirius argued. "Besides, it's nothing."

You had to agree with him on that, going to Mrs. Pomfrey would get both of you in detention. It was pretty obvious by the look of Sirius's cheekbone, bloody and slowly turning from pinkish to purple, that he had been punched.

"I think I can patch you up," you offered, taking a closer look at his bruising face.

"Perfect. Let's go to my dorm then. We won't be disturbed there."

You accepted with a nod, and followed him all the way to the Gryffindor tower and to his dormitory. And the more you walked across the castle, the angrier you were. Sirius was hurt, and it was because of you. You wanted to go back and turn Trevor into a lizard. You wanted to punch him too.

And what was Sirius thinking? Acting so recklessly?

The wound colouring his cheekbone wasn't serious, but it still needed to be cleaned, so he reached for the bandages and bottles of disinfectants that the boys kept for their monthly trip to the whomping willow, just in case.

It's only when he let himself plop onto his bed with a sigh that Sirius noticed that you were glaring at him.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

And Merlin, did he annoy you… what was wrong? He was bleeding!

"I can't believe you got punched in the face." You shook your head.

"For you. I got punched in the face for you," Sirius corrected you, waving his finger at you pointedly, a smug smile on his face. "I reckon that you owe me one!"

"Why by Agrippa's name would you do that?" you asked, ignoring his stupid remark.

Because you weren't in the mood for his stupid charm, and his insufferable smug smiles, and his silly humour, and the way he always hid his pain behind wits. You weren't in the mood for any of that, you weren't in the mood for the way he always tried to look tougher than he was, because for so long no one had showed him any other way to deal with his emotions, except by bottling them all up in his chest. And you were tired of his tough act, and all you wanted to do now was shake some sense into his head and make him realize that someone had just hit him, and for what?! Because Trevor had insulted you?! That was most definitely not enough of a reason to get punched in the face.

But he looked at you with a curious frown, as if he didn't understand why you asked that question, as if the answer was obvious.

"He… He was making fun of you. He was insulting you. So, I defended you."

"I didn't ask you to."

"We're friends, you don't have to ask me to. I'll be there whenever you need me."

"Who says I needed you back there?"

He didn't answer, studying your expression with an unreadable look across his features.

Why were you mad?

You didn't say anything more, and reached for a clean clothe instead.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not that... OUCH!"

Sirius bucked away as you harshly pressed the piece of fabric against his wounded cheek.

"Now, don't be a baby," you mumbled under your breath, a deep frown adorning your brow.

"I'm not being a baby! You're the one being as delicate as a cave troll! Besides… what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"What?"

"What is wrong with you? Why are you mad at me?" Sirius snapped, his voice staying low, but his tone as corrosive as acid. "I've just got punched in the face for you, and you're mad at me?!"

"Yes, I am mad at you, Sirius," you replied, throwing the clothe away in exasperation. "I am mad at you, because you got punched in the face! What were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking that you needed me…"

"I don't need you, Sirius!"

The words escaped before you could refrain them, even if they were a mere lie.

Of course, you needed him. That was the point, actually. You needed him safe, and happy, and laughing. You needed his stupid long dark hair, and his bloody cute chin, and his stormy grey eyes that didn't seem to have an end, and those stupid lips you dreamt about kissing…

And you needed the way he always hid his pain behind wits, and the way he made you laugh every morning when you drank your fist swing of tea on purpose just to make you choke on it and look at how mad it made you with that stupid smirk plastered on his lips. And you needed the way he always held the door for you, and how he didn't even ask before he would pick up the mountain of books you were taking from the library for your essays. And you needed the way he said your name in that deep voice of his, and this almost-shy smile he gave you every month when he walked back from Hogsmeade and offered you a bunch of sweets from Honeydukes. Always your favourites. Every single trip to Hogsmeade ever since you had been allowed there during your third year. You needed to hear his laugh ringing through the corridors, so loud that you were aware of his presence way before seeing him. You needed his stupid pranks and his even more idiotic acts of kindness. You needed his broken parts and all his scars if only to help him make them slowly get better. You needed him. You needed him so badly, it hurt sometimes, right there, in your chest, and there was no way, absolutely no way that you would let him endanger himself for you.

You needed him more than you needed your pride or reputation.

Yet, it was the opposite that your tongue formed on its tip as you spoke.

And the words kept on ringing through his mind like a broken record, and it was more painful at each echo of your voice.

I don't need you, Sirius.

Well, that was clear, at least. No need for Sirius to keep his hopes up anymore. He had kept on hoping for you to maybe, one day, feel for him something else than a platonic friendship, but clearly you weren't on the same page. Instead, you didn't need him.

And he hated you, then. He truly did. He hated you, because he wished he could have answered with a remark just as poisonous and painful as your words had been, but he couldn’t. Not that he didn't find the right words, no the problem was more insidious.

He couldn't say it.

He couldn’t, because then, he imagined the pain crossing your features, and he couldn't bring himself to be the reason behind any of your sorrow. He was used to it, really. Being in pain in silence. Taking the punch without saying a word. Swallowing the insults without fighting back. Years of survival skills had developed while he was a child. Now, he was excellent at biting his tongue and imagining what scenarios could come out as a result of his words. He had made progress over his years spent by James's side to loosen up that tendency of his to overthink everything. That, coupled with his natural will to rebel, and he was good now at fighting with both his curses and his remarks. But not to you. No, not against you. He didn't want to use this weapon with you. He knew way too well that words were often way more effective at hurting someone than fists. The wounds cut deeper, and the scars never healed. He knew for certain that he would never forget the look on your face as you said that you didn't need him.

And he couldn't summon the strength to reply with words that would be just as painful. He had just gotten punched in the face for you, after all. That ought to speak about the way he felt for you.

So, instead of replying, he walked out of the room, leaving you behind.

It took you two hours to find him.

It was raining so hard, and the late days of September had brought a cold wind that curved the veil of droplets as they fell from the heavy black clouds above your head. The sun had almost set by now, and judging by how you were hungry, you guessed it was time for supper in the great hall. Your feet were frozen because of the mud that covered your ankles and splashed across your calves.

You had checked the shores of the lake, and Hagrid's home, and the edge of the Forest, and the Quidditch Pitch. But he was sitting a few meters away from the Whomping Willow.

He didn't seem to mind that his robes were covered in mud and drenched by now. Actually, he didn't even react as you hurried towards him.

"Sirius!" you called as you approached him. "What are you doing? It's freezing, and it's raining, you'll catch your death!"

He slowly turned his attention towards you, his grey eyes fixed upon you, his dark locks clinging to his forehead, his neck, his temples, because of the heavy rain. With the sadness in his gaze, he looked like a sad and wet puppy.

"Let's go inside," you mumbled. "You'll catch a cold, or worse. For how long have you been here?"

He took the time to look carefully at you, finding that you were just as drenched as he was, shivering in the cold rain.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, ignoring your own question.

"I was looking for you, obviously," you answered. "Now, come on, let's get you dry…"

"You were looking for me?"

"Of course! You just… disappeared, I was worried sick about you!"

He merely blinked up at you.

You heaved a sigh, swallowing your pride with the lump in your throat. You had to apologize for lying to him, and acting like an idiot, when he had simply tried to help.

You were such an idiot, sometimes…

"Look, Sirius… I'm sorry about what I said in the dorm. I didn't mean it. Please, let's go back inside."

"It's okay. I'm not mad at you," he answered with a soft smile.

"What?"

"I'm not mad. You're right, you don't need me. I was acting as if you did, but I was wrong. I guess… I thought we were closer friends than you mean for us to be. It's okay. I understand."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm used to it, really. It's fine. Sometimes, I start needing people more than they need me. It's alright, I get it."

"No, no… No, Sirius, you don't get it. I was just mad because you got punched in the face, and I was worried about you, and I said utter nonsense…"

"No need to feel bad about all this. It's okay."

"It's not okay! It's not okay, because it wasn't true!"

"Y/N…"

"It's not okay at all, how can you say that it's okay?!" you asked, starting to raise your voice. "I hurt you! And I was mean! And I shouldn't have said that, because it's not true at all! So be mad at me!"

"I… I don't want to be mad at you…"

"I'm sorry!"

"I forgive you, alright… are you, are you crying?"

It's only then that you noticed that hot tears were mingling with the cold rain across your cheeks.

"I'm so sorry. I never want to make you feel like that. I'm so sorry," you whimpered.

"It's… it's alright."

"I was lying. It's not true. Please, don't say that we're not friends anymore. I do need you. I do need you, Sirius. And I hate it! I hate it, but I need you! And it's… It's dark, and it's late, and I'm cold and I'm drenched with this freaking rain and yet all I can think about is that I love you."

You didn't seem to notice your confession as it passed your lips, and for a moment, Sirius wondered if he had heard you right. But there was no mistake, you… you had said it.

You loved him?!

Slowly, he stood up, while you kept on crying.

"I was just mad at you because… because you mean so much to me, and I… I hate to see you hurting. I hate to see you in pain. And I hate it… I hate it when people are mean to you. I'm so sorry. I was so worried about you. I'm…"

But you were shushed by Sirius's arms wrapping around you, encaging you all of a sudden. You needed a few seconds for your brain to register what was actually happening. But it was his arms pressed against your back, and it was his chest against yours, and it was his cheek against yours.

"It's alright," he spoke in a soft, warm voice. "I'm not mad. I forgive you."

Finally, you wrapped your arms around his frame too, your tears finally stopping.

"Thank you, for defending me," you eventually whispered in his ear, your warm breath such a burning contrast with the cold air against his skin, making him tremble in the best way.

"Anytime. We should go back inside though, you're frozen."

"Yeah, I'm really cold."

"You know what… I think we could cuddle. Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles!" he mumbled, making you sway from one foot to the other, and you couldn’t refrain a laugh at his silly behaviour.

"I'd like that," you nodded. "With blankets."

He hummed in agreement.

"But… are we gonna discuss the fact that you've just told me you love me?"

Your heart stopped altogether.

"Did I?" you asked, although you knew perfectly well that he was right.

What had passed through your brain to make you say something like that?

"Yeah, you did."

You looked for the right words to apologize, but Sirius was faster than you to speak again.

"So… What about we go to Hogsmeade together next month?"

You pulled away just enough to be able to look at him.

"Are you… Are you asking me on a date?" you asked.

"Maybe…"

"Maybe?"

"Depends on… whether you'll say yes or no."

"What would we do then, if it's a date?"

"I have a few ideas. Know about a couple of places we could visit. I know you'll like them."

"Already? You already know what we're gonna do? Even if you've literally just asked?"

"Maybe… just maybe… I've been imagining that for a while," he admitted, blushing.

You couldn't help the grin that formed on your lips.

"Really?"

"Yeah… really… but… huh… you have to give me an answer before I get my hopes too high…"

But your grin didn't waver. And when you stared at his eyes, he could read your answer already, without needing you to speak the words.

Still, it was a nice thing to hear, and a nice thing to say, so you answered out loud anyway.

Merlin, Sirius was infuriating. And you loved him so much.

"Yeah, I'd like to go on a date with you, Sirius Black."

 ***********************************************

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[the-silver-peahen-residence]

Hey Alucard what kind of person are you into?

Adrian Fahrenheit Țepeș a.k.a Alucard was drinking some hot tea alone in a room but he was reading a book when hearing an anon leave something. He looks up to move his long blonde hair over his shoulder to read it.

"What kind of person am I into?.....I'm into someone that's able to fight, know who they wish to prove I belong to them. Smart, gentle, kind, and able to protect what is theirs too. I do rather enjoy company but I don't want someone that's going to try bringing me down as my bastard father tried to. I do enjoy someone that's strong and will respect me even for being the son of Dracula." he sets the tea down but looks to the book.

"Though, from some attempts, I'm not really sure if someone will wish to be close. Trevor has someone named Olivine which I'm happy for the idiot hunter. But if I'm damned to be alone, that's fine too."

[fandomn00blr]

Day 38

of @the-wip-project​’s 100 Days of Writing!

Been working on this all morning, and I’m probably (hopefully) gonna post this (increasingly lengthy) one-shot of Trevor and Greta getting drunk and bonding over how much they miss Sypha and Alucard soon(ish?)...but for now...have another freshly-drafted snippet, in which Trevor gets suddenly very soft...and then, concussed.

Greta shakes her head. “Let’s go hooooommme...” she whines. “There are toilets there.”

“My home is waaaay over there.” He motions vaguely westerly. “And I didn’t realize indoor plumbing was one of the perks of being a village Headwoman. Or is it just that precious Alucard can’t bear to shit in a bucket like the rest of us barbarians when he comes to visit you?”

“Actually, I, uhh…gave my house in the village to a couple who came to us with a new baby a couple of weeks ago…”

“Oh?” He turns, pretending to look surprised at her generosity, but he’s too drunk to really pretend much of anything, especially with his dick still hanging down between his legs. “Well, don’t I feel like a piece of shit…”

Greta nods, smiling sheepishly. “And then Adrian asked if I wanted to stay in the castle, more permanently...so…” She’s not sure if she’s bragging or confessing now. But whatever it is, there’s a fondness that blooms from somewhere deep in her chest as she blurts out, “So I live there now. With him. Indefinitely.”

“That’s good. That’s great. I’m very happy for you both...” Trevor nods, nearly toppling over into the trash again.

“Stop...”

“No. NO!” He steadies himself with one hand against the wall. “I’m being absolutely serious!”

“Uh-huh…”

“I think you’re wonderful.” He beams at her like an idiot for a moment, then he coughs. “For Alucard, I mean.”

“Just for him, huh?”

“And Sypha! I’m glad she’s gotten to spend more time with someone so...smart and....capable! It makes her very happy...” It’s hard to tell if he’s blushing or if his face is just flush from the copious amounts of alcohol he’s consumed. “Though I gotta say...if she saw you drunk like this…” He tuts at her.

Greta clears her throat, eyeing his cock with exasperation. “Pull your pants up, Treffy…”

Trevor looks down, only a little surprised to see that he’s standing there with his trousers still down around his ankles. “Oh.” He bends down to grab them, and bangs his head against the wall again. “Ow! Shit…”

“For fuck’s sake…” Greta mutters as he stands up, finally pulling them back up over his hips with a smug little grin. But she is suddenly staring with concern at his forehead. “Is that blood?!”

He reaches one hand up to touch gingerly at his forehead and hisses. “Shit...Sypha’s gonna kill me!”

“You?! I’m supposed to be the one in charge...”

[schrijverr]

Family Ends Up In Blood

An exploration of what Trevor’s youth might have been like, the death of his family and how he carried that throughout season 1 and 2, especially when back in the Belmont Hold.

(it has a happy ending)

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, grief, being trained as a fighter while being only a kid and the death of the house of Belmont

~~~~~~~~~~

Trevor used to have a family. It had beena big family with grandparents, aunts, uncles, parents cousins and sibling alike all living in one house.

It had been a very busy house.

He remembered sharing a room with his cousin of the same age, Claude. They always fought about the closet space, both thinking the other had more than half. It was a stupid argument, but one that kept them busy while the adults did what they did.

The family was never complete, adults disappeared from time to time to hunt, leaving the others behind until they got back. If they ever did.

It happened often enough that a trip would be extended and it happened from time to time that it was extended until nothing was heard from a family member. If they had information about their last location, a search party would be send out to see if they could recover the body. Usually they were never found.

Still, it did happen regularly enough that someone got back. Most of the time with light injuries or injuries that needed a bit more treatment, but weren’t urgent. However, adults reappeared on deaths door regularly.

Trevor got used to it early in life, to see a loved one writhing on the table, bleeding out and moaning in pain. He even got roped into helping once he was seven and old enough to boil water by himself or help hold someone down.

He had held many of his cousins and siblingsas they left the world.

But, as stated before, they were a big family and there were always enough idiots who wanted to try their luck in the world, to see if they could succeed where the last Belmont had not.

As a kid Trevor had greatly admired all the cousins who went to fight the good fight. It was only as an adult, beaten by the world that he had realized how fucking stupid they all were, throwing themselves at almost certain death to keep up the name of a family, who turned their youngest into fighters.

When he had first gotten his theoretical classes about vampires, he couldn't wait to get on to the more physical stuff. He had never truly been one for books, even if he absorbed the information willingly, wanting to be the best hunter with the Belmont name alive. How ironically soon that came to be.

Still, once those physical classes had started when he was nine, he soon regretted his enthusiasm. Sure, he wanted to make his family proud and, as one of the youngest, he thought he had a lot to prove, but the lessons were harsh.

His usually kind mother did not hold back as she pummeled into him with a wooden knife, telling him time and time again that in the world out there, he would not find the mercy of a blunt blade or a kind heart.

Trevor had to learn by failing, by hurting.

He got used to the bruises on his stomach, arms and legs. He got used to the black eyes and small cuts when they moved to real weapons. He lost count of the scars from the where the kniveshad managed to hit him as he practiced with it. He just got used to it all.

While his uncle read him stories by the hearth, he also regularly played the vampire in training exercises. His older cousin, who taught him how to tie his boots, was also the one that punched out his first tooth. Even his grandmother, always sneaking him sweets, had been responsible for a broken finger and his skill in fighting one handed while in pain.

The Belmont family was big and chaotic, with a lot of love that got colored by the skill they needed to teach their children to survive the legacy they had built for them to inherit.

Trevor used to be proud of their legacy. He was proud of how they kept their lands safe and how the people in the world could sleep safely at night because they were there. Knowing what they did made the pain worth it.

Belmont stood for safety. Safety for those outside their name, because wearing the name Belmont was anything but safe.

He knew that of course, he knew his life might not be long. He had realized that before he was even aware of it. It just came with the family. They lived all in one house, because enough of their family needed the others to support them, because important figures had fallen in the fight.

He had made his peace with it and didn’t fear death.

It would be stupid to fear death with all he had seen in his relatively short life. The Belmonts were a family of death, both harbingers of it and wearers of grief. Death didn’t scare him. It used to, but not anymore.

So, of course he wanted to fight real monsters, he wasn’t a little kid anymore. He wanted to be a hunter. It was all he had ever known and had worked so hard for. He lived for the fight, for the adrenaline, but sometimes he wondered if he would ever get married, ever have kids or if he would end up like Arnold.

Arnold had been an older cousin, seven years his senior. He was cooler, older and everything little Trevor had wanted to be. When he was first allowed to hunt on his own at sixteen years old, he had told Trevor everything when he returned, with the little boy hanging on his every word.

He was a successful hunter, with years passing and him always returning throughout the years.

Then he hadn’t returned from a hunt. He had been supposed to be back weeks ago, but he hadn’t turned up yet. They had presumed him dead, but no search party had found him.

His bride-to-be had begged them to try again and find his remains so that he could be given a proper Christian burial, but the Belmonts were used to burying empty caskets and had denied another search party, deeming it too risky.

At the time Trevor had found the bride-to-be quite bothersome. He missed his cousin, of course he did, Arnold had been his favourite. But he lost family members all the time. His cousin Lyda had died not five weeks ago and his uncle Borris had died last year. She was just being dramatic.

And then Arnold had shown up again.

It had been in the dead of night and Trevor had only been awake, because Claude had the sniffles and was snoring. So, he had gone downstairs to see if he could find something to drink before settling down on one of the couches.

He had startled when the door had opened, grabbing for the consecrated whip that his father always forgot to put away as he crept down the hall, hoping his training would be enough for whatever had come to their house.

Trevor had only been ten at the time and while he was a quick learner earning the praise of his family, he was still a kid, who hadn’t been in a real fight yet. He had though about screaming for help, but he hadn’t wanted to alert whatever was at the door to his presence, for the element of surprise was a lesson beaten into him.

So, he had crept down the hall, clutching the whip, with the morbid thought that they didn’t have to golook for his body playing over his mind.

The relief he had felt when he had seen that it was merely Arnold, miraculously returned, was immense and he cried out in excitement as he stepped into the hall: “You’re alive!” as he ran forwards to meet his cousin.

Then Arnold looked up and smiled. His eyes were flashing red and fangs protruded from his mouth as he slowly lifted one arm to beckon Trevor closer. “Come here, Trev,” he croaked. “It’s okay. I just traveled far and I’m famished.”

With horror in his eyes, Trevor had backed away. The person in front of him, was no longer his cousin. His family had prepared him for this possibility, but he hadn’t ever thought he would see it happened.

Belmonts were not vampires.

Determination had overridden his horror. He would not allow his favourite cousin to turn into the same monsters their family hunted. So, he had readied his whip and send a quick prayer for the Lord to watch over him and see him to victory in this fight.

It had been a gruesome fight. Trevor got thrown into walls and went through a table, while his desperately tried to hit his cousin or scrabbled to keep his fangs away from his throat. It was more him trying to survive than actually fighting Arnold with the whip dancing desperately and gracelessly through the air.

He had been lucky the ruckus had woken his more experienced family members and when his aunt had taken her son’s arms behind his back, aided by Trevor’s dad and his sister and cousin, it was Trevor, who managed to take the candle holder and stake Arnold through his heart.

Arnold had been his first kill.

So no, Trevor didn’t fear death. He hadn’t feared death for a long time. He feared more to overcome death and turn into a monster that would attack his own family. He feared being the one that put fangs into the throats of the people he loved.

He feared turning into Arnold, who had been on the edge of having it all. He was supposed to get married, have kids, ensure that the family would be strong. He was a good hunter and nothing should have gone wrong with him.

But it had.

No matter the training they got, there was always that chance of being turned.

Trevor didn’t speak with his family about the incident. When he had tried they’d told him that Arnold was a smart lad to come here, knowing they would free him of the curse laid upon him and that Trevor should be proud of him and himself for how he had stood up.

They told him that should it ever come to it, he should do the same, then they had put him through even more training. A training they justified to him by telling him that they would try to prevent him turning by training him to be better.

He didn’t like the new training. It was brutal and the whip he had been given was hard to master and left him hurting.

Still, he was proud, because he had made his family proud. He had picked up the weapon given to him and taken out his first vampire. He was a hero amongst his cousins and siblings and he couldn't tell any of them how scared he’d been. Belmonts weren’t scared, not of vampires.

In him, his family had seen a talent. He might be one of the youngest, but most of his older cousins and siblings had already finished their training, so now they focused on him, turning him into a proper hunter.

Normally Belmonts went on their first hunts when they were sixteen, Trevor went on his first hunt just after his eleventh birthday.

Hunts were nothing like he had imagined them to be. They couldn't just go around asking for vampires, they had to track them down, find the source without being spotted, most of the time murdering the vampires while they slept during the day.

Of course, vampires didn’t like that very much and fought back. Trevor got quickly better at working with his whip and pulling over curtains. In the yearshe went on hunts he got used to their screams and faces as they turned into dust before his eyes.

But he also got used to the blood. The blood when his whip cut into their flesh, decapitating them or binding them close until he, or the family member with him, could stake the fucker.

He also got used to the blood of his family being spilled. He was already familiar with the sight due to his time helping back home, but there was a difference between wounds someone could travel with and wounds someone was dying from, their life spilling through his fingers as he tried to keep them in the land of the living.

He got used to carrying bodies home.

It wore him down, but he could not speak with anyone of it. They called him a natural, a talent, someone who would make their name proud. He was a survivor, he came back time and time again, despite the odds.

Trevor Belmont was climbing the ranks within the family, gaining esteem.

Of all of them, he should be happy, not upset at all that he was continually loosing. And he was happy. How could he not when his grandpa let him sit with him during the evening, his uncle gave him his set of small knives when he could no longer hunt due to an injury and he was allowed into the Hold more and more with his sister.

Life was looking up for Trevor, of course he was happy. He just wished he hadn’t needed to learn where the guts went before sowing a cousin back up and that he could still play with Claude and the others in the tree or train with them and the blunt knives.

It was stupid, he knew it was. Sooner or later even Claude would end up where he already was and he had gotten his own room now too that he could lord over Claude, who now had to share with his sister.

Sometimes though, sometimes he wished he could still listen to his uncle’s stories about hunts with wonder and imagine himself there in a place with less blood and more honor and glory.

Still, their family mission was deeply ingrained in him and he knew there was honor in protecting the helpless citizens around them. They were righteous knights, even in the shadows. They were like the crusaders.

So, he pushed away the darkness in his mind. He listened to the stories of his hunting family members about how the job was payment in itself, how they were proud, how much good they did and how much their work meant. He internalized their words, repeated him in his mind until they became part of him.

He was Trevor Belmont, of the House of Belmont. He was her ninth son, well he thought. He wasn’t all that good with numbers and he didn’t know exactly who counted and if he counted the dead, he must be the twentieth-something or somewhere around there.

There were his younger cousins as well and he was about to become an uncle for the first time, with his eldest sister pregnant.

Still, he had three older brothers still alive, then his two male cousins from his uncle with the knives, then one more from his uncle with the stories and one from his aunt, who had also been Arnold’s mother. He didn’t know if he should count his sisters and female cousins when he said he was the ninth son, not child, of the House of Belmont.

Not that it really mattered, it had changed around enough in his life for him to not really care about the number, just that he was a proud son of a noble house.

They went to the church on Sundays, when possible, they carried bibles and holy water, along with blessed weapons. They fought for the church and kept the streets safe. Their work was noble and they were respected.

Trevor was respected.

He might only be a young lord, but he was a lord nonetheless. When he was in town people were respectful to him and he was too young to realize the resentment in some of their eyes, not seeking it in what he thought to be grateful people under his protection. He didn’t see the hunger that came with the bad harvests.

The older people in the family did notice. Of course they did. They saw the stares during the ceremony and the backs turned when they passed. Some even heard the whispers of how their noble house had fallen and that they were in league with the devil, poisoning the lands.

None, however, could have predicted how soon the quiet, growing hatred would turn violent. If they had, maybe they would have send others of their children away as well, not just Trevor, who would have been summoned too as a fighting member.

They had thought they would clear it up, that they could explain that they had not been the ones responsible for the bad harvests and that they could go home safely.They had not counted on the church believing that the darkness had passed in these years of peace and that the only darkness was the light that kept the darkness out.

Christianity was not a merciful religion. Their god was not a kind one.

Well, maybe he was, maybe they would find after death that he had looked on their work kindly and would repay him in Heaven. But his servants were not. They saw peace, they did not see the underbelly that the Belmonts fought. They only saw mysterious things appearing at their door late at night and too many funerals without bodies.

The church was not kind, not to the Belmonts, not that year. There was no smoothing over feathers after too many missed ceremonies wherein an entire population was set up against them while they were treating their wounded that had fallen for them.

The family Belmont was met with pitchforks and fire. They were detained and tortured into confessing, hoping the others would get out before they got to them.

But the others would not, since the others were the grandmother to all who dwelt in the home and the children unsuited and left behind. None of them could have dreamed of what came to pass and all just awaited the return of the others.

It happened so often someone came back later then expected.

Trevor came back later than expected.

He had been send on a easy hunt, but the first hunt he had done all by himself. It had been a success and he hadn’t even gotten injured. Still, he was tired and looking forwards to a warm hearth and his mother making his favourite food in celebration.

Had he passed through town instead of coming through the woods, he might have met the same fate as his family, but he did not. He arrived to ruins still smoking and a house fallen.

A loud wailing scream had pierced the air that night and the town had long spoken of the demons unhappy that their patrons had been killed, smug in their righteousness. But Trevor had cried, he had dropped to the ground and cried like thechild he claimed not to be anymore.

That night he had scoured the ruins, hoping to find answers, maybe even survivors. But there were none. Even now it was Trevor who was the survivor of them all, but he did not find comfort in their bragging about his skill that still echoed through his mind.

Instead he found his grandmother’srosemary in a pile of ash, the little whistle his smallest cousin had always annoyed them all with, the short sword Claude had been given for his eleventh birthday, for he was to start training with them during the summer.

He found memories, but no people.

The house was collapsing around him, a beam cutting open his face as it fell on him, in his tired state he hadn’t been able to dodge completely.

It broke him all over again. Where he had been there so many times to stitch up the wounds of others, there was now no one left alive to tend to his. He had been there so many times to prevent someone from dying, but he hadn’t been here for them now and they were not there for him when it felt like his soul was dying while his body was in tact.

At first he though it had been a targeted attack. That the things they had hunted had come to take their revenge and that it had been too much for the family to take on. He had hoped to find shelter and protection in the town nearby, maybe even answers to what had happened exactly or other survivors who had fled.

The disguise he had donned to there had been to prevent himself from becoming a target of whatever had killed the others, because he was so sure it had been a thing.

Nothing could have prevented Trevor from seeing the heads of his two uncles, along with that of his father, brothersand older cousinson a stakes and pitchforksat the front gate of the town they had watched over for so many centuries.

Trevor was lucky that the horror robbed him of his voice, for if he had screamed, he might have joined them or his mother and aunt and other cousins and sisters on the stake.

For it was no thing that had turned against the Belmonts, but the people too used to peace with one bad harvest too many. It was anger and the need for someone to blame that had brought this misfortune upon a once noble house, leaving Trevor her only son.

He never got to be an uncle.

Never got to figure out if he would be the one with the tales or the best weapon tricks for their coming family member. Never got to see the unborn child play with his toys that had been passed down to him as well.

There was no more family left and he was all alone.

He was all alone.

It would be a harsh reality for anyone, but the twelve-year-old didn’t know what to do with himself for a very long time. The town wasn’t safe, he didn’t know if others would be either. He wanted to grieve, to collapse and let the darkness claim him, but he had to survive first.

For a long time he pretended not to feel the pain of a loss so great, with so many family members gone in one swoop.

He told himself to stop being dramatic that he wasn’t Arnold’s bride-to-be, who had wined about her lover’s disappearance. Trevor lost family all of the time, he was used to loosing family. They would grieve, give them the ritual they could and move on.

But Trevor had not the safety and warmth of other family members to lean on now. He had no one but himself as he sat in the ashes of his home and said prayers he would later learn were worth nothing, because he had been shunned by the church.

Then he moved on, he couldn't stay in his old home and turned to the wider world. He had been in the wide world many times before, though never so permanent and never without money for proper shelter.

When he was just on the road, he tried to stay noble and true to his house, but there were only so many people willing to offer aid to a child on the cusp of becoming adult enough to fend for themselves and Trevor had always looked old for his age, packed with muscle.

So he turned to picking locks, as a skill taught by his family to sneak up on monsters turned into one of survival as Trevor tried desperately to find food.

He still tried to hunt, at first. Tried to find creatures in the towns where he sought shelter, never giving his full name and hiding his crest. He still had the whip that aided him in killing Arnold as well as the knives his uncle had given him and Claude’s short sword.

He had weapons and skills and he would not easily give up the family name like that.

His family had been proud of who they were and no church could take that from them, could take their legacy. Not while Trevor could still carry it.

But it weighed on him. The dark thoughts his mind had entertained from time to time before crept in again, making him doubt if anything he did even mattered when the others were no longer there to support him. When there was no one to patch up his wounds or tell him more of the name he carried and how well he had done.

And he completely gave up hunting after he had been chased out of town when they had caught him staking a merchant, who had been a vampire, but had disguised himself as distinguished.

No one believed the hungry young man, sixteen at the time, when he claimed the man was a vampire, not when he had taken the desperate liberty of eating a bit, because his stomach was tearing itself apart.

How dare these people? he had thought back then, how dare they chase me like they had done my family when I prevented their death. Why should I even bother, when they do not want me and hate me, while all I do is help?

That was how the last son of the House of Belmont, gave up the family name.

He turned into a vagabond. He stopped caring and turned bitter as he lost himself to drinking and traveling as if walking further would create more distance between him and his mind.

His family had been stupid, his mind hissed. They should have known better than to think these people would be grateful. They weren’t. They were all idiots that hated anything good that they couldn't explain and found solace in a cruel god. And Trevor hated them all. They hadn’t deserved the protection of the Belmont House and Trevor wasn’t going to give it to them after all they had done to him and his family.

So, he turned his back to the people of Wallachia. Once he had let go, it was easy. His heart was dark and angry, when he saw suffering a small part of his mind felt gratified that the people got what they deserved while he was rid of the bruises and the pain that came from hunting.

Even if the burden of the dead weighed him down and he could almost hear the disappointed voices of his elders telling him that no Belmont should act like that, that he should help because it was the right thing to do and the Belmonts had always done the right thing, not for rewards, but because they did what was right, no matter what.

He ignored those voices and if he couldn't, then he drowned himself in alcohol until he couldn't hear them anymore. Until they faded over time.

The pain faded too, or maybe he just got used to ignoring it and living with it. The anger as well. It wasn’t as if he was hunting again, but he didn’t get the same thrill of hearing people hurt, just the tiredness that came with the sadness of it all.

Because there was a sadness in it. A sadness in how it didn’t matter who you were or what you did, only if you were blamable enough. Mobs came for anyone who stood out, even Trevor himself had been blamed for misfortunes beyond his control when they hadn’t even known his name.

In Wallachia the people were scared. They were scared of strangers, scared of the night, scared of going hungry and scared of the church, who was taking more and more people by the day until Trevor couldn't even blame the people who had murdered his family, because he saw how everyone would be willing to point to another to avoid being staked themselves.

Not even the Belmont family could have fought against the fear that nestled itself into the heart of people until they became the monsters they feared.

At least that was what Trevor had thought, before he turned nineteen, before the world as he knew it turned to shit and he couldn't avoid fighting anymore. Before Dracula came to seek revenge upon humanity for god knows what reason.

When the terror of Dracula had first been released upon the land, Trevor was helping with the harvest in a small village so that he could earn a place to sleep and something to eat. A night later there had been no one left and Trevor had broken his nearly three year long no-fighting monsters streak.

It was absolute carnage.

No fight from his youth could have prepared him for the brutal slaughter of the village people and it took him days to gather all the limbs and intestines so that he could burn their remains.

There was no gladness then, no relief that once more he had survived and that the people who had murdered all he had known had died. There was just a heaviness that hung over his shoulders and dragged him down. If he were to survive in this new world, he would have to fight again.

He would have to fucking fight again.

All that he had hoped to leave behind caught up with him once more, because why would anyone let him live in fucking peace? He only wanted to forget his family and what they had stood for, he wanted to drown himself in alcohol until he died of something stupid and not monster related, but even that could not be given to him.

The bitterness that had laid dormant in his chest grew again and he refused to fight for people other than himself, and even then he barely fought, choosing to avoid the night hordes whenever possible as he traveled.

His family could have helped put a stop to the raids from the night hordes. In every town, village and city he came he could see why their defenses failed and what they could do differently. Yet he never said a thing.

The people had made clear what they thought of the Belmont help and Trevor wasn’t offering it just to be run out of town for his name or blamed for the attacks. The people were stupid, that he had decided long ago. They didn’t want protection if they couldn't understand it and he was done spilling his blood for them.

They could all rot for all he cared, he wasn’t fighting for them. He would do nothing for them, not in these times.

If he thought he had known hunger before, he was mistaken. Food was even more scarce and none were willing to share with a stranger, so he wore hunger as a second skin and the cold was permanent in his bones.

Had he wanted to help, he couldn't have done so due to the exhaustion, he discovered soon. He had stopped burying and burning the bodies by the fifth massacred town. New horrors just came every day.

It wasn’t worth the energy and their torn up faces would haunt his dreams. It was better to take whatever food was left and go to the next place, hoping something else could be found there. And by the time he arrived in Gresit, he didn’t even realize how close he was to the ruins of his ancestral home.

He met Speakers in Gresit. It was stupid to help them and he knew it, he had just gotten within the walls, no use in getting thrown out again immediately.

But the elderly Speaker man had woken some empathy in his exterior of apathy that he tried so hard to keep up, just to cope with it all. The Speakers were being blamed for the attacks and he knew it wasn’t true and maybe- maybe a small part of him wanted to save someone from the fate that befallen his family, as if that would change the past.

It was one of the stupidest things he’d done.

Soon, he was not just getting some idiot Speakers out of a city before it could destroy them out of some twisted sense of guilt, but he was roped into finding a child, only to be roped into defending the stupid city, which lead to a vampire of all places and him being placed in a stupid fucking prophecy.

He hated Speakers sometimes.

Speakers gave information, sure. They had histories stretching back for centuries, being preserved within just their words and Trevor had much respect for that. He just wished they would allow it to be written down, so he wouldn’t be dependent on what they told him.

Because they tended to only tell him things on a need to know basis, leaving him here. With a vampire travel companion. Stuck in a prophecy that might be Wallachia’s, or even the worlds last hope, knowing he wouldn’t turn back.

Fucking Speakers and fucking empathy that made it impossible to turn away from the stupid people that he hated.

He hated Alucard even more for making him realize that he wanted to help them, that he didn’t just want to walk around until there was no more defending himself from the night hordes and he would perish.

Alucard was the son of Dracula, no matter how much he might be against his father, he still shared the blood with the monster that had put everything to ruin and had slowly killed out the Belmont family throughout the centuries. Why would Trevor want him traveling with him?

Because of that fucking Speaker girl, Sypha. She still held the hope in her eye of someone who had only seen places where help could still be given, with people that could be saved. And if he left, she would be stuck with Alucard and Trevor wouldn’t let that happen.

She and Alucard were both naive and neither of them had any clue what they were walking into. He knew that for certain. Alucard might pretend to know, but he had missed all the destruction during his little nap.

They weren’t ready for this journey, Trevor was.

Sometimes he really hated fate.

The only Belmont who had ever turned their back on what being a Belmont entailed, was now part of a prophecy that would kill Dracula. All the pain he had endured in his childhood, all the blood he thought had been spilled in vain, was now coming together in him, making him the perfect hunter for their doomed little quest.

He and Sypha watched the other Speakers go and Sypah tried to confide in him her feelings about being left behind, but Trevor could not relate when the loneliness had become so normal to him that he didn’t even notice it.

She couldn't understand it and he didn’t blame her. He hoped she would never understand, but when she said: “You had a family, though,” he couldn't help the bitter reply: “Not much of one and not for long.”

Because Trevor had never truly gotten over the pain of the death of his family and in the darkest of nights, he sometimes blamed them for leaving him, for getting themselves killed.

He blamed his dead family for hunting when no one had thanked them, because it had gotten them killed in the end. They could have been a normal family. They could have just turned their back on the people and preserved themselves. Made it so that Trevor hadn’t gotten used to burying his cousins or that no seven-year-old would have looked forward to putting themselves in harms way for people who didn’t care.

They could have just loved each other without death surrounding their every moment as a family, but that wasn’t for the Belmonts.

No, the Belmonts were hunting family and all that hunting, all that expertise and training passed down through generations, would be used to bring down their ultimate foe. It was just that the entire House, save one, had to die first.

They had to die and leave him behind. Not for the first time, he wished that he had died with them and it would be someone else in his place.

But he couldn’t really blame them, not when the saving of the people in Gresit felt good, not when his confession to Alucard about caring wasn’t a lie. He understood why his family had saved people and even after all these years, he was just a kid who wanted to make his parents proud.

So he went home.

They rode past the tree where he had stopped playing when he was ten years old and he pointed it out, seeing Claude tease him from the boy’s favourite branch in his minds eye.

Then, for the first time in eight years, he set foot in the place where his family had died, where he had grown up and where he had been running from all these years, just to pretend it hadn’t happened like that. But the ruins couldn't lie.

Trevor remembered desperately searching through these ruins in the hope of finding someone, anyone, still alive. He remembered a beam falling on his face, scarring him for life with no one there to kiss it better, even if he would have told them he was too old for that sort of stuff.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Sypha, who asked him: “This was your home?”

That seemed pretty obvious to him. “Yeah.”

“You grew up here?”

Again with the obvious questions.

“Yeah.”

“I can’t imagine what it was like to grow up in a single place,” she said, looking around. It took him by surprise, he hadn’t even occurred to him to compare the two ways of growing up. He couldn't imagine her wanting to grow up like he had or trying to figure out what it was like.

“Mm,” he hummed as he thought, “it was...” How was it actually? Painful yet full of love? He could remember all the smiles, but they had faded too quickly and his brain had always remembered the pain better than the good times. “It was fine. It wasn’t the worst way to grow up,” he said in the end, deciding that he had been lucky with all the love he had been given in his youth, even if it had been unconventional and taken too soon. He would have been happy there, if they had lived.

“How old where you when your family home was taken?” Alucard asked and he didn’t know if he even wanted to tell the vampire, yet there seemed to be no malice in his question.

He sighed, trying to remember, “Thirteen,” no it couldn't have been that long ago, “fourteen, something like that.”

“You’ve been on your own since you were thirteen?” Sypha said and he hated how there was disbelief and pity in her voice. He also hated how he suddenly remembered his twelfth birthday that he had celebrated with everyone and how he was supposed to be back on time to celebrate his thirteenth birthday.

They had said, he might have to share his birthday with the baby coming and he had been strangely delighted at the idea.

“Maybe twelve,” he said as the memory faded. It was not like it matter or he had thought of it much during his time alone. “Who remembers that sort of thing?” he attempted to put a lightheartedness in his voice that he didn’t feel.

“Twelve,” repeated Alucard.

And he was getting real tired of the investigation into his life that he had worked so hard to forget. He didn’t want to remember and he wanted them to stop pulling memories to the forefront of his mind. “Is there a point to these questions?” he snapped.

“I’m disturbed to find I had more of a childhood than you did,” Alucard simply said as if that was not the exact tragic fact he had been trying to avoid.

Trevor didn’t want their pity, nor the attention on him. He hadn’t wanted to come back here, but it was their best bet. They didn’t need to make a whole production out of the massacre of his family. Luckily, he saw an opening to deflect with humor, something he was great at. “And your dad’s fucking Dracula.”

The three of them laughed and it felt good to find humor in this abysmal situation and right after he even had a distraction. They had found the Hold.

Naturally, like everything in his life, that had to be ruined within seconds as Sypha unlocked the door with magic, because none of the Belmonts had known it was magic and Alucard just had to comment on it: “Well, well, naughty Belmonts, hunting all the terrible things of the forest, but sitting on a magic door opened by occult language.”

“So, I didn’t know it was a fucking magic door,” he said through gritted teeth. “Doesn’t make us black magicians.”

“But you know that the word ‘Teloch,’ means ‘of death’ right?” Alucard couldn't help but say and Trevor was fighting the urge to punch him.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“It’s the magical door of death, Belmont,” Alucard called after him. And by god if it wasn’t the magical door of death. Trevor knew full well that his family could hold some questionable things out of context and the church had accused them exactly on those things, but Trevor knew better.

Little Marie, only five years old had not been a black magician, his pregnant sister had not been evil and his aunt, who had had to bury most of her children, while keeping strong for the ones still living, had not deserved being burned alive.

But he pushed down his anger, there was no need to make a big deal out of it, it wasn’t like it impacted them in any way. So, he just said: “Are you coming or what?” and let it be.

It was as impressive as Trevor remembered it being and he was glad that the mind of a child had not colored his old home in such a way that he would be disappointed here. He actually felt at home and he was glad for it.

For so long he had feared that his home would no longer feel like it and the ruins certainly didn’t feel welcome, but these halls still held the productivity and warmth of the Belmont family and he was at peace there, even a but proud.

“Belmont isn’t even a Wallachian name,” Sypha broke the silence, “that just dawned on me.”

“No,” Trevor agreed and found himself excited to share the history that had been proudly told to him by his uncle next to the hearth. “The family’s originally from the Kingdom of France, but we moved out of there a few hundred years ago.”

“Moved or chased?” said Alucard and the vampire was really getting on Trevor’s nerves, so he sniped back: “Moved, thank you very much.”

“With people behind you waving pitchforks and torches?” asked Alucard and the image of his father on a pitchfork came to mind.

“No,” he still said, trying to keep the peace. He had not the energy to fight Alucard, not when he was back here, surrounded by ghosts, who were too proud to be questioned like that. “No, we’re professionals. We move were the work is.”

“What does that even mean?” Sypha asked and he was so very grateful for her in that moment.

“All the dark things moved into the east,” he explained to her, ignoring Alucard. “I think it was a Leon Belmont, who entered the region first. He built the house and dug the foundations for everything under it.”

He opened the door into the Hold itself. Sypha lit up the room with her magic and Trevor was suddenly faced with the big hall he had seen only a handful of times before, but that he could describe perfectly, because all his younger cousins and siblings had begged him to tell them what it was like.

“My god,” said Sypha and Trevor remembered that feeling all too well. Proudly with a hint of wistfulness, he said: “The memory of my family. All that is left of us.”

“Is it organized?” Sypha sounded excited and it reminded him of his sister, who had wondered between the books for hours on end, always ready with answers for every question he could think to ask her. “Is there a way to find things?”

“I imagine one sacrifices a chicken,” Alucard had to fucking ruin it, “and divines the location of the book you want from the intestines. Maybe Belmont has a crystal ball in here you could ask.”

“Shut up,” Trevor growled at him as he passed.

“It’s an impressive tip, Belmont,” Alucard continued, not noticing Trevor’s rising anger, “but nonetheless, a tip. Your ancestors were apparently mentally ill hoarders. I fully expect to find family cats mummified under some of these shelves.” The bastard chuckled. “Unless your family preferred to eat them.”

He pushed past the vampire. He wasn’t fighting where it could ruin his sister’s beloved collection that she had diligently cared for. She was always kind and he could always have counted on her to be alive, for she didn’t hunt, but researched. She lived and breathed these books. “There’s an index on the lectern at the bottom.” “So this really is a managed collection,” he was glad for Sypha, who made the other company more bearable.

“It’s the work of generations,” he told her. “An archive of everything we’ve found and learned since the days of Leon Belmont.”

“What was your Lean Belmont doing in Wallachia?” Sypha asked.

Before he could answer, Alucard spoke up: “Hunting Dracula,” and in that moment Trevor realized that where he had grown up on horror stories about Dracula, Alucard might have heard the same about the Belmonts.

He could understand the vampire’s barbs better now, but the other still didn’t fully understand and Trevor didn’t want to explain. He didn’t want to tell him that the skull he was studying had been Arnold’s and the small one next to it had been Juliet, an aunt he had never gotten to meet, since she never reached adulthood along with her siblings. Tragically common.

So, he turned back to the books, trailing his fingers over the spines as he mumbled to himself again, before leaving his companions to explore a memory anew.

When he saw the chest, he could hardly believe it. He had seen it once before. His father had shown it to him after he had thrown away the whip in anger, because it wasn’t listening to him. He remembered his father laying a hand on his shoulder and telling him: ‘One day, you will inherit this weapon from me and you will be strong with it. You just have to fight now to get there.’

The Morning Star, now finally in his hands as he accepted his family’s past and inherited their mission as his own.

In the background he heard Sypha speak as she flipped through the index: “It’s all here, you’re right. This is quite amazing. Isn’t it? It’s amazing.”

“Charming,” came Alucard’s voice from the display with all the Belmonts that had fallen to vampirism and Trevor debated with himself whether or not it was a good idea to tell Alucard about it or not. “You’re not even a little bit impressed?”

“It’s like a museum dedicated to the extermination of my people, so no,” Alucard said. “Not thrilled.” And Trevor wished he wouldn’t understand. Still, he decided not to tell Alucard. The man had been grating on his nerves ever since they had arrived and while he understood, it seemed Alucard just wanted to be mean about how it impacted him, not that they were standing in the last bit that was left of the house where once his entire family had lived. And it had been a big family.

So, he just let the vampire brood in his own stupid feelings, it wasn’t like it was his problem. But Sypha was annoyed at him being mean right back, which could fuck right off in his opinion. He didn’t need to be nice, he had already not killed the vampire that was enough.

However, when Sypha looked sad, all by herself between the books, he could not help but feel for her. She hadn’t done anything wrong. “Are you okay?” he asked, knowing he wasn’t one for comfort.

“Tired,” she answered him and the fact that no more words came out of her, made him uncomfortable, yet he could only offer: “Sleep, then,” as reply.

“A bit lonely,” she then confessed also.

He was used to being alone, but traveling with her, even Alucard, had reminded him how nice it was to have company and these walls amplified that feeling. He remembered these halls full of life, with always someone to talk to or spar with.

It didn’t matter if you had just come back from a long mission or had woken up from a good nights sleep. He couldn't recall how he had forgotten all the people and all the comfort between the loss and how it came to him now as something to ache for, when he could no longer reach it.

“My dusty old sheet is big enough for two,” he offered before he could think better of it. “And nobody was ever lonely in this house.”

“Thank you,” she said as he got under the blanket with him, her genuine gratitude making him shift in his skin.

“Is Alucard asleep?” he decided to ask as deflection.

“He says he’s slept enough,” Sypha answered, luckily not further engaging about his family. “He’s still poking around your family’s things with a look of faint disgust.” Despite it all, he let out a chuckle at that. “It’s lonely even when you’re standing next to him,” Sypha continued then, “It’s strange.”

“How so?” he asked, he hadn’t really paid much attention to Alucard’s feelings, more noticing that he was being an asshole about them.

“I’m not sure,” Sypha said, curling further into herself. “He’s intelligent, sometimes even witty, in his way. And he’s certainly half-human. More than half-human. He’s a person in his own right, but it’s like he’s a cold spot in the room. It’s not like your sadness.”

“I’m not sad,” he answered her explanation before he could even think about it, the denial deeply ingrained in his being, both from the road alone and telling his parents that he didn’t miss Arnold, because he died a noble, good death.

“Yes, you are,” Sypha’s sureness, startled him and made him question his own emotions. “But I can shout at you, or tease you, and get a reaction that lets me know you’re still in there,” she told him with a sigh. “His sadness is like an icy well. It’s bottomless. And swallows up your voice and anything you try to drop into it.”

Trevor didn’t know what to say to that. He never paid that close attention to Alucard and he had never been good at picking up emotions of others. Not even his own, it seemed.

“Am I really sad?”

It was pathetic that he was even asking it, but there he was, needing to hear it that he was sad and that someone saw it. He had never properly grieved and even now was not the time, because they had more important things to worry about. But he did feel the sadness he had hidden so long behind carelessness. No one had picked up on it before, not even he.

“All the time,” there was no hesitation in Sypha’s words. “You don’t even notice it now. It’s just how you are. And then, sometimes, you’ll tell me nobody’s ever lonely in your house and offer me your stinky blanket.”

They both chuckled, because there was no other way for Trevor to react to that. It was too honest and just laid him bare where he had tried to cover up. Still he attempted humor as a distraction from what she had just said. “In all honesty, that stink might not be my blanket,” but it wasn’t necessary, for Sypha was already asleep.

Seemed she really was tired, but Trevor couldn't really sleep after all she had told him.

Because he was sad. The grief pushed down on him now that it had been opened up to him and he didn’t know what to do with himself. There had always been a mix of anger and hurt surrounding the death of his family.

Anger at being left behind, at the church and the people, anger at the vampires and Dracula. But also the hurt of missing them, the hurt of being cast out by society while he had only wanted to protect them, even the hurt that no vampire or other monster had even managed to take him out and then anger at himself after he kept fighting when he was attacked, not letting himself die to the claws or fangs.

He had never just felt the heavy sadness that came with loosing his family. He never allowed himself to grieve the lives that were never lived, both theirs and his own. He didn’t know how to feel that sadness.

Grieving someone hadn’t necessarily been forbidden, but the Belmonts didn’t linger on death, for they knew what sort of business they were in. It was just that Trevor never had the guidance to learn how to cope with loss, before everyone who could have taught him died.

So there he was in his family Hold, with all the feelings he didn’t know what to do with and all remnants of sleepiness having left him. But he couldn't move with Sypha’s head resting on his shoulder.

He did not want to wake her, so he stayed put and let her rest. She needed it. Faintly he heard Alucard move in the Hold and he thought back on Sypha’s words. She had been correct that there was a deep sadness about him and Trevor couldn't blame him with his father.

Yet, Alucard held pity for Dracula, he could feel it in the way he talked of his father and Trevor wasn’t sure if he would be able to do it when push came to shove. On the other hand, the love when he spoke of his mother was also true.

‘His sadness is like an icy well.’

An icy well, it was an apt description of a creature of the night, whose skin did not warm itself for it did not have the blood to do so unless taken.

But at the same time, it wasn’t just his vampire side. Trevor had to agree with Sypha that the human half of him was prominent and he had enjoyed the company of Alucard from time to time on their journey, so the coldness was not just that.

Of course he had lost his mother to the church and his father to madness in the span of a year and while Trevor could not relate to loosing someone to madness, he could relate with killing a family member because there was no other choice and perhaps Dracula was Alucard’s Arnold.

He could also relate to loosing family members in quick succession. And maybe Alucard also didn’t have anyone to teach him how to be sad? Maybe he was lashing out in anger due to his grief where Trevor tried not to lash out in anger due to his grief to preserve the place around him that held so many memories.

It was a strange dance they did and neither of them had even realized they were doing the steps until Sypha pointed it out to them. Not that Trevor knew of the conversation they had the next day while he was off again going through the chests of weapons.

As a kid all the books had seemed boring, and they still did, but he could also see them for the worth they held now, but it was the weapons stored there that would help him. He wasn’t a magic caster or a a book person, he would win with his fists if needed, but he preferred to have an arsenal if possible.

While he looked around, he had been attempted to avoid the display case with the skulls. He hadn’t wanted to think about them, all the Belmonts turned, all the Belmonts that lost against the evil and had been warped.

Trevor still held the fear of being turned, even while he no longer hoped of kids and a future. He was the last son of the House of Belmont and he would remain that.

He didn’t want to keep track of which of his kids was where in the line of Belmonts and he didn’t want to bury his own children like he’d seen so many other Belmonts do. He could of course have kids and not train them like he had been, but he did not know how any other family looked like, so he would probably fail as a father anyways.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he would live long enough to become a father, so it was a moot point in the end.

The real reason he didn’t want to be turned, was because there was no family to return to, who would kill him. He hoped he would just walk into the sun if it happened, but he feared that he wouldn’t.

All the skulls in the display were a testament to how one wished to live once turned, how they had all came home and risked the safety of their family, because they couldn't do it. And he didn’t wish to be the one for whom immortality would stick.

But nothing in his life went how he wanted it and late that night, while Sypha had disappeared with two books and Alucard was god knows where in the Hold, he found himself in front of Arnold’s skull.

It was just a skull.

Somehow he had expected that there would be something special about it, but there just wasn’t. It was a skull like he had seen so many, only with fangs and the knowledge that it had been Arnold’s and that he had been the one to kill him.

“You seem to be deep in thought,” a smooth voice suddenly spoke up from beside him, startling him. “Afraid Dracula’s skull won’t fit in the display?”

God, Trevor was fucking done with Alucard. He had listened to Sypha, watched the vampire himself and understood why. For fucks sake the man was here to kill his father. Of course Trevor could sympathize, but would it kill him to not be a dick for once?

“Can you just fucking stop?” he snapped, letting out the anger that had been building towards Alucard finally come out.

“What?” he had the audacity to sound taken aback.

“I have been trying real hard not to punch your fangs out of your mouth, so can you stop antagonizing me for one fucking moment,” he said.

“Oh, I’m sorry that I’m not particularly nice to you while you’re admiring the trophies of the death of my people in your Hold dedicated to our extinction,” Alucard shot right back and Trevor was officially done with being nice.

“Your people?” he practically shrieked. “Your people? Do you even know who this is? Have you even bothered to find out anything that isn’t related to killing Dracula in this place without first judging?”

Alucard looked shocked by his outrage and a twisted part of Trevor was glad he hadn’t told him before, so that he could reveal it to him now and make him guilty for all he had said, because Trevor needed someone to yell at about Arnold, finally after all these years.

“I wasn’t admiring trophies, you dick. These aren’t trophies. It’s a memorial. And I was looking at this skull, because he was my cousin, so fuck off with the ‘your people’ bullshit. He was my older cousin and he was my hero and I killed him. I fucking killed him, because he was turned and attacked me, because I happened to be the one to greet him at the door when he returned. Even after all we shared, he went for my throat and my aunt and my dad and my sister and my cousin had to restrain him together so he wouldn’t rip it out while I put a stake through his heart. I- I was only fucking ten. So excuse me for not feeling any empathy for you at the moment.”

Once he was done ranting, he panted loudly in the silence that fell over them. With Alucard looking at him with shock in his eyes as he felt the tears slide down his face, much to his horror. But he didn’t wipe them away. It felt good to finally cry for Arnold.

“Sorry, I- I didn’t know,” Alucard finally said.

“No, you fucking didn’t,” Trevor snarled, voice still cracking with the tears. “And the little one next to it was my aunt. I never met her, because she was killed by her own mother when she was nine, because her father, who is lying next to her, was turned on a hunt and turned her before he could be killed.”

“Trevor, look-”

He interrupted Alucard before he could apologize again. He wanted to be mad, he wanted to scream out all his frustrations and he wasn’t giving up the chance now that he finally could.

“There is no ‘Trevor, look’ not from you, not now. I get why you’ve been a prissy asshole ever since we got here, but last time I was here, I returned from a hunt, which I was send on by myself and I was fucking twelve. Yet I came back to my house burned to the ground and when I went to the town for answers I found the heads of my family on pitchforks and pikes by the wall as a warning.”

He was now fully crying and his voice was hoarse and cracking.

“They had killed them all. They had summoned them to the town and detained them, before killing them and burning the others alive trapped in their house. My youngest cousin was Marie, she was barely five and my sister was pregnant. She was fucking pregnant. She was the only one of my sisters, who made it to that age and got happily married. She was going to have a kid. I was going to be an uncle. An uncle, Alucard. And now I never will be, because the church decided we were black magicians, who needed to die over a bad harvest.”

At his side his fists clenched and he was pretty sure he was making himself bleed with the force, but he didn’t care. A load he had been carrying for so long was finally being thrown at another, finally being shared.

“A fucking bad harvest.” He laughed almost hysterical.

“My family has been dying, getting attacked and turned into monsters for centuries to keep the people of these lands safe and the moment they are safe, we get blamed for something else and killed. We get killed after all the people we had to bury. My aunt had to bury most of her children, my mom too, everyone did. The first time one I saw one of my cousins die was when I was seven and I had to help keep him restrained on the table while they tried to sow his guts back in.”

Then the hideous blame he had tried to hide from spilled from his lips.

“We have bled and died for them. I have bled for them, buried my soul a thousand times over in all sorts of relations and they never cared. I have been bruised permanently since I was nine, because my own family beat me blue to teach me how to fight, so that maybe I would live where others had not. My own fucking family. We were turned into fucking soldiers to fight a shithole war that no one asked us to fight. There was love, sure, but there was always violence too, always fighting amongst each other, not because there was anger, but because it was the only way we knew how to survive, how to live. I never asked to be a hunter, but there has never been a choice for me. I was the lucky survivor, always living where others did not. I didn’t ask to fucking live. I didn’t ask to be a weapon and I didn’t ask for this life.”

He fell down on his knees and cried, he cried like when he last was here and the ash was still smoldering. He cried like he wanted to create an ocean to drown in.

And through the sobs he said: “I wished we weren’t dedicated to killing vampires and other monsters. I wished we had another occupation, because then I might know a life without pain. A life where my family could stay big and not dwindle every year. I wished that, don’t you see, Alucard? I don’t want to be here, just like you. But I have no other fucking choice, because I’m a hunter and all my mother taught me was to fight and my uncle told me stories by the hearth and he was so fucking proud of what we did. They all were so proud. I- I can’t turn my back on them.”

Finally he was out of words.

He sat there defeated, having bared his soul to what should be his enemy, but who was his ally in this fight and now there was only the raw emotions left that he had never learned how to deal with beyond suppression.

A tentative cold hand was put on his shoulder and Trevor didn’t have the energy to fight off the small source of comfort, just for its giver. So, he leaned into it and the hand became an arm and soon he was wrapped in a hug.

What a life he lived that he, a Belmont, should end up in his own Hold in the arms of a vampire, crying for his lost family.

Alucard just let him sob for what seemed like hours and Trevor was grateful for it. Grateful for the comfort without questions that let him process the crying as cathartic, before he felt the draining of the action.

The vampire carded a hand through his hair and rocked him gently.

It should be babying, but it was just nice and Trevor hadn’t been babied since he was ten, so he allowed himself the one indulgence.

Once he was completely spend and hardly sniffling anymore, with only a few silent tears leaking out of his eyes as he buried his face in Alucard’s chest. Only then did Alucard speak up: “I want to apologize for what I did. I was too wrapped up in my own hurting to see yours and I shouldn’t have been testing you for the sake of my own insecurities. I am sorry, Bel- Trevor. I am also sorry for your loss, I cannot imagine.”

Trevor huffed, almost amused if it hadn’t been incredibly sad. “No one really can, don’t feel too bad.”

“Still, I’m sorry,” Alucard repeated. “And I admire you for you commitment despite all the relations attached to our mission. I will not fail you. Dracula will die, the night hordes will fall and you won’t have to fight anymore.”

It was a nice promise, even if it was completely unrealistic. Trevor knew his odds of coming back form this fight were low and he had made his peace with that. But the promise was appreciated.

“Thank you,” he finally pushed himself off the other and wiped away his tears. “I’m sorry for breaking down on you like that. Even I didn’t see that one coming.”

Alucard smiled. “It is okay, Trevor. I deserved your anger and it is good for you to let it all out. You should not be ashamed or hide. You deserve to grieve.”

The tears returned at Alucard’s words and Trevor didn’t know whether he hated the other for it or not. He started a reply, but no words came out, so he just gestured meaninglessly and wordlessly into the air, before swallowing and nodding.

“Here, you look exhausted, let’s get you to a bed,” Alucard said and Trevor didn’t protest when he was hauled up and brought to a pile of blankets.

Now that Alucard had mentioned it, he was tired, plainly exhausted honestly and on the brink of collapse after all the emotions he had gone through in the last half hour or so. He fell down on the blankets gracelessly and burrowed down into them.

He was only starting to grieve and he wouldn’t have the rest anytime soon to process it all, but he’d started and he was glad for it. The dead deserved a final resting place in his mind, where he could hold their memory.

Nuzzling down into the blankets again, he mumbled: “You can grieve too, Adrian. Don’t shoulder your father’s actions as your own. You’re your mother’s son.” Then he drifted off, completely unaware that he left Alucard with his own little relief and emotional knot in his chest.

Later Sypha would call out excited that she had found something.

Later they would get attacked and his sister’s favourite place would get destroyed.

Later they would win and kill Dracula, all surviving.

Later Trevor would begin to heal and carry out his family’s legacy in a way that did not leave him empty and alone.

Until finally Trevor once again had a big family in a big busy castle. A family that was almost always complete. He didn’t hunt anymore, just busied himself with defending the town that had appeared around the castle and was grateful for the Belmont protection.

His oldest son was named Arnold.

And Trevor was content, knowing he would not needlessly die.

~~

A/N:

I love making myself sad thinking about how big the Belmont family must have been (it is in my headcanon at least), but also how it was to grow up as a child of a hunter family. Angst on multiple levels, baby

Idk abt y’all but it really bothers me how they look down on the oral histories of the Speakers, since it has some implications within real life with the West looking down on Native cultures with vast oral histories, so I hope I didn’t come across too condescending within Trevor’s internal monologue, he was just annoyed that he got roped into the prophecy

And I know why Alucard was feeling uncomfortable in the Belmont’s Hold, but they were also standing in the last remnants of what was left of Trevor’s family and, like, he could have shown a bit of compassion for that, but maybe that’s just me lmao

It was really cathartic to write Trevor snap, even though I (luckily) never came close to experiencing his grief.

[johnnycranes]

[reupload cuz i decided to post this chapter here as well since i met a lot of new people in the fc5 fandom recently <3]

next chapter of Some Kind of Second Chance is up. special shoutout to all my mutuals who tagged me in WIPs and to the amazing @desertvvitch who motivated me to post this thing!!

Whole thing is up on AO3

Word count: 3,364

Chapter 6: Revelations and Rifles

When Sydney came to, part of her hoped the hit she took to the head also knocked her memory back. But nope, still didn’t know who the voices in her head were.

She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was a wall decorated with different pictures of the Seed family and of Eden’s Gate. Next thing she noticed was that she was sitting on the floor and her wrists were bound in front of her to a metal pipe, kept in place with a ziplock tie.

She looked down at herself and saw she was still dressed in the shorts and tank top she was in when she left her cabin, the only thing missing was her jacket.

Looking around a bit more, it didn’t appear to be like any of the cabins in the compound. More like the inside of a trailer house. Something glinted on the floor and Sydney realized there were shards of glass littered around the room of what looked like a small trailer. If she could just reach out for a sharp enough piece, she could find a way to cut open the ziplock tie.

Whoever took her clearly didn’t think this all the way through, practically handing her a means to escape.

Oh shit, or was this some kind of creepy Saw thing? Either way she wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

She stretched her leg and started pushing a few shards towards her with her foot. Thankfully her captors were also kind enough to leave her sneakers on.

Sydney was able to drag some shards close to her when she heard a door open. She hid the shards under her legs quickly as the footsteps of whoever arrived got louder.

Two men wearing Eden’s Gate clothes walked into the room, sneering at her as soon as they spotted her. They didn’t look like anyone she knew.

“Good morning, sunshine.” The one with long unruly hair said.

“So sorry if we kept ‘ya waitin.” The bald one said.

Sydney shook her head. “Oh not at all. Just woke up actually. Comfy floor here.”

“The fuck?” Long-hair asked.

“You have any idea why you’re here, girlie?” bald one asked, and Sydney assumed he was trying to sound intimidating.

“Why bother? You’re gonna explain it to me anyway ri-”

The bald one slammed the butt of his rifle onto her knee. She groaned in pain, but made sure not to lift her leg so much as to make sure the glass was still hidden.

Hopefully they leave her alone again so she could escape.

It was safe to assume these two were part of the group of soldiers who didn’t like her. So Sydney’s only other option of getting out was someone in the compound noticing she was missing, unless of course the two idiots who captured her were actually smart enough to cover their tracks.

How long was she out? All she could tell from the light coming in from the window was that it was daytime.

“You have the guts to speak to us like that? After all you did, sinner.” Long-hair snarled the last word at her.

Sydney rolled her eyes. “Like I said, still waiting for you to fucking explain.” As far as she was concerned, they could even be Resistance agents in disguise who waited for the perfect chance to strike.

But then again, why target her and not the Seed family?

“You think yer so clever, fooling even the Father with yer fake amnesia bullshit.” Bald guy said.

Sydney huffed out a dry laugh. “Trust me, I wish it was fake. Maybe then I’ll know why you two assholes are pulling stupid shit like this.”

“Enough!” Long-hair yelled. “How dare you. How dare you think we can just accept you into our family, attend sermons with us, all because you supposedly forgot.”

“I did.” Sydney emphasized. “You can ask the doctor, he-”

“You just don’t forget the people you killed!”

Sydney froze.

She what?

The silence was deafening and that’s when the voices attacked. Screams, cries, incoherent shouts, gunshots, explosions, fires. They all invaded her mind.

Her blood ran cold, her hands started shaking and her head was throbbing.

She couldn’t freak out, not now. She tried to keep her breathing under control, long enough to ask, “What?” but it came out so pathetic and soft that she wasn’t surprised when they cackled at her.

Long-hair walked in circles around the room as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Killed. Put a bullet in their heads, threw dynamite at them, hell even cracked open their skulls with a fucking shovel!” He stopped in front of her and tightened his fists. “They were my friends! They gave their lives to protect the Father from you. And now he claims you’ll protect us?”

His fist collided with her cheek. He hit hard but it was better than him using the butt of his rifle.

Or actually shooting her with said rifle.

Sydney slowly turned her head back to face them, ignoring the throbbing in her cheek. She could thank him, actually. At least it distracted her enough to calm down a bit.

There were still so many questions she wanted to ask, but asking her captors may not be the greatest idea.

Their friends? So she killed people from the Project?

She instantly thought of Elena, Trevor and Benjamin.

Who did she kill? Why did she kill? And if she did kill people from Eden’s Gate, why was Joseph okay with her staying on?

Then she remembered the Father’s words the day she arrived at the compound.

So now you shall atone.

Oh fuck. Is that what she was atoning for?

He struck her again. “You are a sinner unworthy of joining us at Eden’s Gate! We will avenge our fallen brothers and sisters, we wi-”

“That’s enough, Kevin.” the bald one said as Kevin punched her once more, on the same cheek and Sydney had to spit blood out.

Kevin backed away from her to face his companion. “She deserves a lot more punishment for everyone she’s killed, Norm. You know that.”

Norm sighed. “We got lucky capturing her when we did. But people will wonder where she is soon so we gotta kill her now.”

Even though her face stung and she had to blink a few times for her vision to steady, she was conscious enough to hear what they said. Sydney knew she was running out of time. If she wanted to escape, she had to do it quickly.

With both her captors distracted and turned away from her, she shifted her legs, feeling the cool glass underneath as she inched them closer to her wrists. She dragged her hands down the pipe and closer to the floor, slowly so as to not get their attention.

Some of the shards cut the inside of her leg but it didn’t matter. She could bandage them up when she was free. She couldn’t bandage a bullet hole to the brain.

Sydney finally got one shard close enough to her hands. She stretched her fingers to grab it and fiddled with it as quickly and as subtly as possible.

Thankfully Kevin and Norm were still busy arguing.

“It’s not enough to just kill her and get it over with!” Kevin yelled. “She showed no remorse, so why should we?”

“Because if they catch us we-”

“Rook! Rook, you here?” All three of them froze when they heard a voice from outside the trailer.

Sydney didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frightened when she recognized it as Benjamin’s voice. She couldn’t just scream for help. What if he didn’t have a weapon with him? What if they shot him first? Or shoot her then him?

She hid the broken glass in her hand, closing it in a fist.

“Shit. I told you we shoulda killed her right away, Kev!” Norm hissed.

“Shut the fuck up and let me think!”

Benjamin yelled again. “C’mon, Rook. You better not have left the island.” His voice sounded closer that time.

Kevin took two shallow breaths and gripped his rifle tightly. “All right new plan. We kill ‘im both.”

Fuck this wasn’t good.

Sydney chanced using the shard again. She needed to get rid of them before they hurt her and Benjamin.

“What?” Norm whispered nervously.

“He’s gonna come in regardless.” Kevin said. “I’ll shoot ‘im soon as he opens the door. Then we shoot her. Ain’t that what you wanted?”

Norm shook his head. “We don’t kill our own, brother.”

“I’m the one doin’ the work. I’ll be the one to accept atonement for this. Now stay here, keep your gun on ‘er.”

Kevin left the room quietly… on his way to kill her friend.

Something inside Sydney snapped.

She saw visions of herself breaking necks and cracking bones. She couldn’t see the faces of those she killed, but there were so many. She could easily kill Norm now, free herself with the broken glass then slice his neck open or stab him in the vocal cords.

She knew she could do it. Then she could shoot Kevin easily right before he got to Benjamin.

She could.

But she wouldn’t.

If she was a killer before- and by the sudden wave of images that invaded her head, she really was - she wasn’t one now.

Norm wasn’t focused on her, instead staring out the room probably at Kevin, looking like a nervous wreck. And to think he took a cheap shot to her knee just a while ago.

Sydney took that chance to finally cut through the ziptie. She didn’t waste any time and went straight for a still fidgeting and panicking Norm.

No killing.

So she stabbed his hand with the broken shard before he could react and fight back. He screamed as he dropped his rifle and Sydney grabbed it.

She heard Kevin yell ‘What the hell!’ from out in the corridor but she ignored it. Too busy getting her revenge on Norm by slamming his head with the butt of his own rifle, effectively knocking him out.

She took cover by the wall beside the open doorframe and yelled “Benjamin you better have your damn gun with you!” at the top of her lungs.

“Rook?!” Benjamin called from outside.

Then she instinctively ducked her head when bullets whizzed by her. “You fucking bitch!” Kevin screamed over the gunshots.

She checked the ammo of her own gun and thanked Norm for having it fully loaded.

If Kevin was still inside the trailer, that meant Benjamin was safe. And she had to make sure that didn’t change.

“Stay where you are, Ben!” Sydney screamed over another hail of bullets.

“What the hell’s happening?” was his reply.

Kevin cackled, his footsteps getting closer. “Like you care what happens to my brothers and sisters. I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone else!”

Sydney gripped the rifle tight, and after taking a deep breath, she moved out of cover and saw Kevin with his gun aimed right at her.

Jacob’s voice rang in her head.

‘You’ve been a damn good shot since you got to Hope County.’

She shot Kevin once, in the hand close to his rifle’s trigger. Kevin dropped his gun, yelping in pain.

Sydney slammed her rifle onto one of his legs, causing him to fall over.

She stood above him, keeping her rifle aimed. She kicked Kevin’s own weapon away as he groaned in pain on the floor.

“Finish me off then. Release that Wrath within you.” He pointed at the tattoo on her chest weakly.

“Shut up.” she hissed.

“You can’t run from your past, sinner. You ca-”

She put the rifle away to bend over and punch him hard in the face, knocking him out. There, now she paid them both back for what they did to her.

Sydney stepped back until she felt a wall behind her and slumped down, taking deep breaths.

Her adrenaline rush was slowly fading and she could feel the stinging pain on her face again and how her wrists were sore from being tied up for God knows how long.

She heard a door slam open followed by hurried footsteps. She looked up and saw Benjamin, his pistol out.

“Rook?” he asked softly.

If Kevin and Norm were telling the truth and she did kill people from the Project, maybe everyone else probably knew. And the scene in front of Benjamin probably looked suspicious, what with her being the only one conscious among the three people inside.

“They kidnapped me. They were gonna shoot you so I escaped, knocked them out and-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, easy Rook.” Benjamin placed his gun back in his holster and raised his arms up peacefully. “I know you didn’t have anythin’ to do with this.”

Sydney could only nod stiffly, grateful to her friend. “How’d you know to look for me?”

Benjamin placed his hands back down, and knelt beside her. “Elena got worried when you didn’t show up for breakfast this morning. She went to your cabin to check in on ya but you weren’t there. She asked me to help look for ya.”

He turned to Kevin then back at her, smirking. “Though it looks like you didn’t need my help.”

“What time is it?”

“A little past nine in the mornin’.”

She rubbed her sore wrists. Ok so she wasn’t out for long. Bless Elena’s kind heart for worrying over her. Sydney made a mental note to hug the old woman the next time she saw her.

“Let’s get you outta here, Rook.” Benjamin said, standing from his seat. “Need to get some ice for yer face.”

She frowned and looked over at Kevin. “What about him? And his friend in the room over there?”

“Pfft, assholes’re outcold. I’ll send somebody to get ‘im when we get back.”

Which reminded her, “Where are we exactly?”

“Still on the Father’s island. We’re in a little trailer not too far from the compound.”

Sydney laughed dryly. “How the fuck did those two even sneak me out of there?”

“Bah, prolly while everyone was attending the early sermon. Jacob’s right, we got great guards but anyone could pass through if they knew what our church schedules are, dammit.”

Sydney lifted her head up hearing the redhead’s name. “Does Jacob know? That I was gone?”

Benjamin sighed. “No, not yet. The plan was to tell him if I didn’t find you around the island. Luckily these two idiots were too afraid to stray far.”

Part of her was relieved that Jacob didn’t know. It meant she had time to process this new information by herself first. If he were the one who found her, she might’ve exploded and demanded answers from him. What were he and Joseph hiding from her? Why were they hiding it from her?

Sydney took one more deep breath before carefully standing up, mindful of the small cuts she still had on her legs from the glass. She strapped the rifle to her shoulder and brushed her hair away from her face.

She nodded at Benjamin and placed a hand on his shoulder as he helped her stand. “Thanks, Benjamin. For not accusing me of attacking them. Wasn’t sure what you’d think when you walked in and saw two bodies on the floor.”

Benjamin chuckled. “Aww hell, Rook! I got your back, I know you ain’t gonna hurt any of our own, unlike the two fools you knocked out.”

She smiled tiredly at him before heading out of the trailer, Benjamin following behind her.

Outside, there were two Eden’s Gate trucks. She found her jacket in what was probably Kevin and Norm’s vehicle.

Benjamin guided her to the passenger seat of the other truck before getting into the driver’s seat himself.

He started the engine before turning to her and softly saying, “Hey, I don’t know what those two said to you but, you’re a good person, Rook. We know you’re atoning.”

Sydney let out a short sob, willing herself not to cry. She nodded, keeping her eyes on the road in front of her.

And because she didn’t trust her voice not to crack, she simply said, “Thank you.”

--------------

It was a short drive back to the compound. Benjamin insisted she visit the infirmary first while he went to find Elena.

The doctor informed her nothing was broken. He gave her an ice pack for the swelling on her face to go down and disinfected the cuts on her legs. Thankfully the punches she took weren’t that strong, she only had a few bruises that should be gone in a day.

Elena practically busted the infirmary doors open, her eyes frantic until she spotted Sydney. The old woman looked like she was about to cry, hugging Sydney tightly. Sydney couldn’t help but hug her back, thanking her for being one of the reasons she was able to escape.

When the doctor was done assessing her, Sydney was free to go.

“You need me to stay with you, hun? Just ‘til you fall asleep?” Elena offered as they walked back to Sydney’s cabin.

Sydney shook her head. “That’s very kind of you to offer but I’ll be fine, thank you. You’ve done more than enough for me, already.”

“Oh hush girl! Like I said, we’re family. Then I’ll be back later to drop off your lunch. You just lie down and get your rest.”

“Thank you, that’d be great.”

They went their separate ways and Sydney saw her cabin in front of her.

She would’ve been relieved if not for Jacob leaning on the door.

She felt her heart sink. As much as she wanted to talk to him about what happened, she needed time to go over her thoughts first, untangle the memories that had begun to resurface.

Sydney stopped right in front of Jacob, who stared down at her intensely.

“You look like shit.” he simply said.

“It looks worse than it feels.”

He brought his hand up to move the hair away from her face, surprising her. He whistled as he looked over the swelling. “Damn, that’s still gotta sting though.”

Her chest tightened as Jacob casually and gently touched her, staring at her with those piercing blue eyes of his that sparkled when he genuinely laughed.

Funny how just a few hours ago, she did see them sparkle and she heard that wonderful laugh of his that made her smile when she and Jacob were talking over glasses of milk.

Then she got kidnapped, found out she was a killer and they didn’t tell her.

She turned her head slightly and Jacob paused before putting his hand back down. “The doc said I should be fine by tomorrow.”

He was still blocking her way and Sydney was about to politely ask him to step aside when he suddenly said, “The guys that took you, they-”

“I didn’t kill them.” she hissed.

“Hey, relax. I know. Your friend Benjamin told me.”

“Then can I go? I wanna get out of these dirty clothes already.”

“Look, Sydney I just-”

“Not now just… not now.” Sydney said softly, hoping he wouldn’t push her further. She didn’t feel like exploding in front of Jacob and the whole compound.

She needed to be alone with her thoughts, settle the crazy mess in her head first.

Jacob sighed heavily before finally moving out of her way. “At least get somethin’ to eat.”

His arm brushed hers as he passed her. She didn’t look back at him as she entered her cabin and closed the door behind her. Ironic how the last time they parted ways, it was a completely different mood.

Sydney took a quick shower to wash all the dirt and blood off of her before putting on some clean underwear and dressing in an oversized white shirt with the Project’s logo on it.

Her cheeks and jaw began to throb painfully and she patted them with the ice pack she was given. She stared up at the ceiling and allowed herself to process what she learned earlier, hoping the voices in her head would cooperate.

[melodious-madrigals]

prompt: “it was the best blind date I didn’t know I was on” -wondertrev edition

***

Diana is late.

And she’s not even sure she wants to be here, which is making her even more late as she dithers just outside the bistro where her blind date is meant to be taking place.

Damn it, Etta.

Etta’s been pushing to set Diana up on a blind date since a couple of months after her break-up with Kasia, which—it had been a bad break-up. Not messy or dramatic, but still heartbreaking to come to the conclusion that they’d grown, just not together, and wanted different things out of life.

Diana is still smarting, not entirely sure if she even wants a new relationship. And then there’s the fact that she doesn’t particularly like blind dates, and that the person Etta has suggested is a man. Which is...theoretically valid; Diana can’t contest that. But men can be such pigs, and it’s one of many reasons that she’s second-guessing this whole endeavor.

In fact, she’s in the middle of round four of questioning whether she’s even going to go in (and cursing the day she absentmindedly agreed to Etta’s offer to set her up with ‘Grant’) when she realizes: it’s a person in there, wondering why they’re being stood up, and that’s not fair, no matter how much she doesn’t want to be here.

Steeling herself, she marches in. Her eyes scan the restaurant—ah, there. Tucked away in a corner, near one of the windows looking out onto the street, is the only solo diner in the establishment. And he’s already got a bowl of soup in front of him. (That’s fair; she’s now twenty-four whole minutes late.) Taking a calming breath, she heads over to the table.

“I’m so sorry for how late I am,” she says, sliding into the chair opposite of what she now realizes is an unfairly attractive man: swooping blond hair and bright blue eyes and a strong jaw—focus, Diana! “It’s truly unforgivable. I—” She could fib, blame it all on her work, but that would only account for about seven minutes of tardiness. The rest is all on her, and she’s not one for lying. “I have no excuse.” She takes a breath, allows herself to reset. Gives the man in front of her a small smile. “I’m Diana.”

“Steve,” says the man, a strange expression on his face as he reaches across the table to shake her hand. (Firm, but not the arsehole power-grip that so many men prefer.)

She blinks, because Etta had said Grant, but now that she thinks about it, Etta has a habit, left over from her days in the military, of calling people almost exclusively by their last names.

“Right, Steve,” she says, testing the name out, and his mouth quirks up into a smile. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all. She ducks her head to hide her own smile, and her eyes again fall on the half-eaten bowl of soup. The smile drops, registering that she’s kept him waiting long enough to not only order but start eating. “I really am sorry,” she apologizes, but Steve waves a hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’m glad for the company.”

If this is a strange thing to say to a blind date, Diana doesn’t notice, too focused on the way he hands her a menu and politely seeks the waitress’s attention. (Another point in his favor; he isn’t demanding, and makes casual, affable conversation with the woman while Diana scans the menu so she can place her food order right away with her drink.)

“So, Diana,” Steve says, after she’s ordered, “what is it that you do?”

It strikes her as odd; she would’ve thought Etta would have told him, but maybe he’s just being polite, so she launches into an explanation of her curation job, and he asks intelligent, relevant follow-up questions, and suddenly they’re talking about art and architecture and the best uses of beetroot and the innovation of the Gambian case in front of the ICJ and that Icelandic group that sang the haunting 800 year old hymn a cappella in the metro a few years back and a number of things in between.

There’s something that feels so natural about talking to him, and before she realizes it, the bistro is starting to close down for the evening.

“Can I have your number?” asks Steve, as they pay and make their way back into the cool night air.

Diana bites back a grin and nods, holding out her hand for his phone, where she adds herself as a contact.

“I had a really nice time tonight.”

“Me too.”

She kisses him on the cheek, and then they’re headed in separate directions. Almost immediately her phone buzzes, and when she pauses to look at it, she sees a message from an unknown number.

This is Steve!

She turns back to find him standing at the opposite end of the block, grinning at his phone. He looks up in time to catch her watching him and raises a hand in a sort of faux salute, making her laugh and shake her head.

There’s a lingering smile stuck on her face that she can’t seem to get rid of (and doesn’t particularly want to) as she walks home, enjoying the cool night air and the giddy feeling of a nice evening.

*

The next morning, there’s a frantic knock on her door. When she opens it, it’s Etta, who’s absolutely beside herself.

“I’m so sorry, Diana. I’m going to murder him!” she exclaims, hurriedly pacing the room. “I really thought he was better than that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Grant,” she hisses. “He just—left you there. Decided not to show. Freely admitted to it via text this morning! I’m going to skin him alive when I find him in person.”

“But Etta, I—” Her brow furrows, and suddenly a couple of things that didn’t quite make sense about the evening slot into place. “Etta, it’s okay. I had an enjoyable night anyways.”

“—the audacity,” Etta is saying.

“Etta,” Diana says more forcefully, catching her by the shoulders gently. “Don’t trouble yourself. It was hardly a wasted evening. Maybe no more blind dates, though, okay?”

“Right,” agrees Etta, deflating. “Of course not.”

The moment Etta finally leaves, Diana picks up her phone, stares at the text there (“This is Steve!” stares back, bafflingly unhelpful in revealing answers to the questions she has), and hits the call button before she can overthink it. Steve picks up after just two rings.

“Diana, hi!” He sounds pleased and a little surprised, but she mostly misses it in getting straight to the point.

“Your last name isn’t Grant.”

She can almost hear the wince through the line. “Er, no. It’s not.”

“You weren’t at Bistro Papillon for a blind date last night.”

A slight pause. “I was not.”

“Steve—”

“I didn’t realize, right away, what was going on,” says Steve, rushed now, something desperate in his tone. “And when I did—I was going to tell you, I swear. But then—I wanted to keep talking,” he admits quietly, almost defeated. “And I was afraid if I told you, you’d leave, which in hindsight is stupid, because it should have been your choice—”

“My would-be date stood me up.”

“Then they’re an idiot,” says Steve, without missing a beat.

Diana huffs a laugh. “I’m the idiot,” she says, “for just sitting down when you were in the middle of your meal and assuming you were my date like a crazy person, and ruining your evening—”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” And gods, he sounds so sure.

“But when I sat down—”

“You looked like an angelic vision,” he interrupts, voice still perfectly resolute, “and I knew that even if I didn’t know you, or why you were at my table, I wanted to get to know you.”

“And—”

“And then you were brilliant and witty, and we had the best dinner conversation I’ve had in a really, really long time.”

“I ranted about the fallacies of using a hegemonic, patriarchal lens to view Hellenistic terracottas and marbles for at least eight uninterrupted minutes,” refutes Diana, somewhat sheepishly.

“Yeah,” says Steve, and she thinks, somehow, that she can hear the amusement in his voice. “As I said, brilliant, and the most interesting conversation I’ve had in ages.”

Diana shakes her head, then realizes he can’t see that through the phone. “This whole thing is ridiculous.”

“Yet here we are.”

He hasn’t hung up yet. Neither has she, for that matter.

(She finds that she doesn’t really want to.)

“So what is your last name, if you’re not the Grant with whom my friend was going to set me up?”

“Trevor,” he replies. “Steve Trevor.”

“Where does that leave us, Steve Trevor?”

“Well, what are you doing for lunch?” Steve asks, and she laughs; she can’t help it.

“I’ve got no plans, just yet.”

“I’d like to hear the whole story,” muses Steve. “Come on a date with me?”

“Yes,” says Diana automatically, before she can overthink it. Then, “This is absurd. The way we’ve started—”

“Will be an excellent story to tell, someday,” he counters.

And it is. Whenever someone asks them how they met, later, Steve inevitably grins, sharing a wink with Diana as he prepares his version of the tale. “Well,” he starts, every time, “it was the best blind date I didn’t realize I was on…”

***

[meanscarletdeceiver]

thomas & friends season 2 (the cliff notes version)

1.

percy: hello, thomas! you look splendid. thomas: yes, indeed! SUCK IT, ALL ENGINES WHO AREN’T BLUE toby: … did no one ever teach you to just say “thank you” and change the subject when you get a compliment? thomas: if they had then i guess we wouldn’t have much of a plot for this episode, now WOULD WE 2. gordon: fancy allowing cows to break his train! henry: they’d never do that to us. we’d show them. toby: uhh, don’t you think this is a pretty weak sort of “accident” to make hay out of? henry: goddammit, toby. we’ve been waiting three decades now to have an actual mistake to mock edward for. gordon: don’t ruin this for us. 3. bertie: i’ll catch edward or bust! :| ohhhh, my gears and axles! :( i’ll never be the same bus again! :/ hooray, hooray, i see him! :) oh, no. edward’s at the station! :( no, he’s stopped at the crossing. :) hooray, hooray! :D bertie’s driver, popping a xanax: i’ve literally never heard human or machine go through that many emotions in 20 seconds. 4. edward: please save him, sir! vicar: not sure i need a traction engine? edward: he saws wood… vicar: we’ll see. edward: … and gives children rides… vicar’s two sons: *grab him by each elbow, completely lose their crap* vicar: ... well-played. 5. james’s fireman: does anyone see me calling off sick like some pansy ass? huh? huh? the inspector: *shows up with his Indiana Jones bullshit ‘plan’* james’s fireman: *trying to back away* yeah, no. driver was smart to bail on work today. i regret all my life decisions… signalman: *shoves fireman up into edward’s cab* haaaaave funnnnnnn, mate! 6. trevor: *sigh that can be heard over in siberia* edward: what’s the matter, trevor? trevor: i just feel like i’m not really a part of this cast? you know? edward: cheer up. you have a date to co-star with thomas today. trevor: I. trevor: HAVE. trevor: ARRIVED! 7. percy: do you know what? gordon: what percy: do you know what? gordon: WHAT percy: c’mon. you have to guess! gordon: percy. gordon: look at me. gordon: look at my face. 8. james: rubbish! if you worked more and chatted less, this yard would be a sweeter, a better, and a happier place percy: talk about the teapot calling the kettle… black james: *blows a valve while at rest* 9. percy: *arrives, in a snit* percy: i say, toby! toby: h— percy: that harold, that stuck-up whirlybird thing, says i’m slow and out-of-date! toby: y— percy: just let him wait! toby: w— percy: i’ll show him! percy: *leaves, still in a snit* toby: *left alone, speaking to thin air* toby: it’s like they were all raised by wolves. 10. the inspector: another runaway engine? the inspector: ANOTHER runaway engine?!?! the inspector: you have got to be kidding me. the inspector: … the inspector: *grabbing his bullwhip and fedora as he dashes for harold* BEST. RAILWAY. EVER! 11. percy: *chuckling to himself over his wily cleverness* Driver doesn’t know my plan! percy’s driver: *in a tone of unnatural calm* percy’s driver: percy. percy’s driver: percy percy percy. percy’s driver: perce. percy’s driver: naturally, being sane, and not currently high on LSD, i do not know your plan. a team of chimpanzees, mashing at typewriters for infinity, could re-create the entire Shakespearean corpus percy’s driver: yet never percy’s driver: in ANY universe percy’s driver: would they EVER happen to word-vomit up percy’s driver: ANYTHING percy’s driver: as IDIOTIC percy’s driver: and INSANE percy’s driver: as what you so generously term your “plan”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1!!1!!!!!!!11!!!!!1!!!!!1!1!11!!! 12. diesel: good morning. pleased to meet you, duck. is that james, and henry, and gordon too? i am delighted to meet such famous engines. duck: what is this?! james, henry, and gordon: manners… we think. it’s cool tho, we’ve heard of this before.   duck: whatever it is, i’ve never encountered it in my life. certainly not since arriving to sodor! duck: IMMENSELY suspicious. i’m TRIGGERED.  13. henry: duck would never tell tales about us to the trucks! henry: *three minutes later* henry: duck told tales about us to the trucks! the fat controller: and what is your source for this intelligence? henry: the trucks the fat controller: *facepalm* 14. the barber: you have the world’s BIGGEST lawsuit on your hands, sir topham the fat controller: yes, but... have you considered…  a lame “close shave” pun that you must hear every day of your life? the barber: ho ho ho. ho ho ho! *leaves the wreckage arm-in-arm with the fat controller as new best friends* 15. bertie: sorry i harshly criticized you for being late due to factors completely beyond your control, thomas. it probably only added to your stress during a difficult time. thomas: that’s all right. i guess there are times when Being Late Isn’t Such a Bad Thing After All! bertie: so you’re going to apologize to the main line engines in turn? thomas: pfffffffffffftttttttt 16. the spiteful brakevan: i ’ m e S s E n T i A L ! ! ! ! *four minutes later* the spiteful brakevan: i’m kind of dead over here douglas: wow, i had no idea a brakevan’s face could do that! the fat controller: douglas, i am furious with you! but i am also starting to think that neither you nor donald are so dispensable?… it’s confusing edward: i vote we keep them both! the fat controller: do you? i am not so sure douglas: ach, give us another chance! it’s only our third accident in a single arc! the spiteful brakevan: … so, like… none of you care? edward: did you hear something? douglas: the wind? idk 17. percy: i kind of saved your life. so i hope you intend to show me due gratitude for the rest of our days. douglas: look here, perce, it’s not my fault that you can’t sing on key! 18. thomas’s driver: you know just where to stop, thomas. you could almost manage without me! toby: … why. sir. i’m asking you, with tears in my eyes. why would you ever say such a thing to thomas the tosser engine? toby: WHY?!? 19. daisy: look at me! i’m the latest diesel! highly sprung and right up-to-date. you won’t want thomas’s bumpy old annie and clarabel now! passengers: *politely* okay. very nice. so, can our train, like, leave now? daisy: excuse me. what? passengers: can you get started, please? … so that we may be transported? to our destination?  daisy: hahaha daisy: fuck you 20. percy: excuse me, sir, but why am i being chewed out right now? the fat controller: i believe in kicking an engine when he’s down. also, my expectations for The Chick were pretty much nil anyhow 21. boco: i’m not mad, but have any of you sodor lot considered just, like… telling new diesels which trucks they are to take, and which they are not? diesel: word 22. passengers: for once. for ONCE. can we just, like… catch a train, and arrive at our destination, and that’s the entire story?

23. edward’s driver: we’ve taken your siderods off. now you’re like an old-fashioned engine! edward: don’t you start. 24. toby: i regret to inform you that our closest friend is now super dead 😔 thomas: what a shame. this will cause me some minor Confusion and Delay. toby: … toby: … toby: … toby: seriously, DO NONE OF YOU KNOW THE MEANING OF CIVILIZED BEHAVIOR?!?! 25. percy: i maintain that i deserve absolutely none of this shit toby: woolly bear caterpillar! lol percy: *betrayed* … t-toby? toby: i give up, mate. i’ve gone native. 26. the fat controller: as a reward for all your hard and unremunerated work over the course of this entire year, you may go and enjoy the carols. for, like, two whole hours? the fat controller: … but only if you lazybones aren’t LATE the fat controller: also, make sure percy doesn’t sing percy: seRIOuSLY—!!!!!!