#circles around trevor as he stands still to see if he likes him or not. which he did with anthony also last yr…

[spourtneys]

says AWWW louder than everyone else . trevor is so ^_^ he’s like a little ferret that was turned into a real boy through his sheer love of life and mischief

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Alucard/Adrian with an s/o who uses food-based magic? Enlarging the food's size, turning anything she touches into food, etc.

Alucard + s/o with food magic abiliites

The smoldering embers of the battle were starting to fade as the sun came up, and the night creatures retreated back to their holds for another day. For now, these people were safe. But at what price.

“It’s hard to say how many are dead. The magistrate is going to take a roster of the town to account for who’s missing.”

“God bless bureaucracy.” Trevor scoffed at Sypha, as he coiled up his whip and put it back on his hip. “Where would we be without lists?”

“Order gives humans a sense of purpose. A sense of control.” Alucard said. Looking around at the chaos still around them and wondering how these people were going to make sense of it.

“What these people need are resources!” Trevor hissed incredulously. “They don’t need an accounting system right now. They need food, water, medicine, homes. Does anyone really think knowing who’s dead and who isn’t is going help these people when their starving because the night creatures burned down the stores & larders? It’s stupid. What we need todo is work on…where is everyone going?”

During Trevor’s rant about the system, the 3 noticed that people were starting to shuffle off to one corner. Then they were running in the same direction. It couldn’t be them running for cover, as the attacks would be quiet until nightfall, so they went to investigate.

“What’s all this?” Alucard asked as he came upon the crowd. Huddled masses pushing and shoving to get to the front where [Y/N] was standing with a larger caldron, doling out what appeared to be soup.

“Wait your turn!”

Alucard glared at the nasty, but most likely just desperate man, who yelled at him. But before he could say anything [Y/N] called out, “hey! None of that! There’s enough for everyone so if you all remain patient and kind to one another, you’ll all get some.”

The trio didn’t bother with the crowd anymore and just circled around to [Y/N]. “Seriously, what is all this?”

“These people were hungry. I wanted to help.” They replied. Never stopping in their stirring or dispensing of soup.

“Where did you get the stuff to make it?” Sypha asked. “I thought the night creatures burned down the long-term stores and most of the provisions yesterday.”

“They did. But they didn’t get everything. And where there’s a little hope…” They picked up one sad looking carrot in their hand and, soon enough, the carrot had turned as big & plump as any prize-winning root at the fair. “We can all get by.”

Alucard smiled softly. He forgot, sometimes, that the had a knack for ‘food magic’. An odd, mostly unpracticed type of magic that used organic ingredients as their source. It was similar to potion making but with the trick they had developed for actually alternating the organic source’s size. He usually forgot since he didn’t need to eat often, and it wasn’t a magic that came up in battle, but of what a joy it was to have it after the battle it seemed.

“So, this is what you’ve been doing for the past few hours?” Alucard asked softly. Suddenly noticing the people outside the line with bowls and warmed faces.

“I’m…not as good at fighting the good fight as the rest of you.” [Y/N] said, sounding a little dejected. “But this is something I can do. Something I can do to help keep people safe.” They smiled at a young boy, dirty from the streets and probably hiding in a safe hole, as he gleefully took his soup and ran off. “I know it’s not much, but I want to help where I can.”

“It’s a lot.” Trevor pipped up suddenly. Getting all the group’s attention, as he had for once been positive on the situation. “I’ll go find what I can when I’m searching the perimeter. See if there’s anything else they missed.”

“Me too. I’ll see if there’s any other dishes we can find that aren’t broken. Maybe linens for bandages? I can help with that.”

Sypha and Trevor took off on their missions, but Alucard stayed behind. “It’s not nothing you know.” He told them when they were alone. Getting [Y/N]’s full attention for a moment as they looked at him. “It’s not nothing to help people. I can’t help people. Only protect. They aren’t the same thing, and…I don’t have a pure heart like you do to do it.”

[Y/N] blushed at Alucard’s compliment, and he leaned down to kiss their cheek before he left them to get back to their work. He had his own work to do, getting through the next wave. But between all of them maybe this town would make it.

In any case, for now, at least these people had a hot meal and peace of mind. If only just for a moment.

[babydollmarauders]

I’d love to see a tense and restless Jack on his and the reader’s first night out since El was born. Like moms are usually the tense ones, but Jack can’t even think straight because it’s weird not having his kid around and not knowing if she’s okay or not.

“Jacky, she’ll be okay.” my hand rubs circles on my husbands back, our daughter held tightly in his arms as i try and reassure him that the four month old will be okay without us.

“there’s prepared bottles in the fridge, you’ll just have to warm it up. and you know the diapers and wipes are in the diaper bag on the table. she just ate like twenty minutes ago, so she might only need one bottle in about two hours, if we’re not home by then. um-”

Jack is cut off by Quinn’s sigh.

“bro, it’ll be fine! you have a whole house of babysitters right now!” Quinn reminds his brother. “go. take. your. wife. on. a. date.”

Jack heaves out his own sigh and nods, finally handing El over to Luke, who stands next to Quinn.

“yeah! remind her she’s sexy, or else i might become El’s new stepdad!” Trevor chimes in from his spot on the couch. i roll my eyes as Jack lets out a sarcastic laugh.

“my wife knows i think she’s very sexy. how do you think we got here in the first place?” at Jack’s words, i lightly smack his shoulder, huffing out a chuckle.

“let’s go, babe. just ignore Trevor, i’m not sure why he thinks he would be a fit decision for a stepdad.” i joke, pushing my husband along towards the front door. “if anyone, it’d be Alex!”

Trevor gasps at my quip, swinging around to look at me.

“i resent that!” he calls out.

“i knew i was daddy material.” Alex shrugs as he walks out of the kitchen and into the living room, dropping his weight onto the couch.

“never say that again.” Cole laughs, stretching his leg over from the armchair he sits in to kick Alex’s leg.

Jack rolls his eyes as i laugh at our friends, a small smile playing on his lips.

“let’s go to dinner, J.” i tell him, finally able to pull him out of the house.

Jack spends the entire drive to the restaurant gripping the steering wheel tight, his eyes glancing down towards his phone in the cup holder every minute.

“Jacky.” i sigh as we’re seated at our table, him immediately checking his phone as i pick up my menu.

“hmm? yeah?” his eyes flicker towards me briefly before setting his phone back down.

“she’s fine. i promise.” i reassure, my voice gentle as i snake my hand to rest on top of his on the table.

“i’m just worried.” he confesses, as if i couldn’t already tell. “what if something happens? we should be there, we’re her parents.”

i can tell the guilt of any hypothetical situation is eating away at him, and i’d be lying if i said it wasn’t setting in slightly for me. but i know that our daughter is in good hands. she has five uncles who love her, watching over her right now and she’ll be okay.

“i know you’re worried, and i know you feel guilty at the thought of us not being there if something were to happen. but we need this, Jack.” his shoulders square when he realizes i didn’t use a nickname, showing him that i’m serious.

“it’s been probably five months since we’ve had a date night. four months since we’ve spent any time to ourselves. there has to be at least some semblance of romance still in order for us to to not turn into a pair of zombie parents who drift apart.”

my voice trails off at the end, and i know he knows i’m referring to my own parents. who after i was born, took their roles as parents much too seriously, thinking i was their only priority, never taking a date night, never putting their relationship first, until eventually they grew apart. they stayed married, but it was somehow worse, as they had fought and became locked in a toxic marriage that hadn’t done any of us any good. they became overbearing and overprotective of me as a result. which only ended badly.

“hey.” Jack coos, squeezing my hand in his to ground me back to this moment. “i won’t let that happen. i promise to you, and to El.”

a smile pulls at my lips at his words.

“i know.” i assure him. “and i know it’s hard to leave her right now, it’s hard for me too. but it’s the first time, eventually, it’ll get easier. i hope.”

he chuckles at my last words, nodding his head.

“i hope so too.” he tells me. “it’s different when i’m on roadies because you’re there. you’re the one taking care of her. but…”

Jack wrinkles his nose.

“my brothers? our friends? do we really think they’re capable?”

i bark out a laugh, covering my mouth to try and muffle the sound in the crowded restaurant. a grin spreads across my husband’s face at my laugh, making my heart race like when we first started dating.

“i really think they’ll be okay.” i giggle. “she’s their niece, they don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“you’re right.” Jack nods.

“i always am.” i shrug and he playfully rolls his eyes as a waitress finally steps up to our table. as i’m telling the girl my order, i can’t help but notice Jack checking his phone again, even typing what i assume is a check-in text to his brothers.

once the waitress leaves, Jack’s phone buzzes on the table and he reaches out for it like his life depends on it. reading his incoming text, his shoulders slump in relief and i furrow my eyebrows at him.

“she’s asleep.”

[t1erradelfuego]

YOU LOOKED AT ME AND THEN I KNEW! (deeply insane jacktrevor thoughts below)

having THOUGHTS about them right now and i need to vent it or else i will Explode like the Sub okay. i was not a jacktrevor girlie until i saw trevor in the stands with jim hughes + that candid photo of the two of them laughing ntdp-era on the streets of NY and there’s been some seriously insane scholarship on jacktrevor here like hello it is making me so insane i wish i had the words for it. its like. ok what if we met when we were 15 and we knew that we were going to be each other’s person for the longest time and we loved each other so much that we’re mirror reflections of each other and i can’t tell where you end and i begin. what if we were 15 and we promised ourselves to each other. what if. nothing ever happened because we were 15 and we knew it wasn’t going to end well and we wanted to be 15 so we carried on as friends, watched each other hook up across the room at house parties, crawled into each other’s beds at the end of the night without ever touching each other, went through the draft and the growing up and the living without each other and finding out that we’re still each other’s persons. what if i make it to the playoffs before you did. so you went to watch the game with my dad. and then i realized we were no longer 15. GODDDDDDDD. the specific vibe that has been crawling into my chest is being stunned by the enormity of your feelings like one day you wake up normal and the next day you realize you’re in love. where’s that tumblr post about the not romance not platonic but a secret third thing where the lines are so blurred the thought of romance hangs over your head like a guillotine. YEAHHHH. that’s such a guillotine to hang over someone’s head like! what if you already did all the hard parts of baring your worst self to each other, getting into a relationship but doing the steps in all the wrong order that the thought of defining your relationship gives you a headache because how do you even begin to define whatever soulmate fuckery these two have been on since they were 15! where do i even begin with girl jack. still a fuckboy. still flirting. still got incomprehensible confidence. looks up to see trevor chatting animatedly with her dad in the stands and panicking on ice when she realizes she has extremely specific feelings about this, about trevor’s who’s always matched her step for step.  i think there is also something sooooo insane about trevor and his very public relationships and how he is Failing at romance in general. girl jack having to live through that and going “i could never imagine being one of trevor’s flings.” and then she does self reflection and realizes she doesn’t want to be one of trevor’s flings because she wants something More Than That. girl trevor would also make me insane. still fucking around and fumbling her way through relationships. jack ribs her all the time about that except he’s also a little on edge watching it happen in real time hoping it never happens to him which is haha SO funny jack you absolute silly little goose. why would you think trevor would want to date you? you’ve been friends forever, if something was going to happen it would’ve already happened. cmon man it’s a little misogynistic to think that every girl who’s your friend wants to date you. ellen raised you better than that cmon jack. besides. why are you thinking about trevor dating you. why are you scared of something that you say could never happen. why do you live in fear of the idea that she could break your heart. how could she break something she doesn’t have. right? hmm.  anyways i think there is no easy for them to be in a relationship. years of seeing each other hook up with other people and also knowing the deepest, ugliest parts of each other and also just. having deeply intertwined lives and shared social circles and history and friendship. i think it would deeply terrify them to see each other in a romantic light after all these years. they grew up together! they know each other best! how could they put themselves in such a vulnerable position of losing each other, of losing what they have? it would be the hardest relationship of their lives. so like, why do it?  thinking deeply about the insane media and personal speculation also because i LOVE acknowledging the very real effect of other people’s opinions. people  going “of course you were going to end up together!” and other people placing bets on whether or not they were going to end up together like. of course people have opinions. part of it is Media, Baby, that’s what you get for being the franchise center but part of it is also. who they are as people. and their personas just inviting public speculation. they preform the role of a celebrity extremely well! like maybe they should get together because that’s what people expected? maybe they shouldn’t get together because that’s not what people expected? how do you manage a deeply personal relationship that survived childhood but is now subject to the media. and then the actual logistics of being together like in what world does it make sense to do long distance for a decade. like. hello they are both respective franchise centers. no one is moving anywhere. except maybe trevor to the rangers but ANYWAYSSSSSS. i just think they should crawl into bed together, coming home from a bar after watching each other hook up the whole entire night and not say anything as they fall into a deeply unrestful sleep, shoulders pressed against each other. 

[bbreaddog]

📓

Trevor Wilson becoming a single dad on purpose AU!!!!!! I have a few paths I want to take with this, but I’ll post this version for now:

Trevor and his partner have been trying for a pregnancy for ages. They’ve struggled for quite a few months already. They’ve tried every method and remedy and alternate ways suggested by friends and family and so many doctors. Every test comes back negative. And with every negative comes every frustration. They return to the doctor once more and run some tests. When the doctor says everything looks normal and healthy, Trevor and his partner share a sigh of relief. Then, the doctor turns to Trevor and asks if they could run some tests on him, just in case. He agrees.

That’s when they find that Trevor is infertile.

They’re shattered. Trevor’s dreamt of becoming a dad since long before he and his partner even knew the other existed. Determined, he suggests adoption as a potential path they could take. Partner turns it down, stating with a pained expression on their face that they want the child to be theirs. What about IVF? No, they say with a sigh. They want their baby to be naturally conceived. Trevor bites back a retort that their child would be theirs no matter how they were conceived. He knows it’s from months of pent-up frustration, and arguing will lead to nowhere. Then perhaps, the sperm bank? No, they insist, it has to be theirs. A fight ensues. It drags on for two months. In the end, they decide it’s for the best that they go their separate ways.

Recluse. He doesn’t think about his ex. He doesn’t think about his infertility. He doesn’t think about how it ruined everything, and he doesn’t think about how it was stupid hopeful wishing that they still somehow could have had a happy family together. He doesn’t think about any of that at all.

It’s not until Rose pulls him aside at Julie’s 3rd birthday party for a quiet private intervention that Trevor finally finds it in himself to gather up all his pieces and pull himself together.

He has never been more thankful for the existence of the internet. The next couple weeks see him searching and researching orphanages until he finds a reputable one that’s nearby. They call and email back and forth, discussing all the legalities and formalities before Trevor is finally (finally!) on his way to meet his baby.

In the waiting room, his leg shakes vigorously as he tries to expend all this nervous energy pent up inside. After what feels like hours, he hears a “Mr. Wilson?” and looks up. The orphanage director is standing just in front of the doorway beside the front desk. And behind her, a strawberry blonde girl, no bigger than 3, wearing her Sunday best that includes a hot pink bow in her hair, clutching the pantyhosed calf she’s peeking out from. Trevor melts.

Carrie is only shy for a few minutes, Trevor finds. After a brief introduction to each other, Trevor kneels down to her level and immediately feels a short stubby finger poking the shiny colourful badges on the lapel of his leather jacket and is asked what they mean. Carrie stares at him with bright sparkly eyes as he carefully explains each one. When the topic turns to music, Carrie practically leaps off the ground and immediately shows off by singing her favourite song, accompanied with her own choreography.

When Carrie and Julie meet, they become instant friends. The fresh summer air is filled with squeals as Ray chases the girls around the backyard. Trevor and Rose watch on with equal parts amusement and fondness. Rose tells him how happy he seems nowadays, and makes a light jab at how it still doesn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes from sleepless nights trying to get a toddler to settle into bed. “Could say the same about you,” is what Trevor says with a laugh.

The sky is silent again, save for the few birds chirping merrily under the shades of green, and the gentle whooshing of suburban cars passing by. Ray returns to them with two sleepy girls on each hand dragging their feet beside him. Ray ushers Julie back into the house, and Trevor picks Carrie up and rests her in his lap. Her head falls on his shoulder and she heaves a tired sigh. Trevor’s heart flutters, and he can’t help smiling when he turns to Rose. She returns it with a fond smile of her own.

It’s time to go home, but the Molinas don’t mind the company, and Trevor wants to stay in this moment just a little bit longer.

So they stay.

Send me a book emoji and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about

[miamouse16]

2.0

Present Time

Artemis Pulling up the abandoned house, three hours away from mystic falls gave me chills. I pulled my sunglasses off and got out, looking around "haven't been this close in centuries" I sighed and made the walk to the house but stopped as another car pulled up. The man who got out was someone I knew very well. Elijah Mikaelson or also known as my father.

I turned back around and headed into he house "rosemary how nice to see you after almost half a millennium" I smirked "is there somewhere we can talk?"

"Yea in here. You'll have to forgive the house" "oh, no. What's a little dirt?" I said folding my arms "we completely understand" Elijah said closing the door.

She pulled us into a room and I sat down on the arm of the chair while Elijah explored the room "so tell me, what gives you the courage to call me?" Elijah said "and me should I say" I said crossing my arms as I leaned back on the chair.

"I want me freedom, from both of you. I'm tired of running, Are you in a position to grant me that?" "I have complete authority to grant pardon to you and your little pet-"

"What is his name these days?" I chuckled humorlessly "Trevor?" "If I so see fit" "Katerina Petrova?" He looked up at her "I'm listening" he said as he walked to the chair I was on and sat down on the seat.

"she didn't burn in the church in 1864" "continue" he said as he picked my hand up and looked at my daylight ring "she survived" he looked up at rosemary still holding my hand for some reason.

"Where is she?" "You don't seem surprised by this?" She said looking between the two of us "oh, when you called and invited me into this armpit of civilisation...which is a mere three hours from the town, we know as mystic falls, I surmised it had everything to do with Katerina" rosemary looked to me as I folded my leg over the other "I've had bump ins with that skank over the last century so I knew she was alive"

I pulled my hand from his making him look at me but I kept my eyes on rosemary "do you have her in your possession?" Elijah said "No. But I have better. I have her doppelgänger"

I looked down at Elijah when I heard him scoff "that's impossible. Her family line ended with her. I know that for a fact" I stood up "then the facts are wrong" I sighed "so rosemary what am I here for?"

"I found the doppelgänger you were looking for" I crossed my arms "then let's go see her shall we?" "Yes I would like to see the Petrova doppelgänger you speak of" Elijah said standing behind me "Elijah, Artemis, you are a man and woman of honour, your to be trusted but I wanna hear you say it again"

I looked behind me at Elijah to see him looking at me. I turned back with a sigh "you have my word that I will pardon you" I said "you have my word as well" she hesitated but then spoke "follow me"

We walked into a room where two brunettes stood. As soon as they turned around I was in front of the doppelgänger I had been looking for. I could hear her human rapid heart beat as I stood close to her "hello there"

I smiled but it fell when tears fell from her eyes "well we have a long journey ahead of us. We should be going" Elijah said to the Katerina lookalike. "Please don't let them take us" the lookalike said "Come. I will not hurt you" I said holding my hand out.

She hesitated but took my hand. We walked to the stairs. But Trevor spoke "I'm truly very sorry, two the both of you "your apology is not necessary. I give you your freedom from me" I said with a bored expression before turning to walk up the stairs "oh, no, your apology isn't necessary" Elijah said circling him "Yes. Yes it is. You trusted me with Katerina and I failed you"

From the top of the stairs I watched what Elijah did "yes you are the guilty one and Rose aided you because she was loyal to you. That I honour. Where was your loyalty?" he said finally coming to a stop in front of Trevor "I beg for forgiveness" he said quietly "so granted" on instinct I lifted my hand and wrapped it 'round the girl's eyes to avoid seeing the dismembered head.

"AHHHH!!" Rosemary took a step towards him but Elijah spoke up "don't rose, now that you are free" "come" he said stepping towards the girl "what about the moonstone?!"

I had no more use being here so I turned the girl and started walking through the house "wait! No please don't take her!" I heard the girl yell towards me but I didn't stop walking. Elijah tried for more information to the point he compelled it out of her.

Suddenly glass shattering was heard in the foyer. I sped to the foyer to find no one there "come, we must go" I said gently holding her arm. As we made it to the door Elijah sped out with Rosemary and the lookalike "up here" I knew that voice "down here" and that voice. Vampires sped past grabbing Rosemary and he lookalike

"Excuse me! To whom it may concern. You're making a grave mistake if you think that you can beat me. You can't. You hear that? I repeat, you can not beat me. So I want the girl on the count of three or heads will roll. Do we understand each other?"

"I'll come with you, just please don't hurt my friends they just wanted to help me out" Elijah sped up closer to her "what game are you playing with me?"

Suddenly the girl pulled out what I assume was a vervain grenade and threw it at Elijah. I let go of my doppelgänger and sped over to him making sure he was ok. He looked at me confused but before anything could be said a wooden stake was shot our way.

Elijah shielded me with his body before quickly turning around and going after Stefan. I sped back to the girl as Stefan tackled Elijah making them both fall down he stairs.

Elijah was the first to get up but before he could do anything to Stefan, Damon came at him with the stake Elijah made, pinning him to the door just as we moved out of the way.

Rosemary looked between us before speeding off. The lookalike ran down into Stefan's arms but once she realized I was still here she became scared again "you" they both turned to see me "Artemis?" Stefan said with a smile as he walked over and hugged me.

"You two still getting yourself into trouble?" I chuckled as Damon shrugged his shoulders "what are you doing? She tried to take Amy" they looked between the lookalike and me "I need Amy? Was it?" I said turning to the girl to which she nodded before turning back to the boys "to help me with something" "let's all go home and you can explain" I nodded.

Amy rode with me "why do you need me?" "My brother Andreas is the most feared of my original family and those that fear him are desperate for his approval.

Word gets out that the doppelgänger exists there'll be a line of vampires eager to take you to him and I can't have that" "isn't that what you're trying to do?" "Let's just say my goal is not to break his curse" I said keeping my eyes on the road "what is your goal then?"

"Andreas's obsessions have made him paranoid. He's a recluse. He trust only those in his immediate circle" "like you?" I looked at Amy for a moment before back at the road "not anymore" "you don't know where he is, do you?" She said turning to me.

My silence gave her her answer "so your trying to use me to draw him out" "well to do that I need you to stay put And stop trying to get yourself killed" I said as we pulled up at the Salvatore boarding house "how do I know your telling the truth"

"Well, if I wasn't truthful all your family would be dead and I would be taking you to Andreas right now but instead, I'm here and prepared to offer you a deal" I said looking at her with a serious look "what kind of deal?"

"Do nothing. Do nothing, Live your life, stop fighting. And then, when the time is right you and I should draw Andreas out Together, and I'll make certain your friends remain unharmed"

"And then what?" "Then I kill him" "just like that?" "just like that" " I'm a woman of my word Amy I make a deal I keep a deal" "but how are you gonna keep everyone safe" she said as we got out of the car "I have my ways don't you worry on that" I said as I came to a stop in front of her "so do we have a deal?" I said putting my hand out. She hesitated but grabbed my hand and shook it "now let's head inside shall we?"

[aquilaofarkham]

title: the little death rating: T+ word count: 2,409 summary: Two years after his fight with Death, Trevor’s injuries start catching up to him while Alucard realizes that humans are more fragile than he thought. 

For @trevorsmellmont ❤️  Thank you so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

There’s a sharp pain pooling beneath his right arm, coursing through his ribcage. Trevor ignores it just as he’s ignored all the other aches, jabs, and stings over the past two years. Two years of building something better, something sustainable to last far longer than its young, admittedly green founders. Countless days, weeks, and months erecting homes, gardens, and pens for those dumb gentle animals who think the entire townscape is their personal pasture. Not another mistake of allowing them to wander aimlessly straight into the castle. As if heifers need to learn how to craft medicine or conduct what’s being referred to as “electricity”.

The work will never be finished. Even on days like this when the sun burns hotter than any circle in hell. A few drops of warm salt-ridden sweat crawl past Trevor’s pressed lips and into his dry mouth. Pain and thick heat were never enough to stop him before—he tells himself this, barely certain of his own supportive thoughts (a new concept taking root in his mind). Take it slow, don’t push yourself, idiot. This cabin made from the earth will get built eventually. Another family will receive their forever home to fill with lots of babies. Old wounds beg to differ as Trevor’s arms begin to weaken, each movement slower than the last, struggling to keep up with Greta’s superior pace. She’s always known her way around a mallet.

Another bead of sweat gets caught in Trevor’s lashes, sparing his eyes from temporary discomfort. Though it wouldn’t have mattered as they’re already past any sort of respite. He looks for distraction but can only see the blurred shapes coming from a huddle of bodies, despite being a short distance from them. He knows it’s only Sypha and Alucard with the village children, which gives Trevor some relief.

There’s more comfort to be felt when he remembers that one of those little monsters is his own, nestled in Sypha’s lap then placed in Alucard’s gentle arms. She has a name far too long for any toddler to pronounce—Elizabeta Belnades Tepes Belmont—so what rolls off her developing tongue instead is simply “Liza”. She’s innocent now but once she leaves this little man-made paradise and ventures into a harsher world, she will take more after her mother and father. Grabbing whatever life offers with both fists, clawing and biting her way through every obstacle until her teeth are reddened with bloody meat. For the time being, they relish Liza’s soft cheeks, wispy hair, and the way she throws herself at whichever adult happens to be in her nearest vicinity. The other children are helping her socialize by playing games and embracing frivolity; a tactic Trevor remembers from his own upbringing, though with less games and even less frivolity. 

“Think you can handle one or two more?”

Greta’s voice manages to cut through Trevor’s mental fog. Funny how she asks if he can “think” about anything especially at this suffocating moment. She must have noticed the way his lips curl into a happy doped up grin while observing his family and couldn’t help but inquire. As any close, loved and valued friend would.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with looking a bit further into the future? Now that we all have one.” 

“Looking is one thing, but seriously suggesting is something else completely. My… performance in certain areas isn’t as up to snuff as it used to be.”

As Trevor says this, things deteriorate and get a bit fuzzier from his eyesight down to his chest. Out of focus. Painful. He keeps talking, keeps ignoring the inevitable. Always ignoring what his own body screams for.

Greta wrinkles her nose at his statement. “There are children present, Belmont.”

“What? I’m referring to the house. I barely managed to get one wall up while you’re already on the fucking roof.”

“So dramatic. You three really do deserve each other. And you’re still young.”

“On the outside, maybe.”

She laughs at his lie, misinterpreting it as another piece of mild self-deprecatory banter he might never be able to live without. Greta says something else, perhaps her own personal jest to counter his, but Trevor cannot hear. Breath grows heavier, forcing out a raspy “it’s fine. It’s just my chest”. Barely able to tell if Greta actually said anything about his sudden condition. Or rather, not so sudden. No, this has been building over quite some time now. His muscles and bones screaming, begging for relief or death, and end to everything—whichever comes first. Feelings that only worsened over the years.

Trevor loses control over his legs, now practically boneless. The collision between his head and the ground is nothing compared to the inner war over his heart. Whether it will finally succumb. Greta immediately calls for help—he thinks without confidence, once again. Trevor can still hear voices, but not their exact words. Not Sypha when she demands to know what happened. Not Alucard when he begs for him to stay conscious. Not even Liza as she cries for her papa.

Then all the chaos in the world fades into slow darkness.

--

Alucard stands outside the closed bedchamber door, contemplating how often he’s touched Trevor’s body. Lithe fingertips have memorized every crevice, scar, soft and rough spots alike. Not just as a lover with wandering hands underneath blankets in the dead of night. Or a friend who holds him steady on both feet when he needs it. But as this family’s self-appointed physician. 

Perhaps the prince of two worlds took after his father after all. “Polymath” is what Alucard used to describe Dracula and the very same word others have referred to him as, mostly in the realm of medicine. He knows more than anyone, little offence given towards the herb dispensers and leech farmers (only to be polite for his own townsfolk). Thus, through the anxieties and trembling hands, Alucard gave Trevor his diagnosis: heat exhaustion along with a muscle somewhere in his chest that decided to go rogue and strain itself.

The son of Tepes, the only local doctor worth trusting, and arguably the co-leader of their little prospering hamlet paces across the hall like Trevor did the day Liza was born. He’s on the other side of that closed door, resting. Bedridden from heat exhaustion and a fucking pulled muscle. It bothers Alucard. This shouldn’t have happened to someone who stood up to the personification of Death and pissed in his eye. A stupidly common and easily treatable inconvenience to the human body shouldn’t be the end of a fucking Belmont.

It shouldn’t—unless Trevor’s scars have anything to say about it. The ones on the inside and outside. Inside, unseen, and untreatable. There’s a harsh revelation to be found there; one which the prince has been purposefully avoiding up to this moment. Alucard can try as he wants, use the tools left behind by his father and mother as though it were their final death wish, but he might never tend to what pains Trevor on the inside. He’s a Belmont, undeniably so, but Belmonts are human despite the many recurring signs pointing to the contrary. Then there’s Sypha with her magic, but she’s human as well. Greta and Liza are still human. Humans are more susceptible to dying easy, little deaths even when they follow world-saving victories.

Where does this leave Alucard? Thoughts spiral down, down towards darker places the longer he nervously hovers outside the bedroom. He’s been known to awkwardly stumble into deflection, insisting he’s only half human whenever certain someones bring up this topic of necessary conversation. Meaning he might as well not be human at all. Not when the bodies of those he loves change so rapidly while his remains petrified. It’s only been two years, filled to the brim with countless hours he wouldn’t ever want to trade for the entire world. But the thought of one night as they nestle themselves into bed and Alucard touches either Trevor or Sypha’s chest only to feel an anomaly within their hearts. The earliest sign that time and age will eventually betray them as it does for all mortals—it could be the one thing to break him.

Alucard stops himself at the opportune moment, right before he starts thinking about his mother and father. Did Dracula ever contemplate Lisa’s mortality? Was the decision to never turn her easy or the hardest thing he forced upon his unstable, immortal conscience? Arms crossed over his chest like a protective cage, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt until it hurts, Alucard swallows a bitter glob of spit and reaches for the doorknob. Sypha will have to accept the fact that he couldn’t wait for her. He quietly thanks her for the lessons she taught him. If he needs to talk about something—truly talk, no sarcastic wit or banter, just the raw emotions—Alucard no longer hesitates. He won’t, not as he enters the room and immediately sees Trevor still in bed, not quite altogether there. At least he can manage a decent smile and wave of his hand.

“Evening.”

“How does your chest feel?”

“Still a bit tight, but I’ve been taking deep breaths like the doctor ordered.”

The amount of strain heard in Trevor’s voice worries Alucard. Hopefully the Belmont has learned something from the recent past, so he won’t be stupid and suggest anything having to do with leaving bed or getting back to work.

 “I think I should get up.”

“I think that’s a poor decision.”

“Are you saying that as my physician or because you’re letting that pretty little blonde head of yours get too worked up?”

No. Yes. Both? If only Trevor didn’t look up at him with those glassy eyes (can he still see him?) the colour of stained glass windows erected in cathedrals he felt so unwelcome inside. If only that smile, somehow both soft and shit-eating, wasn’t in place of a more serious expression. Then maybe Alucard could voice his concerns without being accused of acting overbearing—an accusation grounded in solid evidence but he’s not ready to admit that yet. Not out loud.

“Normal, healthy adults do not become bedridden after pulling a small muscle in their chest.”

“Belmonts aren’t normal… or healthy in my case.”

Alucard’s brow furrows. “I want to think you’re healthy—” I need to. “—that you’ll live long enough to see the children of this village have little ones of their own. Liza included.”

“God’s sake, she’s only two years old. You and Greta, always talking about looking one step too far into the future. Let her be a child before adulthood rears its ugly maw.”

“Try not to change the subject.”

Trevor lifts his head off the indent pressed into his sweat drenched pillow. “Alright. Fine. I feel much better. I won’t push myself and give my heart some more time to recover.”

No response coupled with broken eye contact; sure signs of Alucard’s reluctance to accept his rather weak assurance. The Belmont has no other choice.

“Come here. Sit.”

Another moment’s hesitation before Alucard complies. Feeling his weight upon the mattress, Trevor blindly reaches for his wrist until calloused fingers grip cool, unblemished skin.

“Now lie down. No, no. Not like that. Place your head right here.” He pats his chest and with a fleeting amount of guidance, Alucard’s cheek fits perfectly between his breasts. Two hands smooth over the dhampir’s curves before one before one rests on his silk smooth head and the other against the small of his back. Alucard lied about one thing: his own body can change in small yet noticeable ways. Without the need to fight for the lives of others, whether today or tomorrow, sharp edges turn softer. Trevor and Sypha have finally let themselves breathe as well, let go, and enjoy all of life’s pleasures.

“Hear that?” He asks Alucard.

“... It’s slow.”

“Slow and strong like it should be.”

Alucard wishes he could bottle up that heartbeat or place it in a box. Preferably a music box to listen to its soothing melody long after its original body and soul are both eventually gone from this world. Who knows? It might make things hurt a little bit less like when he redrew his parent’s portrait or built a much larger nursery where his own used to be. Not a lot, but Alucard could possibly live with just “a little”.

“Speaking of Greta…” The baritone of Trevor’s voice sends deep vibrations through his broad chest, tickling Alucard’s cheek. “She said something about more children.”

“More orphans joining us?”

“No, even though I know how much you love those damn orphans. She asked if we could handle one or two more.”

“What did you say?”

“I implied that she was taking after Sypha’s influence by being wonderfully insane.”

Alucard chuckles in agreement. That sounds like Greta. “You never know. It might be good for Liza if she has a younger sibling.”

With the sound of Sypha’s well timed arrival, he’s mercifully saved from Trevor’s lengthy speech about how patience is apparently a virtue and tirades about his “performance” or lack thereof. Greta reveals herself shortly afterwards with a still crying Liza in tow. So many bodies gathered around one inebriated individual, here for him and him alone. Trevor’s consoled yet exasperated expression directed at Greta in particular says “isn’t there someone more important you could be helping right now?”

Sypha is the first to voice her gratitude after fussing over her exhausting loved one. “I will never be able to thank you enough, Alucard.”

“I think the bed did most of the heavy lifting, love.”

Trevor is given an affectionate, somewhat caring glare in response but his focus is demanded elsewhere once he suddenly notices Liza jumping onto the bed. She snuggles herself between him and Alucard, wetting their shirts with her tears.

“Easy there, you little monster. Papa’s still a bit tender.” Not that she can understand or care.

There’s an aura of relief felt amongst everyone in the room—less with Alucard who smiles bittersweetly. It’s a truth he knew he had to acknowledge before it tore his heart open. Trevor and Sypha will die one day and he will have to bury them. He’ll bury Greta, he might even bury Liza. Not today thank all the gods, or tomorrow, not for the next few decades if fate is kind enough. 

But the day will come. And it will be Alucard’s own little death.

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

Alex + Julie "You didn't deserve that... You deserve so much better."

you sent me this prompt a million years ago i'm sorry it took me so long to answer it. warning for friendship breakup angst. there's no carrie redemption arc in this fic but there IS alexjulie friendship.

with love on their throats | g | 1.7k | alex&julie, past julie&carrie

ao3 link in reblogs!

--

Julie doesn’t mean to ignore the boys all afternoon, but Carrie’s birthday was hard last year and so far, this year doesn’t seem to be getting any easier.

She has the foresight to turn her phone off, at least, this year. She can’t handle the social media posts from everyone else at their school. They’re probably in Carrie’s pool, in her kitchen, in her living room. Probably throwing around the throw cushions that Julie’s mom taught her and Carrie to sew covers for when they were ten. Maybe even smashing the glasses Julie used to drink Trevor’s homemade iced tea out of when she would come to visit before Carrie got home from sport in the evenings. The idea of seeing these familiar spaces still just… out there, existing, rather than stuck in the past along with her and Carrie’s friendship, makes Julie nauseous.

Plus, there’s the added bonus of not being able to text Carrie something reckless she might regret.

So her phone’s switched off. Her dad knows not to bother her today anyway, since he had a front-row seat to whole Carrie mess when it happened. He just shot her a sympathetic glance over breakfast and hasn’t spoken to her at all. Carlos is at a friend’s house, and wouldn’t bother her even if he were home.

It’s just the ghosts Julie is avoiding, locked her bedroom door, perched on her window seat with her headphones on, watching YouTube on her laptop.

Which means it scares her half to death when Alex waves a hand in front of her face.

She yanks her headphones off and curses, sharp and a little louder than she means to, and Alex jumps back like he’s been burned. “Julie! Uh, hi, hey. Sorry to scare you.”

“Why didn’t you knock?!” she demands, still breathless. “It’s you, you know better! Boundaries!”

At least Alex has the decency to look shamefaced. “I know, listen, it’s just -- we were worried about you! And we did knock, a lot, actually, but I don’t think you could hear us? So I said we should give you space but Luke and Reg started psyching each other out, and Luke’s never been able to handle space the same way since the Caleb Covington Kidnapping Incident--”

Which, okay, yeah, that’s fair enough. Julie still shudders at the memory of the Caleb Covington Kidnapping Incident.

“-- so then I got nominated because, well, Reg worried you might be getting changed or something, and that makes me the obvious choice, not that I wanted to be the obvious choice, just that -- okay, I’m doing a bad job, what I mean is --”

Finally, she decides to put him out of his misery. “Alex, stop. It’s fine.”

Relieved, he lets out a breath and leans on his knees, looking up at her with pretty, apologetic eyes. “Still. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to frighten you, we just… got worried. And wanted to see if you were okay. You’ve been in here all day.”

Julie nods and looks back at her laptop, where the YouTube video is still playing, and pauses it.

She hasn't looked back over at Alex when he says, cautious, "Are you okay?"

When she replies, “Yeah,” it isn’t because she wants to lie to him, necessarily. It’s more because she doesn’t know how to untangle her feelings enough to lay them out in front of him. More because it’s hard to explain why she still misses someone who she knows hurt her, who she knows should have known better.

It’s hard to explain why she feels guilt, and grief, over something she chose to let go.

The window seat dips when he sits down next to her, fingers twisted together in his lap, shoulders rolled forward. He’s offering her the tiniest, encouraging smile in the form of a little quirk at the corner of his mouth. Julie loves him so much that it softens the heartache, just for a moment.

But then it returns. Just as strong. Just as unreasonable. Just as painful.

“It’s Carrie’s birthday,” she tells him, without even knowing why she says it.

“Oh,” he replies, which seems fair. She doesn’t know what she’d say in his position. He chews his lip, a crease forming in his brow. “You guys used to be friends, right?”

God, can she talk about this out loud? It’s easier to joke with Flynn, to make fun of the situation, because Flynn saw it all play out, held Julie when she cried, stopped being friends with Carrie in solidarity. Explaining the situation from start to finish, to someone new, just feels impossible.

So instead she says, “Do you ever miss someone you know you can’t have back? Or not that you can’t. But you know you shouldn’t. You know that you can’t get them back, or you’d have to give up too much for it and it wouldn’t be worth it.”

Because sure, if Julie was really committed, she’s sure she could grovel her way back into Carrie’s inner circle. But as much as she misses her, she’s not prepared to do it.

Alex nods, understanding. “Yeah,” he says plainly. “Yeah, I do. Tons of people.”

Julie’s surprised, but she supposes she shouldn’t be. The boys talk about Alex’s family the way Julie’s mom used to talk about ghosts -- never directly, otherwise they’d hear her and be summoned -- and after the whole thing with Trevor, well. It makes sense.

“Can I get it to stop?” Julie asks. “I had to turn off my phone before I did something stupid like text her. What would I even say? Why would I want to say anything?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. He leans over so their shoulders bump together, and she leans her head on him. “It’s okay to miss her, you know. You guys had good things in your friendship -- I mean, I guess, right? That’s why you miss it?”

Julie nods, closing her eyes. There are so many good memories she doesn’t even know where to start. Running in the park. Sitting at the piano together. Fashion shows for their dads and Julie’s mom in the living room of the Wilsons’ huge house. Sleepovers with Flynn full of bickering and giggling and pillow fights. Birthday parties, their whole lives.

“But that doesn’t mean you didn’t have a good reason for stepping away,” Alex says.

That’s true, too. Julie’s pretty sure they didn’t have that good stuff for a while before their friendship ended, in reality. Carrie was becoming… snappish. Self-absorbed. All she wanted to do was boss the other girls in dance class around, and she didn’t ask to hear Julie’s songs anymore. Julie knew that being a good friend meant weathering the good with the bad, but she gave Carrie what felt like a million chances, and she wasn’t getting anything back. When she’d tried to bring it up to Carrie, things had… exploded.

She explains as much to Alex, in fits and spurts, and finishes with, “She just… blew up at me, she told me she’d been sick of me for ages and asked why I hadn’t noticed. Like I was just supposed to realise that we weren’t friends anymore without her telling me.” Sucking in a shaky breath, she manages, “And then my mom…”

“Oh, Julie,” Alex murmurs softly into her hair. She’s trying not to cry, she really is, but it feels all bubbly at the surface of her chest, and the way he puts an arm around her and squeezes tight shows that he can tell.

“I know it’s silly,” she chokes, “but it feels like we broke up, or something, even though we were just friends. It hurts so much just thinking about her.”

“It’s not silly,” he assures her, and wraps his other arm around her, too, so he’s hugging her close to him with her head against his chest. “There’s nothing less important about friends, and a friendship ending can really suck. Especially how she did it.” He presses a kiss to her forehead, and doesn’t draw attention to the few tears making their way down her cheeks. They sit like that for a moment, then Alex says quietly, “You’re a wonderful friend. You didn’t deserve that. You deserve so much better.”

Sniffling, Julie rubs her sleeve across her eyes, wiping away the tears. The thought dawns on her like the sunrise after a long, sleepless night. “I have so much better,” she realises out loud. “I have Flynn. And Dad and Carlos. And you and Luke and Reggie.”

“We are pretty fantastic,” Alex agrees, faux-smug, but his eyes are still cautious, and affectionate. “But it’s okay to be upset anyway.”

“I know,” she says. And she does. “But I think I’m almost done being upset. For now, at least. Maybe we could run through a few songs?”

“I’m sure the boys would love that,” Alex tells her, smiling, and he goes to stand up but she holds on tighter, so he won’t leave the hug.

He just feels so steady, and comforting, and she’ll never really get over being able to actually hold them. “Can we just. Stay here for a moment, first?”

Easing himself back down, Alex grins and pulls her closer, tucking her head under his chin. “Of course,” Alex says. “We can take as long as you need. Just us, or the others, too?”

She pauses. “The others, too.”

Alex closes his eyes, and Julie knows he’s reaching out to the others, through their one leftover remnant of their time in the afterlife, tugging at their leads until they come to find him. A moment later, Reggie and Luke both pop into presence in the middle of her room, puppy-eyed with worry and hope.

“Julie?” asks Reggie quietly, fiddling with his fingers.

“You good?” Luke asks, on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah,” she tells them. “Just needed a hug.”

Within moments, they’re all around her and Alex, Reggie’s arm around her waist, Luke’s leg somehow, inexplicably, over her lap. Alex makes an insulted noise, but he’s so relaxed, Julie knows he must not mean it. When she presses her ear to his collarbone, Julie can hear his heartbeat, solid and alive, miraculous. Her friend’s heartbeat. Her friends, all around her.

Things are still bittersweet, and it’s still Carrie’s birthday, but Julie is still surrounded by love, enveloped in it, living in it. She can be sad for what’s gone, and be grateful for what she has, at the same time.

[aereres]

Wedding Shenanigans - Jack Hughes

Summary: After getting paired with the one and only Jack Hughes at your best friend's wedding, the night takes a sharp turn.

A/N: This was something small I wrote for a friend a while ago and she pushed me into posting it! I hope you like it! Everyone in this fic is 21+

Word Count: 1,5k

Warnings: plotless smut, swearing.

“Kelly, get in that damn dress,” you stated, ignoring the groomsmen walking into the room as you pushed your best friend towards the dress. “You’re going to be late,”

“I have to assign you girls to your dates, first,” Kelly mumbled, scrambling for the paper inside her bag. “Jen, you’re with Trevor,”

You let Kelly's voice become background noise as you smoothed the soft fabric of her dress, taking a good look at it. “Kourtney with Bowen. Melany with Alex,”

“And Y/N with Jack,”

“Jack who?” You asked, your voice taking that sarcastic tone you knew too well as you finally grabbed the dress for her.

“Jack Hughes, dummy,” Y/N chuckled. “If only you turned around and paid attention to me,”

With a playful huff, you turned around to face her, your eyes finally meeting Jack’s. His light orbs stared back at you, what you could only guess was a smirk painting his face as he gave you a once-over.

“Hi,” you said, voice soft, almost whispered.

“Hey,” was all the man said, his voice already making the coil inside your stomach tighten. You snapped out of your thoughts with a shake of your head, looking back at your best friend with a playful pointed look.

“Now, get in your dress, missy,” you said, squeezing her hand tightly. “And don’t you dare to make me cry,”

-----

By the time the entire ceremony and dinner were over, you were more than ready to get yourself on the dance floor and dance the night away.

Was it going to be with Jack? You didn't know. But you were hoping so.

You had watched Melany and Alex look like shy teenagers the entire evening: stealing looks from each other, letting their hands touch every once in a while, laughing awkwardly at the other's jokes.

It was weirdly entertaining - you were going to admit it - to see a 5’11 man acting like a teenager in love with the bride's cousin. You knew you were going to laugh at it for years.

"It's fucking boring in here," Jack coughed out from your side, making you stop nursing your glass of red wine and turn around to face him.

"It's a wedding, Jack," you chuckled, downing the liquid left inside your flute. "We'll probably be heading to the dance floor in a few minutes. Don't be such a baby,"

You met his eyes with a smirk as he readjusted his body on the chair, his legs spreading as he looked at you with a challenging look.

"Doesn't look like you're having fun either," he commented, eyes moving along your body as he kept talking. "You've been drinking your sobriety away for at least an hour,"

"The wine is so good, shouldn't be wasting it, right?"

He chuckled, shaking his head as his hand grasped your knee, making you jump in shock. Your widened eyes met his at the feeling of his hand inching upwards, roughly stopping on your inner thigh.

"Watch your tone, Y/N," he whispered in your ear, voice an octave deeper as his fingers drew shapes close to the space where you needed him the most. "You don't wanna mess with me,"

"Maybe I do, though," you were able to breathe out, eyes snapping shut in a moment of weakness before you opened them again, remembering just then you were still in the middle of a venue. Well, with a guy's hand between your legs.

"Shouldn't have said that,"

Your eyes snapped to his as he squeezed your thigh. "We both know there's a room down that hall," he said, decently pointing towards one of the many hallways that led to the main part of the venue. "A room nobody uses,"

Your heart started beating against your ribcage as you realized where the night was leading. "I want you to get in that room and wait. Can you do that for me?"

He had put you back in your place, and you submissively nodded your head, getting rid of the napkin resting on your legs before standing up. Your legs felt wobbly as you walked towards the room, the darkness of the hallway being enough to hide you from unwanted eyes.

You closed the door behind yourself, nervously playing with the skin around your fingers as you waited for something to happen, for him to come in. Just as you were about to leave the room and see if Jack had only been playing with you, the door opened and closed in a second, Jack's cologne filling your nostrils.

His body caged yours against the nearest wall, his eyes boring deeply into yours as his breath fanned against your face, his nose touching yours. "You don't know what you're going after, baby,"

Your breathing was ragged as your fingers grabbed his collar, pushing him closer to you and finally letting your lips touch. All the pent-up tension you had built during the night started to finally release, resulting in you having enough courage to palm his crotch over the soft material of his slacks.

He groaned loudly in your ear, his lips finding the skin of your neck. His movements were slow, teasing; they made you unable to resist him even more.

There was something about him, and you knew it.

You found yourself dropping to your knees, tugging the button of his pants open and awkwardly sliding them down his legs along with his boxers. His hard-on was close to your face, it made your mouth salivate. His palms against the wall were keeping him balanced as he looked down at you, a smirk on his face as he let one of his hands card through your hair.

You hesitantly sucked on his tip, looking up at him as you waited for his reaction before letting him hit the back of your throat, a small gagging noise filling the room. His low moan had you addicted, it had you wanting for more. Your movements became quicker, more erratic, and you were so into him that you almost forgot to breathe.

"Slow down, princess. Take your time," Jack said from above you, his smirk making your heart flutter. You slipped his cock out of his mouth for just a few seconds, taking in a deep breath before diving back in. His hand was gripping your hair tightly in a makeshift ponytail, helping your movements on his member as he let himself give in to the pleasure. Oh, did the night just take a turn.

You weren't expecting to be pulled off his cock so quickly, but he tugged you away, helping you back on your feet before lifting you up in his arms and continuing your make-out session.

"I want to taste this pretty pussy-" he mumbled, his fingers playing with your drenched lips after pushing your panties to the side.

"You'll do it later tonight. Now, just fuck me, Jack," was all you breathed out, your head leaning against the wall as he teased you, chuckling into your ear.

His tip teased your clit, tracing small circles around it as he watched your face contort in pleasure. His dick then reached your opening, waiting a few seconds before gently thrusting inside of you, stretching you out. You loudly moaned, gripping his shoulders as he began thrusting, the angle feeling amazing. He was thicker than you had thought, and it felt like heaven.

You let him take over, sending you into a frenzy as you tried to keep your moans to a low, your hands getting lost in his messy curls. "I want to hear you moan for me," he said, his voice low as his deep thrust left you breathless. "Whose cock is making you moan, baby?"

"Yours-" you breathed out.

"Yours what?"

"Yours, sir,"

His hand gripped your ass tightly as he quickened his movements even more, his cock tapping against your most sensitive spot with every single thrust. Everything became too much, and when his thumb started moving against your clit, you were done. You came with a strangled moan, your face hiding in the crook of his neck as he kept thrusting inside of you, reaching his own release with a groan.

He held you close to him for a little more, his forehead sweaty as he kissed you again, his hands smoothing your dress down your middle.

He left the room quickly, leaving you on your own to clean yourself up before you also joined him outside. You found out just then that everyone had left the main part of the venue to reach the dance floor, so you were safe to put yourself back together before joining the rest of the guests.

In front of a mirror you found, you started fixing your hair, noticing your flushed face and sweat-stained forehead.

"So, later tonight?" Jack said from beside you, fixing his tie with a smirk as he quoted your words.

"Don't get your hopes up," you hissed back, looking at the small love bite he had left on your shoulder. "Your ego is already too big for you,"

"My room or yours?"

“Hey there!” A familiar voice yelled, making you turn around to face your best friend and her husband with a shocked look. "We were wondering where you had gone,”

“You didn’t see anything!” You yelled back, pointing a finger her way warningly as she walked away. Just as she turned the angle, you grabbed Jack by the collar of his shirt again and kissed his lips hungrily.

"Yours,"

Taglist: @thirstyybitch​ @bellaguarneri​ @boqvistsbabe​ @trashforbarzal​ @captaindaddies​ @keithseabrook27​ @heatherawoowoo​​

[miserable-pile-of-lies]

For everyone that is discounting Greta/Alucard as a ship, but finding validity in Trephacard, please tell me why given the nuances in canon? One of the first things that stands out in my mind is that when we first hear Trevor and Sypha talking about Alucard upon getting to know him, Sypha describes him as a cold spot in the room. On the other hand, when Greta is talking to Alucard and comparing his magic to Saint Germain's magic, she said that his magic is sweet like spices (his magic is a reflection of his character). She mentions his warmth/kindness once more upon seeing him play with the children of her village, noting that it was very noble of him to take the time to entertain them despite the ongoing situation. 

The first bit of dialogue that we get from Greta, even outside of a romantic connotation, is that she wishes for Alucard to help protect the villagers of Danesti for the long haul. Even though she voices her concerns with Alucard's reliability, she acknowledges that his help is necessary for her people to survive the attacks of the night creatures. Following this, we see Alucard admit his insecurities regarding the stability of his relationships when Greta notes that he seems to come alive when it pertains to protecting people. He believes that it is inevitable that he will be left alone once he’s done protecting the villagers and Sypha and Trevor unfortunately contributed to this insecurity. Not once during Season 3 does Trevor or Sypha mention Alucard, not even bothering to keep in touch with Alucard. Countering that, we see Alucard talking to hand-made puppets that resemble Sypha and Trevor, clearly showing that he missed them dearly and was beginning to lose his mind during his isolation until Sumi and Taka appear. Circling back to the dynamic of Greta and Alucard, it’s clear that Greta is bothered by this cycle of neglect that Alucard has endured. Upon arriving to his castle, she states that his home is cold and lonely, but she goes out of her way to say that she and the villagers could make it into a place that is warm and happy. Greta also plays a key role in establishing the village of Belmont and ultimately brought the main trio back together once and for all regardless of what the fandom would like to think. 

Ultimately, Trevor and Sypha were destined to be an item and after they successfully made it into the Belmont Hold, Trevor and Sypha's heart-to-heart takes place. Trevor opens himself up emotionally for the first time in years following the death of his family and as the audience, we finally see that there is a gentle side to him thanks to Sypha. This gentleness would solidify Sypha’s interest in Trevor and vice versa as the two disclose information about their pasts. The following morning after Trevor and Sypha fall asleep together in the Hold, Alucard is jealous of Trevor as he is shown to be drawn to Sypha (most likely, because she reminds him of his mother in some aspects). However, Sypha rebuffs Alucard's insults directed towards Trevor and essentially calls him immature once finding out how fast Alucard grew during his childhood years. 

To parallel that heart-to-heart, we see Greta and Alucard bonding on their journey to his castle and she helps him by allowing Alucard to talk through his emotions which is something that we didn't even see with Trevor and Sypha. A good example of this would be when Alucard disdainfully mentions that he murdered his father following Dracula's death. Trevor insensitively mentions that Dracula’s death was for the best and Sypha intervenes by saying that even though Dracula terrorized Wallachia, he was still Alucard's father and that it was okay to mourn him. I'm going to say that this conversation along with Alucard seeing Trevor and Sypha holding hands while Sypha cups his shoulder as they walk away from the fight with his father triggered his emotional withdrawal from the two as he believes that he has no place in their happiness. It isn't until Trevor and Sypha leave the castle that we see Alucard's true emotions, left alone in his despair. We also see Alucard conceal his feelings in the earlier part of the season when he's sketching his parents in the sand. He is uncomfortable at the prospect of murdering his father even though he knows its for the greater good and stops crying when he hears Trevor and Sypha come up behind him. It's clear that Alucard isn't comfortable with being emotionally vulnerable around people, even around Trevor and Sypha. However, he finds refuge in Greta in a short amount of time given her position as a reliable leader and straightforwardness in her intentions which is something that Alucard clearly respects.

Trephacard is a ship that I grew to love thanks to fandom content and I will continue to like it for that reason. However, I’ve seen a lot of folks attempting to bring Greta into that dynamic and I heavily dislike the implications of the group as an OT4. For one, Greta barely got to interact with Trevor or Sypha prior to the series finale therefore making the connection purely fanon (nothing wrong with a crack-ship). The only reason why I can fathom fans attempting to bring her into this polycule is so that Trevor and Sypha can still make a move on Alucard which carries problematic undertones. Often times in fandoms, POC characters who are canonically paired up with white characters that are highly favored are seen as undesirable or not good enough to be with that character so they are pigeon-holed into an unlikely scenario/fridged (this scenario being Greta + Trephacard). This dynamic takes away Greta’s autonomy and the sincerity of her feelings towards Alucard even if she has canonically been in a polyamorous relationship. I hope this makes sense as I took a lot of time to voice my opinions on how the fandom has received Greta. As someone who rarely gets to see a girl like me in media like Castlevania, her character means a lot to me and the fact that she is seen as desirable and strong makes me want to ride that much harder for her.

[alfryco]

A Love as True as Mine

summary:  He gulps involuntarily as the hangman steps towards the lever to control the trapdoor underneath him as the sheriff finishes up his speech. Trevor shuts his eyes tight. He suddenly doesn’t want to see the drop coming, he just hopes that his death is quick and he’s not left dangling for minutes until his body succumbs to gravity. Though he wants to remain still and emotionless he can't stop the trembling that starts to shake his frame now, though he tries to diminish it as best as possible.

He really wishes that he could have talked to his crew one more time- talked to Alfredo one more time.

pairing: Alfredo/Trevor

also available on AO3

[Written for the @rtwritingcommunity secret springfairy event! I got @futureboy as my springfairy this time around. If you enjoy please make sure to like and reblog, it always goes a long way!]

He didn't let his legs shake when he walked up the stairs to the gallows and he won't let them shake now with the noose settling heavy around his neck. Trevor keeps a stony expression on his face as the sheriff reads off his rights, what little he has left of them. He looks at the crowd of people below the platform he’s standing on, he’s surprised more people haven't turned out to see him hang, but he reckons that has to do with the lack of time between being captured and being sentenced to hang. The town’s lawmen had come to the conclusion at his capture that it would be wise to be done with him as soon as possible, not wanting to give his gang of Fakes any time to hunt down their leader.

If the hanging had been properly announced he wouldn’t be surprised if thousands of people came to watch Trevor "The Boss" Collins dance the hangman's jig. You can’t be the infamous leader of a group of outlaws known two states over without gaining some kind of reputation. Though most of the people who met the end of his gun or lost their prizes to him deserved it in his opinion. Hell, some people would come just for the hell of it, whether they knew who he was or not. It was more entertaining to watch a person hang in the town square, whether cleanly or not, than to be subjected to another endless day of gossip and routine practices.

The Texas sun is hot and unrelenting above him and he can feel the sweat trickle down his back. He wishes he still had his hat and bandana on, but the good town sheriff was kind enough to relieve him of his effects shortly after being brought into town in tow on foot behind a horse. He would even take his black duster- just to break the contact of the sun from his skin, but whoever nabbed him failed to grab that from the camp he had been occupying. The duster that got left behind in the campsite with Alfredo.

Alfredo.

Trevor feels the sadness and regret weighing his heart down at the thought that he will be dead before he ever gets to tell the other man how he feels. He had realized his feelings for the other man some time ago but he had been too afraid to say it out loud and now look at where it's led him. If only he had one more chance, just one, to tell Alfredo how he really feels.

The executioner standing to his left must mistake Trevor’s forlorn sigh over a love not even given the breadth of a chance to flourish for a sigh of acceptance at the imminent death waiting for him, because the man lets out a deep chuckle exposing yellow teeth stained with age. A wad of chewing tobacco, brown and wet, lands at Trevor’s boots and it takes everything in him not to kick the man off the scaffold, his hand on the lever be damned. He settles for curling his lip in disgust and shoots a glare at the hangman. If his hands weren’t tied behind his back he’d be happily making that man swallow his just hawked up dip.

Trevor tries the rope binding his wrists together again and comes to the same conclusion he had when they were first tied behind his back hours ago: he wouldn't be escaping them any time soon, not without a knife at least. Certainly not soon enough to escape the circle of rope sitting heavy on his neck. Trevor honestly thinks he would have met his demise in a shootout or from falling off a speeding train, not strung up in front of a gawking crowd with nothing better to do than watch a man meet his untimely end.

He gulps involuntarily as the hangman steps towards the lever to control the trapdoor underneath him as the sheriff finishes up his speech. Trevor shuts his eyes tight. He suddenly doesn’t want to see the drop coming, he just hopes that his death is quick and he’s not left dangling for minutes until his body succumbs to gravity. Though he wants to remain still and emotionless he can't stop the trembling that starts to shake his frame now, though he tries to diminish it as best as possible.

He really wishes that he could have talked to his crew one more time- talked to Alfredo one more time.

The beating of his heart is so great that it fills his ears, blocking out all other noise. He cracks his eyes open one more time to squint at the sun beaming down on him. Well at least it’s a beautiful day for him to die.

Trevor is so focused on the rope around his neck and the drop waiting for him below that he doesn't hear the thundering of hooves coming down the main road of the town. He doesn't hear the murmurs of confusion ripple through the crowd as the floor beneath him gives way, the release of the wood door as loud as a shot. He shoots a quick prayer to anyone that may be listening that his death is quick. He’s never been one to believe in higher beings, but he figures now's a better time than ever. He hears someone yell out as the rope around his neck constricts around his neck but just as suddenly the rope releases him.

He lets a surprised yelp as he falls from suspension onto the back of a horse racing underneath the platform of the gallows. He turns to look back at the shocked expressions of the townsfolk and he lets out a disbelieving laugh, high in pitch and loud.

"What the hell?" Trevor shouts his question as he turns to face the rider who just saved him. His hands are still tied behind his back and the noose is trailing from his neck, the knot still too close to his neck for comfort.

He would recognize those strong shoulders and black hat, just like Trevor’s, anywhere. Someone out there must have been listening to his prayer because he has somehow found himself on the back of the horse belonging to one such Alfredo Diaz. Before he answers, Alfredo lets out a yell and kicks his heels to his horse’s girth urging it to go faster. The buckskin gelding underneath snorts and digs his hooves deeper into the hard-packed dirt. Once Alfredo feels the speed is as good as it's going to get, he turns to glance back at Trevor.

"Are you ok," Alfredo yells the question over the wind whipping around them. Trevor can hear the angry yells of the lawmen from the town following behind the pair and hears a bullet race by him.

"Ok as anyone who was about to be hanged can be, I imagine," Trevor yells back as he ducks down instinctively.

He tries to scoot up more on the horse so that he isn’t so precariously sat upon it, but he’s limited on what he can do with his hands still bound behind his back. In a flash Alfredo is snaking an arm around his middle and pulling Trevor flush to him. Though the saddle isn’t hardly big enough for two grown men it’s better than nothing and being pressed close to Alfredo is just an added bonus that Trevor will happily keep to himself. He’s glad that Alfredo can't see the blush blooming on his face right now at the lack of space between them.

This is a silly time for his body to be overly aware of how close he's sitting behind the other outlaw, of how only a few inches lay between him and the tan skin of Alfredo’s neck escaping beneath his shirt. Of strong arms that he knows full well could pick him up if the need arose.

It seems his mind is apparently occupied with other matters at the moment, but his body is still shaking from his close call with death. Though the trembles have grown weaker with each mile put between him and the gallows they still remind him of their presence every few minutes. Another bullet flies by the pair, this time a little too close for comfort, and Trevor has no choice but to lay his head against the outlaw's back as they dodge the lawmen’s bullets. Alfredo places one hand on Trevor's knee and gives it a firm squeeze, as if trying to reassure Trevor that he's got him now. Trevor would be lying if he said the touch didn’t make his heart flutter in a peculiar way. They ride strong for a few minutes, lengthening the distance between them and the group of lawmen with the occasional return fire from Alfredo’s pistol.

"Hold on," Alfredo shouts again and before Trevor can question how in the hell he's supposed to exactly do that with his hands still tied, Alfredo is veering his horse sharply to the right down a small corridor between two canyon walls, away from the open landscape they had just been on. He pulls the reins to the left and they slip into a tight, dark crevice in the canyon wall.

The buckskin stops just short of brushing the wall with his nose and Trevor lets out a rush of air in the form of a sigh. Alfredo quickly dismounts while giving his horse a quick pat of thanks on the neck, while Trevor lets his eyes adjust to the sudden lack of light. He swings his legs over the horse’s back and dismounts in a way that would have had the whole crew laughing at him under different circumstances. Before he can trip on the rock that just so happens to be under his foot Alfredo has a firm hand on Trevor's arm.

"Easy, I got you," Alfredo assures him softly.

He turns Trevor around and begins to cut through the rope around Trevor's wrists with the knife he had tucked away in his belt.

"Should have shot those bastards," Alfredo mutters hotly as he pulls the frayed rope away from Trevor's wrists and sees the deep red marks they've left behind. He immediately begins sawing at the offending rope around Trevor’s neck.

"I shouldn't have let my guard down," Trevor says with a tired sigh once the rope falls to the dirt. He couldn’t blame them honestly, even he, himself, wouldn’t be able to resist the bounty hanging over his head. If he hadn’t gotten soft and left himself open like that, in the middle of the night no less, then he wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but it was most likely due to the fact that he's grown used to having at least 10 people at his back, not just him and Fredo, that has made him so unguarded. It's a lot easier to sleep at night when you have a good share of the most wanted criminals in Texas behind you. Though it seems Alfredo's presence was enough, back at their makeshift camp, to soothe his usual paranoia about sleeping on the road. It made him soft and today that softness almost cost him his life.

His hand rubs lightly over the now raw skin of his neck and he catches Alfredo’s worried stare. He takes a drink from the canteen Alfredo offers him and has to restrain himself from downing the whole thing in one go.

“It’s not as bad as it looks," Trevor says as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. He knows the lie falls flat when Alfredo lifts an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Whatever you say boss," Alfredo says, with a barely held back eye roll. He's been friends with this man long enough to know when he's lying, but he lets it go for right now. Alfredo will fuss over him later when they can put some distance between themselves and this town.

"It was my fault they caught me in the first place," Trevor points out. He knew better than to sleep that close to the road even though there was no moon out that night. Maybe it was the dying light of their fire that had attracted his captors?

“You can't blame yourself for that Trevor,” Alfredo says stubbornly. "Who knows how long those bounty hunters had been following us? They could've been tailing us since San Marco for all we know!"

Trevor opens his mouth to continue arguing, because how is he supposed to be an infamous gang leader when he gets caught sleeping like that? But before Trevor can argue further the sounds of men shouting and horses growing closer to their hiding spot makes him whip his head toward the entrance of the cave.

Alfredo grabs his arm and pulls Trevor behind him, pushing both of the men as far into the hole of the canyon as they can go. He hopes the darkness of the cave is enough to hide them and his horse. Alfredo presses into Trevor further when the sounds of the lawmen start to bounce off the walls of the canyon. With one hand he blindly reaches back and grabs Trevor's hand, while the other is holding onto his pistol.

Trevor squeezes Alfredo's hand in what he hopes conveys a message of comfort. He doesn't chance taking a glance over Alfredo's shoulder, but instead presses himself into the wall hard enough to feel the rough rock poking through his clothing. He feels utterly useless without his pistol or his knife. He may have his fists, but that does shit all against a revolver. The sounds of men can now be heard right outside the opening of their hiding spot. For a panicked minute Trevor wonders if the men hunting them down can hear the furious pounding of his heart echoing off of the canyon walls.

He decides right then and there with steely resolve that he would die fighting before they can get him within ten miles of those gallows.

If it's the end of a pistol versus the weight of the noose then he knows which one he will choose.

The shadow of a horse and rider passes over the entrance of the cave and both men hold their breath in fear of being heard. What looks like the deputy, if the star glinting on his chest means anything, stops his horse at the cave entrance and glances around. Alfredo, as quiet as possible, pulls the hammer of his pistol down. He'll be damned if he lets them take Trevor away from him again.

For an agonizingly long minute the man sits and listens and Alfredo hopes beyond all hope that he doesn't look their way. He can feel the sweat beading on his forehead when the man turns his head slowly to the left. All the muscles in Alfredo’s body tense for a fight. He's pretty sure he's crushing the bones of Trevor's hand as the man's eyes land on him and in the next second slide right over them. Someone yells down the canyon calling to the deputy, snapping his attention away from them.

"There ain't nothing here," the lawman shouts back as he directs his horse away from the outlaws and back towards the entrance of the canyon. “Just dirt and rocks."

The two men listen closely to the sound of retreating hooves. A few moments of strained silence pass before they both let out sighs of relief and let their tense bodies relax. Trevor puts his hands on his knees as Alfredo steps away from him, his usually neat hair falling in his face. He doesn’t know how much more of this he or his body can take.

His body decides to go ahead and make the decision for him by sitting him down in the hard dirt beneath his feet. Alfredo turns around at the sudden movement and suddenly he’s in Trevor’s face, hands firmly grasping his shoulders.

Trevor most certainly does not have the energy right now to deal with the fact that Alfredo's face is merely inches from his, that Trevor can count each mole on his face. Can see how chapped his lips are from the dust they stirred up in their escape. He doesn't know if it's from the heat or the utter exhaustion that makes him play with the idea of closing those few inches between him and Alfredo. To kiss that worried expression off his face.

“Trevor, are you ok?” Alfredo is brushing his hair away from his forehead and all Trevor wants to do is lean into the touch. To just close his eyes for a moment and soak in this moment that he's been dreaming of for too long.

“I’m- I’m ok, just need to rest is all,” Trevor reassures him, though Alfredo looks to only believe his answer for Trevor’s own sanity. He will have to thank him for that later. Now that he's sitting down thoughts of sleep slowly take over the soft mantra in his head of touch him, kiss him, tell him you love him you ass.

“We’ll hide out here for a bit, wait for dusk to come and then make our way back to camp," Alfredo says. His words wake Trevor up a bit, pulling his attention away from himself and the storm going on in his head.

“We’re staying there tonight? What if they find the camp again?”

Alfredo shakes his head, “No we’re just going to stop there to collect your belongings and your horse. We’ll set up camp once we’re well enough away from this town."

The relief that Trevor feels spreads through him at the thought that for once someone else has a plan is immediate. He sags against the wall and runs a tired hand down his face. He wonders if his cheeks are flushed from the thoughts in his head or the sunburn he most surely has from being under the sun with no hat or cover. His pale complexion has never taken kindly to having extended contact with the sun.

Alfredo takes a seat next to him and takes his hat off his head. Trevor watches as he runs a hand through his black hair causing the dust that had collected there from the ride to float lazily in the afternoon sun streaming through the entrance. Without meaning to Trevor leans into Alfredo, the press of his arm against his calming him further. He’s too tired to think of the implications the other man may gather from this and Trevor is sure he’s aware of how close they are together, but if it bothers Alfredo he doesn't say a thing. Instead, he smiles softly and begins to hum a song quietly as the two wait for the day to pass into dusk.

Trevor is shaken awake a few hours later by Alfredo and sees that dusk has started to crawl up the canyon walls, painting the previously sun-drenched walls in deep reds and purples.

“Hey, it’s time we get moving,” Alfredo says quietly as if pressed not to disturb the quiet that has fallen around them. Trevor nods as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. He stands and stretches his arms above his head until a satisfying crack sounds from between his shoulder blades. Alfredo’s eyes linger on him while he tightens the girth of his saddle, but Trevor assumes it’s only out of concern and nothing more.

His head feels clearer now with a few hours of sleep under his belt and he begins to wonder how he will tell the rest of the Fakes about his almost-demise. He can hear them now, guffawing and exclaiming their surprise when he retells the events of his escape at the hands of his daring rescuer. Some details he’ll leave out of course and other’s he’ll stretch, but it’s all in the name of good story-telling.

Trevor watches Alfredo check the stirrups of his saddle one more time and then swing himself gracefully into the saddle, the leather creaking under the sudden weight. It’s funny to think that just this morning he thought himself to be a dead man. And it’s all thanks to the man offering a hand now to Trevor to help him mount his horse. He can feel the warmth of endearment blossoming from his chest as he gladly takes the offered hand and in one fluid motion puts his foot in the stirrup and settles himself behind Alfredo. He relinquishes the stirrup back to Alfredo and the trio walk on into the growing night.

For a couple hours they share a comfortable silence, making their way slowly through the brush with just the moon and the occasional critter to keep them company. The terrain gradually turns from dirt to a more uneven rockier ground as they get closer to their destination. A rock suddenly gives away under one of the horse’s hooves causing the animal to trip. To stop himself from sliding off the gelding Trevor’s arms shoot out instinctively to grab onto something, which just happens to be Alfredo. The gesture gets a small chuckle out of Alfredo and he pats a reassuring hand over the arms ensnaring him. Trevor can’t see his face, but he’s sure Alfredo has one of those smiles on his face, the kind that makes his whole face light up. Trevor answers with his own snicker and though he would rather keep them wrapped around Alfredo, Trevor loosens his hold and draws his arms back to him when he feels the horse find his footing underneath.

He leans back taking note of how bright the stars are tonight. “Do you think, if we stared long enough, we would be able to count all the stars up there?”

At Trevor’s question Alfredo looks up at the sky, taking in the thousands of stars dotted across the night sky, “I don’t think so. Don’t they go away when the sun comes up?”

Trevor makes a hum of consideration, he hadn’t thought about that.

“One day, I think I would like to see one up close,” Trevor says after a minute.

“See what?”

“A star. I reckon they’re even prettier up close.”

“Yeah, I reckon they are.”

They continue on for another hour like that, talking about anything and everything that pops into their heads. Trevor would be lying if he said that he didn’t nod off a few times before they finally made it back. He’s not sure if it was a dream he had during one of his quick dozes or if he really did it, but he blurrily remembers wrapping his arms around Alfredo once more.

He pushes that thought away for later as he dismounts Alfredo’s horse once they arrive. The relief he feels seeing his black mare standing right where he left her brings a smile to his face. She lets out a low nicker at the familiar faces and noses his hands.

“Hey girl, thought you were going to be riderless for a bit huh,” Trevor croons softly to the horse as he runs a hand down her nose. Most of his stuff is right where he left it, except for his bedroll, which he managed to kick into the bushes during his struggle with the kidnappers.

After collecting their belongings the group rides for another hour before finally stopping for the night. Or rather the early morning.

"I think we can stop here for the night," Alfredo says as he pulls his horse to a stop amongst a clump of trees. From what Trevor can see in the moonlight it looks to be a decent spot as any. He's just happy that he's finally going to be able to sleep in the next hour, the nap he took in the canyon had worn off hours ago. It's harder to see what they're doing with the light of the moon having to filter through the trees, but Trevor's grateful for the cover. If anyone comes along the main road they used they won't be able to see them or their horses without advancing through the line of trees. Tired as he may be, Trevor offers still to help with the horses.

"You don't need to do anything but eat and sleep," Alfredo declares sternly as he turns to take the saddles off of both their horses.

"Alright, alright." Trevor grabs their bedrolls from their discarded saddles and goes about setting up their beds with the little bit of light he has. The quick thought of starting a fire runs through his head, but it's quickly dashed away. He can't risk anyone seeing them from the road, so they will have to do without a fire tonight.

"I don't know if the others are gonna believe our story when we see them," Trevor says with a small smile on his face as he straightens out the corner of his bedroll. He guesses the ring around his neck and wrists will be proof enough if they don't believe his or Alfredo’s words.

"Honestly I don't even know if I believe it. I've never heard of anyone being rescued from hanging. Not successfully at least." The silence that answers him causes Trevor to look up from what he's doing. He can see in the moonlight the way Alfredo's shoulders have tensed up in that way they do when he's about to say something he would rather keep pushed down, hidden inside himself.

"Fredo? You alright?" Trevor more so hears the sigh the other outlaw releases rather than sees him release it. He takes a step towards Alfredo, but stops short when the man starts talking.

"You know, I thought I would find you dead in that town. Thought all I would be able to do is watch you swing because I was too late to get to you," Alfredo confesses, his back still facing Trevor. "I thought," Alfredo clears his throat, "I thought, when I saw that door open beneath you that I was about to lose the one person I hold closest to my heart. All because I failed to wake up while my best friend was being kidnapped." His words make Trevor's heart twist in sympathy, he can only imagine the panic the other man must have felt when he woke up in the morning to find him missing.

"Fredo," Trevor says his name just above a whisper. "If you had woken up they would've killed you." Trevor remembers vividly the way one of the men had held his pistol a few inches away from Alfredo's sleeping face. "One of those men looked right at me and said 'If you make a noise or he wakes up I'm shooting his pretty face clean off.'"

Alfredo turns around to face him with a scowl on his face.

“I couldn’t let them hurt you. Not if there’s some way I could prevent it from happening,” Trevor continues on. “You’re too important to me.”

“So what? You just let them take you, because of me? What if you had died?” Alfredo blurts out the questions with his voice rising in frustration. Trevor knows that Alfredo’s anger is only out of fear and concern, but it still turns something in his gut.

“If it meant keeping you safe, then yes I did. And hell, I’d do it again,” Trevor argues, stepping into Alfredo’s space. They are both equal in height so they’re staring eye to eye now. The stubborn expression on Trevor’s face dares Alfredo to argue with him, to try and tell him just why he shouldn’t put his life on the line for his best friend. But Alfredo doesn’t do that, instead his shoulders sag and then Trevor is being pulled into an embrace, strong arms encircling him. Without hesitation Trevor wraps his arms around the outlaw and presses his face into his shoulder.

“I just can’t stand the thought of losing you,” Alfredo admits quietly after a minute. Trevor exhales, his hot breath ghosting against Alfredo’s skin. If he doesn’t do this now he doesn’t think he ever will. Trevor had asked for one more chance and he’d be damned if he was going to let this one pass him by. He lessens his grip around Alfredo and pulls back slightly. His eyes dart across Alfredo’s face before he decides to swallow his fears and asks a question that he has been meaning to for a long time, “Can I kiss you?”

For a moment Alfredo looks at Trevor, his eyes unreadable, and then they shoot down to his lips and quickly back up to his eyes.

He nods.

That’s all the permission Trevor needs to surge forward and capture Alfredo’s lips with his own. The closing of space between their faces pushes Alfredo’s hat off and it falls to the ground with a quiet whump. Trevor’s fingers are quick to bury themselves into Alfredo’s hair, pushing through the black locks passionately. He tastes of grit and sweat and the heat of the sun, but underneath his lips are soft. Trevor lets out a gasp at the sensation of Alfredo biting his lower lip gently. The easiness of the kiss takes Trevor aback, their bodies are reacting and moving with each other like this isn't the first time they have ever locked lips.

Warm, heavy hands frame Trevor’s hips and pull him flush to Alfredo. Trevor presses harder against him and Alfredo lets out a quiet moan as they breath each other in. The opening is all Trevor needs to deepen the kiss, pushing all the years of want and need into it. Alfredo's thumbs press gently against the thin skin of Trevor's hips and a warmth erupts in him that rushes through him from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. It’s warmth like he’s come in from the harsh cold to a warm fire and good food. Like he’s finally home. And home has been standing beside him all this time.

After more kisses are shared the two break apart for air. “Now we’re really going to have some explaining to do when we make it back to the others” Trevor says softly, his grin matching the one on Alfredo’s face.

Alfredo lets out a low chuckle as he brushes his nose against Trevor’s, “Somehow, I think they’ll be just fine darlin’.” A thrill runs through Trevor hearing the term of endearment slip off his tongue. A smirk takes its place and Trevor can’t help the smile that grows ever wider on his face in response.

“They wouldn't be the Fakes, if they weren't," Trevor agrees.

The fact that Alfredo feels the same about him is enough to make him burst with happiness. He wants to yell it from the top of the tallest peak, so loud that even those bright stars that hang above can hear him.

His hands remain clasped around Alfredo’s neck and an expression of mock seriousness grows on his face as he looks into Alfredo’s eyes. “Alfredo Diaz, I am in love with you and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you for as long as I live.”

“Well, Trevor Collins, as long as I’m here in this world, I’m yours sweetheart. And I’m gonna love you with every beat of my heart.”

One of the horses behind Alfredo lets out a snort, as if reminding them they still need to be fed. The two men laugh and break apart just long enough for Alfredo to finish taking care of their horses.

After the horses are fed and situated Alfredo takes a seat beside him underneath one of the surrounding trees. "You should really get some sleep. I’ll make us something in the morning."

Even in the dark of the night he must see the quick gleam of worry in Trevor's eyes at the prospect of going to sleep. With a sigh and an expression Trevor could only describe as fond on his face Alfredo moves them around until Trevor is laying propped up against his chest, the tall oak behind them reaching towards the stars.

Trevor tilts his head back and stares at the man above him. He feels he could stare forever at the way the moonlight coming through the leaves dances across his skin, highlighting the curves and dips of his face.

He presses another kiss to the top of Trevor's head and wraps his arms snugly around him. "Go to sleep. I've got you," Alfredo assures.

With his head cushioned against Alfredo’s chest and the other man’s strong heartbeat in his ear, the events of the last 24 hours finally catches up to him and he feels his body sag under the exhaustion. With the warm reassurance that the person he loves feels the same and has his back just like he always has, he falls into the warm embrace of sleep.

[epicspheal]

Heya! I hope your doing well!

Ever since swsh gave the rivals something to do after the fact( something that I believe only happened to Blue), I can't help but think of the rivals prior who haven't. What do you think they end up doing? I know that Blue ends up becoming a gym leader, but would still be interesting what you plan for him too! :3

Hi there @ihopethisendswell! So actually, it's the norm typically for the rivals to have something to do, even if it's just continuing being a roaming trainers. Being a roaming trainer is still just as valid of a career path as other routes given the way the Pokemon world works, it's just not as solid of a career path as say gym leader or research assistant. Pokemon Sword and Shield is one of the only main games that really puts emphasis on the rivals' alternate careers paths as part of the plot outside of the gen 5 games. So like you have Blue who becomes gym leader and also helps his grandpa with his research by still be a roaming trainer (much to the frustration of anyone trying to challenge his gym). By the time of Sun and Moon/USUM he has ditched the gym to become battle facility which ultimately given his status as a former champion ends up being a much more fitting role. Granted he needed that time as a gym leader as long standing humbling exercise so it wasn't a bad call at all. Then we have Silver, who remains a roaming trainer, though he kind of mainly sticks around the Dragon's Den because he really wants to avenge that loss to Lance and show how much he has changed. Then we have Brendan/May (when not the protagonist) who end up going back to being full time assistants professor Birch. Wally on the other hand, is much like Silver in that he continue to be a roaming trainer, with him staying around the Battle Resort in ORAS with him eventually going to the Battle Tree by the time the SM/USUM events occur.

Barry also follows the roaming trainer route with him staying Stark Mountain in Diamond/Pearl and with Platinum he hangs around the Survival area.

Gen 5 is where the rival's future goals get the most attention, and was the best well done (SwSh in my opinion failed hard on the rival's goals bar Klara and Avery's). Bianca is still my favorite "how to do a future career path" ending in the entirety of series which is she really doesn't know. She ends up taking up a position as Professor's Juniper's assistant. However it's this linefrom Bianca in Pokemon Black 2/White 2 that I really enjoyed:

"Actually, I'm not sure being a professor's assistant is really what I want to do... But when I do the work, I have lots and lots of fun!" I really appreciated that they allowed Bianca to have doubts that this is her final career path. She's still a child and I can remember when I was her age (God, I sound so old) how many career paths I thought about in that time frame...and only one of those comes even remotely close to what I'm attempting to go back to school for. I liked how she's just trying to things and aiming for experiences while not trying to commit herself to one specific path. Now obviously this could theoretically be true for any number of the rivals as with the exception of Blue (and Wally although for some odd reason they didn't give him an aged up model considering he'd be just as old as Red and Blue are) we don't see them as adults and their ambitions could very well have indeed changed over the years. Then you have Cheren who after that scolding from Alder really begins to question his pursuit of strength and what he really wants to do. Cue 2 years later in BW2 where we see him as the Aspertia City gym leader as well a lecturer at the trainer's school. Fitting as it shows his desire and capabilities as a trainer but also allowing a more concrete goal than just pursuing strength but actually overseeing the future generations. And Hugh, another one of my favorite characters, concludes his story arc on forgiveness (since he had absolutely none for Team Plasma at the beginning of the story) ends up a roaming trainer but also helping the good side Team Plasma in Driftveil City reunite Pokemon that were stolen during the events of Black/White to their original trainers. So he has a goal and really touching one I might add, one of the few that doesn't revolve around battling or researching.

Then there's the XY rivals who were admittedly the most shafted. They all pretty much end up as roaming trainers except for Trevor who already had the aim of completing the Pokedex for Professor Sycamore and he continues to do so.

The no specific aim works the best, in my opinion, for Shauna as she really didn't have much of a goal to begin with outside of travelling/making memories, and much like I said with Bianca, it's okay for characters to not have a specific end game (although I personally see Bianca's route as better as although she isn't quite sure what she wants to do, she does take initiative and actively pursue a goal to gain experience and see if it's for her).

Serena/Calem (again when not the protag) having no set aim also works because they were most competitive of the group and continuing to be a trainer makes sense, but since they get hardly any development it just feels hollow and not satisfying. At least with characters like Wally, Silver and Barry who are roaming they all went through some major development. Lack of major development plus no end game just makes Serena and Calem unfortunately just not stand out.

Then Tierno...poor Tierno. He's my favorite XY character and I hate that screwed over so poorly. He actually a goal but the game doesn't allow us to see how a dance team would work. Kalos really could've benefitted from a Pokemon Contest/Musical like sidequest where Tierno shines in. So him being a roaming trainer is just...meh.

Now moving on to Gen 7 and best boy Hau (Hau's up there with Blue and Leon as one of my favorite Pokemon characters PERIOD). In both Sun and Moon and USUM he's a roaming trainer but I argue that Sun and Moon actually wrapped up his character better, despite USUM giving him much more in the way of development. By that I mean he explicitly mentions to the player that he wants become strong enough to find his father who fled Alola because the pressure of being the Kahuna's son was too much. So yeah he is still just a regular trainer, but he does have an explicit goal that goes beyond just trying to continue to measure up to the player. He also helps to train the reforming Team Skull grunts in the art of Alolan SuMo. In USUM this is erased for a more generic roaming trainer scenario unfortunately. Gladion's fate also changes depending on what version of the Gen 7 games you play. With Sun and Moon he ends up taking over as Aether's president but also still trains on the side as he is one of the challengers that can come for your title in the post game. In Ultra Sun and Moon he actually takes the "I'm going to Kanto" route instead of Lillie although he actually back and is essentially a roaming trainer since Lusamine's villainy was nerfed and therefore allowed to stay as Aether's president

Then there's Trace who ends up champion then loses it, but keeps on going in this endless circle of trying to reclaim it from the player. And then finally the Gen 8 rivals where we have Bede, Marnie, Klara and Avery all become gym leaders and Hop is a professor. Despite this cast having the most focus on their future paths since the gen 5 rivals I don't think they were done that well. Like Klara and Avery's worked, really well and they're probably the only rivals bar Trace and Blue who actually their goals (with them actually maintaining there dream status because their goal didn't involve becoming champion).

I've talked about Hop's on this post before but the lack of genuine foreshadowing just made his sudden declaration of wanting to be a Pokemon Professor just come out of nowhere. And honestly considering the fact that he had just come out of a depressive stage and still hadn't quite addressed his idolization issues I think he would've been served better with the Bianca route where yes he becomes Sonia's assistant, but it's clear that he's still trying to find his new path and that he's just open to trying out research rather than making a rather bold claim that this was his new career path. Either that or do better in the foreshadowing where he shows he has a much clearer interest in academia but feels like he needs to be a champion like his brother.

Then there's Marnie who I've also stated was kind of screwed over. Because she made it rather clear to Piers she didn't want to be gym leader (which makes sense given that she saw how that position screwed over older brother that she admires). She's pretty much doing this because she still has the motivation to save her hometown which is extremely admirable and mature. But also it's sad, like if she didn't have to do this, would she honestly still be gym leader. I think not, at least not immediately. Considering that gym challengers can still compete on the big stage with the champion's cup rematches and some even can be invited to the Galarian Stars Tournament, I think if I had of written that I would've focused on how with Leon as the head of MC he's going to actually work with Spikemuth to revitalize without shouldering the responsibility on one single person, especially a minor. And let her be a roaming trainer and live for herself and not continue to be Spikemuth's martyr.

Then there's Bede who quite vocally states when crashing the Champion's Cup that he was ready to retire. Like poor boy goes from being used as Rose's wishing star collector and fall boy to Opal's reirement plan. Like yes it's great that Opal actually remembers his name and gives him a support system and teaches him some discipline. But still it's kind of sad as he was very much okay with retiring but more or less gets goaded into staying because of the stadium audience.

So this post got way longer than I what it was going to be but hey that happens. But yeah too long don't read, all of the rivals do have a goal, even if a lot of them end up as roaming trainers. If I'm honest in most cases (bar the gen 6 rivals because they lacked developent) the roaming trainer thing works. Because they're kids and they still have their whole lives ahead of them and they don't need to have concrete job just yet. Especially because in some cases the concrete plan just doesn't always fit the character. It works best when it feels like an organic part of the story and not just trying to wrap things up for the sake of wrapping things up.

Finally, to answer your question about how I deal with Blue. Well in my Pokeverse (dubbed cactusverse in case you see me refer to my AU as this), I tend to be fairly canon compliant to the games. So after he loses his champion title to Red he becomes Viridian gym leader, slightly patches things up with grandfather by helping with the research and eventuallya head of the Battle Tree as an adult once he gains the Battle Legend Status (which is an actual legitimate title in cactusverse held currently only by him, Red and Leaf, although one of my OCs gets this designation as well). So nothing that really deviates from canon except for some offscreen events. Basically the battle legend status is bestowed if a major event happens that is taken care of by an already established powerful trainer. So there's a rather major plot thing the Kanto Trio gets involved in that once they take care of gives them their status.

Also for cactusverse there's the whole issue of the Viridian City gym. So it eventually it gets passed down to Trace as Blue has shown that he's become a bit too powerful to be a gym leader. He was honestly when he first got it probably still a bit overkill for an 8th gym leader, but he also really needed an attitude adjustment. And with Lance being a far better father figure to him than Oak could ever dream of, with the help of Agatha tried to rein in his egotistical and self important ways by giving him the position. Which worked very well. Still in cactusverse there's rules on the win percentage a gym can have and that's determined by position. Win too many for your rank and you get moved, vice versa if you lose too many, and sometimes you might even lose your position. The first and last gym leaders are always the most at risk of losing their status. This actually happens to Wallace, Iris and eventually Raihan because they just end up exceeding the strength of most challengers who try to challenge them. Hence why all three of them end up champions at some point cactusverse (Raihan does not become Galar's champion, but Johto's champion since I really like the idea of him spreading his wings beyong Galar).

Blue between the time of BW2 and SM had ended up getting to a point that no one had gotten a gym badge off of him in a couple of years which is unacceptable by league standards and he would've gotten booted out sooner had Lance not personally asked my OC Terra to come kick his butt and get a badge off of him. And cue possibly the most iconic and brutal gym battles to have ever gone down in a region of outside of Galar because two heartbroken champion tier trainers, who broke each other's heart is a recipe for a frightening battle. Lance happened to referree that match and might be a little traumatized. Terra won and he was able to give out his last badge before Red came back from his latest global trip and said let's go to Alola.

[divineruler]

DRINKIES WITH THE BROSKIS ~ Ross

[WRITTEN FOR @cooperdaysgf]

[THANK YOU @darlingkitt FOR THE WORDS OF ENCOURGMENT]

Ross gets drunk. You take care of him. Need I say more?

GENDER NEUTRAL READER

WARNINGS- light swearing, fluff, cuddling, undressing, substance use

WORDS- 2K

You stared mindlessly at your tv screen, taking out a row of zombies with a few taps of your game controller. You sigh as the round ends, taking a moment to shove your hand in the bag of Cheetos, whipping the dust on the side of your pants. You are knocked out of your video game trance as your phone rings. You slide off your headset, picking up your phone from off the end table.

Trevor

Why the hell would Trevor be calling you at 2 AM on a Friday? You sigh again, remembering that Ross said he would be going out with some friends. Might as well answer; trouble seems to follow that boy everywhere. 

"Trevor, what's happening. Why are you calling me." You ask, throwing another handful of Cheetos in your mouth. 

"Yooo! You p-picked up." Trevor answered, trying to sound as sober as possible. "T-Thatsss good news." 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You ask, getting increasingly frustrated with Trevor's ineptitude. 

"Okay, Okay, sooo," Trevor starts. "Ssome of the broskisss went for d-drinkies. It was awessome. But u-um Ross is like hella drunk and, um, ssomeone had to take h-him back to h-his, um, house thingy."

"Right, so I'm guessing I'm the one who has to take Ross back to his house thingy." You clarify, rolling your eyes. 

"Yeash, he's wassted." 

"And why can't you guys take him?" You ask, slipping your shoes on.  "How are the rest of the broskis getting home?" 

"Ohhh yeah, we are t-taking a cab. There'sss not e-e-enough room for the Rosssss Man, so we called y-you" 

"Reading your loud and clear, Trevor." You huff, "so you're just going to leave him there and expect me to clean up after you?" 

"W-What? I-I"

"I'm just being an ass. Text me the address; I'm on my way." You roll your eyes, grabbing your keys before heading out the front door. 

-

You pull up to the bar, parking your car on the curb. You look around; the lights inside are shut off, the bar clearly closed quite some time ago. The parking lot is empty, the only light coming from the flickering streetlamps lining the street. Where the hell is he? Your question is quickly answered as you hear the sound of loud snoring coming from the front steps of the bar. You follow the sound, burying your head in your hands as you find him sleeping against the side of the bar. You can't help but chuckle. Of course you would find Ross sleeping outside of a closed bar in the middle of the night. Typical Ross. 

You kneel down next to him, shaking his shoulder, trying to wake him up. 

"Ross," You whisper. "Time to get up" He just groans, shifting slightly. "Come on, get up," You say, grabbing the collar of his jacket to pull him to his feet. He fusses, still half asleep. Obviously unhappy, someone woke him up from his nap. You tilt his head up, shaking him just enough to get him to open his eyes. 

"Wwwhat?" He mumbles, trying to piece together what the hell was happening. "Mom?"

"Nope, not your mom." You chuckle as he starts to wake up a bit. "Come on, hun. We gotta get you home." You say, hooking your arm under his and supporting his weight as your stand him up. "Come on, big guy." He groans, trying to stay steady on his feet. 

"Am I in t-trouble?" He asks as you two stumble through the parking lot, heading back to your car. 

"No, you're not in trouble." You say, opening the passenger side door and helping him into the seat, pulling the seatbelt across his chest. "You just have shitty friends." You close the door, walking around to the other side of the car, and getting in the driver's seat. You start up the car and begin the drive home. 

"Woah. Pretty l-lights." Ross mumbles, absolutely entranced by the dashboard. "What does thisss do?" He asks, turning the dial for the air conditioning. Ross flinches as the AC blasts him in the face. He puts his hands up to block the stream of cold air.

"No! Don't touch that." You say, taking your eyes off the road to turn the AC off and to move his hands to his lap. "Just chill out. Please. We're almost at your apartment. 

-

You grab Ross' hand, easing him out of the passenger seat. He wobbles on his feet, and you wrap your arm back around his shoulder to keep him standing. He stumbles on his feet as you walk him up the stairs, reaching into his pant pocket to grab his key. You shove the key in the door, swinging it open. 

"There we go. Home sweet home." You lead him through the door before letting him go, ready to head back to your car and head home. You get halfway down the stairs before you hear a loud crash and Ross moaning your name. "Fuck." You mutter, making your way back to his apartment to find him on the ground along with the coat rack. You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you kneel down next to him. "I should have known better. Do you really need me to help you to bed?" He rolls over onto his back, a bruise already forming on the side of his face where he landed. 

"D-Do you think that girls would be grossed out if I s-showed them my third nipple?" 

"Okay, first off, you're never drinking again. Secondly, you don't have a third nipple, so I don't think you need to worry about it." 

"Okay, t-thank god." He slurs, trying to sit himself up. You shake your head but can't help but giggle a little. 

"Let's get you to bed." You say, pulling him up by his arms. He wobbles before falling forward into your arms. You catch him, wrapping your arms around his chest. You stagger for a moment, taking a second to bask in the feeling of his body so close to yours. 

You had always cared about Ross, and you could see yourself being invested in a relationship with him. But you were both in very different places in your life. You had your college classes, and he was trying to find a steady job and pay his rent. So you both remained friends, neither of you having the balls to admit you had feelings for each other. 

But the feeling of him so close to you was the only thing you could think about as you walked him to his bedroom. Your stomach fluttered at the smell of his deodorant and the feeling of his stubble when he stumbled into you. You were falling for him, hard. 

"Okay. Time for bed." You say as you sit him down on the side of his bed. He giggles to himself, that stupid smile of his plastered on his face. You blush, quickly kneeling down to untie his shoes and hide your bashful expression. Not that he would notice anyway. 

"Y-You know wwhat?" He starts as you pull his shoes off, taking his socks with them. "I-I think I'm falling for sssomeone." You whip your head up to look at him; his eyes are unfocused, staring at the wall. He probably didn't even know he was talking. 

"Is that so?" You asked, standing back up. "Well, we can talk about that another time. I don't think you know what you're talking about right now, Ross. Arms up." You smile as he lazily lifts his arms up. You grab his shirt by the collar, lifting it over his head. Revealing his pale chest, and luckily, no third nipple. 

"But I thinkkk sh-she's too good for me," Ross mumbles, laying down on the bed, his legs still hanging off the side. Your expression softens as you see the sadness in his eyes. 

"Don't say that. You're a great guy Ross." You blush as you begin to unbutton and unzip his jeans. There was nothing sexual about it; you just wanted him to be comfortable. But it still felt intimate. "Any girl would be happy to date you. As long as you keep the falling asleep outside the bar to a minimum." You pull his jeans down his hips, and he kicks them down his legs. Leaving him in just his boxers. His ducky boxers. "Nice choice; the ducky boxers really suit you." You laugh, pulling his legs up onto the bed so he could fully lay down. Your face was bright red at this point, but he was too busy staring at the ceiling to notice. You pulled back the covers, tucking him in before giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead. To your surprise, he closed his eyes and quietly groaned at your kiss. You stared down at him as his eyes slowly closed. He looked so peaceful. You tucked him in one more time before heading to his door and turning the light off. Just as you were about to close his door and head back home, he sat up. 

"Yes, hun?" You ask, the light from the hallway illuminating his face. 

"C-Can you sstay with me?" He asked, patting the bed next to him. You freeze for a moment. Wondering if it's just the alcohol talking. 

"You mean you want me to spend the night?" You ask, walking back into his room and closing the door behind you. He nods, looking at you with the sweetest puppy dog eyes. You take a second to grasp the situation; he was asking you to stay. To spend the night with him. You. Him. The same bed. Bodies touching. All night. A small smile creps on your face; at this point, you didn't care if it was the alcohol talking. You wanted nothing more than to get in bed with him and hold him in your arms. 

"Of course, I'll stay with you, honey." You shyly pull your shirt off, feeling comfortable staying in your baggy sweatpants. You climb into bed next to him. At first, the sheets feel cold and foreign, and you are too scared to make the first move. But soon enough, Ross turns to face you, slowly inching closer till his head is resting on your shoulder. You feel your confidence grow as you wrap your arms around him, holding him close to you. He rests his head on your chest, cuddling into you. You slowly rub soothing circles on his back and run your fingers through his hair. He hums happily as you lull him to sleep. His eyes slowly close, and his breathing levels. You look at his peaceful face and feel his chest rising and falling with each breath as you hold him close to you. You bite your lip between your teeth before shyly leaning down, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, hoping not to wake him up. Butterflies explode in your stomach as you feel your lips touch his. The kiss is lovely despite the taste of alcohol on his lips. You pull away, holding him closer. You see a smile tug at his lips, and his eyes slowly crack open. 

"H-Hey, I um, think yyou were righttt..." He whispers. "I t-think she would be happyyy to d-date me. 

[spaceasianmillennial]

Part 1: Home

Summary: Trevor making his way back to the castle after defeating Death.

This is what it was, a shockwave, and then the sun pouring from the cracking skull.

I’ve done it. And so I give the world to Alucard and Sypha. 

And he was hurling through the multicolored cavern as if worlds whirled and orbited around him. This was his ascendancy, he figured, this was the multi-windowed passage toward the end, those countless levels of Hell his aunt told him about. He’ll see them all again, his father, mother, siblings if God wasn’t fucking around. What a story he'll bring to them.

But then his jaw was slammed rudely into the dirt. He lifted his head to breathe and cough out the grass blades and pebbles. A few seconds later, he squinted. Perhaps he was hurled into a circle Hell after all, perhaps taking down the Evil wasn’t enough to God. If he had the energy, he would have chuckled at the idea that God decided not to throw him in Hell.

When the haze faded and the numbness faded, he suddenly fathomed the sound of water. 

God must have flung me into the wrong Corridor. There was a sun, one that was clearly rising. It looked too nice, too serene.

Only then when he dragged himself to the water to dunk his red-welted arm and drink like a hungry beast and splash it onto his cuts and bruises did he suppose he was brought back to Earth. The spires were nowhere to be seen. This was not familiar territory. He looked for Sypha, for Alucard, but then remembering their two small shapes, the dark of Alucard’s cloak and blue of Sypha’s robes, outrunning the collapse of the bridge.

His family trained him to heal the overexerted body after the battle. Rest was important, reusing muscles in the intervals of rest was key. He turned himself over and laid on his back and let himself watch the clouds on the oranged dawn sky. How long did he hurl through the Corridor? It felt like a second and eons. It was night when he slayed Death--slayed Death, what a story for Belmont generations, he hoped to have landed in the corridor with then.

And so he was alone again.

He drifted off and awoke to blinding sunlight. He was still there. This was not a dream. After letting a few clouds pass his eyes, there was nothing to do but lug himself up and stagger forward. He looked at the direction of the river. He did not know this river but there’ll always be towns near rivers. So he followed it upstream.

When night fell, he was sleeping under trees again to settle his bones. In the mornings, he skimmed the grounds for trail mixes and non-toxic mushrooms and bushes for edible berries, thanks to old Speaker lessons, a blending of Belmont teachings derived from their recorded conversations with Speakers (Belmonts could document, Speakers could not), and a bit of the additional knowledge Sypha gave him.

What was that village again? Alucard was with a village headwoman. Perhaps it should have helped to ask before they had to run off to deal with the matter of the madman and the Rebis.

The river trails did lead him to empty villages, with burial grounds and hollowed huts and cabins. It took some deduction and a map he salvaged along with a black cloak to shield him from the hot sun. He did not stay on the path but kept it in sight as he walked through the secluded trees. If there were highwaymen or that damn “pirate of the road,” he didn’t have the energy to really deal with them. The thrill would be nice though.

From the map, he surmised that Danesti was that nearest village to the castle. He vaguely recalled it being nearly a stop when he set off on the road with Sypha. 

--

When he made it to Danesti, there were lumps of burial grounds and a ravaged fortress. But at least there were a few souls, loading wagons, perhaps moving to leave behind the memory of carnage and some that lingered near the burial grounds on their knees, paying their respects.

Trevor found another useful thing. Or it found him. A sturdy black horse with a white diamond on the forehead that nuzzled him when he entered the scratched open gates. It had a steady saddle and pouches. 

No soul around seemed to be interested in it. The horse probably lost its owner. Better not waste a ride. He summoned his strength and threw himself on, the aches rippled through this body, from head to toe, but it was worth it to not move his achy legs even if the road bumps popped waves of back spams.

He so looked forward to a bed, that bed in Dracula’s castle that he stayed in before he went off to adventure with Sypha. He and Sypha slept in different rooms then.

Sypha. He hadn’t talked about it with her. He had seen Belmont women spout curses at their husbands before they would ask God for forgiveness. It was probably a lucky guess the moment Sypha starting screaming curses, but he also noticed she refused her monthly rags and the smell of cooking meat irritated her--“Get that fucking frying pig away from me, Trevor.” It suddenly occurred to his brain that they weren’t as careful on that Lindenfeld bed. Damn it. He always took precautions with any one-night stand he was with. He had no interested in progeny, especially not ones hidden from his knowledge, for this was not a world for new Belmonts. For him and Sypha, an extra mouth to feed was just not in the cards. 

But now, it seemed that the possibility was closer. Death was defeated. 

He had to know if they would live through it all. Sypha probably knew it already of course, before he did. She would figure that out before it did. It was best if Sypha simply confirmed with him before they could have that conversation, if they could rejoin her caravan (Speakers had childbirth knowledge and ways to expel pregnancies) or lay low at the castle (Alucard ought to have knowledge as well). 

Sypha should have been the one to tell him. But he understood if Sypha wanted to murder him for not bringing up. 

He had to know they if would finish Targoviste, although god knows fuck what happened now that they had to abandon it. Every time they moved from troubled town to troubled village to follow the next reported human sacrifice, Sypha would mutter, "We cleared out the night creatures and vampires for them, but we have to trust the people now to save themselves the best they can."

If they had time in that castle... But of course, facing the slews of night creatures and then Death, it was his last and only chance to acknowledge his suspicion to her, regretting the conversation they’ll never have. She knew how to take care of herself and other people, so he had to bring peace to her mind to let her know that he knew--suspected--of something growing and existing within her and that he had faith that it would grow into something wonderful.

Now unless God was fucking with him and threw him into limbo, he’ll ought to find her. The Castle was the natural first stop, at least to talk to Alucard. But it had been, what, a few weeks? He surmised that it was enough time that she would be venturing to her caravan.

--

“Trevor, if you die, I’ll return to my caravan where I would mourn for you, my rude idiot. And I’ll give them every story, our victories and your idiocy.”

"Haha. Also, I'm not going to die."

“If I die, join my caravan. Gain knowledge, exchange it. You don’t have to have the Speaker robes or the mantle. But you won’t be lonely and you’ll be around my family.”

That was the backup plan. She discussed this under the blanket, her cool bare skin against his torso. 

“And what if I rather be alone than with Speakers?“

Her answer surprised him. “Go home, to the Belmont Hold. And you can be lonely there then.”

“Are you forgetting who occupies the Hold?“

“Exactly. You two can be alone together.”

--

She was being generous to make a plan for him. But truth to be told, he would have been happier to wander alone again. At least that's what he told himself. He realized, if Sypha was gone, if her bare flesh wasn't against his right now, if God decided to snatch her from him, he thought about what he would do. She wasn’t wrong. He realized he would have been drawn home to curl up in that tree, and this possibility would also come with seeing Alucard again to break the news.

The spires. The castle.

He could see the spires of the castle now. Alucard that asshole better have that soft bed ready. And with luck, Sypha would be still there or he’ll have to rest to find her.

She probably left. 

As he rode closer to the castle, Trevor could hear people, wagons, horses clopping, and the sawing of wood and clinking of hammers. How long has it been again? Perhaps the refugees were still here, practicing caution in case the demons came back for their village.

Feet scurried close. He was quite ready to fall now. Quite ready to let the Earth be his mattress. The horse came to a halt. He could let the generosity of humans do the rest from here.

The aches yanked him down, two gentle hands graced his back, softening the blow. He squinted as the hood fell and the sunlight poured. He recognized the feel of those small hands as one feels when putting on old clothes.

It was just his luck. There were her big blue eyes, and he was more lost in those seas than he ever was in what his aunt called the “countless levels into Hell.”

“Hello Love.”

--

Next up: Sypha’s angst during those two weeks.

--> PART 2

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[boognish-worshipper]

Midnight City AU

this is an au where the main characters are all young adults!! (or millennials ig? they’re in their 20s basically) i gave a rundown of what’s what on a diff post,, i’m also splitting it up into diff chapters,, so this is gonna take a looooong time to finish. i’m posting this before i nitpick my writing to the max

it’s basically a lot of references to that point in time, artists, pop culture etc. all the chapters are named after songs from that era (including the name of this au bc i love midnight city and what better way to describe LS ‼️), and the lyrics r usually connected to what the chapter’s about, or about a character dynamic :D i hope this isn’t too cheesy, or sounds off ig. any typos in this were probably over looked bc i constantly reread my writing and rearrange stuff and make sure it sounds good 🥳 hope y’all enjoy !!! i’m also including a tag to find the chapters under :)

//Chapter 1: Crimewave

Trevor would never, ever admit it, but he had fallen into the category known as “post-hipster”. This was a strange era that began culminating, taking LS by storm. Whether he liked it or not, he could never avoid it. Even if he swore up and down he wasn’t like them, it was practically a paradox. Saying he wasn’t like them just made him a branched off version of the thing he denounced. Each aesthetic that was churned out as the 2010s rolled in were tied to a style, a sound, and Trevor couldn’t care less. It’s not like people liked what he liked. He didn’t belong to anything in particular, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t like them. If anything, he just became another obscure genre in the mix.

One of his favorite music groups was a Canadian duo called Crystal Castles. He enjoyed a good number of their songs, developing an interest for electropunk and pop punk. There was something unique about the sound, and it made Trevor feel special, like he discovered some sort of hidden treasure. He was into pop punk groups like Paramore too, but it was something about them that was just different. People knew Paramore. He often lingered around Sterling Lake, where other post-irony hipsters and classic hipsters resided, careful not to fully associate with them. After all, he apparently despised them, even though he participated in their strange… “culture”. If you could even call it that. From time to time he would find himself discussing his favorite artists with whatever semi-normal person was there, making a couple friends himself who weren’t the snooty kind he’d grown used to.

They all loved talking about how exceptional their taste in music was, a wide variety of people hanging around with their own cliques. Some liked Fall Out Boy, while others liked Blink-182, and then there were the weirdos who liked groups like Radiohead. Most of those guys were whiny, proclaiming how misunderstood they were. He knew maybe one Radiohead song at most (he definitely, definitely never cried to “Creep” and even if he did, so what) but never found himself willingly getting into their music. Then you had the nosedivr crowd, which consisted of mostly girls, and the occasional hipster guy that defected. Their taste was.. alright. Consisted of artists like Lana Del Ray and Marina and the Diamonds, who were their idols. He found almost everyone there besides the few friends he made kind of edgy, and not in the cool way. But he figured all hipsters and guys like them were kind of uncool. Don’t even get him started on those other indie rock types. God. He still came back as often as he could though, establishing some kind of routine. Most people there avoided him anyway, which he preferred. He had enough troubles with them in the past. There was one day he grew tired of the people gawking at him, and he launched a hipster right into the lake. So yeah, nobody within their right mind so much as looked in his direction. That was just how he rolled.

Today, he sat on a nearby bench in Sterling Lake’s park, watching some ducks float on water. His usual friends had been there too, seeing his clowncore buddy Wade with his cousin Floyd. Wade was extremely different than the pretentious fucks around them. He had a shit ton of piercings, and ICP was his favorite music group. Floyd on the other hand, fit right in. Almost too much, like it was something he was forced to do. But he did genuinely enjoy Weezer, of all things you could enjoy. Wade started waving at Trevor, while Floyd hid behind him. All he did was awkwardly wave back, turning his attention back to the lake. He liked Wade, but the clown stuff he wore sometimes spooked him. He didn’t pay much mind to his relative. Looking back across the water, he saw someone new, observing the area. Some dude a little above the average height, hands in his pockets walking around. He seemed a bit lost, and Trevor figured he should help if he was. After all, what was this guy doing here? New people didn’t show up often.

“Hey bud, you lost or something?”

“Oh uh, nah not really. I’m just looking for this girl I met a while ago, said she hangs out around here?”

“What she look like? I’m here pretty often.”

“Uhh kinda short, dark brownish hair? Wears fishnet stockings, high waisted shorts or whatever those grunge people are into.”

“Let me guess, she into the Neighborhood?”

“How’d you know?”

“Yeah, that’s Amanda, she’s a bit of a regular. Not too fond of me I must say.”

“How come?”

“She’s just petty towards me.” He said with a shrug. He didn’t feel like relaying his encounters with her if the guy was dating her or something.

“Oh… well d’ya think you could help me find her? I don’t really know anybody else here. I could actually use the help, since you know her.”

“Eh sure, why not.”

It’s not like he had anything better to do. The two began to walk around the park, gravel and dirt crunching beneath their feet.

“So.. what’s this place about?” The strange guy asked.

“Hm? Oh, it’s just one of those places the hipster folks meet up I guess. Don’t understand it much myself, nor do I really like them.”

“Then why do you come here?”

“Dunno. It’s relatively peaceful, those freaks keep to themselves.”

The man, who was only a smidge shorter than Trevor, glared up at him.

“Hey man, don’t call my girl a freak.”

“Ehh I don’t really count her in with the generic skinny jean wearing hipsters. More of a.. what is it called.. nosedivr type. Whatever that stupid website’s called. Why do you think she dresses like that?”

“Huh.. Never really thought to ask her.”

As he thought about the stuff Amanda wore, he took note of how the man next to him was dressed. He sported an olive jacket with a black turtle neck, and a plain pair of jeans. He wore beat up black converse to top it off, and a pair of Rimmers sunglasses sat upon his head. He looked simple, yet distinguished with the way he presented himself, hair neatly combed back. He figured the two would look nice standing next to one another. They would’ve made an attractive couple, if they weren’t dating already, the kind that turns heads. Trevor wasn’t like them. He wore a black beanie over his mullet, and his favorite pair of red Dix sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. The rest of his fit looked disheveled. He had thrown on a wrinkled top, solid black with little surf boards and cars along the bottom- he was a sucker for Hawaiian shirts. His pants were tan colored but had some bleach stains, with old combat boots on his feet.

“Yeah, we may not like each other but I don’t really consider her a freak like those guys.”

He jutted a thumb in the direction of a circle of guys huddled around a phone. The man holding the phone had strawberry blonde hair and a clean outfit on. An expensive looking outfit.

“Who are they?”

“The people here I absolutely cannot fucking stand. The genuine hipsters.”

“Oh.. and you’re..?”

“I’m my own kind. I’m not like these losers, all uppity and shit.”

“Right. Gotcha.”

They walked around a bit more before finding the group Amanda was with. She sat on a bench, chatting with a few girls who dressed similarly to her. All of them had black incorporated into their style. She herself had a black jumper on, tucked neatly into the front of her jean shorts. Just like the guy described, she had fishnets on under them, skater shoes to match. Loose braids fell on her shoulders, and a small black choker was wrapped around her neck.

“Oh, there he is now! Babe! Over here!”

She narrowed her eyes upon seeing Trevor standing next to him.

“Hello, Trevor.” She huffed.

“Relax, I was helping your boyfriend or whatever look for you.”

Her face softened slightly, but still kept a small glare in his direction. She pressed her lips together tight before replying.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Yup.”

The man turned to face Trevor, sticking out a hand.

“Hey, thanks for showing me around. Trevor, is it?”

“Don’t wear it out.”

He shook his hand, noticing how soft it was. It was in stark contrast to his own, which was rough and calloused.

“Name’s Michael. I’ll see you around most likely? Thanks again.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Amanda huffed again, nudging Michael’s shoulder.

“Let’s go hun, Bean Machine closes soon!”

“I’m comin’ I’m comin’!”

The two sauntered off, hand in hand. Trevor stood dumbly, watching them walk away. He was right. They did look good together. He wondered if he would actually see this Michael again, kicking a rock. He went back to the bench he originally sat at, putting his earbuds in, listening to some Crystal Castles again to pass the time. The beat thumped in his ears, and all he could think was how much better this shit was compared to that club music shit that played on every radio station in a 5 foot radius. He sat there, scrolling through his own secret nosedivr account, reblogging some photo of a lit cigarette. Right before a hand touched his shoulder causing him to jump.

“What the fuck- Oh. Ron.”

Ron was another friend of Trevor’s, a guy he had met outside one of the iFruit stores talking about how “they’re tapping the phones they sell in there!” and all that conspiracy nonsense. He was a paranoid guy, but Trevor kind of liked that about him. Those were the kind of freaks he liked. He was shorter than Trevor, sort of frail in stature. He wore a bright red windbreaker over a faded tourist tee that read “I went to Liberty City and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!”, along with khaki colored cargo shorts. It didn’t help that he wore some goofy looking bucket hat, and socks with sandals. He dressed like someone’s middle aged father.

“Trevor! Have you seen Wade around anywhere?”

“Last I checked, he was with Floyd.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Uh no, but my best bet is they went to that vinyl shop Floyd’s girlfriend works at.”

“Will ya come with me to find him?”

“Now why the fuck would I do that? What do you need him for?”

“Well I- I uh- um..”

“I uh! I uh! Spit it out Ron!”

“It’s about the Merryweather Night Club.”

Merryweather was a big organization that had a wide range of private clubs all over the country, and complimentary body guards to suit. They were all expensive as fuck, and anywhere they settled jacked up the prices of everything else. A lot of neighborhoods became gentrified as a result, and people actually considered it a good thing. What a fucking joke. Trevor of course couldn’t stand it. He hated bullies, and Merryweather was no exception. He’d been wanting to dismantle the club since they settled in LS, seeing as they only amplified the fake feel of the city. Let’s just say he’s gotten into more than a few scuffles with the club. And let’s just say it ended with someone getting stabbed as a result. The guy had it coming to him anyway. Between bouncers and the clubbers, they didn’t like Trevor or his kind loitering around the joint. It didn’t stop him from plotting some sort of revenge though. Ron per usual was on board, his reason being Merryweather’s violent history that had been swept under the rug. They were rather forceful relocating people who had lived in certain neighborhoods for years, Ron being one of their victims. Wade only decided to tag along because he wanted to be included.

“Ah fuck, what’d those bastards do now?”

“They’re throwing some big party!”

“…What fucking for?”

“All I know some guy’s coming to visit, somebody they labeled important and he’s-“

“Woah woah woah wait, Ron. Who?”

“Steve Haines.” He breathed out, careful not to be overheard.

Trevor’s eyes widened, his gaze shooting over to the posse he had poked fun of before. Steve was talking to the group, all of them doing that fake laugh they always did. God, even their humor was pretentious.

“Those fucking hipsters!” He hissed.

“I abhor them, you know that-“

“I know. I know. But, that Weston guy’s gonna be there with him-“

“Weston? Devin Weston?”

If Trevor hated hipsters, then he utterly loathed rich daddy’s money boys like Devin Weston. He had only gotten that stupid fucking night club because his father paid Don Percival enough money to let Devin do whatever he pleased with the Merryweather body guards. It was an elitist club, and they only allowed the best of the best in there.

“What the fuck’s going on there?”

“Something to do with those guys he hangs out with. I think they’re doing something major, expansion maybe-”

“And him and Devin are working together or..?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t hear much after that, that’s why I wanted to grab you and Wade and-”

“Then let’s fucking go get him, Ron!”

The two rushed out of there, heading for the vinyl store to look for Wade. Trevor knew a shit storm was coming, and he absolutely couldn’t wait.

//the next chapter’s gonna be longer i promise lolz

[unbridgeabledistances]

prompt - casual touches/pda bc we don’t see much in the show!

<3 <3 ty so much for the prompt anon! this ask was sent in before the most recent ep (where we were fed ALL of the casual intimacy!) but i wanted to write a little something to maybe hopefully comfort some lingering discontent about the whole non-monogamy thing– so here is a communicative one-shot of ian and mickey discussing their boundaries and processing s5 traumas before 11x07! (w lots of soft touches😌)

--

It was one of those casual, routine evenings at the Gallagher house when Ian brought it up again, a couple of long weeks after that first conversation on the front porch under the streetlights. They were all lounging in the living room during the slow, undefined hours after dinner, when Carl and usually Ian and Mickey would sit hunched around the TV, passively watching some movie or cartoon while they scrolled through their phones.

That night, Debbie and Sandy were having some sort of erratic spat in the kitchen, and the shrieks back and forth were making it hard to hear the crashing and blaring of the action movie that Mickey had picked out coming from the TV’s speakers— after a couple minutes of trying to make out the movie’s dialogue, Carl stood up with a huff and flicked off the TV with the remote that had been shoved between the cushions of the chair in the corner, stretching and standing up to head down to the basement.

“Night, guys.”

“Night Carl,” Ian replied, and then kept looking down at the Instagram feed he’d been circling through for a good hour while trying to tune out Debbie once again shouting at Sandy for “traumatizing” her by keeping secrets. They’d had the same fight almost every night for the past few weeks since Debbie had discovered that Sandy was living in her car, and had been married to some random guy when she was a teenager or some shit like that— Ian honestly wasn’t even going to ask, but he’d heard the conversation enough times to be uninterested enough to drown it out.

Franny was sitting with splayed knees on the living room carpet, playing some elaborate game with Liam’s truck toys and little Lego construction workers, that had been stowed in the cabinet but Franny had somehow dug out a few weeks ago, causing yet another one of Debbie’s conniptions— and finally the voices in the kitchen trailed off, like they always did once Debbie ran out of steam and got tired of victimizing herself.

“Time for bed, Fran.”

Debbie came into the room and scooped Franny up from where she was sitting, trudging up the stairs with Franny in tow and Sandy trailing close behind—

And then suddenly it was just he and Mickey in the living room, pressed thigh-to-thigh and knee-to-knee beside each other on the couch, resting in the rare but comforting weight of the silence.

Mickey was slouched back on the couch, his chin practically touching his chest, playing some game that involved him turning his phone sideways and lazily shooting pixelated zombies. Ian looked over at him for a moment, taking in Mickey’s relaxed face and the solid press of Mickey’s body against his side…

And he had to fucking do it.

It wasn’t like Ian wanted to bring up the conversation again, about monogamy and boundaries and fuck-knows-what-else; but these past few weeks had been hard, like something cavernous was cracking and splintering between them. Their banter had slowly turned less and less humorous, and more pointed and jagged, about who was the breadwinner and who was the “man”; and even though they’d patched it up and built small bridges between them, and had hung off of each other’s bodies at Lip’s apartment the night Ian had brought up the monogamy conversation for the first time, Ian couldn’t help but feel the weight of the things unsaid wriggling and rustling inside him, like a germinating seed about to bloom.

Ian totally understood why, the moment he had mentioned “fucking other people” during that conversation on the porch, he had immediately felt Mickey’s knee stiffen where his palm had been resting on it. There was so much shit they hadn’t talked about—so it made sense that Mickey had immediately bristled when Ian had brought this all up the way that he did, and had put himself on high-alert and fled the scene the moment Carl came through the gate.

It would be so easy to just… not bring it up again. But Ian knew they needed to talk it out, and needed to let out all of the questions that were hanging on the edge of his lips like a ticking time bomb. If there was one thing that Ian knew, it was that Mickey was sensitive about this shit; the last thing that Ian wanted to do was crack and fall through the thin ice he was walking on and accidentally push Mickey away if he made some comment about another guy being hot, or if he reciprocated some dude checking him out at Kev’s gym— if Mickey had gotten upset at the fact that he only had 87% of Ian’s heart, some stupid comment that came out of Ian’s mouth before his brain could really process how he knew Mickey would feel about it, then how was Ian supposed to know what was and what wasn’t okay?

The problem was, talking about all of this shit so explicitly with Mickey felt like trying to walk upstream; things with he and Mickey had always just kind of… flowed, and had never been spelled out or agreed upon or set in stone, at least until he was leaving Mickey in prison and they kind of had to strongarm themselves into talking about what they wanted to future to hold. Even with the proposal and the marriage shit, they had just sort of stumbled their way into it, without explicitly needing to sit down and spell it all out. If he was being honest, Ian fucking loved that; he loved that he and Mickey’s relationship was a roller coaster, a high-speed train ride that they didn’t know the stops of. Things with Mickey just happened the way they were supposed to, in a way they never had with anyone else that Ian had ever been with. He remembered Trevor’s goading about boundaries and sex positivity and communication, and how at first it felt like Ian had marbles rolling around in his mouth as he tried to stumble over words like “ethical non-monogamy” and “compersion” and “polyamory”; it felt like he was speaking a foreign fucking language, like he was talking about things he couldn’t quite grasp— and he didn’t want to push Mickey into feeling that way. But as much as he hated it, he knew they had to at least talk about it; there were too many things left unsaid, too many holes they needed to patch up before slipping through one them.

So that’s why, with a gentle creeping of his fingertips from his own lap to rest on Mickey’s upper thigh, Ian said the words into the soft silence of the living room:

“Mick, we’ve gotta talk about the whole monogamy thing again.”

Instantly, in a sensation that was fully reminiscent of that night a few weeks ago, Ian felt Mickey’s torso stiffen beneath him.

Mickey sniffed, then hesitantly pressed his thumb up to his phone screen to pause the game he was playing mid-level. Mickey’s body was still slumped and leaning on the couch, but now there was a new rigidity to the way he was sitting, like he was bracing himself for something. He clicked off his phone and shoved it into his pocket, then looked down at his hands.

“Don’t know why you think we gotta talk about all this shit, man. We already did your thing with the paper and you said you didn’t wanna fuck other people.”

Ian let out a breath, then snaked an arm across the back of the couch so it was just barely touching where Mickey’s shoulders were leaning, just to where he could feel the heat radiating up from Mickey’s body. If he was going to fucking do this, he needed Mickey to be close to him—he needed their bodies to be pressed together a little more than they already were.

“Yeah, but I guess… I never really got a chance to hear how you feel.”

Mickey’s body tensed up again; Ian could feel his shoulders clenching beneath his where his arm was limply strewn across the back of the couch.

“I don’t know, man.”

Ian swallowed down the sudden wave of resentment he started to feel that Mickey wouldn’t just say what he was feeling, and took a deep breath. Sometimes Mickey just didn’t know how, and he needed to sit there and acclimate to the airwaves that were bouncing between them before Ian could pull something out of him, or before Mickey could pull something out of himself. Ian let them just sit there, and let himself fixate his eyes on the rise and fall of Mickey’s chest under his tattered t-shirt; and after a moment, he decided to give a gentle nudge, to at least get the ball rolling towards the depths of wherever Mickey’s head was at.

“So do you… wanna fuck other people?”

Mickey made an airy popping sound by smacking his lips together— like he was trying to do anything with his mouth except let words rest inside it, like he was trying to puncture the blanket of silence with a sharp sound. Ian waited.

“Or is it— that you think I want to fuck other people?” He could hear how cautious his own voice sounded, like he was tiptoeing onto uncertain territory, gently coursing into rough and uncharted waters.

Ian felt an almost imperceptible slump work its way back into Mickey’s rigid shoulders. Oh.

He leaned himself closer towards Mickey’s warm body, wrapping his arm down off the back of the couch and directly onto Mickey’s shoulders, feeling the soft bristles of Mickey’s hair pressing up against the crook of his elbow.

“Hey.” Ian tried to keep his voice soft, soft. “I know it fucking sucks, but we’ve gotta talk about this. I don’t ever wanna do shit you aren't okay with.”

Mickey raised his chin, leaning back onto Ian’s arm, and flickered his eyes to meet his gaze.

“You really don’t wanna fuck other people?”

It was the same question Mickey had asked the other night on the porch, the first time they'd had this conversation— but this time there was no bravado to it, no directness or volume like the way Mickey had asked that night with his eyebrows raised. This time he asked in a low voice, a voice that was husky and soft around the edges. Ian squeezed Mickey’s shoulder.

“Mickey, I got married to you. I don’t really know what you thought that meant— but for me, it pretty much means fucking you til the day I die.”

Mickey hesitantly rolled his eyes, blowing a puff of air out of his mouth. “But, like— fucking only me?”

Ian took a deep breath and steeled himself for the messier part of conversations like this, the part where he tried to get Mickey to split himself open. “You’ve gotta give me more than that, Mick. What’re you asking?”

Mickey looked down at his hands again, running his fingertips over a loose thread at the bottom of his shirt. “I don’t know, man. Guys are always droolin’ over you. Just don’t want to hold you back.” Ian felt the rise of Mickey’s shoulders, the breath of air being let into his lungs. “I just don’t wanna not be enough for you, or whatever. Don’t want you to regret shit a couple of years down the line.”

Not be enough for me? If this didn’t feel like a serious and slightly terrifying, fragile conversation to have, Ian could have laughed in Mickey’s face— how could Mickey think that he wasn’t enough for him, when he was the fucking focal point, at the center of everything? Ian didn’t know what words could radiate that out of him, could make Mickey get it— he opted for another squeeze of Mickey’s shoulders, and then migrated his hand under Mickey’s chin and forced their eyes to meet.

“Mick.” He tried to ooze every ounce of certainty, every ounce of resolve that he was feeling, into his voice. “You’re more than enough for me, are you fucking kidding? You’re all I ever think about— if you weren’t enough for me, I wouldn’t have married you. I know what that means, I always have.”

Even saying the words aloud, Ian quickly flashed back to it’s just a piece of paper, to back when Mickey smelled of cheap cologne and bitter smoke in an oversized tux— even then, Ian knew what marriage meant, knew the weight of it, and that’s why Mickey getting married that day tore him apart. Ian wouldn’t have done this, wouldn’t have said “I do” if he wasn’t ready for all of that— so why did Mickey think that he wasn’t?

The tension was creeping back in between Mickey’s shoulder blades. “Took you a while to decide to do that, though.”

Ian paused. They’d rehashed this shit enough times, but it still always stung to think back to when he was too wrapped up in his own shit to think outside of his own spirals of self-doubt, and left Mickey bleeding at the altar in the process. He didn’t know how to put it into words; Mickey had just always been everything, had always been a solid presence inside him, tugging at his heartstrings so tangibly that it made him ache; Ian had a bullshit complex about marriage, but not one about his iron-heavy commitment. Mickey had to understand that by now— but it seemed like there were scars there that still hadn’t been healed.

Which made Ian wonder— where else was this coming from?

Ian cupped his hand below Mickey’s chin again, raising his other hand from his lap and reaching up to push Mickey’s hair out of his face—a gentle touch, a touch to root him and give him something to hold on to more than anything else.

“Hey. Look at me.” Mickey’s eyes met his. “S’there anything else you’ve been holding in about this monogamy stuff?”

Mickey’s eyes flickered downward— and there it was, Mickey’s defenses were being raised, just like they always were at first. But Ian knew how to breach them, knew how to wait it out. He reached his hand downward, intertwining it with Mickey’s limp fingers and giving his hand a squeeze. Mickey dryly cleared his throat.

“You remember that night, before you, uh. You left with Yev or whatever. And you did the porno with that guy.”

Ian felt an ache of awareness rip through his solar plexus, as the words continued to tumble out of Mickey’s mouth.

“It fucking gutted me, man. That and… all the shit with you running off. Not coming to visit me in prison. And I know we’ve talked about it, and I know we’re over it, and I know wasn’t your fault; but I can’t stop feeling like this”—he paused, eyes flickering down at their clasped hands, their pair of silver rings— “that this might be too good to be true.”

Ian felt something hollow ache in his chest. He couldn’t believe they’d never really talked about all of this, never dug this deep, even in the endless blank calendar squares of their days and months in prison together— sure, Mickey had called out Ian’s shit about leaving him over and over again, but he’d never really said the words out loud, never pinpricked Ian’s actions so specifically.

He’d left Mickey, hadn’t he? Even when he didn't mean to, even when it wasn't his fault— that wasn't just going to go away.

A nauseating awareness started to drip through Ian’s veins. He sat frozen on the couch, planted there— not really sure what to say, not sure what words could patch the holes in something solid that he didn’t even realize were there all these years later. While his mind was whirring, Mickey spoke again— he met Ian’s eyes, and this time the iron shutters in his eyes betrayed a trace of pain, just sharp enough for Ian to barely see it.

“Can we go to bed? And talk about all this shit in the morning?”

Ian felt an indecipherable lump in his throat— and he nodded.

**

Mickey had climbed the stairs slowly, and Ian had trailed behind— and now Ian was laying flat in the bed, all changed into a worn tank top and boxers while Mickey brushed his teeth down the hall. Ian propped his upper back on a pillow he had shoved next to the wall, trying to sift through all the emotions that were swirling and buzzing in his head, threatening to pull him under. How was he supposed to fix this?

Mickey turned the corner into the room, lingered in the doorway. He looked deflated, and tired— and instantly, Ian needed to bridge the gap between them, need to feel Mickey warming the empty sheets beside him.

“C’mere.”

Mickey almost comically collapsed onto the bed like a ragdoll— between the conversation downstairs and the few moments they took apart in separate spaces, something small had dissipated, something had turned less brittle and was starting to bend. Ian instantly shifted to his side and wrapped his arms around Mickey, locking his fingers behind Mickey’s head, overtaking his sight line and holding him close in the bed. Mickey gave a half smile— an acknowledgement.

“Hey.” He heard the note of thickness in his own voice. “I’m so fucking sorry. For… everything. Fuck.”

Mickey coiled an arm around Ian’s waist, laying a palm on the small of his back, soaking him in.

“I know. Just gotta give me some time. And we've got all the time in the world, Gallagher.”

Ian breathed out. “Fuck. Yeah.”

He pulled Mickey closer, until Mickey was almost on top of his chest, his face pressed into the crook of Ian’s neck. He listened to Mickey’s steady breath, feeling the curls of it tickle his chin. Ian reached over to switch off the lamp on the bedside table, then pulled Mickey in closer, slotting a leg between his.

After a moment, he broke the silence.

“So. Monogamy?”

He felt Mickey’s chest vibrate with a breathy laugh. “I don’t know, man. What do you think?”

Ian grinned, feeling something fizzle out of him. He prodded Mickey in the side. “Come on, Mick. What do you want? Actually?”                                                     

Ian felt Mickey’s ribcage expand and retract from where he was pressed against him. “I don’t wanna fuck anyone else, man.” Ian breathed out; and he was about to let out a gust of see, that wasn’t that hard, was it— when Mickey spoke up again.

“But I guess… we could talk about doing stuff. Together?”

Holy shit.

Mickey’s words kept flowing, his breath running hot against Ian’s neck as his words floated through the dark room. “I don’t wanna be with any guy that isn’t you. But it might be kinda fun to like— I don’t know, try that shit some day? Like those hot fuckin’ pornos or whatever.” He breathed out a laugh. “Never thought I’d get to try that shit, and probably never will— but it’d be fun... to try? If you ever wanna.” Mickey paused. “But that’s where I draw the fucking line, man.”

Ian barked out a laugh—and instantly felt a weird, warm sense of pride welling up in his chest. This was Mickey asking for what he wanted—this was Mickey letting Ian in, letting him have all of it, and showing that he trusted him despite all the high and lows they’d both muddled through. This was miles beyond what he would have guessed Mickey would’ve been comfortable with, with all of his Terry-inflicted internalized homophobia still thawing somewhere deep inside him— but he was in. It honestly sounded... fucking hot, all the more because Mickey was so into the idea. 

Ian was so fucking glad that they were talking about this— if this was what Mickey wanted, at some point down the line, he would give it to him. He would give him everything.

Ian pressed a kiss to the curve of Mickey’s jaw, just below his earlobe. “God, Mick.”

Mickey just wriggled closer to Ian, almost like he was nervous. “Yeah?”

“If it makes you excited to do shit with other guys together—only together—than we can totally fucking do that. But only if you want to. I don’t need anything else, Mick— you’re all I need. You’ve gotta know that.”

For the first time in what felt like hours, the ice had thawed from behind Mickey’s eyes when he pulled back to meet Ian’s gaze— Ian could make out the glint of light in the darkness. “I know.”

And as he pulled Mickey’s close and pressed the pulse of their lips together, he was sure of one thing: that Mickey belonged to him, and he belonged to Mickey.

Whatever they tried (or didn’t try)—they would do it together.