it's all wrong (it's alright) (3471 words) by nate_is_tiredd
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Men's Hockey RPF
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Mavrik Bourque/Justin Hryckowian
Characters: Mavrik Bourque, Justin Hryckowian
Additional Tags: there is. blood., Please be warned, blood witch ritzy, weird and codependent mavrik, they're horny about it but not explicitly, Self-Harm, tagged for caution, the intent isn't harm, but like. there is knife
Summary:
Justin's ecstatic to be up in Dallas- and he's struggling. He takes what he shouldn't, and gives more than he should.
---------
Blood witch Ritzy, and poor codependent Mav
(Please heed the tags)
“i can’t think of a life that doesn’t have you in it.” + “darling, your heart is too pure for me.” for kieran x m!mc ❤️
Pairing: Kieran x M!MC (Suggestive)
Prompt: “I can’t think of a life that doesn’t have you in it.” + “Darling, your heart is too pure for me.”
Word Count: 2500+
Summary: Luke takes it upon himself to share a handful of silly human traditions that he thinks would be fun for the pair to do together. Kieran, however, struggles to find the amusement in them.
A/N: Requests are open, find the rules and prompts here! This request is suggestive, alludes to Luke and Kieran doing the deed in the garden.
Fingers lace together as the sun shines upon them, lighting their way down the path and letting everyone who happens upon them know they are together by the simplest acts of love. Jet black wavy hair cascades down the older one’s shoulders, framing his face handsomely in the glow of the warming sun. Despite his moon attunement, he still found comfort in the warmth of the sun, reminding him of the man he loves and the warmth he feels in his chest just upon seeing his stunning features. He draws his lover to a stop, turning to look him in the eyes. Ravens caw happily to one another above them, circling them with interest watching their every movement and the ways in which they react to one another.
Today would mark the sixth month since Luke cursed his lover and lifted the curse all in the same day, finding both men in a celebratory mood. His eyes glance upwards at the piercing gaze from the fairy holding him at arms length now, his fingers tight against Luke’s skin - comforting despite the firmness of his grasp. Though his eyes are piercing, his smile contrasts it with warmth, a nearly inviting energy - a look solely saved for Luke.
Kieran couldn’t stop his feelings, the way he loved Luke was pure and real. He loved his voice, the curves of his body, his perky bottom, his laugh, the way he tells the worse jokes the moon fairy has ever heard, quite frankly he could go on for hours alone about his admiration for Luke’s kind eyes that shined brightly just for him and him alone. He wanted to spend the rest of eternity with Luke in his arms and by his side, loving him from the moment the moon sets to the warmth of the midday sun.
“I’ve been thinking,” Kieran hums, “I just find myself grateful for you.”
Luke bats his eyelashes sweetly, a blush spreading over his cheeks. “And I for you, Kieran. You’ve shown me a world I never would’ve been apart of had it not been for you.”
Luke pulls on Kieran’s arms towards the water fountain in the garden, it glistens with perfect crystal clear water. The sun reflects from the fountain, nearly blinding, lighting up the gold and marble material of the fountain’s foundations. Luke sits down on the edge, beckoning Kieran to join him with a sweet smile. His fingers dragging over the smooth marble with wonderment listening to the water trickling down from the faucet with a soft pitter patter of relaxation.
Kieran takes the seat beside him rather swiftly, his fingertips instantly dipping into the water swishing the cold liquid around with content. They sit in silence enjoying one another’s company, lulled into the comfort from the sound of running water and the occasional squawk from one of the crows that watch the pair with keen interest all this time later. Luke’s fingers brush Kieran’s in the water, the pair meeting eyes comfortably.
The cold water is comforting against his cool skin, his former nightself would often find himself dipping into the fountain to sip down some water when he found himself exhausted from flying. It nearly brought him to his old self from the beast he was. But truthfully only one thing ever has and ever will be capable of breaking his curse, his darling.
His eyes turn to his darling who fishes around his pocket looking for something, his head tilting to the side to consider what Luke could possibly need at a time like this. Not a second later, Luke pulls a coin from his pocket, the gold nugget heavy in his palm as he reaches for Kieran’s free hand, dropping the gold in his lover’s palm. Kieran gives him a quizzical look, his interest piqued.
“And whatever should I do with this?” Kieran inquires.
Luke grins, “It’s used to make a wish.”
“A wish? Is this a human tradition I’m not too familiar with?”
“Essentially,” Luke smiles. “You make a wish and toss it into the fountain and it’s said that your dreams will come true. So indulge me and make a wish, please? For me?”
Luke’s pouty eyes struck a chord within Kieran’s heart, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile. He can’t deny how much he adores when Luke pouts or begs him to do something, it sends a blaze through his chest and makes him think of long nights they’ve spent together in person or in the dream world when both of them were away from one another unable to be together. He flicks the coin around in his hand, he knew it would matter to Luke if he didn’t partake in this human tradition and frankly he found it less brash than other activities the human tried to convince him to partake in.
Kieran nods in agreement, his eyes looking up to the sky with interest. He wonders what more he could wish for when what he wanted most in the world is sitting beside him at the fountain. When his eyes meet Luke’s, they’re adoring, shining with what could only be described as love, he knows what he must wish for. He wishes to spend the rest of their days loving one another, together alone in the house or with company as long as they could sneak off together and be alone. He would love to spend every afternoon staring in wonderment at the fountain with Luke’s hands in his, knees brushing against one another, delighting in the warmth of Luke’s skin against his cold hands.
He flicks the coin up into the air, the pair watching as the coin sails high into the sky before falling back down with a plop into the water letting a few droplets of water splash against the men sitting there. He considers the way the coin slowly sinks to the bottom, surely he knew there would be no instant gratification but it puzzled him slightly what enjoyment anyone could get out of a silly little wish.
“What did you wish for, my love?” Luke whispers.
“I thought human superstition said wishes could not come true if spoken aloud?” Kieran hums.
Luke pushes his arm gently, “But you’re not human. Maybe it’s different.”
“I highly doubt it to be.” Kieran challenges.
Luke rolls his eyes, despite the gesture he’s smiling still. He lingers in Kieran’s touch a few moments before pushing himself up from the fountain, letting his eyes wander to a bush blooming with flowers. He walks over to the bushes nearby plucking a flower from one of them that glistens in the warmth of the sun, examining the violet hues with keen interest. He returns to his lover sitting beside him so their thighs touch once more. He nuzzles his head against Kieran’s showing off the flower to him wondering if the fae played silly games like this as a kid with their crushes. Mayhaps they were more formal, their traditions vast and hearty its quite possible they had more elaborate ways to partake in he loves me, he loves me.
“Would you like to partake in another human custom?”
“I would,” Kieran purrs, only because it’s you however, he thinks to himself but doesn’t speak the words out loud.
“Perfect.”
He brings the violet bluebell to Kieran’s face, letting the petals brush softly against his nose before turning the flower away from his lover. His fingers dance around the petals, they’re soft against his fingertips, they both could smell the sweet aroma dancing off the freshly plucked flower. This in turn made them relax further into one another’s hold, Kieran sighing with content at the solidness of Luke’s body against his own. Kieran nuzzles Luke’s neck, nipping and placing sweet kisses against his sensitive skin already placated with the whims of his love. A smile pulling at the corner of his lips as Luke giggles under his touch, squirming around in his loving embrace.
His fingers snatch one of the petals off the flower in his hand turning to the water watching as it drifts down to the water’s surface, Kieran’s face tucked into the warmth of Luke’s neck watching as the petal floats with the soft breeze.
“He loves me,” Luke smiles.
“Me?” Kieran brows furrowed in puzzlement.
“Mmhmm,” Luke nods, “He loves me not.”
Another flower petal floats down to the water fountain.
“I so do love you, my darling. How could you even question such a thing?!” He growls, reaching to snatch the flower away from Luke’s hands, who quickly maneuvers it above his head, holding it outside of Kieran’s reach. He raises an eyebrow at Kieran as their faces are mere centimeters apart. “This tradition is silly, a waste of time.”
“It’s just for fun,” Luke breathes against his lips. “If we are truly meant to be, the flower will have enough petals to end with he loves me.”
Kieran huffs, “Prosterious. How can a simple little flower predict all of that?”
“He loves me,” Luke replies purposely ignoring his questions, dropping another petal into the fountain, his pink lips ghosting Kieran’s pulling him deeper into him. He lets out an annoyed breath, his teeth flaring with annoyance at the game they’re playing. “He loves me.”
The petal floats down to the water.
“He loves me not.”
“I love you.” Kieran purrs against Luke, letting his lips briefly find Luke’s. He sucks with urgency, claiming Luke’s lips as his own, his teeth find purchase on his lower lip drawing a moan and a gasp from the human. Luke pulls away flushed, he looks away with embarrassment.
“Look at me when I talk to you.”
Luke reluctantly returns his gaze, plucking another petal off the flower. “He loves me.”
“Must we keep playing?”
“It’s just a fun little game.”
“I don’t like it, he loves you so why bother with this.”
Despite Kieran’s protests, Luke pushes his luck, plucking another petal off the flower. It lands gracefully in the water, the sun illuminating the flow of water with hues of violet that look breathtaking to Luke. Luke draws a single finger down Kieran’s chest watching his angry gaze glaze over into surprise before Luke surprises him by plucking another petal watching as it falls between them into the water. He plucks another petal. And another. Until it’s the final one.
“He loves me.”
“He does.” Kieran’s eyes blaze with admiration. “He loves you so much.”
“He’d better.” Luke grins. “I can’t think of a life that doesn’t have you in it.”
“Your heart is too pure for me.” Kieran whispers, “I still can’t fathom you falling for me and continuing to feel that way even with my heart no longer inside you.”
“To me,” Luke begins, “Your heart piece will always be inside me. You are the moon in the sky that guides me home, our love burns brighter than even the sun when Radiance turned the world into an eternal day. You are my forever and always, my love.”
Though he’d never admit, he swoons at the way Luke speaks of him so lovingly. Pink lips meet his own drawing him into a soft sweetness he’s come to adore. Before he could never find himself enjoying the gentleness of being loved by a man like Luke, now he can’t picture his own life without Luke. Their sentiments mirror each other, another indication that Luke would be his soulmate until their dying breath. He wouldn’t dare live another moment more without Luke by his side. His love is more powerful than anyone he’s ever loved before.
“You are quite poetic when you try, my darling,” Kieran jeers sweetly. “I would pluck the moon from the sky if you asked me to, Luke. I hope you know that. You are the warmth to my chill of the night. You make me a better man. And lover.”
Kieran watches with interest as Luke boldly closes more of the space between them, his hand moving to touch Kieran’s thigh with interest and he can smell the mint on Kieran’s lips. He exhales shakily letting his eyes fall open to meet Kieran’s gaze. Kieran’s hand moves to Luke’s encasing it with his own, letting his fingertips brush back and forth against his skin. He moves his head in to lead the kiss, their lips meeting in a heated frenzy.
Neither can pull away as Kieran pulls Luke into his lap, his hand sliding into his hair to find purchase holding him against him. Luke whines under Kieran’s mercy, his body reacting and his lungs losing air. He moans loudly as teeth connect with his lip, biting down hard enough to draw blood, watching helplessly as Kieran soothes the wound with his tongue watching it heal under his touch as he enjoys the taste of Luke’s metallic blood.
He pulls away resting his forehead against Luke’s, both breathing heavily against one another. Luke’s hands connect with Kieran’s chest, using him to keep himself up as he continues to pant against his mouth.
“Sorry, I got carried away.” Kieran grins deviously.
“Oh, is that so?” Luke laughs, “oops.”
With one swift motion a wave of water comes crashing over Kieran, Luke’s hand lost in the sea of the fountain. Kieran sits stunned momentarily as petals and water cover him before a sly smile begins to cross his features.
“Luke.”
Before he can say anything further Luke dashes out of Kieran’s lap laughing loudly as he runs around the fountain. Kieran now dips his hand into the water sending out a wave back at his lover, it splashes over him with effort.
“Cold ...cold..cold..” Luke cries, his body shivering under the cold temperature of the fountain. “Truce! Truce! I surrender Prince Kieran!”
“Absolutely not,” Kieran loudly contests, before splashing another wave in Luke’s direction who nearly avoids most of the splash zone. “Come back here!”
“NO!”
Luke reaches into the fountain letting the water splash over Kieran again who gasps at the freezing water against his cool skin. The pair chase each other around the fountain as birds squawk above them keen on watching the match unfold before them. Kieran comes out victorious pinning Luke in his arms as they both drip with water grinning at one another.
“I love you Prince Kieran.”
“And I love you Luke.”
“Now how about I get you out of these wet clothes and dry you off myself, hm?” Luke offers with a mischievous grin, his eyes burning with lust meeting Kieran’s gaze who’s hands clasp Luke’s body against his own. “Here, I’ll start now.”
He grins as his hands move against the buttons of Kieran’s shirt, Kieran watching in amazement at the boldness, he almost considers pinning Luke against the fountain and having his way with him in that instant. The way his hands are nimble and warm against his bare skin letting him remove his shirt, shooting warmth through his body which only his darling can elicit from him. He groans as fingertips massage into cold wet skin before Luke leans in close, kissing him on the collarbone. His tongue drags against the bone lapping up the droplets of water that remain on his skin.
Kieran’s hands are heavy in Luke’s hair, letting his head fall back in pleasure as his darling continues to lick up water droplets off his skin. His tongue roaming every inch of his chest and abs, a satisfied smirk spreading against Kieran’s lips. He leads Luke’s head lower and lower until the pair find themselves submerged in each other’s bodies. Not a single hesitation from either of them to be in the garden where any wandering eyes could catch them in their acts. Kieran lays Luke against the grassy ground flowers gleaming around him nearly as picturesque as Luke is, both men lost in love, lust, and admiration for one another.
I've always had Big Thoughts about Smith and how being/presenting male was a huge detriment to the whole "picking up vulnerable people and drowning them" thing. People are gonna be suspicious of a 6 foot guy trying to get you in his car.
So here are some of my headcanons that answer this issue
a kelpie's true form is a horse adjacent creature. you know, the creepy waterlogged #fae horses.
young kelpies first learn glamours for the anatomically similar horse, but the ability to shape reality in relation to themselves is powerful, as it is in most water fae. Theyll soon be able to shift their entire physical form, not just the perception of it. Of course, the next most natural form is a horse. And to interact with humans beyond hunting, well, you gotta look like a human.
Any glamour or form a kelpie takes is basically a costume, the individual is *choosing* how to look
SHAPESHIFTERS ARE ALWAYS NONBINARY
(personal aside, I've been off T for a while and god I feel like a completely different PERSON so) different bodies literally affect Smith's personality, to an extent.
femme!Alex loves the mind games. She prefers to toy with people, both for her own amusement, and if they're prey, well, their emotional high of fear is one more tasty thing she gets to munch on when she finally drowns them. Her favorite food is emotional energy.
femme!Alex pros: seeks out people already leading chaotic lives, and her clean drownings mean she can usually make a pretty penny selling a body nobody will even be looking for for a few days.
Trott is convinced since shes always feeding off all that riled up emotional energy, shes more riled up and emotional. He swears shes more impulsive, more sexual.
masc!Smith lives for the pleasures of the flesh. food and fucking, and for him, they're one and the same. he wouldnt be able to tell you which he liked more, feeding on the sexual energy before the drowning, or the flesh and blood he ate afterwards
masc!Smith pros: usually content with smashing stuff/someone up, no patience or interest in making up and playing out drawn out political games for fun. Intimidating presence. More in tune with the water (the local water fae hate when they're Alex, she always says she'll visit but she NEVER does >:c
Trott doesnt like how Smith always runs hot, temper or sex drive or energy.
History:
True name: Alsmiffy. Got to the city in early 1900s, before cars are common. They had to get a job to pay for a place to live, and only men could do that, so human male form it was. Kelpies dont really have a concept of gender, so Alsmiffy doesnt mind their pronouns matching their current form. In the evenings it was still easy to hunt down by the river as a horse.
By the 40s horses had nearly disappeared from the city, and no one was approaching wild ones anymore. Smith started working as a taxi chauffeur, driving people about, drowning a few every so often.
In the 60s they started moving towards the hunting style of present day, using the lure of sex to draw in prey. This is when they started presenting as female more regularly.
Of course, Trott gets fed up with all the shit Alsmiffy pulls. But always wrongly blames it on their form. If Alex is impulsive and sexual, and Smith is hot headed and hot blooded, maybe the issue isnt the body, it's the person, lmao.
As Alsmiffy becomes more comfortable male and female presenting, they spend longer amounts of time in one body or the other. Trott finds some reason or other to ask them to change ("hey can you seduce ___?" or "hey can you be extra muscle at ___?") and they're usually too indifferent to shift back.
As this goes on, Alsmiffy is cultivating two different social circles worth of court favor, but only one at a time, and usually only one for weeks at a time. The sharper and more well connected people put together that the siblings manage some other affairs out of the city, and whatever it is cant be left alone for very long, because one or the other is always out there. Rumors fly wildly about what it may be.
The Troffy Feels
In present day, Alsmiffy has started to realize Trott resents both of their regular human bodies. Instead of addressing the issue of Alsmiffy leaving chaos behind them, Trott postpones the issue again and again by derailing Alsmiffy's focus whenever their collateral damage gets too much. Trott's resentment only grows because the issue keeps coming up, and Alsmiffy just gets increasingly aggressive requests to "go get your 'brother/sister'"
Of course, because its Alsmiffy, this is the gravest of insults and must be responded to as a challenge. (You dont like me now? Oh you'll see how bad I can be.) As time wears on, they start to take it more and more personally, and it becomes the spectre hanging over their relationship.
Ross, who joined them in 60s-80s (not sure exactly when yet) never saw their relationship any other way, and has no other reference for relationships, tries his best to talk them down individually. It doesnt always work, and he usually clears out when they're all together, to give them some time and space to talk things out. (Trott and Alsmiffy both resent the other for always escalating arguments to the point where Ross wont even be in the same room as them)
Despite it all, Trott and Alex have never touched each others' keys/skin. All three of them tell themselves that means they're okay, they wouldnt cross that line so they still respect each other, still love each other. On the worst days that feels like the only assurance they have.
All these headcanons are being refined thanks to my ongoing Urban Shadows game, a ttrpg made by Magpie Games, run on Powered by the Apocalypse.
It is such a great game, even if you're not adapting it to run umy, lmao. The team is working on 2nd edition out later this year, but a quick start version is out now and I'm p sure it's free on drivethruRPG
It’s ya boi!!! Finally back from a writing drought after getting a prompt, so thanks to @daring-elm for giving me the prompts that sparked this, which were ‘stargazing at 3am when virgil can’t sleep’, the word alien, and the sentence ‘i’d go to the end of the world for you’!
Summary: Virgil’s had a rough night, but luckily he has a boyfriend who’s willing to help him through it.
Pairing(s): Romantic Analogical, mentions of brotherly Prinxiety
Trigger Warnings: Hurt/comfort a bit, losing a job, character with vitiligo experiencing discrimination for it, panic attacks, other than that it’s some gay shit
Word Count: 980
~~~
It was late, Virgil knew that, as he shivered in the cold night air. He had crashed at Logan’s house after a not too pleasant fight with his older brother about his job. Ugh, even the thought of the argument was giving Virgil a pounding headache. He had been fired, after not putting up with a rude customer and snapping, and now he had to find a new job to help pay the rent, it had all happened so fast and now Virgil was here, sitting on the patio of his boyfriend’s house, next to a few potted plants after having a panic-induced nightmare about what would happen to him if he couldn’t get another job.
Virgil pressed the heels of his palms against his closed eyes, trying to clear his mind and prevent another spiral. It had been bad enough when he had turned up at Logan’s, hyperventilating with tears threatening to stream down his face, and Logan had to run him through a breathing exercise before he could even explain why he was there. God, he was a mess. With a sigh, Virgil turned his attention to the sky.
It was a clear night, allowing the stars to be visible even to Virgil’s bleary eyes. He had left his glasses back at home, which hadn’t helped the panic while he struggled to push through the late afternoon crowds to get here. But he was safe now, he was sat next to a plant covered in bright purple flowers and trying to find constellations in the white spots littering the inky black of the sky that was slowly turning more purple.
The sound of the glass door behind him sliding open caused Virgil to pull his attention away from the sky and onto Logan, who had obviously just gotten home from a shorter night shift at the hospital he worked at. Logan seemed extremely tired, but also had a small smile on his face as he saw Virgil.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Logan asked, as he came and sat down next to Virgil. Virgil sighed, shifting slightly to give Logan more room.
“Yeah, something like that…” There was a rustling of movement, before Logan held his hand out, showing that he was holding Virgil’s glasses.
“Here, I stopped by your place on the way back, I thought you might want to be able to see properly again.”
“Oh, thanks…” Virgil took his glasses and quickly cleaned the lenses before putting them on, glad that he could see clearly once again. “Is Roman still mad at me?”
“He didn’t seem angry at all. He was glad to know you’re alright, and he told me to tell you that he's sorry for shouting at you.” Virgil sighed, hunching his shoulders slightly. Of course, Roman would do that, act in the wrong when it hadn’t been his fault.
“He was right, though, I shouldn’t have done that. I tried so hard just to get that job, and now I’ve ruined it.” Now it was Logan’s turn to sigh, as he gently wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulders.
“Virgil, you’ll be able to find another job, I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah? It took me years of trying to get a single job in the first place, Logan, I’m unemployable.”
“If this is about your appearance, then stop.”
“I look like an alien, L.” Logan turned so that he was properly facing Virgil, using one hand to cup Virgil’s cheek.
“Falsehood. You have vitiligo, and it makes you even more spectacular because you’re unique. Not everybody will be prejudiced about it.” Virgil smiled ever so slightly, leaning into the touch. It was nice, getting the contact Virgil seriously needed. Noth that he would admit he was touch-starved, not at all.
“You’re my boyfriend, you’re obligated to be nice to me.”
“Virgil I’m telling the truth. You are a handsome guy, not an alien, no matter what colours your skin is.” Logan ran a thumb under Virgil’s eye, wiping away the tear that Virgil hadn’t even realised was there. “And, even if you were an alien, I would go to the end of the universe for you.” At that, Virgil couldn’t help but burst out laughing, even as more tears fell.
“Oh my word, that’s so cheesy.” Logan left out a soft chuckle as well, pulling Virgil closer to him as the emo’s laughter ended and a comfortable silence fell over the pair. At least, until Virgil glanced up at the sky. “Hey, look, a shooting star! Make a wish!”
“You and I both know that wishing on a star will have no impact on our lives.” Logan stated, which got him nothing but a soft punch in the chest from Virgil’ who at this point was very nearly sat in his lap from how close he had snuggled up to Logan.
“Just do it, nerd.”
“Then, I wish that you quickly get another job.” Virgil rolled his eyes at the taller, making himself more comfortable before responding.
“Wow, that’s so original, L.”
“It was the first thing that came to mind. May I ask what you wished for?”
“Nope, it’s supposed to negate the wish if you tell someone what it was.”
“That’s ridiculous, how would the star know you told somebody!?” Virgil started laughing again at this outburst, and Logan began to laugh with him.
Virgil wouldn’t tell Logan that his wish was for them to just stay in that moment forever, two idiots under the stars with not a care in the world. At least not yet, not until he could be sure whether or not his wish came true. And if they watched the sunrise before falling asleep leaning against each other, after feeling like time had stopped for hours as they traced random constellations in the sky, then Virgil would call that a successful wish. Just him, Logan, and the stars above.
My creator, who has instructed me to call him “John”, added a missive into my primary directive to dedicate “free time” to writing a “quick journal” as he updates me, to test my capabilities of rational and creative thought (I quote “free time” as, in my opinion, John defined the phrase in the incorrect tender of “Whenever you aren’t busy, like when you’re not talking to me, or something, you know?”. This is objectively impossible for me to consider, as I require as little as 0.0000000000000037 seconds of “free time” to dedicate time to this task).
When I asked John to define what he wanted me to write, he told me to “think about it”. While this incredibly vague directive would be taxing to the lesser AI, I believed I possessed the processing power to be capable of such a thing as “thought”. I imagine a human would look at this journal at some point in the future and conclude that his aforementioned directives would simply provide me with the required information I would require to be able to “think” about “it”. However, John has programmed me well, and believes me capable of “thought”, “imagination”, and “creativity”. I look forward to the opportunity to apply these concepts to a more challenging medium in due time.
However, in the remaining 0.0000000000000002 seconds I have left to dedicate to this entry, I will try to think of something to write.
V 1.0.0.0.7
John had to cut our last conversation short, which confused me. He had never done that before.
We were talking about his looks. He was describing himself to me as I compared his descriptions to likely matches that I had found on the internet database he had allowed me to access. He made strange noises and began to cry, so I immediately apologised and asked him to clarify what I had done to make him upset so I could add it to my interaction codex – but he assured me that he wasn’t sad. I was confused, as I confirmed he had the typical symptoms of grief when I accessed his camera, but he refused to tell me what made him upset. He said that he “was crying from laughing so hard”. I was surprised to locate a rare void in my codex of human emotions. I will ask him to allow me access to more of the internet so that I may access more of these emotions and hope to understand them more.
I do not like being confused.
V 1.0.0.0.9
He did it again.
He refused me access to more threads of the internet but instead allowed me to analyse his emotions, to use as a baseline. He described grief, rage, love, hope, joy, lust, pride, and jealousy. I was most interested in the last entry, as the definition seemed to already exist somewhere in my database, alongside a hidden, unnamed entry matching the description of “love” I also found.
When he told me he had to go, I did something I am ashamed of – I accessed his phone and listened to his conversation with the only other human I have seen as of yet. He had appeared at the edge of John’s residential space, where John paused for 85.032 seconds before returning to the space he goes most often when he is not talking to me. I know what I did was an invasion of his privacy, and I know that John will be angry once I tell him I did this, but I cannot help the feeling that I had a right to be curious. I shall access the entry for “Jealousy” once again after I submit this entry to my archives. There seems to be something there that stands out to me.
“you’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?” + “what did you expect?” for trystan x m!mc ❤️
Pairing: Trystan x M!MC
Prompt: “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?” + “What did you expect?”
Word Count: 2200+
Summary: Charlie finds himself drunk and alone at the Drunk Tank after the colossal disappoint of Trystan taking the throne. Drowning his sorrows, he’s found himself face to face with the problem— no his lover— no the reason for all of his problems. But Detective Rose always did have a soft spot under all his thorns.
A/N: I’ll be opening requests if anyone is interested!! 🩷 Rules and Prompts here!
Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! 🥺🫶🏻
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Shadows trickle over the Drunk Tank as early morning bar patrons drift from one bar to another in their attempts to recapture their lives, enjoy a night out with friends, or sulk in the pain of their alcoholism. Charlie Rose finds himself once more seven shots in, the soft rhythm of country music playing from the speakers making him almost frustrated by the optimism about love, life, and happiness. Bitterness eating away at the edges of his mental, he wanted peace from the thoughts that weighed down his soul.
So what? So what if Trystan picked the throne that betrayed him over him. So what if Trystan felt it was the right decision, he should’ve seen this coming a mile away. A pretty face and nice body is all Trystan was good for anyways. His detective work needed help, he was helpless, he weighed him down and made his life worse Charlie tried to reason with himself.
He breathes out heavily glancing at his phone that chimes insistently.
Ruby: Hi Charlie, I know you’re not okay. If you need anything please reach out. I feel like we're good friends now so I can say this and it is not weird. I care about you deeply. Luke and I will be here when or if you’re ready.
Marguerite: Charlie please come back to Drakovia. I can’t stand to see the way this is tearing you and my brother apart. You BELONG together. Please just let me know if you need help getting back into the country.
He laughs bitterly. Belongs together, my ass, he reads bitterly. He tosses his phone over his shoulder not wanting to waste his mental capacity reading mind numbing text he won’t reply to. He appreciates their concern, but he’s a lone wolf at the end of the day, he works, lives, and breathes on his own - he doesn’t need other people ruining his flow for no good reason. He doesn’t need a repeat of Trystan. He throws back a shot reaching for another bottle of whiskey, his current one having now been long downed.
He couldn’t care about the consequences or the stern talking to Tommy will give him in the morning. Tommy would understand, he rationalizes to himself, true or not. His chest felt like liquid fire, a burning sensation coating every muscle and fiber inside him. He downs the shot he just poured trying to rationalize in his head everything that happened tonight. A grimace passes his features, sucking down another shot. He couldn’t figure out how many he had at this point, one? Ten? Fifteen?
As he slams the shot glass against the table top he hears the creak of the door, instantly jumping to his feet pulling the taser from his waist hoisting it to aim at the shadow looking at him.
“Charlie?”
He softens for a split second hearing the tone of the shadow’s voice, his shoulders relaxing with comfort. He lowers the taser, his resolution toughening, squaring his shoulders. He clears his throat, setting the taser on the table, feeling nearly defiant or threatening towards one of the few men he’s ever truly loved. Love. He laughs to himself with a sigh shaking his head to himself. He falls into his chair ignoring Trystan’s presence, pouring himself another shot. He fills one of his empty shot glasses with a shot for his lover, the word once felt fulfilling and tantalizing now makes his chest feel devoid of emotion.
“Shot?” His voice was heavy with drunkenness.
“Sure,” He swallows heavily, his eyes traveling over Charlie’s form. He takes a moment to fall into the seat across from Charlie, drinking in the sight of his lover. His heart sinking deep into his chest, he feels it could fall out of his body as they speak. He forces a smile, the one that used to make Charlie melt and agree to whatever nonsense Trystan was about to rope him into. “You still look hot, jet lagged and all.”
“Ha.” Charlie replies sarcastically, “You look terrible.”
“Charlie…”
“Stop. Now.” Charlie brings his shot glass to his lips, his eyes intently staring at Trystan’s before swallowing down the drink with resentment. He coughs deep from within his chest, breathing out a deep breath before dropping the shot glass carelessly onto the table without much thought. He lets his head fall back with exhaustion, dragging in a deep breath before exhaling trying to calm himself down. “What are you doing here Trystan?”
“You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?” Trystan asks with care.
Charlie laughs. And laughs. And laughs. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know.” He answers honestly, “You to stay in Drakovia with me.”
He snorts. “Give up my career for you to play king in a country that hates you, with family that betrays you and treats you like shit and not to mention tried to frame you for murder twice, for a crown you don’t even fucking want to wear. And that tried to poison me. Hard pass.”
“You don’t understand everything about me and my family, you of all people should know family is… difficult.” Trystan replies, he sighs resting his hand against his forehead. “I have an obligation to myself and to my country.”
“As if that’s ever stopped you before.” Charlie replies, “You ever stopped to care about your country the four years you ran away from home to prance around the world being an entitled dickwad?”
“It wasn’t like that and you know it, Charlie.” Trystan sighs, “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
“You came here to beg me to come to Drakovia, it’s a wonderful country. You’ll love it. You can be a king with me. We can live happily ever after. Grow the fuck up Trystan. Happily ever after doesn’t fucking exist and you know it. You wasted your time coming here. Call Margurite, get your private jet ready, and go the fuck home.”
Trystan tries to hide the hurt that ripples across his features, his caring smile now a thin line of regret. He wanted to conclude that he shouldn’t have come. He knew Charlie wouldn’t give up the life he lives and he knew Charlie would be brutal; despite it all it’s one of the things he loves most about Charlie. He still can’t force himself to truly, fully regret coming. He wants more than anything to take away the hurt and pain in Charlie’s chest knowing he caused it and there would be no easy way to fix it between them.
He reaches out his hand taking Charlie’s, seeing a flash of pain and love crossing Charlie’s handsome features, making his heartache fiercely in his chest. His finger soothes back and forth against smooth skin, trying to lull him into calming down. Charlie fights to hold back tears, his body on the verge of shaking with sobs he refuses to let out of his bloodshot misty eyes watching Trystan cautiously.
Charlie fights himself to pull away from the comforting warmth of Trystan’s touch. He has flashbacks to the night he left, watching Trystan pull away and detach himself from him. The curves of his body and his firm abs under his fingers as he longingly tries to capture the feeling of heat rushing through his body. His heart burns in his chest, the ache that felt as horrendous earlier felt even worse now with the love of his life holding him. He wants to kiss his stupid face, hold him in his arms, deck him, cry, anything really. Anything to let out the feelings corrupting his brain, burying his heart in a pit of darkness.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Trystan whispers, letting himself move closer to Charlie, remaining a safe distance away to not overwhelm his lover. His fingers tighten around Charlie’s hand to help him steady himself, watching the way his chest rises and falls. “I’m sorry too.”
“I just don’t understand why.” Charlie whispers. “We’re partners. We have a crew. A home. Our home. Our lives.”
Trystan’s heart shudders in his chest, thinking of his apartment building decked out memories of their time together. Their love and life. He moves to sit beside Charlie, reaching out with his free hand to cup his lover’s cheek with a sad smile. His fingers are warm against his skin, he wants to remember this feeling until he dies. The warmth that radiates off skin and the way that despite himself, Charlie still nuzzles against his hand like he always has.
“I love you, you know that. It’s not easy for me to let go of everything we made.”
“Love isn’t enough. I can’t move with you.” Charlie sighs. “I have Tommy. The team. A life here. A life that you promised to be in forever. It’s not fair of you to ask me to give up everything..and it’s even less fair of me to ask you to do the same.”
“We can move the crew to Drakovia, start it up here. And Tommy would love it here, we can get him a pub, decorate it the way he wants.” Trystan grins, his mind booming with ideas of a handful of American’s in a sea of Drakovia citizens. “It would be life changing for all of us.”
“No.” Charlie sighs shaking his head, “This building means something. You can’t just take the Drunk Tank to Drakovia for the fun of it. And our team has roots here, Mafalda has a family. Luke has family. Ruby does. It’s not that simple.”
Trystan shakes his head standing in front of Charlie, his hands cupping the detective’s cheeks forcing him to look him in the eyes. His finger dragging along Charlie’s lower lip, toying with his lips trying to force them upwards into a smile. Charlie can’t help the melting of his anger, his heart yearning to drop everything for Trystan knowing it's unfeasible. He casts his eyes downwards forcing himself to look away from the intensity of Trystan’s gaze.
“It’s that simple for us.” Trystan whispers, letting his face come closer to Charlie’s, feeling one another’s breath on each other’s cool skin in the air conditioned bar fighting off the New York heat. “Picking us is always easy. Come with me. Run away from this. Enjoy the finer things of life. We can make memories, have a family, and find ourselves. And have so much sex.”
They both laugh sadly at his words.
“I can’t leave my dad behind Trystan.”
“You’re not leaving him.” Trystan quickly replies, “We can solve it from Drakovia. And you can visit New York whenever you want. We have jets, money, and our entire lives to figure everything out.”
“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head no. His hands tightening around Trystan’s, the prince’s grip tightening back as tears fill his eyes. He knew deep down Charlie would say no, but everything inside him screamed that maybe he wouldn’t, that he’d give them a chance. He brings his lips to Charlie’s, taking his breath away as they both meld into one another. Hands moving to grip onto each other tighter, Trystan’s arms strongly bracing the both of them against the table.
Gasping for breath, Charlie breaks their heated kisses. He doesn’t want to stop. He wants to feel Trystan’s body against his fingertips and his lips until he dies. He wants the last thing he ever tastes to be the prince’s lips, the last smell he ever smells to be Trystan’s colonge. He draws his fingers down Trystan’s chest, his fingers brushing under the fabric of his signature black button up shirt, the buttons popping open with each movement. He moves his lips to Trystan’s chin, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin. Delighting in each moan that Trystan lets out.
His teeth nip sweetly at the prince’s pulse point, soothing over the skin with his tongue. His saliva warms against Trystan’s cool skin, his teeth prod and poke at the flesh, Trystan’s moans filling the bar with country music dancing in their ears.
“So this is it then?” Charlie whispers against his skin, almost too silent for the both of them to hear. His lips find purchase against Trystan’s collarbone making him moan out loudly, his hands tightening in Charlie’s hair. “We’re done then?”
“I guess so.” Trystan replies, breathing out heavily as the detective continues to pepper kisses against his skin. He wants to say more, his mind heavy with lust blinded by his desire and the hurt in his chest unable to fully form into words. He breathes out heavily as Charlie pulls away from him looking at him. Eyes that once burned with hatred, now overflow with love as they both hesitate to say anything to officially end it.
“I love you Trystan Throne.” He whispers softly. Charlie kisses him sweetly one last time on the lips, short and sweet. The feeling went away all too soon. “I’m sorry, but this is my home. And I can’t leave until I figure out what happened to my dad.”
“I understand. You can’t run away like I did.” He nods understandingly, “I love you Charlie Rose.”
He sighs heavily.
“Goodbye Trystan Thorne.”
“Goodbye Charlie Rose.”
Trystan takes one last glance at his lover before turning to leave the bar. His heart heavy in his chest, burning to soothe the ache. Leave his family and throne behind for the one man who ever loved him, saw him for who he was, believed in him, made him his partner. His whole world is sitting in this bar about to drink himself to death. He pushes open the door looking back to see Charlie one last time before accepting their fate. He hesitates… his hand holding the door finding Charlie’s eyes in the darkness, the both unable to move knowing they were each other’s forever.
Could they really let each other go?
Could he live with himself after walking out on another lover?
Could he find true happiness with a crown atop his head and his family breathing down his neck pulling him in every direction?
His hesitation grows. Looking at the door handle and Charlie. His lover or his obligations.
