Gentlest
Trevor drabble
Drabbles/Headcanons Masterlist
Cw: I have watched 2 episodes of Castlevania. This is written on phone.
The two of you sit in the quiet dark. He rests his back on the bark of the tree, and you rest your side into him, legs pulled together so tight you are fully covered by his body.
You rise before the sun does, if only to admire Trevor at his gentlest, his fur coat over you to keep from the chill of night away.
With a relaxed sigh, you look over his form, the way he holds you close, a rough hand on your hips, the other over your chest as he sleeps with his head fully leaned into the tree.
Gently, to not wake him up, you reach out to flick an ant away from the tree bark, though insects have stopped bothering you, given how much you sleep around them.
You shift a little curled on his lap. He still keeps his weapons on him all night, in case someone attacks.
His body is as strong and powerful as it has ever been, but when he's like this, just moments before the birds start singing and the world starts waking up.
His muscles are soft—unflexed—unlike at the scent of blood or danger, chest and arms making softer places to use as your pillow.
Admiring him is far too easy in general. But now? Only a fool could let such a moment go to waste.
And you are many things, a fool isn't one of them.
So you sit as silently as you can, keep your breathing normal as if you were asleep yourself. And just watch.
The way his chest fills up with air, the way he exhales, the soft beat of his heart moving through your entire form.
All through the night he doesn't let you go. As if you were too precious to not hold for even a moment.
There's a bit of drool on his lips. He smells like ale. It makes you smile. Your stupid drunkard "retired" hunter.
Here, sleeping—passed-the-fuck-out—at his gentlest.
{Castlevania Taglist: @romanticatheartt @edreavie @sserrafeim}
