#trevor reader insert

A/N: Wow this is my first part two! It’s a chapter two to this. I hope you enjoy it- I worked hard as hell on this. Word Count: 2,032 words! Genre: Fluff I suppose Pairing: Trevor x Reader Warnings: Swearing I think.

You groan and roll over, shuffling out from under your blankets as your semi-clouded eyes stare at the wall. For a moment- and only a moment- you forget your surroundings. You forget the fae sitting at the foot of your bed and the strong scent of sickly sweet flowers he had brought with him, and you focus your energy on your sore muscles and the dull ache arching across your forehead from temple to temple. You sigh and stare at the ceiling for a moment- that feels like forever. And then- a hand with poor circulation rests on your shin and shakes your leg lightly.

You stiffen and groan. 

Why would he let you forget he’s here? Of course he wants attention. You pull yourself up to sit on your bed and find his face quite close to yours. However- you aren't quite surprised. The last faerie you’d brought to this realm thought you to be dead and laid their head on your chest, monochrome eyes staring at you intensely only to move when you startled awake.

“So- Trevor..” Your voice is husky and you yawn briefly. “What should we make your story for the- date?” You sigh and move hair from your face, taking deep breaths as you two found comfortable distances and positions on your bed.

“Well, i have studied what you know as rocket science and- people in this realm brag about that don't they?” He stretches his legs- his long legs- in front of him. “I could be some- suave and charming rocket scientist. We could've met- at some charming magic and science debate or- soirée. We danced the night away and I charmed you over a Chinese takeout dinner?” He stands as he speaks and ponders your room. Picking up things and- moving them. Just putting them out of the place you'd desired them. It wasn't- infuriating but it would grate on your nerves sooner or later.

“Chinese takeout wouldn't be my first choice and- I don't go to those ceremonies, I'm not notable.” You tail him and rearrange your belongings, not quite caring if the actions seemed passive aggressive or not. “I like Thai food better. Or you could've made dinner for me.” You shrug. “That would be more romantic, and I love someone who can cook,” You sigh airily.

“Okay- can you stop doing that?” It comes out in an annoyed sigh and to keep your voice close to calm you'd taken to fidgeting with the nearest smooth object which happened to be a tumbled crystal. Your fingers glide effortlessly over the surface, each ridge feeling polished.

“Stop doing what?” He huffs, arching an eyebrow and making a face to say he's above this- above you.

“Moving my shit like you own it,” Your voice is smooth and cool. You roll your eyes and sigh- it's tired, be it physically or mentally, you couldn't be bothered to tell which was more prominent- both contributors, of course.

“Excuse me?” He sets a pop figure down in a sort of bitter compliance meant to be mocking. He crosses his arms and looks you in the eye.

“What exactly did you buy to think you can do this?” The dawning realization that this isn't that deep has hit you. But it's a matter of principle at this point. Not exactly bruised pride but- to prevent the ebb and flow of ounces of alienation in your own home. A long winded justification but ''twas a justification to hold steadfast nonetheless.

With an indignant huff, he sets down your newest piece of makeup and rolls his eyes. Huffing slightly with a breathy ‘whatever’ as he walks away. Part of you feels a twinge of guilt for snapping over something so small but- you don't come into someone's home and start doing that it's just rude to assume you can touch their personal belongings like that- wasn't it? Of course. It's rude to do.

Trevor, without even looking over his shoulder walks out of your room, off to do gods knows what while you stayed in your bedroom, closing the door soon after he leaves.

---

You weren’t completely sure how much time had passed since the ‘incident’ that morning, but it was still day time. You’d finally left your room after time spent staring at your phone and walls, flipping absentmindedly through your grimoire. You weren’t completely sure what you had hoped to find but- you didn’t seem to happen across it. However, the most appealing thing you did see was a tea based spell you’d composed after watching an Overwatch short that had pulled on your heart strings.

Making your way down the short hall that lead into your living room, you’d forgotten for a moment that you weren’t alone. Your heart jumps into your throat when you see his shadow, fear racing through you and adrenaline a moment away from leaking into your bloodstream. Trevor doesn’t even look at you as he clinks a spoon around a glass of diluted sugar-water, just hums to himself with half finished bags of semi-sweet chocolate chips litter the room. You groan with some convoluted emotion halfway between relief and frustration. The realization yet again that you have a guest and that means continuous courtesy and decent clothing- it hurt but it wasn’t as painful as the other scenario of an unsolicited party in your apartment which arguably would be more bothersome than a temporary guest that happened to here on your invitation.

You moved around Trevor, leaving him in a world of his design, doused in sugar and lined in chocolate. Grabbing a mug from the cabinet near his head, he finally looks up, satisfied with how it “dissolved”. You see him out of the corner of your eye, take a sip, and you cringe. How can a being drink that with a straight face? And then eat a fist-full of chocolate- faeries are truly romanticized. You cringe and with a conservative hand pour two teaspoons of sugar- wow Trevor went to town on your sugar- into your mug. You fill it with hot water and stir to dissolve it, humming to yourself.

Trevor watches you- just tracking your motions and making note of how you shift your weight side to side, quite staunchly refusing to break the silence- it wasn’t deafening and didn’t crush him so why would he bother? You seemed to be at peace- or some form of it as you muttered words of power under your breath, stirring clockwise- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine times. Adding a bittersweet smelling tea bag into the water and a few drops of honey, you put your hands around the mug and under your breath said some phrase one, two, three times. He takes another sip, sugar granules that failed to dissolve sticking to his teeth and grinding against each other. Almost immediately after he eats a few more pieces of chocolate.

“So what was that all about?” His voice is smooth.

“What was what?” You glance back at him.

He gestures to you- your tea.

“That- ritual, I guess.” He shrugs and gestures again, taking another sip.

“Oh- uh just a little...good luck charm.” You nod along to what you say. “For a good day...the strength to get through...fortitude. All of that sweet good stuff.” You move your finger around the rim of the mug, the liquid following your movement.

He huffs a short laugh.

“A little- good morning- today’s going to be a good day and here’s some reasons why-” he holds up the bottle of honey and taps two fingers on your sugar jar. “That’s pretty adorable if you ask me.” He slides next to you- you could’ve sworn he didn’t take a step and yet- here he was. You half grin.

“I didn’t but- thanks. I made it all myself.” You try to seem nonchalant about the air of pride in your voice- it was even rarer to be complimented on it. Trevor grins.

“Oh- you did now?” He’s a little too close- it’s not uncomfortable but your heart pounds. You take sip of your tea. Less than forgiving as it warms your mouth uncomfortably so, almost burning your tongue. The energy slowly seeps through you, warm and loving. Inked flowers upon your shoulder bloom and the sprawling leaves poke out from beneath the sleeve of your shirt. Trevor watches what he can of the show and grins. “Mortal’s come up with the most interesting inventions.” He hums, attempting to trace a finger over the faux foliage only to stop in his tracks when you move away from him. Words are stuck in his throat as you turn to exit your kitchen. One hand holding your mug by the vessel, the other palm up at your shoulder, beckoning an orange to you.

The orange lands in your palm with the grace of a feather dancing in the wind and you hold it in a more natural position as you go into your living space. Sitting cross legged on your couch, you balance your mug on one knee and the orange on the other. Trevor follows suit, looking curiously at you and the and he brings a half empty bag of chocolates. He sits on the coffee table in front of you- his posture devolving from something proper and proud to having his elbows on his knees, half slouched as he eats chocolate by the handful yet again.

You snap your fingers and the skin falls off of the orange. It’s not perfect but the job is done. He grabs a piece of the peel and inspects it between his fingers, even going as far as to bite it. Almost immediately after cringing and making an over exaggerated face of disgust. You try to stifle the short laugh that escapes your mouth and a smile crosses your face.

He looks embarrassed and somewhat flustered as the laugh rings in his ears. He pouts and looks away from you, his face starting to grow flushed.

“Listen,” he starts, “In my realm, these are sweeter than anything you have here and it’s actually good, unlike those sour disappointments.” He tries to pull himself together but sounds more defensive than anything.

“I’m not doubting you, I just think it’s funny how your first instinct is to bite the thing.” You hum and pick apart the fruit, holding out a slice to him. “Won’t you try a piece and see if you like it?” There’s a slight drawl in your voice.

Trevor eyes it curiously and cautiously, with a gentle hand accepts the offer. He takes a bite hesitantly and makes another face- less of disgust, more of conflicting emotions. Suddenly an idea pops into his head. He takes a few chocolate chips and couples them with the next bite of the orange slice he takes and he smiles with a quirk of the eyebrow as if he’d just come across some secret withheld from him for years leading up to this.

You play up the slight disgust you have at the scene that just played out in front of you.

“You’ve got to try this-” He starts and you hold up a hand to halt him.

“That already exists in this realm, and more people hate them than not.”

He squints and takes another slice from you, putting a scant amount of chocolate on top of it and shoving the amalgamation in his mouth.

“Do you like them?”

“Sometimes,” you shrug and eat a slice for yourself.

“More for us then.”

You shrug and nod in agreement, looking over Trevor again- the ethereal features he once had are more downplayed than they were before. His hair had gone from a glowing blonde to a warm brown on it’s way to black and- it fit him. Arguably better than the blond had. His wardrobe even assimilating to something of your realm. He still had this- glow, a shimmer to him. Something that made it hard to look away from him. Which made him grin with a devious air. He winks your way and you take another sip of your tea.

A/N: So I had a prompt for ‘Trevor 7′ and I’m 99% sure that it was for a kissing prompt but I had another meme and it said that #7 was fake dating so- I mean. Have this. Words: 1736 Summary:  “Faerie fair, faerie bright, may I dream of you tonight.” You mumble, yawning afterward. For a moment, you thought of checking your phone to fill the time before your inevitable loss of consciousness, but your eyelids flutter down before you can roll over to even face your phone.

The image of that damn invitation was burned into your mind. The way the parchment danced and sang about the ten year reunion your transmutation class would be having. Damn. Had it really been ten years? The whole concept of time had escaped you- especially that one time you’d astral projected and ended up being out of body for almost a week- but it’d only felt like a matter of hours. It was all fake but- now that the moon had risen the ‘time’ could be considered to be correct. For this project you’d need to be under the full moon. To talk to the fae- you’d need to charge your fae jar under the full moon, repeating a mantra you’d learned as a child.

You practice the saying in your mind- faerie fair, and faerie bright, may I dream of you tonight. You practice it- verbally mentally- as you cleanse a small jar you use for overnight spells, you commit it to memory- for what should be the thousandth time at this point. The motions are soothing to a point. The whole situation is drenched in anxiety. Going back to a place where you had convinced yourself everything you’d done would be under a microscope. Going somewhere you’d barely felt welcome, only to see all of your peers who- who would be doing better than you. And sure, it wouldn’t really be your place to compare yourself to others- no two people are the same- but you’d at least want to rise above where you and your peers last saw yourself. Be more than an urban witch who talks to fae and uses transmutation for “petty” reasons. And this- this was part of the master plan; show up to the reunion, dressed to the nines and looking holier than thou. To complete this aesthetic you’d need- a date.

God dammit.

That would be- hard. Not impossible but challenging.

Romance- that isn’t a main ingredient to happiness, everyone knows that. But- it wouldn’t particularly hurt. To walk in to the reunion, having accomplished something- multiple somethings at that!

And to get that date, you needed to ask your old friends for a favor. No matter what court would answer you- and you prayed for the Seelie, needing Eros over Thaanatos this time; you knew the fae would be- kind of- frustrating. Maybe it was the short notice, or just the general feeling you’ve gotten from recent visits. Mischievous intent and auras. They meant no ill intent- you’d banned fae with malice in their hearts.

So here you are, yet again, sitting cross-legged on your couch with a TV tray of thyme, rosemary, sugar, yarrow, peppermint, sage, lavender, cedar and lilac oil in front of you, next to the newly cleansed jar and a marble mortar and pestle. One by one, you’d crush herb after herb, pouring each into the jar after you’d filled it with your intent and unleashed its inner essence. You add the oils and sugar last, stirring it all together with a pen kept knowingly behind your ear, and cap the jar, then set it on the windowsill- just where the full moon would bathe it.

Now- while it charges, you get antsy. The doubt sets in- will a fae really come to you tonight? Or any night now- did you accidentally piss them off? Is this asking too much? You didn’t really think it to be. They were the ones prone to being tricksters- it’s not their just desserts, it’s a balance. You didn’t take much effort to dismantle- or, at the very least, ignore the suspicions that someone from the court wouldn’t come. And for extra safety, there was always putting out a little offering for whomever would visit you. A shiny penny, strawberries and whipped cream, a little sprinkle of sugar and honey. Any of these would do for a fae to be pleased with you. Even with the little sprigs of lavender you’d left around your windowsills as protections- they shouldn’t get offended you’d want extra protection. And if they are- well, they can’t quite come in, now can they? The train of thought itself made you smirk as if you’d won some victory. Even though it was just a precaution- a routine one at that. A victory, real or imagined, is a victory nonetheless.

As the night winds down and you notice the pennies change positioning and the whipped cream diminishing. Good. They’re here and- happy with you! That’s good- great even. With the utmost care, you take the jar from it’s place on the windowsill and take it to your bedroom, placing it under your pillows and next to the wall- as to avoid breaking it or inadvertently opening it in the middle of the night. You lay in bed and cover yourself partially with your blankets, finding the optimal comfortable position to nod off. With a deep sigh you repeated your mantra.

“Faerie fair, faerie bright, may I dream of you tonight.” You mumble, yawning afterward. For a moment, you thought of checking your phone to fill the time before your inevitable loss of consciousness, but your eyelids flutter down before you can roll over to even face your phone.

You don’t remember arriving in the soft, ethereal looking space, but you feel comfortable here. Feeling the need and readily complying, you turn your head first, slowly. Then you manage to shift your torso and extremities. Soon enough- you can stand, walk, move around of your own free will. The compulsions in your throat and at the back of your head- it does not control you.

The space around you is hazy. Slowly it focuses and you can make out the setting. A cotton candy pink sky over a horizon of trees- except you aren’t immediately near any trees- a clearing? It seems you’re in a clearing. Dressed like- some kind of Greco-Roman maiden. What the hell is your brain dealing with- whatever. You have a mission. Looking around gets easier, but adds an element of stress until you see a figure near the edge of the clearing. Something sparkling surrounds them and- they’re quite tall. Fae aren’t this size normally- well- perhaps they’re taking advantage of the dreamscape? Or- no, they’re just sitting on a rock, eating what looks like a version of your offering and playing with the pennies. Perfect. You don’t feel your body move- but you get closer. Slowly, you approach the faerie, luckily, things are soft, but you have to force words from your throat. They’re stuck but with enough force- your mouth opens and you say something and- call the fae’s attention. The words didn’t make sense in your ears- you barely said anything. But they made sense to the fae, who’s dark brown eyes are staring at you- almost through you. You stood your ground and stared into the fae’s eyes. You keep your gaze steely and furrow your brows after a while. You refrain from blinking and- the faerie submits.

“Alright. What do you want?” He sighs and sets the plate down next to him. The words come from him with such ease and practice, you clear your throat and take a deep breath.

“I need a favor.” Your voice is halfway muted. “I need a date to my class reuninion.” The fae laughs and puts a hand over their stomach. “I know it’s superficial or whatever but-”

“No, I’ll do it.” He grins. “This is new. Are you really this desperate?” You scrunch your face up and scowl.

“What’s your name?” You deadpan and tilt your head. His expression darkens.

“Calm down, it’s not that deep anyway.” He rolls his eyes and stands. “What do you want me to be? Someone successful?”

“Yeah, that’d work. Also not child-size- I don’t want to go to jail.” You huff and glare at the trees behind him, but he still looks at you.

“Aw, no fun, we could’ve run from the law enforcement.” He teases, a slight grin growing on your face.

“I know, it’s a shame.” You look back to him and he- looks smug. Or arrogant? You always had a hard time telling certain emotions apart.

“Okay, what should I call you?” He leans on the rock.

“Uh- maybe..” You think for a moment. Your real name- that’s who you are. So you need an alias. “You can call me..” You don’t understand how in one moment, all the names that would swirl your consciousness could simply vanish. It only took one second. And they’re all- gone. Every single word. None of them make just enough sense in this context. And he’s waiting. Waiting for an answer. An answer you can’t give. God Damn this isn’t supposed to be hard! It never was before- and then. You find a name- your old alias. Something you’d respond to and other people would know as you.

His eyebrows raise. “Oh wow- that’s unique.” You shrug.

“What can I call you?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“Hmph…” He sighs and purses his lips for a moment. “Trevor.”

Your lips quirk up and you let out a brief chuckle. That had to be the most- basic name you’d heard in a long while. For a fae to choose that- you had to wonder what he’s been through.

“We can’t all be on the same level of creativity as you, y’know,” He teases and rolls his eyes, teasing you with a serious tone.

“But- you’re-” you bit your tongue and thought deeply about this. Is it wise to stereotype faeires? Especially when you need a favor? That- no. That’s a bad idea here. “Nevermind. Just- meet me in the physical realm, and don’t-” You mouth something and he looks at you quizzically.

The space around you two was crumbling. It went from something calm and beautiful to something that mimicked your bedroom but clung to the whimsical elements. The realism in the situation looked as if something was obscuring your vision. The soft meadow faded with every bar of your eyelashes and your dark room, light provided by the waxing twilight outside of your window, came clearer. At the foot of your bed sat the faerie- Trevor. But- six foot something or- just, long. Not child sized. You sigh and close your eyes.