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thanatoswritcs​:

Where: Some bar Who: Leah ( @hccxtewrites​ )

Ares had attempted to keep his distance. Their last encounter had resulted in them falling into his bed. And while he wouldn’t be opposed to it happening again, he had other plans in store for her. Namely, seeing what she had trapped below the surface. He had done his research, obtained the necessary powers to achieve his goal, and now he planned to enact it. Gaining her trust had been a minor obstacle, but he felt comfortable in getting her to go where he needed her to. First, he’d have a little bit more fun before he was done with her. “Did you miss me?” Lips hovered at the shell of her ear, Ares having approached from behind of where she stood at the bar. 

Another shot burnt satisfying as it went down, the aftertaste filled with enough bitterness to offset her own somehow as the dive bar and it’s regulars welcomed her once again as one of their own. It surely shouldn’t have surprised her any, that she could be found. Despite her own reckless abandon, she didn’t often do much to hide where she went or what she occupied her time with. The constant hunt for distractions left her little care for much else. The warmth that accompanied Ares’ voice slid across the slope of her neck, prompting the tiniest hint of a smirk at the very corner of her mouth. Did she miss him? Certainly fucking not - had she thought about him? She’d neither confirm nor deny that, Leah would have much preferred allowing herself to remain somewhat unattached, “Are you going to be offended if I tell you I haven’t thought of you even once,” despite it, she stepped back slightly, turning her shoulder into him to cast onyx hues back at him, “’Cause I really don’t do clingy, so if you get upset I have absolutely no problem pretending I have no idea who you are anymore.”

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hephaestionwrites‌:

“I’ve seen the things on – on the instagram. The shit that Luc posts, and then his shit about…what, the new term is ‘funcle’? You wanna be called that?” Nixon grinned a little more, leaning against Hudson slightly even as he turned his attention back to the tree. “Because the first one happened in the nineteen thirties…and I fuckin’ missed it.” He gave a lopsided smirk, glancing at Hudson, “So I try not to miss it now. And well, since you decided to steal an ornament and break the law…it’s so much more worth it now.” He had already decided on a blue ornament. He had a red and a green, and well, he needed one of every color. “The real miracle will be when you can steal the star off the top.” Nixon laughed, turning back towards Hudson, “What, don’t you want to renew your membership in the mile high club?”

“On the instagram.” Truly, it didn’t matter whether the comment was made through innocent truth or whether Nixon was putting it on, it lined up far too well with the vampires natural age far too easily not to draw a grin to Hudson’s features. Turning to look at the vampire beside him, he lent in a little, lips pressing to the crown of Nixon’s head. “You ever call me that and you’ll never see me again.” He warned quietly, through a hearty laugh that rested on mock exaggeration, the shiver that pitched his spine tacked to the edge of a cringe. “That’s what this is all about? You missed the first one?” He frowned a little, “We could go back, see whatever you wanna’ see.” Or, mostly. One of the few things he’d never touched, sworn he never would, was something as simple as shifting through time. The outcome of even the smallest change unsettled him, but what he could manage was trying to find some sense of an echo and draw on it. “Break the law, I never thought about it like that.” As if they weren’t committing murder as if it were nothing at all on a regular basis. “We’re gonna’ have to work our way up to the star, I’ve got a feeling someone might notice that missing.” A brow rose high, Hudson casting an easy look of disbelief towards Nixon. “I mean, technically.. that can be renewed whether we fly coach or private.. but if you’re really that into the thrill of possibly being caught then coach it is.”

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hephaestionwrites‌:

“Promise I won’t,” he cooed, chuckling a little as he squeezed Hudson’s hips. No, Nixon Reynolds was the epitome of petty. He’d make Rowan do it as his final act of revenge on the original vampire. And in the end, it’d be worth it, anyway. What was an afterlife for a vampire? He was sure it was hell – or it would just be…nothing. Removing the thoughts from his mind, he pressed his knee back up in between Hudson’s legs. Nixon was glad to see that neither of their downstairs brains seemed to stop working during the conversation, and he had every intent on making sure this was as sincere as it always was, “I know you’ll be careful. That’s all I want,” he leaned forward to bump their noses together before he was smirking once again.

“Well, you’re cute,” he shot back, gripping Hudson by the waist before they were suddenly in their bedroom. Placing his hand against Hudson’s chest, he shoved him backwards onto the bed, barely flicking his wrist in the process. He moved on top of Hudson within a second, staring down at the pinned witch beneath him, “Then make me regret it, daddy.”

And therein lay the true premise of why Hudson had never truly been able to tell any of his family, or the people he loved before Nixon about what he was doing behind closed doors. The notion that he’d be careful was far too sharp a precipice for Hudson to stand on before he simply said fuck it. Even now, the very idea that spun through his mind left the consequences of being careful with his magic -- with this particular spell, a bitter taste on his tongue. The feeling, euphoric high that he’d find in the depths of such magical working was something that Hudson could crave beyond all else, a metaphorical replacement for the blood Nixon needed to survive. A promise he’d make, but perhaps, couldn’t keep. The sharp hiss that settled on his lips at the very knowledge that the vampire wouldn’t listen as his grip tightened around his hips shifted in laughter and the rather violent jarring of his heart in his chest, “Yep,” he groaned out, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Still hate that fucking feeling.” Words morphed by the air in his lungs as he hit the mattress beneath, digits curling into the loop of Nixon’s jeans as he moved closer, “You really wanna’ do this, huh?” Hudson chuckled softly, little more than the press of his thumb against the vampire’s hip drawing a pressurized tightness around his fiance’s throat. The lacking necessity for air that all vampires survived no doubt replaced by the flow of blood within their system. The same flow of blood that Hudson slowed, choked to a barely rampant pace within his veins, a volatile shift of energy pulsating through the palm of his hand to earn him the leverage to turn the tables and pin Nixon beneath him instead, “Just remember, you asked for it.”

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hephaestionwrites‌:

Kennedy wondered if she was insane to think about the things she did. The relentless planning had prepared her for this moment, apparently. Kelsey had been the first to hear the news; he’d gone with her, and when the ultrasound had come back with two little shapes and a set of heartbeats, well, Kennedy’s world was rocked. The shock, however, had spread to joy. Even though she knew exactly whose children they were, the only thing that frightened her was what if he wanted nothing to do with them? Babies didn’t deserve that, and Kennedy was all for standing up for what she believed in, anyway. She couldn’t hide it forever, and even though she came back to her phone with a missed call, the name made her heart skip a beat. 

The message, however, had her putting her mom hat on the moment she heard it. And if it wasn’t on cue, the pounding on her front door made her clutch her shirt before she was hurrying over to it. Yanking it open, she stared at the bloodied hunter in front of her. “You’re such an idiot, Hendrix Blake. What on earth were you doing? Taking down a whole coven of vampires? By yourself?” She shut the door behind him, locking it and placing her hand against it to ensure the wards were in place before she hurried after him. “And don’t curse at me on my own doorstep. You’re the one asking for help.” 

She set Hendrix down onto the couch as gently as she could, her hands in a flurry as she tried to find the source of the bleeding, “Jesus, Hendrix. You could’ve been killed.” Kennedy bit her bottom lip, half in concentration and the other in worry as she held his torn shirt against the wound. “Where else are you hurt?”

Only someone who didn’t truly know what Kennedy Tallis was like would ever expect to be met with anything less than a lecture turning up on her doorstep like this. However, that sure as hell didn’t mean he was anymore prepared, or tolerant of the hissed chastising that met him the second the door opened. “Yes, Kennedy.. I’m bleeding this much because a coven of vampires decided they’d leave me with enough to get me across four fucking city blocks.” He groaned out, shuffling across the threshold a little quicker than might have been necessary any other day.  His hand still clamped against his side awash with crimson sought to tighten as he felt her reach to help him and where he might have usually found some objection on his lips, the slight relief of not having to carry himself on his own at that very moment in time was welcoming. “If I’d wanted to be..--” a sharp hiss as he slipped into the confines of her couch, “lectured.. I’d have gone to Sloan instead, can you give it a fucking rest for two minutes?” The sharp edge of his voice was unintentional, almost entirely dependent on the pain that tore through his side as he lent forward, lifting hues to cast an incredulous glare up at the blonde who... seemed to be glowing. “Yes. I’m very aware. Hazard of the job, remember?” And not something he worried all too much about on any given day.  “The kids dead.” He noted roughly, ignoring her questioning. He didn’t want to be fussed over, it simply wasn’t his style. All he’d needed was a place to lay low enough to heal before he went back. The kid, the younger hunter he’d mentioned to her in passing a week back, made it all too clear that he didn’t think he’d cut it, and maybe for once, he fucking hated being right. “---I’ve got this.” He shifted slightly, his hand moving across hers as she held his shirt tightly against his side, “You wanna’ pour me a drink?  I could really use one right about now.”

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rellamywrites‌:

                    Humored epithets rolled off her tongue, imbued with any flippant sense at his less than savory sense of decor; said furbishing being near barren. The itinerary of his life the past few months — perhaps even years — was proven to be a perpetual backlash of cataclysmic fervor, unrelenting as the emphasis of such trouble permeated every region of his life. It provided no sense of time when it came to fulfilling the reverie of being a normal human for once, any fragments of such regularity only coming about when it was proven he was to provide for Lucas alone; the mother a showcase of abandonment, learned in her own youth. He never expected Lucinda to return much less dare step up to the plate in terms of assistance, a factor which he once vehemently refused as if in the sake of his own pride. Stalwart she was, however, in her own support; inexorable in spite of the looming threat of his family’s prospective eradication at the hands of the Ouroboro’s. 

                    He could be petrified of such day, his own personal well being never much a factor in his worry; his loved ones coming first, no matter his own conditions. Julian had faced deaths slippery slope far more than he cared to keep track of, the dire will to protect his family and those in the very population of New York not something he could ever disregard — even if it meant putting his own happiness, and life, last. 

                    He detected such noise before it was ever thus enunciated from her lips, chalking it up to a hopeless phantasm that was keen on repugnant memories. Julian could spring up out of habit, a blade suffused with silver already produced between calloused fingertips, “… ‘Cin, please——” go; freckle-dusted male was near bilious at the thought of any harm coming to her, or Lucas; viscerally frantic at the impression that he could not possibly protect them both. To leave with his son in tow, they’d have to face such monstrosity out in the hall, he would have to face Lucinda observing such part of his life that he vied to stow away from her, obsidian hues flitting back to her as if uttering a silent goodbye were things to go awry. 

                    “I need you to stay here, no matter what you hear, until I say it’s okay to come out. Promise me that,” dagger was absentmindedly shifted between nimble fingertips, heart plummeting in his chest as the sounds drew nearer and their borrowed time shortened immensely. 

It sprung up against her spine like a chill she’d never suffered through before, icy and sharp and altogether lacquered in uncertainty as Julian moved quicker than she’d truly ever seen before. The blade in his hand drawing her attention alike a terrible accident waiting to happen. Light caught the sharp edge of it and despite knowing with a far greater amount of certainty than she was truly able to admit, the safe haven she’d found with him clawed purchase against an uphill battle of thoughts she never thought she’d find circling any aspect of feeling she held around him. No matter how many times she could silently tell herself that it was okay, he’s a cop -- this is..--- totally normal, the truth remained, she’d have been far less unsteady had he pulled a gun instead. One which she knew now rested, tucked away within the safe locked drawer. “What’re you..--- Julian..” Azure hues widened and even with limbs instinctively pushing her away from him, or rather, the knife in hand, Lucinda having never really looked up from it, “A knife? What if they’ve...-- You can’t go out there.” Only, surpassed thought of why died on her tongue for the newly found reminder that not everything that sought to cause harm was human as it once was, even in her own mind.  It turned over in her stomach and threatened to spill far more than fear into the air as the sound grew louder, glass of fallen photographs shattering in the hall. “Okay..-- Okay,” hands fumbled with the frayed edge of the sweatshirt of his she wore, following him to her feet. Perhaps, a year ago, she might have been the type to unwillingly accept the fact that she could do nothing to help. Truly, she might have fought him tooth and nail, even with the effervescent itch within the tip of her tongue to do exactly that, the world and everything in it was, now far too big for her to grapple a footing in something like this. Instead, such an itch grew to constrict her throat, stomach dropping right through the floor with every chaotic sound that filled the once near silent home; and every thought thereafter that drew her to the little boy now entirely out of reach for them and the man who would undoubtedly do anything to find a way past it. Lips pursed and she shook her head, stepping forward to draw digits across the inlet of his wrist. They’d already said goodbye to far too many people for her to be even close to okay with the glimmer of such in dark hues, the volatile jarring of organ against the skeletal inside of her chest far more painful than it’d been in months. “You don’t get to leave me ..--- us too.” It fell thickly, until the guttural sound of growling caught the heels of safety and echoed beneath the door, the very sound drawing fear to the marrow of her bones and a trembling panic to fingertips that gripped tighter around his wrist. “You just be here to tell me it’s okay.”  She knows --- knows that it’s damn near crippling to have to worry so vividly, but what he wants feels near impossible. To stay here --- no matter what she hears. It feels far too much like the long forgotten night she’d watched as he caved, crumpled to the floor in agony. The swelling in her chest mirrors the fear and uncertainty, of not knowing what was happening, of not knowing what to do, to do little more than watch uselessly and it’s all she can manage to shift away from the door --- and him, in a sharp, jarring movement as collision rattles the hinges. Hands clamp over her mouth to stifle the scream that settles in her throat, the mottled sound of any possible objection dying out as the dire need to run twisted in her chest.

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hephaestionwrites‌:

The vampire slid his hands back down to Hudson’s hips, tugging the jeans back down halfway so he could see the curve of the other’s hip bones. Nixon hummed as he brushed his thumb over the skin, planning on bruising it with either his mouth or his fingers fairly soon. He wasn’t sure why he’d thought it would be good to try and have a conversation while simultaneously getting laid, but it was working out in his favor for now. “Either way…” he trailed off again, meeting Hudson’s gaze. “Don’t worry. I’m not doing some stupid take off my ring outside suicide shit; I’m too beautiful for that.” Stepping out into the sunlight was definitely not the plan, either. And he wasn’t going to keep living as some half brainwashed vampire who was compelled to forget. 

Nixon looked down at their hands, dragging his gaze back up to Hudson. He knew the witch would try his best, and as long as it didn’t bring harm to him, then he was going to ensure that stayed that way. He’d rather die than have Hudson’s mortal life cut short for any reason. “Only if you can,” he said slowly, though he had never doubted Hudson’s ability with magic. Life wouldn’t be worth it, and hell, even vampires could become exhausted. His PTSD was out of control when Hudson wasn’t around, and even then, it was a constant reminder of his out of control life. “Mhm, good. Now, didn’t I hurt your pride last time I carried you to bed?”

Where heat would have left the trail of Nixon’s hands burnt, the cold chill always seemed to set him on edge far easier. The lowly brush of fingertips across his hips pitching the tightness in beneath his stomach a little more and he knew there was no real hiding the fact that he had to swallow sharply to even piece together coherent thought despite it being rather necessary right at this moment. “You are, so ..-- please, don’t do that.” What he didn’t voice? It matches almost perfectly with his fiance’s love for dramatics, but somehow, it just wasn’t quite enough to believe that he’d ever really do that in the first place. All he knew, was that his mortality was now, more than ever, his greatest downfall. No matter how long he could prolong the inevitable with magic, before long even that would take it’s toll on Hudson’s body. There was no getting around his ever ticking clock. 

The fact was, Hudson would damn near kill himself if it were necessary in giving Nixon what he wanted. Only if you can, existed as little more than an opportunity for Hudson to find out if he actually could do it. Binding spells weren’t always so difficult, he could bind far too many things far too easily in his younger years, and now barely had to think to make it happen, but this was far more than that and before even looking into it --- he knew he’d find the far end of such a spell in a terrible way. But if it worked, if he could connect them in ways beyond what they already were, it wouldn’t matter. It’d be worth it. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry about any of it, okay?” Again, his demeanor shifted until Hudson pressed to lift his hips into Nixon a little more, a little more intent on returning to where they had been before Nixon spoke up. “It’s cute that you think my pride can be wounded,” Oh, but it could, “--- but really, if you pick me up again, you’re really gonna’ regret it this time.”

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hephaestionwrites‌:

Nixon stared up at the giant Christmas tree, the lights dancing on the skating rink below. Every year, it absolutely fascinated him to see them haul the giant thing in. Nature was the only thing good left in the world, in the vampire’s opinion. Furthermore, Christmas was one of the very few times during the year where he actually felt something. He hummed a little in answer to Hudson’s question, though he gave him his full attention when Europe was mentioned, “Belgium? Is it that great?” he asked curiously, huffing out a breath before he rolled his eyes, “Your sister is fucking ridiculously ecstatic. Her and Kels’ – their apartment is already baby-proof. Plus, we can pretend that the words family jet don’t sound ridiculously pretentious.”

It still wasn’t his thing. Hudson wasn’t sure it would ever be his thing, but where indifference once existed, he’d at least warmed up to the idea of Christmas a little more. Something he was sure would continue to flourish with any given year he could watch Nixon light up in a way that he very rarely ever did whenever the holidays came around. “Won’t know if we stick around here every year, it could be.” He shrugged, “You’re not tired of looking at the same tree every year?” Up until two years ago, he’d barely noticed the damn thing. A hazard of growing up here, he supposed. The corner of his smile grew to a grin, the soft huff of laughter that fell hinged solely on the fact that he knew how much Kennedy always wanted to be a mother. “Don’t tell me you expected anything less from her, did you? Much like everything else.. she’s been planning this her entire life.” He remembered listening to her talk to their mother about it when their parents were home; not everything about the Tallis home felt cold. “Oh, it is ridiculously pretentious, but it sure as hell beats flying coach.”

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hephaestionwrites‌:

Nixon grabbed on to Hudson’s wrists, pinning them back against the wall and away from his jeans, “Ah – no touching, Huds. No one said you were in charge.” He grinned a little more, raising an eyebrow when he saw Hudson’s demeanor changing. Rolling his eyes, he hushed the other with a hard kiss, “It was a question – doesn’t demand an answer now. Either way –” Either way, he’d taken care of that already. Rowan owed him this. He dragged him into this world, then the original was definitely taking him out of it. 

“You are not ruining this for me,” Nixon released his grip on Hudson’s wrists, though he didn’t move away from their proximity. “You know I love you – more than anything,” he murmured slowly, reaching up to place his hand on the witch’s jaw, “S’you and me. If it bothers you, say no and we’ll move on.”

Even with the shifting intention his train of thought had, there was no missing the adamant roll of his eyes as the corner of his mouth pressed higher with Nixon’s demand that he not touch. “Seriously?” Humor that still remained within the thick of his chest didn’t budge, digits unfurling to bare palms out in some effortless compliance. “Alright, alright.-- you’re the boss, boss.” Lips that found his, left lungs searching for more air as he inhaled everything he could about the vampire. “Either way..---” He didn’t like that, despite knowing whatever reasoning that lay behind making other arrangements, it lit a protective fire in the pit of his stomach that hadn’t gone out since he’d first agreed to help the other. “Either way, what?”

Truly, he wasn’t sure he blamed Nixon for wanting something like that. Hudson couldn’t imagine a mortal life, even one like his that he could extend through implications of his own power, without him. Living something so eternal, or even the thought of it was enough to crush what might have been left of his soul. “No.” He let out, hands falling from their place against the wall to curl around Nixon’s wrist, the other falling to his side. “No, it doesn’t bother me. Whatever you want ---” He paused, really looking at his fiance, “Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen. Just.. give me a month or two. Let me figure out how to do this without..” Without something going wrong, because if it did.. and Hudson didn’t make it work, it left Nixon to his either way, and he hated the idea of that. “Let me figure this out, I’ll make it work. I promise, I won’t leave you here, ever.”

[hccxte]

@hephaestionwrites​

There were far too many reasons why he preferred hunting alone. Mostly, he knew he could trust his own instincts, never anyone else’s. A fact that he felt the full weight of as he’d watched the unseasoned hunter take a step far too big for anyone so new to this, only to watch him be torn apart, limb by limb. He’d said he’d checked the corners. It rested solely on Hendrix and his inability to let someone walk in blind; he’d always be back up when uncertainty rose and truly, he should have listened to his gut. The ambush came quickly, the blur of how he’d even managed to clear the building at all surpassed him, though, perhaps luck only existed in small bursts and the claw’s that tore across his back and side were so razor-sharp that he’d been certain that was it for him. The passing moment of clarity he was given as the flash of headlights drew the wolves back into the shadow of the city building was all he needed to make sure no fucking organs were spilling out before he was on his feet --- shaky, and he couldn’t deny the turning of his stomach, but he’d rather die being hit by a car than here on the pavement of some back alley.  The ravenous ache that split his side was something to cling to. It hurt -- he felt it all, nothing was going numb, and he could still stand. The immediate assessment of the likelihood of this killing him came up short, and Hendrix held his arm tight against his side to stem the bleeding, tugging his phone from his back pocket as his mind ripped through thoughts of the intersection he was near and who was closest. She’d get a kick out of this. Hitting redial on his most recent, he heaved himself across the quiet street, uncaring for the ungodly time the shrill sound of her ringtone would no doubt echo through her place, “Kens, open your god damn door. Four minutes. Don’t ask.” Slipping from bloodied fingertips, his phone found it’s place back in the confines of his pocket and one last quick survey of the run-down building being used by the pack of rogues, no movement. Three minutes. He could manage.  He was late and he knew it. What he also knew was that he’d lost more blood than his body could regenerate with him moving the way he was, but the last thing he needed was his scent being tracked and what better place to avoid that, then the home of two Tallis witches. Reaching the top step, bloodied fist pounded against the heavy door, to which he heard nothing. “God damn it, Kennedy.. --” Again, the loud sound of his knocking echoed the times he’d busted through doors on duty, “Open the fucking door.”

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@hephaestionwrites​

“How many of these do you think we can manage?” Or rather, how many places did he believe they could truly pull this off. Hudson had never really thought all too much into the whole, Christmas spirit thing, that certainly hadn’t changed simply because he had Nixon now. However, there was something about seeing the vampire’s eyes light up a little brighter than usual that turned something over in Hudson’s stomach in a way that he might be more than totally okay with if it became something more permanent. “New York might end up with a serious shortage of them before long. I hear Belguim’s pretty expansive on the Christmas decorations.” He wondered out loud, it wasn’t so much considered leaving if he intended to come back, right? “I’ve never been all that big on bragging about it, but I’ll bet the family jet is free this year. What, with Kennedy all.. knocked up and everything.” A thought that.. he almost didn’t hate.  

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hephaestionwrites‌:

Nixon would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy wringing everything possible out of Hudson. In fact, the infuriating way he teased and made the other speak was possibly one of his favorites. It wasn’t every day that they murdered someone in their living room, after all. Well, it was often, but it had been the first for the day. The vampire smirked, though it grew into a grin when he heard Hudson’s laugh reverberate deep in his chest. He leaned forward to press the witch against the wall, his other hand moving up to brace against it, “Can you? I like it when you remind me,” he crooned, laughing when Hudson stopped the movement of his wrist.

“Hey, gentle, I’m fragile,” he teased, flexing his hand in Hudson’s grip. Looking up at his fiancé, he studied his gaze for a moment, “This ring – what did you do?” He knew it would alert him to something, but Nixon was more intent on having something else happen. After all, he’d lived nearly three lifetimes, perhaps a fourth by the time Hudson was gone from the earth. “Is there a way for me to – to end when you do?” He didn’t care if his life was bound to Hudson’s; death would be better than to live the earth alone as he already had for a century.

“Yeah,” he cut lowly beneath another raspy breath of air as Nixon pressed in closer to him, “You like it a little too much sometimes.” Which, circumstances given, he didn’t entirely blame him and as much became far too obvious with the softened laugh he breathed out. “You’re making it really, really hard to focus right now, Nix.” A total given and almost entirely his own fault at this point in time, the Tallis all too aware of what even a drop of witches blood might have done to Nixon, and he’d offered up an entire body. A near drunken state of bloodlust resided within the man pressed against him, whether he realized it’s own effect or not, it lived a concrete reminder that Hudson really couldn’t give Nixon all the control. Least he lose it completely. 

Fragile, ironically enough, it wasn’t so far from the truth. Physically, perhaps not, but Hudson had come to learn rather quickly that the vampire that sought to bury so much of himself beneath sarcasm and his relentless ability to flirt his way out of almost anything, felt far too much. “What do you mean, what did I do?” He shook his head a little, trying to clear the haze brought on by the chilled hand against him and simply being so near the other. “I uh..-- you’ll know. When something’s wrong.” Eloquent, he thought. “Whatever happens to me, you’ll feel. Not nearly to the same extent, and it won’t be painful but you’ll..-- you’ll just know when I need you.” Intentions lay in ensuring they were never apart, even less so when he needed Nixon.   Curiosity always had a habit of biting him, he should have seen it coming. Should have settled into the familiar feel of the vampire against him instead of being so fucking curious as to what it was that seemed so important it needed to be asked now. It jarred him a little, pulled him to stand further upright as Hudson drew Nixon’s hand away from him, letting go to fumble for his jeans and tug them back up into place, “To.. end when I do.” He repeated, feeling something sink inside of him. “That’s some heavy magic, you’re talking.. connecting life lines. It’s binding, Nixon.” As if, somehow, Hudson might have thought to draw a line where something more was possible if this were ever to.. end.

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hephaestionwrites‌:

“Oh – don’t you worry, Huds. I’ll suck you dry one way or another,” Nixon’s grin was as sharp as his smile, his knee pressing between Hudson’s legs to add a little bit of pressure to what was between them. His one hand that was below the waistband of the other’s jeans held on tighter to the bare skin beneath it, knowing he’d probably leave bruises in the form of fingerprints for the next morning. But that’s how they were. If it wasn’t rough, then it wasn’t good enough. Nixon liked claiming the Tallis witch for all to see, just in case something – or someone – thought it would be wise to separate him from the vampire. Nixon wasn’t always possessive, but recent events had him feeling as such. 

“Daniel,” he corrected, humming out the name as his lips attached themselves to Hudson’s bared neck now, noting the flush that spread over his witch. Nixon let his teeth scrape against the other’s throat, finally bumping their noses together before he kissed the other breathless once more. His other hand reached up to curl around Hudson’s jaw, meeting his gaze, “Do you not want me to?” he grinned slowly, waiting for the denial he knew would never come. After all, they were technically still in the safety of Hudson’s apartment – blood aside. “I wanted to ask you something,” he murmured, slowly easing his grip on Hudson’s jaw. Instead, he tugged Hudson’s jeans down past his hips, using his other hand to press against the hardening length beneath, “Because I know you can do it.”

Strangely enough, something akin to an objective growl settled in the thick of Hudson’s throat at being corrected, likely reverberating beneath the vampire’s mouth, already dangerously close to his jugular. However obvious it might have been that he hadn’t cared all that much for the name of the almost long forgotten admirer Nixon held well before they’d ever become something, it was safe to say that the reminder being further cemented into his mind didn’t leave him feeling all too fragile beneath the others touch. Even despite knowing it wouldn’t leave a mark, fingertips lifted to instead curl into the back of Nixon’s neck as lips found his, “I’m beginning to reconsider..” The grin that settled per usual, drew him beyond the bitter taste in the back of his throat and his hardened gaze lessened.  Though it certainly traipsed the precipice of being one of the very few things Hudson found great distaste in, being so painfully distracted while simultaneously having his curiosity poked like a dead cat, something he knew Nixon so often did on purpose. The shift of his jeans down over his hips and the chill of Nixon’s palm against him forces something inside him to implode against the pressing question asked moments before. Eyes close tightly on the coattails of the curse that slips between his lips, and tipping his head back is all he can manage to draw air sharply in between his teeth. “You know I can do a lot of things,” evident in the shift of his hips to further press himself into the vampire’s touch and the burning lump of laughter that’s twisted and morphs into a groan of placid irritation, “What? What did you..--” Digits snap to curl around Nixon’s wrist and the heady breath that finds him then is pained still, “What did you wanna’ ask me?”

[hccxte]

hephaestionwrites‌:

Nixon always thrived where darkness was present, and Hudson knew that. He stayed wildly still, simply because Hudson’s hands were so close to his mouth, and the pressure made him hum. The swipe of the other’s finger, however, had him pushing Hudson back against the wall, sliding his body flat against the Tallis witch’s when he was drawn closer. “You gotta be careful, babe.” He licked his lips, “I told you I had sharp teeth.” He found amusement in this, and he met Hudson’s gaze with a grin, “Just a pretty face, mhm. Clearly that’s what I think. If you were just a pretty face, one of us would be dead.” He hadn’t really considered anything substantial, back when he’d been driven crazy by a century old curse. No one meant a thing to him until Hudson, and that was clear as day written in the vampire’s eyes. 

“You’re my fiancé. Who would’ve thought a guy like me would have one of those?” The vampire still had his hands curled around Hudson’s sides, and he released his grip so he could slip them into the waistband of the other’s jeans. Nixon leaned forward to capture Hudson’s mouth in a rough kiss, “You’re my everything,” he murmured against Hudson’s mouth once he broke the kiss, bumping their noses together before he smiled.

The sudden pressure knocked some of the air from his lungs, fleeting within the curvature of a quiet laugh as his head rocked back against the surface biting into his back. “Maybe that was the point.” Deeper and deeper he’d delve into all things no witch should ever consider -- written into the bylaws of his family, his coven, and yet -- every ounce of the darkness when paired with the man he loved became irresistible. The pad of his thumb, sliced open by the edge of Nixon’s fang slipped between his own lips as he sucked the crimson from the small wound. “So you’re not just biding your time till the time is right then? Waiting for the opportune moment to suck me dry.” The innuendo didn’t fall flat as Hudson rocked his hips forward into him. It didn’t weigh as heavy as one might have convinced themselves it would --- being in love with a vampire with a growing addiction to witches blood, while the strongest ran through his veins should have put a damper on something; yet Hudson knew, if push ever came to shove, he’d never fight it. He’d sacrifice everything, everything, for the man who gave him a place to just be.  “I’m sure Justin..-- David.. Daniel? What was that guys name again?” He shook his head, “I’m sure that guy was sure as hell hoping you didn’t have one of those.” Ironic, that they stood now, tangled up in one another, just as surely as Nixon had first played it out the day he’d plucked him from the crowd. Hands that delved beneath the waistband of his jeans seared ice into his skin and the sharp breath he drew in tightened in the pit of his stomach as he cursed beneath his breath, the flush that bloomed in the hollow of his throat spreading quickly. “You’re really gonna’ do this right here?” Not that he’d cared, or that it’d ever matter to him. Lips that found his far beyond he euphoria that any magic could mottle within his veins, an addiction he’d claim to anyone who asked. “I love you, Nix.” Hands found purchase of the vampire’s waist, though it was impossible to bring him any closer, even as the smile pressing his fiance’s lips exploded within his chest.

[hccxte]

hephaestionwrites‌:

Even if Kaiden was difficult at times, so was Maverick. He had his own bout of insecurity, and it had been so easily festered by the other’s sibling. It was easily preyed upon, until it had only taken a few more harsh comments for Maverick to break away and let go of everything he’d held onto for a year. He’d been so engrossed into Kaiden that he’d easily believed everything Alexis said, simply because they all rang true in his mind. Even now, he could hear her voice, but it was drowned out by the look in Kaiden’s eyes. Maverick Callahan had grown up only being wanted sometimes; when it benefitted others, or when he was reminded that his very existence had been very much a call to publicity – as well as an accident. His father remained aloof, and his mother a distant stranger. But Kaiden had been everything, and he could feel the breath leaving his lungs once more as Kaiden closed the distance between them. 

“Really?” Maverick could barely get the word out, his hands gripping Kaiden’s shirt like a lifeline as he pressed forward, his arms sliding around Kaiden’s neck as he breathed the other in. “I’m sorry,” he couldn’t stop the flow of words, especially not when he was this close to Kaiden – and when he wasn’t sure he’d get another chance. “I’m sorry for not…trying harder,” he felt embarrassed, yet as he stayed as close as humanly possible to Kaiden once more, he felt wanted. “It’s always been you, Kaid.”

It might have been a terrifying thought, to consider how truly staple his confession had been. There, truly, hadn’t been anyone else. Not before, not after -- and nothing like this. Nothing like the soothing warmth that he’d so readily have forgotten everything he’d ever hated about being so near someone else, of being touched without warning. Maverick stood to be his only, and Kaiden honestly didn’t know how long such sentiment would ring out. “Nobody else comes close.” Nobody had ever tried to light a candle to what Maverick was; to who he’d been. The one to try, the one to stick around, to find some way to understand even when it seemed impossible. Nothing changed, gods knew nothing in his world changed just because Maverick was there, but everything became easier knowing the whole world wasn’t against him, that at the end of the day he’d always have Mav on his side --- until he hadn’t.  Brows knit and he sighed heavily against his lips, neither wanting to stop kissing him because forever without these lips pressed against his had taken it’s toll, nor wanting to let the other settle for this being his fault. “I should have stopped you from leaving, given you .. some reason to stay. After everything.. you didn’t deserve that.” Not that it could have so easily been helped, the way Kaiden’s mind processed things, he’d truly believed it’d been what Maverick wanted, too caught in his own head to realize what was really going on. What dawned on him however, what Kaiden hated most about this --- was that not even this changed anything. Any implication that might come from anyone knowing this, would rest so heavily on his sisters case it became near impossible. “You don’t deserve any of this..--” Not the attention he’d gotten simply by finding himself with David.

[hccxte]

thanatoswritcs‌:

Torn from his blissed out slumber by the sound of a shrill scream echoing in his head, Ares barely had a second to pay mind to the otherwise unoccupied bed. The sheets were rumpled, twisted around his barren legs, flung haphazardly across his nude form. The opposing side had been occupied when he’d fallen asleep, light smile stretched across his lips as he drifted into unconsciousness. But the time for mediating on that was shoved to the side when another scream ripped through the night, sending the man scrambling for clothes. He’d snatched up a pair of sweats on his way towards the door, struggling to secure them on his hips before he tumbled out into the night. And the scene he was greeted with tore through his chest, clawing at the beating organ that pounded against his rib cage. Flames lapped at buildings, burning them to the ground as he watched in stark horror. Bodies were strewn across the ground, many unmoving and void of any emotion he had seen present in their features. Despite the fires that engulfed many of the homes, he felt a shiver run down his spine, faint bumps cascading across his bare arms. His mind scrambled to understand what was happening, to come to a conclusion on who dared to destroy what he held dear.

Slipping through the night, he shuffled through what powers he had stored in his being, felt the tingle at the tips of his fingers when he settled on one. He was going to make whoever had done this suffer for the remainder of their pathetic life. Stepping over bodies of those who had welcomed him into their coven, of those that had treated him as if he were their brother, nephew, son. He was going to kill whoever had done this. The anger rose in his being, burned brightly in his chest as he pushed on forward, seeking out who he presumed could only be a hunter. Yet the flash of familiar hair, the show of familiar features illuminated by the growing flames had him halting in his steps, breath caught in the hollow of his throat. No, no, no; this couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t possibly be because of — him.

For the years spent with this coven, Ares had been reminded of one thing; the originals couldn’t be trusted. The family that created everything they had been given, the ones that held the purest form of magic within their beings, were as sneaky as the devil offering one the taste of forbidden fruit. “Hudson —,” the name felt vile on the tip of his tongue, acid slipping down his throat as he slowly stepped closer. His gaze shifted to the beings on the ground, to the flames that crumbled a house, before returning once more to the man he had hours ago shared a bed with, “Qu'est-ce que tu as fait?” 

It felt all in all too big for the very palms of his hands, euphoric to the point that he might simply pass out from delirium, if he was anyone else --- he would have. The swelling power of an entire coven in his system was nothing short of intoxicating yet they weren’t his first, and likely wouldn’t be his last. Beyond what those that knew him understood, was that Hudson Tallis held far more power than any one single person ever should have, and given the opportunity, he very rarely if ever used it for anything good. The slow steps towards him were met by those of his own, he didn’t have any reason to turn away, nor any reason to cower though he’s sure the anger that’ll burn within Ares with the realization of what he’d done would consider his lacking coy behavior all the more detrimental. “What did I do?” The slight inclination of his head as he listened to the screaming brought a sickening smile to his face; it was a shame, truly. If there’d been some way for him to take what he wanted without the killing... perhaps he’d have used that method. “-- Whatever the hell I wanted to.” Still, hues leveled with the man he hadn’t so readily minded using for so long -- part of him might have even felt a little, guilty that Ares had become a casualty. “Come on, you think this was where you belonged?” He laughed, stepping closer until he could clip the edge of Ares’ jaw with his thumb. The trouble was, whatever anger he felt would do him nothing at all --- if anything, it’d simply give Hudson more reason to finish what he’d started, but it didn’t have to be that way. “You never would have gotten’ this much out of them.” Not that Ares would likely have ever intended to take anything from those that gave him a new place to call him. The tips of his fingers sparked every nerve ending with power, magic that didn’t belong to him swarming for release until the depths of his own simply, swallowed it whole and turned it into something useful to the Tallis. “--- Guess that’s the price you pay.”

[hccxte]

hephaestionwrites‌:

He snapped his teeth in the direction of Hudson’s finger that got a little too close to his mouth. It was simply out of habit, since he couldn’t help himself but be extra. He waited until he could see clearly, rocking closer to Hudson, “What? That’s because most of the people I even bothered with ended up dead. Maybe people knew to stay away.” It was true, and well, maybe he didn’t have to explain that drinking someone’s blood during an orgasm was mildly concerning. The vampire was uncouth as always, and the question only caused him a moment’s hesitation. 

After something like this, he was extremely aware of Hudson. Nixon could feel every beat of Hudson’s heart like it was his own, and the dark magic that flowed through both of them only reminded him of how deadly a pair they could be. Witch blood, however, was an entirely different thing. The more witches he killed, the more chaotic he got. He’d managed to stay away for decades, but the first taste after being stripped of his curse had him hooked. “I’m feeling great,” he crooned, hands sliding up Hudson’s shirt now to splay fingers against abs. “I know you like to worry – but let me do the thinking around here, yeah? You just smile and look pretty.”

He’d been more than aware of what the blood would do to Nixon, the vampiric intoxication that sifted through veins to create addiction lingering in the off-handed snap of his teeth and the way he leered towards the witch. It drew something of a smirk to his lips, pressing nefarious intent a little closer to home as the very thought of craning his neck just enough for his fiance’s teeth to carve through the veins in his own neck offered itself possible. “They were very clearly the wrong people.” Because Hudson would never --- not now, and certainly not when they’d first met, shy away from anything that made up who, or what Nixon was.  The sharp breath he sucked in as cold hands slipped beneath his shirt were skewed by the soft, dark chuckle that lifted in his lungs, “I don’t doubt that.” How could he? There’d been no mistake in offering up the witch to him, the same vibrant, blinding and euphoric feeling that washed over Hudson as he took what he needed didn’t feel wrong; and it certainly didn’t feel that way once he satisfied himself with giving Nixon something akin to that feeling. His hand lifted to trace the pad of his thumb across his other halves bottom lip, pressing in against the flesh until he felt fang beneath, “Is that all I am to you? A pretty face?” It darkened something within his eyes, regardless of the taunt, Hudson didn’t particularly like being diminished to as much considering he’d spent so long hiding pieces of himself already. The small swipe of his thumb across the edge of fang split the skin, crimson pooling within the small cut all while his free hand searched to hook fingers into the opening of Nixon’s pocket to draw him closer.

[hccxte]

@seanfaris

Never quite so easy to forget, yet the surreptitious goings on within the city had come to something of a stand still. Baited breath passing for something far more relieving, though perhaps such fleeting parallel to a time before might have slipped beneath fingertips purely based on the individual beneath mindless  traced out across the arm draped over her shoulder. Mindlessly, as the depth of a quiet evening encroached, the dusk glow slipping beyond the window until chilled breeze crept across the bare skin of her thigh and she shifted to sit up. “All I’m saying is that whoever decorated this place just...” Lips pursed tightly to stifle the laugh that bloomed, Cinda neither willing to openly admit what she thought on the off chance he’d had a hand in it or perhaps even one of his sisters. Legs drew up, tucked in against her chest, teeth chewing relentlessly at the inside of her cheek, and the coy smirk that continued to play out across her features shifted to something almost too soft --- to fond of facial lines she traced without even thinking about it. “It’s not bad, but it couldn’t hurt to..-----”

Words cut short as the sound of glass shattered from beyond the living room drowned her out. Immediate thought passing right by what it might have been and holding a vice like grip around concern that surrounded the six month old boy she knew to be sound asleep within the confines of Julian’s apartment; right beyond the tearing sound that emanated the once silent hallway. Though instincts within her lay few and far between, Lucinda still found herself on her feet, yet further away from the doorway than she’d first intended, something about the things she knew nothing of planting her feet when every nerve ending in her system told her to run. “What the hell is that?” Growling, guttural and primal to it’s core tore at the strings of the organ within her chest, and far was she to ever know the painted target worn by the man she found belonging with, the string of synced attacks roused in the lowly night against those who stood opposing the ouroboros cause. “Julian, what the hell is that?” She knew virtually nothing --- nothing about the things that lurked within the shadows, nothing about what lived as little more than a myth -- and what very clearly didn’t.