#And fuck like modern five nights is so much more aimed at kids and it makes me sad

[leafatlaw]

hmm okay that was… a movie

[nine-blessed-hero]

Night Exercises

Universe: TESIV: Oblivion, Modern AU (post-Crisis) Warnings: Description of a mild panic attack Words: 2,400 Context: Written for the TES Summer Fest prompt "Starlit". Or read on AO3 Taglist (ask +/-): @tes-summer-fest @mishkakagehishka @arcane-elder-scrolls​ @bread-of-death @writeblrsupport

Aderyn shivers as the night breeze brings the acerbic scent of pine down from the ridge on their right, mingling with the bog-brown smells of the heath. Behind her, Fortis slams the car door shut. "First lesson," he says, pulling a green beanie over crew-cut dark hair, "in addition to everything else I've told you to put in it, always carry a torch in your go-bag, along with a map of your locality." Aderyn hefts her bag. "Got my torch." "And here's your map." Fortis hands her a pink Ordnance Survey.

"I don't get why we're out here in the middle of the night. It's fucking brass monkeys." "Finish the test, and you get to drink cocoa in your jammies at the end." Fortis's teeth flash as he grins. "We're out here, Rookie, because there's no telling what shit you'll end up in while out with a principal. Kidnappings and assassinations don't happen much during daylight and fair weather." He turns to gesture at the road, pale skin ghostly in the moonlight. "Single-track, rural – it's easy to force someone off a road like that. We work for a corporation, Rook, and corporate bigwigs like to hobnob in fancy stately homes, most of which can only be accessed by single-track roads in the arse-end of nowhere." "That's my scenario?" Aderyn wraps her arms around herself, to stave off the chill and quell the sick feeling that rises at the thought of being out here with Martin, pursued by a faceless enemy. "Yep. You're being followed on the way back from a party. They come alongside and force you off the road." "Can't I fight 'em?" Fortis scratches the beard on his jawline, sounding amused, "You think you could take eight goons by yourself, and stop them getting to your principal?" "Being the Hero of Kvatch's gotta count for sumint." "C'mon kid, we both know you're a lousy fighter. No, that's not gonna work. What's the golden rule?" Aderyn rolls her eyes. "Get the fuck outta Dodge, ASA." "Right. Find us a place to hole up while you check where you are and where you're going."

Aderyn looks around. She's lucky Fortis has chosen a clear night with a nearly-full moon – the landscape is painted in tones of silvery-blue and dark shadows. Mounds of gorse and stunted birch rise and fall away like a tide, rabbit-paths of fine ash-coloured sand lit up like quicksilver. Aderyn points towards a clump of gorse, close by and angled such they're obscured from the road. "There." She ushers Fortis ahead of her – in this scenario, he's her principal – and hopes to whoever is listening that she can remember enough survival craft so there aren't any accidents.

"Alright. This is a good choice," Fortis says, looking around the hollow Aderyn has led them to. "You've got about five minutes of breathing space here. Time to call it in, then figure out where you're going next. What code are you sending?" Aderyn takes a breath. "Code gold, cuz it's Martin. Uh. It's not 'actual', cuz no one's directly tried to harm us yet… Shit, what's the word…? Impending. Then I give the location: Northbound B6721. And a description: forced off road, fleeing on foot." She looks at Fortis who nods. "And all together?" "Code gold, impending. Forced off road, Northbound B6721, fleeing on foot." "Good. Now, where are we going?" Aderyn unfolds the map, pointing with the penlight to a grid square. "We're here? Ish?" "That's fine. You can give a 6-figure reference when you're more certain." "There's a," she squints at the map, "Scout hut here. That's where we're aiming for." "Okay. What direction?"

Aderyn folds the map down to just that page, puts the penlight in her teeth and pulls out her phone. Fortis plucks it from her grip. She spits out the penlight. "What the fuck?" "Phone broke in the crash. There's no GPS." "Then how did I send the SMS to call it in?" Fortis rubs the back of his neck. "C'mon, Rook. I need to know you can do without." "Fine." Aderyn rummages in her bag and pulls out a compass. Fortis blinks. "It's good to see you're prepared, but…" "You're really gonna tell me my compass is bust too?" "No," Fortis sighs, "but the point of this is to check you can navigate by starlight."

Aderyn gives him a long look and, with a small huff, clicks the torch off, turning her attention upwards. Her gaze rakes the heavens, spangled with glittering points like specks of feldspar in the polished basalt firmament. "There's the Plough," she tracks the constellation with her finger, "and the Little Bear, so that's Polaris. That means…" Aderyn flicks her gaze from the map to the sky, orientating herself and the map, then points towards the open heath, "…we're going that way? I think?" "Little tip, Rook – always sound certain, even if you're not. Your principal is likely scared, they're trusting you to look after them. Don't make them doubt your capabilities." "Right." Aderyn takes a breath, slides the map into her pocket and turns on the charm. "Yeah, we're all good. We're going this way."

–

They tromp across the heath, Aderyn steering Forti's path from behind with one eye on the knotted ground and one on the north star, all the while he's quizzing her on procedure. "What's the code colour for both Mr Septim and Baurus?" Aderyn grins. "Electrum." "Another Blade?" "Black." "Top five things for your go-bag?" "Water, medkit, torch, penknife, lockpicks." "Wrong go-bag." "Lockpicks are always useful." Fortis huffs out a laugh. "You planning on taking your principal on an infil job?" Aderyn starts to laugh but cuts off, a hand clamping on Fortis's shoulder. "Stop!" He freezes. "What's wrong?" "Back up."

Fortis backs up the path they've trod and turns to find Aderyn pulling out the map and torch. "I know the pink ones are broader," she says of the map, "but right now the orange one would have been better." "Talk to me, Rook." "See that fluffy shit?" Fortis looks. From around them have started to sprout what looks like cotton wool tufted on a stick, as bright against the dark heath as the stars above. "Yeah?" "That's bog cotton. If we keep going that way, we're going to end up in a drink. Or down to our hips in mud, if we're unlucky. The orange map would have shown boggy ground." Aderyn shines the torch around her and takes a moment to orientate herself again. "If we go that way, we should be able to skirt it." Fortis cants his head. "That's a good catch, Griffiths."

They fall silent then, navigating the tussocks and gullies. If she squints, Aderyn thinks she can see the lights of the Scout hut through the trees in the distance. They're tantalisingly, frustratingly close. If only it wasn't for the bog between it and them, they'd be home-free by now. They've come dressed for the hike – walking boots, waterproofs and technical gear – but it doesn't stop her feet from soaking through as the water rises calf-level in places. The cold water saps her heat, makes her shiver and ache. Leaping the tussocks, keeping her balance, plotting the route – it all takes effort and concentration, draining even her high energy reserves.

Aderyn's mind wanders, body running on autopilot as it settles into the rhythm of the hike. She thinks about having to do this for real. Martin in his dress shoes and tux, tired already from a party. Thinks about how he'd struggle to jump, tussock to tussock; about how he'd soon be shivering with the cold water and night air, maybe going hypothermic. Thinks about having to do all this with antagonistic gunmen on their tail. Even though he's not even there, her chest constricts. It's only a test, Aderyn reminds herself. But it doesn't stop her legs from wobbling as she leaps. She stumbles, lands knee-deep in the mire, vision spinning. "Anson!" It comes out as a breathless squeak, too soft to carry. Her breathing is laboured, heart racing, fast even for the exercise. The grass is coarse under her hand, the rattle of reeds sinister as they move in the wind. "Rookie?" Fortis is back. Shadows enfold his face, turning his brown eyes to wool-black and highlighting his pinched brow. "Listen to me. If you're injured, I can have med-evac here in twenty." "No. I- Just need a moment," Aderyn says around the pressure on her chest. His fingers find the pulse point on her neck, and his lips move soundlessly as he counts the beats. "I need you to take a nice deep breath for me. Can you do that?" Aderyn nods, heaves in a breath. "Good. Another." The pressure binding her chest lifts, the fog that had settled over her thoughts scattering like a cloud of midges in a strong breeze. A bird trills somewhere. Aderyn tastes salt and sediment on her lips, becoming acutely aware of how uncomfortable her position is, of the water creeping up her thigh. "Ready to carry on?" Fortis asks. Aderyn nods, and he helps her stand on legs that tremble still. "Okay?" "I'm good."

–

Finally, they reach firmer ground. A small rise peppered with some kind of sparse, deciduous tree snakes along the edge of the damp lowlands. They stop, taking a drink of water. From here, Aderyn can definitely see the Scout hut. At its back is a boardwalk over the bog, chicken wire grip rimmed by starlight. Aderyn puts her water away. "Not much further. We follow this ridge, then we'll be home free."

The boardwalk is rickety when they get there. The water below is still and black and fathomless as only a heathland pond can be, an obsidian mirror showing only the speckled night above. "It's alright," Aderyn says, as much for her own confidence as anything, and steps gingerly onto the dark planks. They sag but don't give way. She takes a few more steps, then beckons Fortis out. "Just stay to the sides, yeah?" "Quick question, Rook – you do know how to swim, right?" "Yeah, I'm good," she replies, heart in her throat.

When the creaking boards finally give way to solid ground again, Aderyn's relief is palpable. A quick glance at Fortis shows he feels the same, head tipped back, snatching some deep breaths, hand wrapped around his shark tooth necklace. He grins when he realises she's watching him. "I think we need to talk to Mr Septim about a donation to the Scouts here, eh, Rook?" Aderyn grins back, as they start walking towards the gate at the back of the property. "Also about some decent security," she adds, popping the padlock with a shim and a quick flex of the wrist.

–

Ferrum meets them at the door of the hut. He looks them over in the blasting white lights of the security spots, and says, "Wait there." When he returns, it's with two black bin bags. "You're not coming in like that. Clothes," he says, holding the bin bags out. They stand on the concrete porch and strip to their undies, every sopping item going in the bags to be washed later. Which is fair, Aderyn thinks as she peels off her trousers and drops them, thudding wetly, into the bag.

There're clean sweats in the bathroom, and mugs of hot chocolate in the kitchen. "That one is yours, Rook," Ferrum says, pointing to the one with a mountain of whipped cream. Aderyn pulls out the chair and sits. "Sprinkles. You fucking serious?" "I'll swap you," Fortis says, making grabby hands. Aderyn baps him with the spoon. Ferrum leans against the counter. "It's a reward for a job well done. I assume," he looks at Fortis, "she did well?" Fortis kicks his bare feet up onto the table. "There was a little wobble. But yeah, our Little Bird did good." "Wobble?" Ferrum loosens his crossed arms, shoulders tilting towards Aderyn. "Panic attack. Just a baby one-" "Can we not?" Aderyn interrupts, shoulders hunched.

"Hey." Fortis drops his legs and twists in his chair, leaning in. "Aderyn, look at me. Everyone has a moment they go off-axis." Aderyn makes a noise of disbelief. "It's true, Rook," Ferrum rumbles out. "I panicked during an exercise and shot my SO. Blanks, but still." "Caroline was so nervous when she met Ariella Septim, she forgot every English word she knew," Fortis says. "They carried their conversations in French, if I recall," Ferrum says. Aderyn uncurls, easing back in her chair. "What about you?" Fortis rubs the back of his neck. "Me? Ah, can I tell you Pel's instead? Or Baurus?" Ferrum laughs, a low rolling thing. "Christ, was it that bad?" Aderyn asks. "He fainted," Ferrum says. "During little Kintyra's wedding to that milk-water sop, Amiel." Aderyn grins, lopsided. "Wow." "Ah, hush – it was emotional. My point, Rook," Fortis says, "is that compared to some, a little panic attack is nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed by. You were with me, during basic training in a somewhat controlled environment. Not on your own, in a far more dangerous situation, like the Crisis. Quite frankly, I'm impressed it's taken until now." Aderyn plays with a loose threat on her jumper. "Crisis was easy. Well, I mean – y'know. I only had me to worry about. Not B or Gramps. Or Martin." Ferrum murmurs in understanding. Fortis lifts his chin. "Ah." "I don't think I'm cut out for a Blade," Aderyn says, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Hey, it's late." Fortis squeezes her shoulder. "Drink your cocoa, get some sleep, and you can think about this later when you've got a fresh brain. Okay?" "Yeah, alright." Aderyn picks up the spoon, rescuing melted cream dribbling down the side of the mug.

Fortis watches her a moment longer, then glances at Ferrum. "You got any more squirty cream and sprinkles?" Ferrum huffs out a laugh. "What have you done to deserve sprinkles?" "Being my awesome self." "That's not enough for sprinkles." "So rude. Jena'd give me sprinkles." "Jena isn't here." Aderyn relaxes into her seat as the two men bicker. Fortis is right – now is not the time to contemplate such matters. Outside, the wheel of stars is fading into the advance of dawn. She's warm and drowsy from the hot chocolate, secure in the hut. Ruminations on her future as a Blade can be saved for later.

[crystalessenceswrites]

Shadows- Chapter Five

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: Swearing Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] Cross-posted to AO3

Din’s head is spinning and he’s certain it’s not from the blow Qin landed earlier. Half-bloods? Cryptos? Slayers who hunt them? How had his people not stumbled upon this before now? Generations of Mandalorian warriors had fought and given their lives to protect humans from the monsters lurking in dark corners, yet there was a whole system they had missed. A whole kind of people they had not known were possible.

That would explain why he had such trouble determining what (Y/N) was. If she was a half-blood it would make sense she appeared more human than the typical monster masquerading as such. That did not make her human though. She was still one of them. Din could not let himself forget that.

Silently he watches her finish up with the burning body. It seems routine to her. She’s also well prepared, the thistles and the gas, not to mention armed to the teeth. Following their previous encounters, the last thing Din was expecting her to be carrying was a firearm. Yet she’d managed to stun a vampire with one shot. She knew what she was doing. If there were more slayers half as skilled as her how had they gone under the radar all this time?

And why hadn’t she tried to kill him?

It kept playing over and over again in his mind. That night at the dive bar her companion was more than hostile. She had sounded more than willing to get rid of him. But (Y/N) defused it. Both opportunities she’d had to kill him, she’d ignored. Instead, she had explained herself, given him insight into what she was. She wanted him to understand her. More than once she had compared what they both did- claimed they were both protecting humans. Could he believe that? Could he believe her? Believe someone who wasn’t human?

She looks up at him, eyes soft despite the fact she has a vampire’s body burning to ash at her feet. Deadly and yet she looks so normal in that moment. “Do you…uh, need any of him to take back?”

The confusion must be plain as day on his face as the corner of her lips quirk up.

“We have to bring something back as proof of death,” she explains, “I take it you guys don’t need that?”

“No.”

That explains all her supplies then. It also goes to show how organized this group is, tracking their kills, bounties, and all under the radar of his people. Din tries to ignore how impressed he is by it all.

The innate weakness vampires hold to fire means their bodies breakdown to ash considerably quicker and at lower temperature than a human body. It’s not long till Qin is just a pile of dust on the warehouse floor. He watches in mild curiosity as the slayer collects some of the ashes into a spare jar before scattering the rest with her boot. The bloodsucker would not be bothering anyone again.

(Y/N) shifts from foot to foot, watching him closely. “So…all good?”

They shouldn’t be. He should not be letting her leave a third time- it went against every bit of training they’d drilled into him- but she stepped in to help him. He couldn’t kill her after she’d done that. Or after all she had told him. That would make him just as much a monster.

Her shoulders relax as he nods. For a moment it looks like there’s another question hanging on the tip of her tongue, but she decides against it. She shoots him a small smile as she walks away, disappearing back into the darkness of the warehouse.

Din wonders what the fuck he’s doing as he lets her go.

.

Even after a quick stop at the covert infirmary on his way back Din still finds himself plagued by the events of the day. He kicks himself for letting her walk away, but the thought of killing her is almost revolting. Was it because he knew that some part, no matter how small, of her was human? Because she had helped him? Or because it was her?

Excited squeals pull him from his spiraling thoughts the moment he opens the front door. In seconds the wide-eyed ball of four-year-old energy has barreled up to him, chubby hands clinging to his pant leg for dear life.

“Hey, kid. Good to see you too.”

Din gets a toothy smile in return before he runs back off again to return to what looks like coloring at the dining table with Kuiil.

“He has grown very attached to you, these last few months.”

Din cannot disagree with Kuiil, the kid was quick to latch onto him when he returned home from his hunts and often would not go to bed at night unless he was there to say goodnight.

“Will you take him as your foundling?” The old man has been asking him that since the day he brought the young child back to the covert.

“We’re still looking for his family. There must be people out there who miss him.”

Kuiil continues to watch the child, a soft hum falling from underneath his thick beard. Din can see the wheels turning in the old man’s mind. He always had an air of wisdom about him, an air that led one to believe that deep down Kuiil did hold all the answers, if only he could uncover them. Even Armorer came to the man for advice. While he was not a Mandalorian, he was a friend of the covert and had been with them for several years now. He often helped look after the kid when Din was out hunting, and he wasn’t in class in the other foundlings.

“Maybe so, but he is here now, in your care. You have a choice to make, now or in the future. But you still must make one.”

Din agrees with a sigh, collapsing into the seat next to the kid, watching his grubby hands drag crayons across his coloring book.

“How was the hunt?”

“It was a success.”

“But?” Not only wise, but he was a perceptive old man.

“The slayer appeared again.”

“And I take it she left this encounter alive again?”

Din nods, his face solemn as Kuiil continues to help the child with his coloring.

“Did you learn anything new?”

He had almost learned more than he wanted to. “She claims to be a half-blood.”

“Half-human? Is that why you could not harm her?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“She has shaken you- you don’t know what to do with this new information.” The old man speaks as if it is an already known fact. Din would be remiss to say he was wrong. Knowing this now, he sees her both as a monster and a human, both someone he is sworn to destroy and sworn to protect by his creed.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“That she is half-human or that you are conflicted?”

Din scoffs, “both.”

“They have existed here as long as we have, among us in the most cases. It should not be a surprise that we have crossed paths before,” Kuiil shrugs, “the situation of her birth probably gives her advantages in her work.”

If she could blend in with both sides it would allow her to keep a lower profile. He could not even determine what species she was, that was proof enough she did not struggle to blend in with humans. She wore her mask well.

“As for your creed… that is another decision you’ll have to make for yourself.”

Kuiil’s wise words rattle around in his skull as he watches the kid totter around in the garden, arms outstretched as he chases another frog around. If their running track record meant anything he would run into her again, and he would have to make a choice. He just wished the right answer would make itself known before then.

“Ba!”

Din cannot help but smile at the proud kid as he runs up, the frog in his hold out on display. He was a quick little bugger, that was for sure. “Well look at that, little hunter in training.”

“Ya!” The little one waves his hands around happily, grin spread across his chubby cheeks.

It amazes him how quickly the kid had bounced back after everything he had been through. There were days it did not even cross Din’s mind that he’d rescued the child from the monsters who kidnapped him. He was happy, got along with all the other children in the covert and did well in his classes, even with his limited verbal skills. Well adjusted, is what the doctor had said.

“Ba!” The kid reaches up, grabby hands flailing.

“Alright, alright,” Din hoists the boy up, “should we get something to eat? Besides frogs?”

“Patu!”

.

“And here I thought you hated vampire jobs.”

Kannan looks almost smug as he watches you finish up exchanging paperwork for the reward on your most recent kill. Rolling your eyes, you stuff the check into your bag, “wasn’t like I had much of a choice with the lists today.”

“True.”

“So, did you need something, or did you just stick around to tease me?”

Kannan scoffs, “well I was gonna ask if you wanted to catch up over food but if that’s the attitude you’re going to take…”

“Where’s your apprentice today?” The teen was attached to Kannan’s hip these days, eager to get out in the field.

“He’s got his studies today, why?”

“Then food sounds like a great idea.” It had been sometime since you’d had a real chance to catch up with your old friend. He took his roles as Ezra’s mentor seriously, so he was rather booked up these days.

Kannan shoots you a satisfied grin, “the diner on 4th?”

Your stomach nearly growls at the thought. “Please.”

.

“I have to agree with Kira. You are a magnet for Mandalorians- or at least this one.”

You sigh, scrubbing a hand down your face. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Kannan chuckles, “since when has the universe needed a reason to screw us over?”

“You’ve got a point… I just can’t get over the odds. Three times in completely unrelated spots.” It was a large city and of all the people in the world you had to keep running into.

“There hasn’t been anyone else in the office who’s run into him. Are you sure he’s not tracking you?”

“This time I stumbled onto him, there’s no way he could have orchestrated that when I picked up the job this morning.” He obviously had not been planning on your arrival. You’d spooked him good.

Kannan shakes his head, “well you are simultaneously the unluckiest and luckiest person I know. You’ve gotten away three times now.”

You preferred to think it was due more to your skills and sharp tongue than luck, but the luck certainly was not hurting.

“It still worries me he knows your face. Even if he hasn’t been tracking you up till now it doesn’t mean he won’t try in the future.”

He had a point, but nothing about your interactions with Mando up till now would you lead you to believe he would. “I’m keeping my eye out for anything suspicious. If he does try, I’ll know. Hopefully, the fact that I know what he looks like deters him from trying.”

“We can hope.”

“I also think I figured out why we haven’t been able to find his local source in the community.”

Kannan’s eyebrows shoot up, “and how did you figure that out?”

“He asked me why I hadn’t killed him yet. Mentioned something about how my job was to deal with nuisances, so therefore I must have to kill him to get him out of the way,” you explain, “there’s no way he’s working with a crypto if that’s what he thinks slayers do. After the Fett debacle everyone around here knows we can’t do a damn thing about the Mandalorians.”

“That does sound like he’s either got old, secondhand information or his informant is messing with him. But I can’t imagine if he managed to get a full blood to help him, they’d yank him around like that,” Kannan strokes his goatee, face drawn together, “yet he’s been spot on with all his kills. He tracked down someone you pulled the bounty for before you’d even gotten there.”

“Could he be working with another hunter or have another Mandalorian partner? Someone who manages surveillance while he does the hunting?”

“It would seem the only other likely answer. Have you told Boss all this yet?”

You shake your head, “no, I don’t want to get ahead of myself… and I’m not sure what kind of reaction I’ll get once he knows I’ve crossed paths with the Mando again…”

“You haven’t told him?” Kannan goes wide-eyed, “Miss. By-The-Book not reporting a run in with a hunter?”

“Sue me for being worried about the perception of it all!”

“Chill, I’m not going to rat you out, (Y/N). I just want you to make sure you’re going to be okay. That you’re thinking this through.”

“I am thinking it through, Kannan. And if something important comes from it I’ll report it to Boss, but for now I’d rather keep this to myself.”

Kannan nods, “I trust your judgement. My lips are sealed.”

“Okay, enough about me and my drama! Tell me how things have been going for you and Hera lately!”

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language + severe triggerwarning for victims of domestic abuse.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: House-hunting, mole-hunting and Anita-hunting (sort of). And this chapter is like 95% conversation.

Chapter 32

  “Are you serious?”

  “What?”

  “That is way too big… What would we even do with all that?”

  “Hermosa, we fill the space we have. That’s not a euphemism, just a fact. If we have four rooms, we’ll fill those, and if we have twelve, we’ll fill those too.”

  “Who the fuck needs twelve rooms?”

  “It only has eight rooms.”

  “And there are only four of us.”

  “So, that’s it? No room to grow further?”

  “Honey, just how much are you anticipating this little family to grow? That’s a totally serious question, by the way. How many kids would you actually like to have?”

  “If your weird-ass body permits – like… four.”

  “Hey, who are you calling w…… did you just say four?”

  “Yup.”

  “What… including Missy, or… an additional four?”

  “I’m not picky. If we end up with just the two little miracles we have, I’ll still be the happiest man alive, but I wouldn’t mind having a bunch. Five, six, however many our love can create, I’ll be more than happy to nurture and raise and love all of them unconditionally, even when they inevitably pee on me.”

  You had no idea how to answer that, so you just stared at him. But he knew how ambivalent you were about all things concerning family, so he didn’t pose the question back to you, and instead just smiled while he watched the cogs in your mind struggle to fit together.

  “S-six… you’d be okay with another… six kids?”

  “Mhm.”

  “Fuck, Marcus, I’m struggling to even get it into my head that we’re gonna be joined by a tiny fragile infant in about 7 months, how are you already contemplating another five?!”

  “Relax, preciosa, I’m not actively contemplating it, I’m just answering a question. Saying I wouldn’t mind something, doesn’t mean I’m aiming for it.”

  “But you’re looking at houses with eight rooms…”

  “Like I said: we fill the space we have. Rooms have endless usages, it’s not like we have to make all of them bedrooms. We can have home-offices, a separate play-room, a separate dining room.”

  “Yeah, I get all that, it just seems excessive.”

  “Sweetheart, all I’m saying is, we’re looking for a home for life. If our family grows more, I don’t want to have to move again. I want the place we pick to be one that can take anything we weirdo’s throw at it.”

  “Okay, fine, I’ll look at the big-ass house.”

  “Thank you.”

  He handed you the phone and you scrolled through the different images, seeing things you liked and things you didn’t. But when you got to the master bedroom, your eyebrows shot up. The room looked ordinary at first glance, but when you took a closer look, you noticed that it had some special features.

  “Marcus… is this why you’re so interested in this house?”

  “It’s not the only reason…”

  “Who the fuck owns this place - Stormy Daniels?”

  “No, just some accountant.”

  “The bedroom is soundproofed.”

  “Which is convenient and useful for all kinds of people, but especially parents.”

  “Hard pass.”

  “We could just go and look at it before you dismiss it completely.”

  “Nope. Not happening. Move on.”

  “Why? Seriously, what’s so bad about it? Missy wouldn’t have to wear headphones every other night, and we wouldn’t have to worry about her overhearing stuff.”

  “Yes, those are good points. But: what if something happens to one of us, and the other needs to shout for help? What if something happens to Missy, and she tries to shout for help and we can’t hear her? What if someone breaks into the house, and we don’t hear it? I mean, I’m pretty sure you have super-hearing, but I don’t, and you’re not home every second of every day. I want to live in a house that speaks to me. You know, the way our house used to creak in the mornings when the sun warmed it, and settle again in the evenings, when it cooled. And if we are gonna have a bunch of kids, I sure as shit wanna be able to hear every little thing they get up to.”

  He looked ridiculously pleased at how you’d thought that through.

  “Got it, hard pass on all soundproofing. But can I ask you another serious question? One you might not have such a clear answer for?”

  “Sure.”

  “Our house… why did you send the whole thing over there? Why not just Prince and his machines?”

  “There wasn’t any thought involved with that, just instinct, and at the time, the house didn’t feel safe. I walked in and it was like entering a tomb. And I honestly don’t know if I could’ve ever walked in to that house again without having that feeling.”

  “I can understand that, mi amor. And I hope you know that I’m not asking because I’m in any way upset with you. I saw the look in your eyes in those moments, and I know how scared you were. To be able to utilise your abilities with that kind of precision and delicacy right then, was down-right miraculous.”

  “Let’s just hope I never have to try and repeat that miracle. Now, what’s next on your list?”

  He tapped away on his phone, blinking a few times at the wetness in his eyes, before handing it back to you.

  “Wow… this is even bigger.”

  “Same number of rooms, just a bigger kitchen and more garage-space.”

  “Oh, I like the yard.”

  “Check out the backyard.”

�� “Holy… that’s huge! And a pool. We’d need guardrails around that, or I’d be perpetually terrified for the baby to fall in. Are those trees on the property as well?”

  “Yes. That whole little patch of woods is.”

  “Really? I mean, a pair of swings in those trees…”

  You were so engrossed in the phone that you didn’t see Marcus smile wider as he watched you fall in love with the place.

  “Oh, I love the kitchen. And there’s a fireplace! Those are beautiful floors. Holy shit – I could swim in that bathtub…”

  “Sooo…… you like it?”

  “I do.”

  “Enough to go have a look?”

  “Definitely. But Missy has to come too.”

  He beamed. You’d had a few long conversations about the house-hunting before you actually started, and after a meeting at the bank, you’d found out that your credit was basically more than big enough for anything you might want, which was an odd thing to try and get your head around. Not that you wanted a life of luxury, but it was sort of strange to realise that you actually could have practically any kind of life you chose, in terms of housing.   The two of you had settled on a firmly planted roof of expense that you were willing to extend to the purchase. And even though this house was huge and renovated to the nines with modern upgrades, that still managed to float seamlessly into the older stem and feel of the house, it wasn’t really particularly near that roof.

  “I’ll call the realtor and see if they can fit us in later this week.”

  “It’s a nice area. A little out of the way, but a good neighbourhood, and Missy wouldn’t have to change schools. Our commute to work would be a bit longer, but on quieter roads. And there’s a fence around the property. We could get a dog, or two. Or even a frickin’ pony with the size of that backyard.”

  Marcus just stared at you with that giddy smile firmly planted in his whole frame, while you rambled on, completely lost in your own thoughts, until his silence eventually made you snap out of it and look at him.

  “Oh, crap. I’m already moving in, aren’t I…?”

  He just laughed and hugged you.

  “I’m definitely on board with the dogs. But I’m gonna need my phone back if I’m gonna be able to call the realtor.”

  You quickly handed it back to him, just as there was a careful knock on the door.   You were in Marcus’s office, sitting in one of the sofas, perfectly naturally just sitting next to each other, for once. It had only been a week since you were released from medical, and he was still a little worried about getting you worked up, so you hadn’t been together yet, and it was creating something of a space between you. Not a wall, nothing that exclusive, just a little void that was a bit hard to reach across.   He called for the person to enter, and Will stepped in, immediately shooting an apologetic glance at Marcus. He still hadn’t quite recovered from seeing Cujo that time, even though Marcus had apologized for scaring him.

  “Hi, sorry, I was told I could find you here.”

  You smiled warmly at him to ease his discomfort.

  “What’s up, Will?”

  “Uh, Miss. Timmons is looking for you, she needs your help.”

  Oh, for fucks sake…

  “Let me guess; she screwed up her paperwork, again?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Damned it, Izzy. Wait, why’d she send you to get me, you’re not an errand-boy, she couldn’t have picked up the phone?”

  “She did go looking for you in your office, but when you weren’t there, she got a little… desperate. She knows that she’s messed up too many times already, and I think she’s genuinely scared that you’re gonna fire her. She started crying outside your office and I was just passing by, so I offered to go find you for her.”

  “If I had the authority to fire her, I would’ve already done it.”

  You sighed and got up to leave, but Marcus caught your elbow.

  “You’re not gonna go back to work, right? We talked about that.”

  “If I know Izzy, this won’t be solved by correcting a few clerical errors.”

  “So, let someone else do it.”

  “No one else can, honey. That’s why I still have my job despite the number of sick-days I have.”

  “Preciosa… it’s dangerous. Prince’s people are in this building, and if he was obsessed with you, or us, then so are they. None of us can afford to be distracted right now.”

  “I know, but we still have to live. We’re still the same people, and neither one of us are the type of person that’s just gonna stand by when someone needs help. If the team needs you, I expect you to go and help them, not just because that’s your job, but because that’s who you are.”

  “Just don’t let yourself get too engrossed. Stay alert at all times. We have no idea who’s a friend and who isn’t.”

  “I’ll check in with you every hour, okay?”

  “Every half-hour. And just until you’ve sorted this mess out, then you come back and find me, you don’t start on another three problems you discover along the way.”

  “Are you giving me orders now, Team Leader?”

  He grabbed your hips and pulled you in close, so that your bodies were only millimetres apart and his nose was brushing against yours. It was more than enough to heat you up after six weeks of inactivity, but the tremble of emotion in his voice when he spoke next, pushed the desire aside, to make way for compassion.

  “I can’t lose you again. I’ll do anything…”

  You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his. How many times had you lost each other already? Your ability made it so easy for you to feel like it was your job to save others, like it was what you were put in this world to do, and especially where your family was concerned. So, you had to start reminding yourself that while you would probably always be able to absorb anything bad that happened to them – you’d also always hurt them by doing that. Your ability came with a terrible price, and you were only lucky to have survived everything you’d been through thus far.   Marcus was right, you had to be more careful.   You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and nestled your nose into his neck. His arms closed around your waist and held you to him, strong and sure, and you felt like you could just stand there for the rest of the day.

  “I promise I’ll be careful, and not take any risks. I love you.”

  “Te amo, querida.”

  Will had moved to stand outside the door after Marcus started talking to you, but he fell in behind you when you walked past him.

  “So, where is she, and what has she done?”

  It felt really good to get back into something familiar and achievable again. To do something that generated an immediate response and result, and within fifteen minutes you suddenly understood why Marcus had been so worried. You got lost in the task in no time at all.   You sent him a text while you waited for a lawyer to call you back.

  [You’re right, I’m already cheating.]

  [How bad?]

  [Two other issues already solved, while I’m waiting to work out Izzy’s.]

  [Why are you waiting?]

  [Because lawyers always have something better to do.]

  [Fine. But as soon as it’s dealt with, you come back to me. I’ll be at the control centre.]

  [Promise. What’s going on?]

  [Just two small countries deciding to go to war over the quality of their chocolate.]

  [Well… I suppose there are worse things.]

  [They’re hurling missiles at each other over fucking candy…]

  [Wow… Where’s Máma when you need her?]

  [Don’t you worry, she’s right here, so this should be sorted out by the time you get here.]

  [Oh, in that case, I am so calling her Chocoreno from now on.]

  [Please don’t…]

  [Only if she doesn’t solve it.]

  [*sigh*]

  After another eight phone calls and a lot of grovelling to people you really didn’t like, you finally managed to set things straight, and went to find Izzy to give her a piece of your mind - again. But when you got to her office, she was on the phone and turned away from the door, so she didn’t see you come in, and you accidentally overheard the end of her conversation.

  “No, of course not, I’ll be straight home from work. Why would I make any stops? --- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you… --- No, baby, don’t… I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. --- Anything you want, name it. --- Yeah, that sounds.. nice. I’ll be home soon.”

  Shit.

  She turned around, looking absolutely terrified, and then she saw you by the door and quickly tried to adapt a neutral expression. She was good at it too, within half a second there was no trace of fear in her face. You only got that good at hiding your feelings if you knew that showing them meant terrible pain.

  “So, everything’s taken care of, no harm done.”

  “Really? Oh, thank you. I’m so sorry, I swear I don’t mean to mess up the papers, it just gets to be too much sometimes.”

  “Izzy, if I ask you a personal question, will you answer me honestly?”

  A trace of fear re-emerged in her features, but she nodded carefully.

  “Is it work that gets to be too much… or is it home?”

  You could see the internal struggle. The need to be free of the fear and the pain, and that same fear making it almost impossible. All the irritation and frustration fell away from you with the realisation that she wasn’t incompetent at all. She was being smothered.   How many times had you added to her stress and general feeling of inadequacy, by barking at her for constantly missing or screwing up doing things? Why hadn’t you seen the signs sooner, you knew every single one of them?

  “I’ve been where you are, Izzy. I should have seen this. I’m so sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, honestly, I’m fine.”

  “Show me your arms and your stomach. If they aren’t bruised, I might believe you.”

  She squirmed where she stood, and her head dropped in defeat.

  “When was the last time you didn’t have an injury somewhere? When was the last time you could move without feeling pain somewhere?”

  She just kept staring at the floor, shaking her head, trying to will it not to be true, so you walked up to her, pushed your energy around her, and healed her.   The amount of energy that it drained from you, told you everything you needed to know about how injured she was, and you quickly reached into your back pocket to retrieve a pill from the small box you kept with you at all times these days.   Izzy stared wide-eyed at you, while you fumbled with a paper-cup at her water-cooler, hands shaking with the sudden loss of strength. Then she suddenly sprung to life and came to help you fill the cup and down the pill.

  “Jesus Christ, girl, how were you even standing with all that damage?”

  “I… got used to it over time. He didn’t… start out that bad.”

  “They never do.”

  “Thank you. So much.”

  “Thank me by letting me beat the living hell out of that guy.”

  “You’d better not. But… maybe… you could ask one of the guys on the team to… talk to him?”

  “Are you serious? You wanna stay with him? No, honey, no amount of talking is gonna fix him.”

  “No, I meant like… talk him into not killing me for leaving him.”

  “Oh… Yeah. That I could probably do. Just give me his name and address.”

  You downed another pill, and started feeling better, while Izzy scribbled on a note for you. You took it and read it, and stuffed it down your other back pocket.

  “You should stay here tonight, just in case he decides to try anything. And call me if you need anything, Marcus and I are still living here, so we’re close, okay?”

  She seemed to hesitate about something.

  “What is it?”

  “Um… do you know Jack Daven?”

  “Who?”

  “He’s a kid who interns at the science division.”

  “Oh, Jackie. Yeah, unfortunately I do know who he is.”

  He was the kid you threw head-first into a wall.

  “I just… I think he might have something to do with your mole situation.”

  “What? Why would you think that?”

  “A while back, he came to me saying that science had sent him with some paperwork that needed to be signed, but when I looked at it, I realised that it was actually for research, and I told him that. And he laughed it off saying that he’d just made a mistake, but that didn’t seem very likely, because the forms he had were for release of testing materials. They wouldn’t send an errand-boy to retrieve those, they’re too dangerous. At the time I figured that maybe he’d been sent with an escort, for learning purposes, and that I just never saw them. But, now with the investigation, I think there might have been more to it than that. I was just too scared to... I didn’t know who to trust with it.”

  “You can always trust me. Thank you, Izzy, I’m so sorry that I ever thought of you as incompetent.”

  “Forgive me and I’ll forgive you.”

  “Done.”

  You ran full speed back to Ops, and almost collided with the automatic door to the control centre. Marcus was working at a station to the left, and smiled without looking up as he heard you. Anita was at the centre console, with her back to you.

  “Damned it, why do all automatic doors move so fucking slowly?”

  “Ah, I hear my future daughter-in-law has entered the premises.”

  “Shut it, Chocoreno.”

  “What did you just call me?”

  “Choco-reno, the clue���s in the name, máma.”

  “Ay, loco, today’s not a good day to test me.”

  “Why, does máma need a hug?”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Fine. How about some nice chocolate instead? I hear there might be some steep discounts on a couple of brands.”

  “Mujer… did you burst in here for a reason? Because if not, I’ll burst you right back out.”

  “Hah, I’d like to see you try.”

  She huffed.

  “As you wish.”

  You caught a glimpse of Marcus’ expression as it shifted from bemused to genuinely worried, when Anita turned and came towards you.

  “Mooom…”

  She ignored him and tried to grab you, but your ghost hands caught hers before she could make contact, and they were much stronger than your physical hands.   She definitely had super-strength, that much was obvious right away, and she wasn’t holding back. You could feel your strength begin to drain, so you changed tactics. You flooded the room with energy, and then drew it back to compact it all around yourself, creating that same kind of barrier that the Inventor hadn’t been able to break through, despite his genius belt-modification.   And then you just stood there, perfectly still to conserve energy, while she tried in vain to push you out of the room.

  “Mom, stop it, right now!”

  As her focus momentarily shifted towards Marcus, you saw the smile that played in her features. She was just having fun, testing your strength and flexing her own, whilst getting some frustration out of her system, knowing full well that you could take it.   Feeling certain she wouldn’t kill you for it, you grabbed the opportunity.   You let the wall of energy disappear as she was leaning against it with all her might, and as the barrier fell, so did Anita – right into your arms.   It was a bit like trying to catch a running bull, and the impact was certainly painful, but you ignored it and just hugged her to you.   She scrambled out of your grip, but you just smiled at her, because you knew she enjoyed every moment of it.

  “I have to say, I’ve never had to fight my way into a hug before.”

  “That wasn’t a hug, loco.”

  “Yes, it was, and you know it. Do you feel better now, or do you need another?”

  She was actually contemplating another round, which prompted Marcus to step in between you.

  “Do I have to remind both of you that you’re pregnant, hermosa? Playful or not, you’re not fighting each other again, now, tell me why you were moving so fast that the doors were too slow for you?”

   Oh, for fucks sake, why where you so easily distracted?

  “Right… We should probably talk in private. Considering the fact that it’s only been two hours since we sat in your office looking at houses – a hell of a lot’s happened.”

  He led the way towards the door, and you shot a look at Anita, over your shoulder.

  “Raincheck on that hug?”

  “I’ll boogie with you anytime, loco.”

  “That’s how you boogie? And you call me ‘loco’.”

  “Oh, yes. You’ve earned that one, many times over.”

 Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​ @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

[firemblem-fics]

Running With the Wolves [3]

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-> Pairing: Yuri Leclarc x Fem!Reader

-> Modern!Au | Gang!Au | Enemies to Friends to Lovers

-> Word Count: ~2.4k

-> Warnings: Violence, Blood, Intense Scenes, Alcohol Mention, Someone legit gets shot, Other things I probably forgot about

-> Summary: You were just a normal college student, trying to find her way in a new place. You didn't mean to get caught up in the wrong crowd. You just wanted coffee, but now you're running with the wolves.

-> A/N: hi i’m back hello this took me a little bit to do because after the action scene i simply lost motivation but it’s back i know what i want to do and i WILL do it. also, just an fyi, i, as a writer, do not condone anything that my character, Hiram Chapelle, says or does. Hiram is meant to be an ass and for gods sake he’s quite literally a psychopath. That’s how he’s written. I’m just saying for future reference because Hiram is a shitty person and I plan on keeping him that way LOL

send an ask if you’d like to be on the taglist!

If someone had told you, months ago, that when you moved to Fodlan, you’d be accidentally caught up in gang activity, you’d laugh in their faces.

What a silly notion, You’d nearly cry out of laughter, Fodlan is safe. Nothing happens there.

What a fool you were. Everything was too easy. Life was too simple for there not to be a catch. That’s the funny thing about the universe and her strange ways. There’s always a catch.

Your mother had said that God always tests you. That you’d know in hard times, He was just challenging you. The only thing you knew at this moment was that if God really was real, you’d like to have a few choice words with him.

Your test was only getting more difficult with each step you took. Each limp, actually. The frigid night air numbed nearly every part of your body, except for your ankle. Instead, it burned with a fiery intensity. Your shoe was tight enough to prevent a bit of the swelling, but you needed medical attention soon.

You laughed bitterly- you’d been saying that you needed help for a while now. Your arm, your ankle, and now probably a therapist. Physical and mental help were on your to-do list.

Biting back another shiver, you fumbled with your phone. The screen was black, only showing a little red battery in the middle of it. Dead.

The window you’d jumped through was in the back of the house, facing a patch of woods. In your rush, you didn’t think to run another way to get out, only pushing forward until you had no clue where you’d come from and where to go. Everything was forest. Everything was dark.

Until it wasn’t.

A flash of light shined from behind you and you gasped, running to your left and trying to hide behind a larger tree. The flashlights came closer and you held your breath.

“What doesn’t she fucking understand about you can’t leave?”

“Well, boss, you were a little rude about it-“

“She’s in danger! And she doesn’t even realize it- the seriousness of this situation. I don’t care if I’m rude or not, she’s risking her own life being this stupid.”

You resisted the urge to scoff. Yuri was definitely a rude individual from what you’ve interacted with, but of course he didn’t care.

The lights were getting even closer now. You stepped back and started to run again, ignoring the pain. You’d get help when you were safe. You tried to stay light on your feet, but couldn’t help but crush the fallen leaves under your feet as you ran.

“I hear something that way!” Constance shouted and every light flashed in your direction before the group began chasing after you.

Your heart caught in your throat as you willed your legs to work faster and faster. You’d be okay- you’ll get help when you’re safe. Lungs burning, you surged forwards still and tried to take different turns to make them lose your trail. It didn’t work.

“Y/N, stop!” Hapi yelled out.

You didn’t answer, still running. Suddenly, you were airborne. Your feet flew off the ground and you landed two feet in front of a tree root, sticking up from the ground. You were hyperventilating- they had caught up with you.

Before they could reach you, Yuri also stumbled over the root. His flashlight and handgun both flew out of his hands, skidding to a stop in a puddle of mud in front of you. You lurched forward, grabbing the gun and pointing it at the group. It was just Balthus, Hapi, Constance, and Yuri, but you still felt helpless. They could easily overpower you, but you weren’t giving up without a fight.

“Stay back!” You cried, your finger sitting shakily on the trigger, “Don’t come any closer!”

Hapi put her hands up. “We don’t want to hurt you- we want to keep you safe!”

“Keep me safe? By making me some bad guy in a gang that I never even asked to be a part of?”

Yuri scoffed and tried to step closer, but you quickly aimed the gun at him. “You think we did?”

“No more. Don’t come close, I’m warning you.” You could only utter a few words.

The leader of the Wolves ignored this, putting his hands out in front of him, “Drop the gun and this will be okay-“

“STAY AWAY!” You were screaming at this point. Everyone tried to shush you, but you couldn’t stop. Hysteria did such cruel things.

“Y/N-“

“NO!”

You closed your eyes and pulled the trigger, your arm injury hurting slightly from the recoil. Constance yelled out, grabbing onto Yuri, who seemed to fall in slow motion. Your head was spinning. Stars seemed to twinkle in the trees and bushes in front of you instead of staying in the sky like they should.

You swayed for a moment, watching the three try to help their leader. Blood seeped out of the right side of his abdomen. You tried to stay awake, but soon the gun fell out of your hand and you went limp beside it.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your mind was awake before your body. You could feel the velvet sheets beneath your fingertips and smell the comforting french vanilla aroma that wafted through the Wolves’s house. It was warm- almost too warm for your comfort. Or maybe it was the fever you were running from stress.

You tried to smack your lips together, cringing when the inside of your mouth resembled that of a desert. You needed water.

Peeling your eyes open, you groaned. The lamp beside the bed was too bright, contrasting greatly against the still-dark sky. How long were you out?

You sat up on the bed, feeling sore, but brushed it off and trudged towards the door. You opened it and headed towards the stairs when you heard voices in a room across from you, two doors down.

“She’s already caused too much harm. I say we let her go and let natural selection take its course.”

You scoffed. Typical Hiram- rude ass.

“No- no. We brought her into this, the universe has basically ordered us to keep her safe. If any Eagles see her on the street, she’s done for.” Hapi reasoned.

“That might be a good thing-“

“Hiram-“

“She shot Yuri! He’s not waking up because of her!”

The silence that followed his outburst made your heart clench. You didn’t mean to actually hit him- you just meant it as a warning shot. Hell, you didn’t even know your aim was that good.

“He’s going to be fine. In the meantime, we need to contact Claude or Dimitri and see what’s happening.”

Claude? Claude, the boy at the pizza shop? You rolled your eyes. Of course he’d be a part of this- whatever this is.

“What if they’re siding with her?” Constance asked worriedly.

“Trust me, if it’s anything that Claude’s against, it’s an imbalance of power. As for Dimitri, I’m not sure.”

Your hands began to shake again and you blinked rapidly, trying to push away the looming realization that no, this wasn’t a joke, and yes, these college kids are in a fucking gang. You supposed a part of you didn’t want to believe it until now, but it crashed onto you like a bag of bricks.

These people have hurt others. Killed them. You hurt someone too- you shot a man. A man who apparently is trying to keep you safe.

Continuing to blink, this time biting back tears, you walked down the stairs into the kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the counter, you filled it up in the sink and began chugging.

One glass.

Two.

Maybe if it was alcohol, you’d feel a little better. But it wasn’t. And you didn’t.

More footsteps resounded from the stairs, making their way through the living room and into the kitchen. Hapi entered first, followed by the other four. She gave you a tight smile, choosing to mess with some papers that still rested on the kitchen table.

The papers were frenzied and unorganized- they must have really rushed out once they realized that you’d left.

Hiram walked past and bumped your shoulder rather harshly, making you spill your third glass of water down the front of your shirt. You hissed, wanting nothing more than to yank out those snowy locks of his, but he was definitely armed and no doubt dangerous. You valued your life a little too much to mess with the little man.

Eventually, the group sat down at the table and Hapi patted her hand on the wood, pointing to the empty chair across from her. “Please, Y/N, sit.”

You did so, awkwardly, clasping your hands and putting them in your lap. You didn’t want to look up, already feeling the five intense stares burn into your form.

“It seems our first little talk wasn’t as… effective as it needed to be.” The redheaded girl began. “You were seen with us in the cafe when Edelgard attacked. You let your mouth run, disrespecting her. And I can assure you right now, that the Eagles have all the details on you. Especially since one of their own seemed to recognize you. Like it or not, you’re in this now.”

Hiram snorted, leaning back on his chair and nonchalantly checking his nails. “You’re stuck with this, toots. If you didn’t want to be, you should’ve stuck behind everyone like a good little coward and let the big dogs fight over the bone. You could’ve easily been seen as a citizen and an innocent bystander, but no. Something in you said ‘hey, let’s be a bitch to these people who suddenly barged in here with guns’. If I didn’t know any better, it would seem to me like you were practically,” He leaned forward, his icy eyes boring into your own, “asking for it.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but still kept shut. He wasn’t necessarily wrong, you could’ve easily decided to let the obviously-more-experienced people deal with it, but in your defense, you didn’t know at the time! You didn’t even think your 5 second long conversation with this Edelgard chick was as negative as they made it out to be.

Crossing your arms, you willed your face to remain stoic. “I just don’t see why she’d have it out for me. I didn’t even do anything that bad.”

“Look, look at my face.” Hiram pointed to the bridge of his nose, where a deep, pale pink scar contrasted against his skin. “Rhys and I used to be… involved with them. Her little lap dog- Ferdinand- did this. Because I made some ill-timed joke.”

You couldn’t help but glance over at Rhys, whose eyes had darkened at the mention of his past. The mention of Ferdinand’s name and his affiliation with the Eagles made you wonder about everyone’s past- how exactly did all of these people get involved with such a deadly life? You didn’t have much time to dwell on it before Balthus spoke up.

“Listen, little one, just stay here and chill out until we can a hundred percent confirm that the Eagles aren’t associating you with us. If they’re not, you’re free to go.”

“And if I am?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

Everyone at the table gasped and turned around to the kitchen entrance, where the strained voice had come from. Yuri was leaned up against the door frame, holding onto his side still. His torso was bare, but the skin was covered by bandages and gauze.

The Wolves shot up out of their seats, rushing over to their leader.

“Yuri!”

“Why are you up?”

“You need rest.”

Yuri just chuckled at them, hiding a wince as his stomach contracted with the laugh. “I’m fine, I’m fine, everything’s cool. Not the first time.”

You still sat at the table, watching as they helped him sit in his place at the head before going back to their own seats. The Wolves really seemed to care about each other, you noticed, and felt a small pang of guilt for causing them so many problems already.

“So, Yuri-Bird, I was explaining to everyone earlier that our best choice of action is to contact Dimitri and Claude and see what’s happening in their little sectors of the world.” Hapi folded her hands on the table, “I know with about a 90% certainty that Claude will be against whatever Edelgard’s doing. Dimitri, I’m not so sure.”

Yuri nodded, taking in the information. “We need stronger people going to Dimitri, then, just in case he sided with her.”

“Which is why I decided that it would be best for all of us to go together. Dimitri has that one assassin with him- the Black Cat or whatever his alias is.”

“It’s Felix. I wouldn't forget the name of such a hunk of a man.” Hiram practically swooned.

Hapi rolled her eyes. “...Right. So, we start with Claude and then move on to Dimitri.”

Rhys raised his hand for a moment, making Hiram shush everyone. He said nothing, only jutting a thumb at you as if asking ‘what do we do about this chick?’ The room was quiet for a moment, then Constance clapped her hands together.

“She can stay and take care of Yuri!”

“What?” You and the previously mentioned man cried out.

He turned and glared at you. “You lot are going to entrust my healing to the same bitch that shot me? No. I’m coming with you all.”

Balthus shook his head. “She’s right, Boss. You could barely walk down here. You need to rest before you get back in the game.”

“Yeah,” Hiram began to laugh, “I’m sure Miss Girl will fix you right up. Maybe she’s better at caretaking than she is running away.”

You returned Yuri’s glare, but quickly switched it to Hiram. He lost his smile and quirked up an eyebrow, as if challenging you to say something. You didn’t.

“We leave tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock. Yuri, you sleep in. Y/N, be up early to change his bandages.”

Hapi stood and stretched, letting out a large yawn before walking out of the kitchen.

The rest of the group followed, Yuri lagging behind as Balthus helped him walk. His lavender eyes pierced into you, obviously extremely angry at you. You shuddered. You absolutely did not want to be alone with him tomorrow.

Dreading morning, you went to your room and tucked yourself back under the velvet sheets, watching the hall light turn off and listening to Hiram’s annoying voice echo throughout the walls.

“Goodnight y’all! Sweet dreams- except for the Princess, of course.”

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taglist: @fairyblue-alchemist @emperor-pizza @flavoredmilktea @sadies-stories-n-things @blviddyd @laurexlance @atomicchocolatecookie @mapesandoval @local-goth-lilz 

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[personasintro]

My Tiny Secret | 03; Audacity

𝑴𝒚 𝑻𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆 | 03; Audacity

⏤𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; Pretty face doesn’t make it up for an ugly personality. And Kim Seokjin is the perfect proof of that.

⏤𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: seokjin x reader

⏤𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: angst, smut

⏤𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: toxic relationship, smut, mistress au, mentions of sex

⏤> 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒙

It’s one of those days when you’re alone in Hoseok’s apartment, eating olives which are your daily essential due to your pregnancy cravings. Unfortunately, as much as you don’t want to be alone, you know Hoseok still needs to pay the bills. The guilt is creeping out again, knowing you’re not helping to him and as many times he says you’re not, you know you’re just being a burden.

So most of the week you feel lonely, besides the occasional calls from your mother or Hoseok’s messages checking up on you.

You’re six months pregnant and you already feel big, despite of the small bump hidden behind your, or Hoseok’s, large t-shirts he borrowed you. Or more like gave you, since you can’t find yourself wearing anything else, other than the amazing stretchy material that is so soft against your skin.

Insecurity comes very easily with pregnancy, especially with your body changing and adjusting to the baby growing up in your womb. The hormones are huge part of it as well, making you overreact and overthink everything that’s not even that big of a deal. You can’t help it.

You really hoped your hormones would act differently, but you ended up being a huge cry baby that cries against Hoseok’s shoulder every night. Maybe that’s why you’ve taken an early maternity leave, due all the stress you feel. Even now, you feel like you’ve no right to say or even think that. Stress? Hoseok takes care of everything. Your mother is trying to help as much as she can, but it’s hard when she leaves further away and can’t not be there with you. Maybe you should just leave from Seoul, go back to your small hometown and be the center of a gossip about a woman who got knocked up.

Just as a small tear is ready to escape from your watery eyes, there’s a faint knock coming from the front door.

Has Hoseok ordered something again?

You lost the count of how many times he ordered some new shoes and clothes, but you don’t mind picking it up that often. It means he still has some money to spend on himself, instead of taking care of you and your unborn baby.

Mindlessly, which is a stupid thing of you to do, you open the door without checking who’s standing behind it. And you so damn wish it’d be just one of the delivery guys, but your jaw drops once you look at the tall man. He hasn't changed a bit, and you wouldn’t even find a single wrinkle if you tried to. He wears his dress shirt with black slacks and you know he must be working today.

So why the hell is Kim Seokjin standing in front of your, Hoseok’s, front door?

The last time you saw him was in the shop, where he found out about your secret that you were hiding from him. Luckily, he never contacted you again and you thought, you’ll be able to forget he even existed. Until now.

He gifted you with his presence, eyes staring at you which causes your breath to hitch and you hate how much reaction he’s getting. His eyes follow to your stomach, almost as if questioning you before he looks back.

“Can we talk?”

He’s the first one that speaks up, your shock swallowing you whole as you dryly gulp, gripping the doorknob harder.

“I’ve nothing to talk to you about.” you tell him sassily, straightening yourself to show your confidence which you’re desperately trying to find.

One of the things you wish the most, is to be confident in front of him since the beginning. You showed him your weakness, welcoming him with opened arms when you knew he’s never going to treat you like he should or how you wanted to. You were just a fling to him, someone who can fill the cravings of pleasure for him.

His dark eyes drops to your belly, that’s peeking underneath Hoseok’s oversized t-shirt and you wish you would put at least some kind of sweater. But you know even then, he’d be able to make out the baby bump. It’s not like you can hide it anymore.

“I don’t think that’s quite the truth.” he tells you, his velvety and raspy voice echoing in the hall and you quickly peek your head out to check, if someone hears you.

You don’t need any gossips going around. It’s already enough that the old lady next door thinks, you and Hoseok are together. You never told her the truth, partly because you were ashamed for being pregnant and that you live with your best friend who’s taking care of you. But just when you were about to kindly correct her, Hoseok stopped you. He told you it’s fine and you don’t have to explain anyone anything.

“Get out.” you glare at him, trying to intimidate him but instead of an amused grin, like he always used to react, he stares at you so blankly with emptiness in his eyes.

It makes your stomach uncomfortably shiver because that’s how he looks like. He looks empty. Emotionless even.

“No,” he says simply, acting as if he owns this place. Gosh, you hope he doesn’t. “I want to talk to you about... the baby.” he mutters, his tone dangerously dropping at the mention of the small bundle in your womb.

You don’t know why though. Maybe it’s his secret as well and he doesn’t want anyone to find out about his slip, or he just doesn’t want to upset you talking about the baby. Knowing him, it’s probably the first. There’s no way he takes your feelings into any consideration, since he stands in front of you, not leaving you or the baby alone.

“What baby?” you ask dumbfounded, blinking at him as he only raises a brow in response. “You don’t have any baby.”

He doesn’t like that. The way he frowns, his plump lips in a straight line is enough to tell you that he feel irritated.

There you go. Pointing that it’s only your baby again. You’re being defensive again. It’s not like you don’t have a reason to be like that.

“Don’t do this,” he breathes, an exhausted sigh pushing past his plushy and juicy lips that shimmer with the lip balm he likes to use. You give him questioning look, despite of the glare you send him. “Don’t act like this baby is only yours.”

“Because it is.” you tell him simply with a light shrug, protectively touching your belly.

As on cue, the baby boy inside your womb decides to kick and you scrunch your face for a few seconds, before it goes back to glaring at the man in front of you.

“No, it’s not and you know it. I’m so sick of this bullshit. You act like it’s only your kid and I’ve my own rights.” he frowns, his tone raising to an octave higher and you pray no one is earsdropping your conversation.

“You do,” you tell him and by the sudden raise of his thick brows, you know you caught him off guard. “But I’m doing what’s best for him. And I’m sorry, but you’re just a piece of an asshole who can’t treat anyone with respect. I don’t want my baby’s father to be like that.”

He doesn’t seem to be taken back by your insults, almost as if he was expecting it anyway. It’s hard to tell. This is Kim Seokjin we’re talking about.

“You don’t even know what kind of father I’d be. You didn’t give me a chance.” he speaks with low tone.

Is that a accusation you hear in his voice?

“You—“

“Before you curse at me, can we discuss this in private? I don’t really want anyone to interfere into our business.” he cuts you off, head turning to the left before he looks back at you.

You want to curse at him, but you hear footsteps of one of the neighbors who lives next door. “Pff, our business,” you scoff, arms crossing over your chest as you bitterly chuckle at him, “Fine. I’m giving you five minutes. Then you’re out.” you snap.

He doesn’t seem to be nowhere near surprised by your attitude, so he nods. “Fine by me.” he mutters bitterly before he steps inside of Hoseok’s home.

Closing the door, you quickly greet curious neighbor which is a older lady in her forties, who seems to be captivated by Seokjin. Well, you’re not surprised. Seokjin has a weird aura around him, captivating others’ eyes without even trying. She probably wonders what a man like him, is doing here.

Turning around, you see him looking around, probably judging the modesty Hoseok’s home holds. The apartment is nice, definitely too small for a family with a kid, but it’s enough. It’s modern and clean. For a moment, Seokjin just looks around while puzzled look is plastered on his face and you wonder what he’s thinking.

This is nothing compared to his fancy house. He’s probably thinking that.

“So? Clock is ticking.” you speak out, your voice holding distance and distaste which he doesn’t fail to notice.

He chuckles, looking down at his black boots. “I forgot how sharp your tongue can be.”

You’re not sure whether it was aimed at you, or he’s just talking to himself since his eyes are focused downwards. But you don’t react because there is no reason to. You’d just tell him something bitterly and you both would end up fighting. You just want him gone. You hate how weak you feel in his presence. It’s like you’re just dirt next to him.

“How far along are you?” he asks, eyes scanning Hoseok’s frames on the wall.

There are couple of pictures with you, way before you even met Seokjin. Probably the best stage in your life; when you didn’t know who Kim Seokjin is.

“You probably know that, so why are you asking?” you scoff, knowing he has his special ways of getting private informations.

It’s illegal and you could easily sue whoever got him that information, but he could literally heard it from anywhere. There is no proof and you’re not the type to go to court and deal with another drama.

“Because Y/N, I want to hear it from you.” he says your name with added edge to it.

You’ve the urge to tell him to fuck off for many reasons and you want nothing more than actually do it, but you stop yourself. If you answer him, it’s possible he’ll leave sooner.

“Seven months,” you dryly answer him. “Now, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Once again, he’s not surprised by your explicit language and your attitude. Back in the day, he’d put you in your place, letting you know he doesn’t appreciate your bratty attitude. But it’s all history now. You’re not his to touch anymore, but you never were his to begin with.

“You never change,” he tsks with his tongue, bitterly chuckling as your patience is running low. He can’t get it through his thick skull that you don’t want him here. “Can’t we just talk like two civil adults?”

He’s making you seem like you’re the one who’s acting irrationally, mentally laughing at you and it makes you feel so small.

“Now you want to be a civil adult? Weird, I thought you’re just fucking liar and nowhere near civil.” you bitterly laugh, even though your heart cracks.

This is not good for you, or your baby but you can’t help it. This is your defensive mechanism, insulting him for all the hurt he caused you.

“Y/N...” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looks almost disappointed.

What was he expecting? That you’d welcome him with opened arms? Or spread your legs? That’s what you all were to him anyway.

“How’s your wife, Seokjin?” you ask him, his eyes snapping to yours.

He still looks cold, intimidating even as he simply just stares at you. His jaw clenches, a warning for you to shut up but you won’t.

“Does she know you’ve been fucking a different woman in your bed? Or more women that aren’t here?” you ask him, your tone laced with hatred you feel towards him.

Who knows how many women he had, when the two of you were intimate.

“It was only you, you know that.”

If you knew him better, you’d say he actually sounds defeated. And for the first time, you see his cold face crack and there is a hidden emotion on his face, you can’t point your finger at.

“No, actually I don’t. Because I don’t trust you and you’re the biggest liar I’ve ever met. May I remind you the fact, that you never mentioned that you’re married? If I haven’t found out about it completely randomly, you’d lie to me to till this day.”

Your voice grows stronger every minute, you don’t know what it causes it but you’re not complaining.

You remember that night when he forgot to hide his wedding ring from you, not even denying it once you asked him about it.

‘So what? Does it matter? We’re only fucking anyway.’

That’s what he told you back then, hurting you for the hundredth time.

“Does she know, you knocked up some slut?”

You’d never call yourself that, no matter how much you felt like it every time you came back home from his place. Scrubbing your skin as if you were dirty, but you always came back to him. Because even with his personality, you still found something to like about him. You don’t know what, you just know you always liked him more than he did. Because despite of the kisses, a simple act of pleasure, he never showed you any kind of love.

He frowns for some reason and you don’t think about it, not anymore. You don’t know him.

“She knew,” he speaks with confidence, despite of your previous words which don’t affect him. “She knows.” It’s all he says, your mouth drops open with dumbfounded look.

“What?”

“She knew I had someone. We had an open relationship. She had someone as well.” he simply explains, revealing something from his life for the first time. Something deeper and more personal.

She knew? An open relationship?

“Gosh, you’re both fucked up.” you tell him with disgust in your voice. You feel like you’re going to throw up any second.

“Aren’t we all?” he asks simply causing you to shoot him a glare.

He’s definitely fucked up.

“She knows you’re pregnant.” he continues, speaking freely which surprises you but you only frown.

“Did she know who I was when we met--“

“No, she didn’t,” he cuts you off, knowing what you’re asking.

Gosh, if she knew, God knows what would she do. Well, since they’re in opened relationship she wouldn’t hurt you. Right? Technically, she’s fine with it.

“It doesn’t matter. She knows now, I told her.”

You don’t know how to react to that. She knows you’re having a baby with Seokjin. That probably wasn’t a part of their deal about opened relationship. She probably hates you right now.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need to be afraid. You’re not going to be a father.” you tell him, silently aiming about him not being in the baby’s life.

By the frown, he most likely knows what you’re talking about.

“That’s why I’m here,” he coughs into his fist, before he gently swipes his dark hair away from his forehead. “You see, me and my wife are married for seven years and for the past seven years, we had no luck. So naturally, we went to see a couple of professional doctors to know where’s the problem. They found out, one of us is most likely infertile. At first, for some reason I thought it’s me but then they found out, it’s my wife who can’t get pregnant. I need an heir,” your breath hitches.

Why is he telling you this? Where is he going with this? Maybe, just maybe he’s desperate to be a father since he can’t be with his own wife. But then he mentioned about him needing an heir and you’re sure, he wants a baby just so someone could take over the huge company his father has built. But is it really like that? You don’t see inside of his head and you grow more confused every second he talks.

“We thought about adopting, but, it never will be my blood.”

And the second he ends his small talk, you feel like you’re going to throw up all the olives you ate. You can feel it in your throat as you’re forced to swallow it, your legs shaking.

“A-are you trying to, you, you want this baby to yourself?” you stutter, your voice shaking.

Not from shock, but from anger and shock. You always knew he’s a piece of shit, but you never knew he’s this big of an asshole.

“Just say how much.”

Your body reacts on its own, surprising you as well once your palm meets the soft skin of his cheek. His head snaps to the right, his jaw flexing as he deadly stares into the space.

“Get the fuck out.” you tell him through your clenched teeth, your arms shaking because fuck, you just slapped him.

He deserves it.

He slowly meets your eyes, his cheek slightly red from your hand but even now, you don’t feel and satisfaction. Maybe you should’ve punched him with your fist.

“You’ve barely any money to live on your own. How are you going to take care of a child?”

There he goes again. Reminding you that you’re no one with no money.

“You don’t have to care about that. I’ll care about him just fine.” you hiss at him but he remains to look unfazed.

“It’s my child as well.” he reminds you causing you to scoff.

“Like the hell it is!” you exclaim, your voice loudly booms between the walls of Hoseok’s home. “You’ve the audacity to come here and ask me to leave my unborn baby, just so you could have an heir. Gosh, you’re so fucking disgusting!” you yell at him, tears pooling in your already red eyes as you punch his chest.

He doesn’t shield himself from your arms, hitting his hard chest, while he stands tall and takes it. A loud sob escapes your lips and you wonder what have you done wrong in your previous life, to deserve this.

“I know I’m an asshole, but I don’t want this baby in my life just to have an heir. I’m pretty aware that you won’t raise a kid with me,”

He’s damn right about that.

“I thought considering your financial problem, I could help you. And me and my wife--“

You don’t even bring yourself to scoff, your blurry vision making it hard as you already threw your confidence away.

“You and your wife can go fuck yourselves,” you bark, his brows dangerously drops down as he glares at you. “I don’t--“

A gasp leaves your mouth, your hands automatically holding your swollen belly as your face scrunches in hurt. The baby is kicking and the high pressure you must be having right now, isn’t helping. Your vision gets blurry for a split second, your head spinning as you almost stumble on your shaky legs. Surprisingly, Seokjin is there to hold you, arms securely wrapping around your petite frame.

“Fuck, are you okay?” he breathes out, your nose digging into his dress shirt that smells just like you remember. It’s muscular but sweet and light scent.

“I’m fine, he’s just kicking.” you murmur, your eyes shutting as you feel the movements in your womb.

You’re taken back by the fact, that you actually answered him with no hatred in your voice, your attention solely focused on the baby inside of you.

He gently pulls you away, his eyes searching your face as stare at him with doe eyes. It’s weird, because you never really had a moment like this. His deep brown eyes gaze at you, before he looks down.

“Can I?” he asks, eyes purposely not meeting yourself as they stay on your bump.

It’s a simple question, but you can hear a different emotion in his voice. You can’t put your finger on it, but you’ve never heard him talking like that. He was always emotionless. And maybe that’s what you mean, that he’s just not so emotionless right now.

“Will you leave after that?”

You can’t believe you’re considering it in the first place, but you need him to leave. And by arguing with him, he’s just not going to leave so easily. And as much as you try to distance yourself and the baby from him, there’s so little you can do. Because he’s right. He has his own right as a father. You’re doing this for your son, knowing his father is not capable of loving you. But that’s the thing. Loving you. What if he’s capable of loving your son?

Your mind is already racing and you find yourself in the same cycle of uncontrollable thinking. You just need to assure yourself, that you’re doing the right thing.

“Yes.” he answers lowly, eyes meeting yours again while you anxiously bite the inside of your cheek.

“Fine.” you mutter in annoyance, but you’re just a nervous wreck inside.

And with that, the permission you give him, he drops to his knees onto the wooden floor. Your mouth slightly open at him because he looks so vulnerable. He still owns the same intense glare but he’s on his knees right now, which can be mistaken as an act of giving up.

You watch his hand hesitantly lift up to your swollen baby, almost as if he’s complementing if this is the right thing. But then he touches you, the material of a t-shirt being the only barrier between the two of you. And as on cue, the baby kicks and you softly groan. It’s one of the lightest kicks, so it doesn’t hurt that much but it still makes you feel weird. It’s still something you need to get used to.

His hands drops to the hem of your t-shirt, eyes glancing up at you as he plays with it. You know what he wants and with a defeated sigh, you nod. The sooner he get what he wants, the sooner he leaves.

He carefully lifts up the stretchy material, your hands holding it up for him as he’s met with your skin and baby bump. It’s not too big, but still eye catching. His fingertips are the first thing that touch your skin, a shiver running at the back of your neck. The touch leaves a tickle feeling, bringing you back to all the times you’ve felt it. Obviously, the situation and circumstances were far too different than they’re now, but still. A part of you hates yourself for still feeling that way, despite of your hatred towards him.

But nobody could prepared you what’s next, your eyes experiencing a different side of the cold Kim Seokjin.

His brings his face closer to the peeking bump, his breath fanning your skin as he starts to palm it. “Hey, little one. It’s your daddy.”

Your other hand slaps over your mouth, an automatic reaction you couldn’t stopped, as you bite your lower lip harshly. Fucking hormones. They make you emotional, the atmosphere in the room changing as Seokjin’s velvety voice rings your ears.

Your eyes are watery again, your other hand gripping the material so tight that your knuckles turns white. And when baby kicks, which could’ve been completely random and it’s not because he just heard his father, you completely loose it. A sob escapes your lips, followed with a sniffle and you’re glad Seokjin doesn’t pay any attention to you.

You and Hoseok have been trying to get him to kick for a long time, trying everything. Hoseok talking to him, singing with his not so singing skills and voice cracking or reading a story he found on his phone. He barely reacted. The fact he reacted so easily right now is hurting you way more than it probably should. And you try to convice yourself, that this is just coincidence. Maybe it has something to do with your stress, which got higher by Seokjin’s presence.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts, that you barely make out Seokjin’s soft lips pressing gently against the bump before he stands up. His eyes doesn’t meet yours as he coughs, straightening his posture. It’s like the man you just saw a few seconds ago is gone.

“Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.”

It’s the last thing he tells you before he walks out of Hoseok’s apartment, closing the front door behind him as you’re a sobbing mess. Your hand falls, the t-shirt covering your exposed belly before you quickly go to sit down. Your heart is racing so fast that you need to take a deep breaths.

Once you calm down, noticing the awful silence letting you know that you’re alone again, a droplets of sweat appear on your forehead.

Something’s telling you that this is not the last time you see him.

[bitterlikesweets]

Love Bites Ch 7

This is the seventh chapter of a modern/vampire AU ereri fanfic. You can also read it on Ao3. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Next

There’s a typo in the first text that Eren sends to Levi. Determined to stop overthinking their interactions, Eren is quick with his fingers, typing out a brief message that only requires a quick glance at the screen.

That’s how ‘Be there in a sec’ became ‘Be there in a sex’. A slip of Eren’s finger ruined a perfectly good message.

Eren doesn’t notice until he’s buckling himself into his car and Levi responds.

'Don’t tell me that shit, kid.'

He spends the next few minutes trying to type out a response that doesn’t make him look like a complete fucking idiot, only to resign himself to the fact that there isn’t one. He explains that his finger slipped, but Levi doesn’t answer his text and Eren wants to chomp his stupid, clumsy fingers off.

When Eren gets to the restaurant, Levi is already waiting for him in the break room. He doesn’t say anything about the text as Eren quickly grabs a seat at the table, and Eren drinks in silence. He’s more than happy to pretend that it never happened.

When he feels Levi’s hands in his hair, he’s quick to pull away.

“I’ve got the night shift at an arcade bar,” he tells Levi, an answer to Levi’s raised eyebrow as he watches Eren hurriedly collect his things. “I’ve got to be there in half an hour.”

“Should we skip the lesson?” Levi asks.

“Unless you’ve got some quick advice, yeah.”

“Hmm,” Levi says, wiping his wrist with a napkin. “Lesson one for this week is proofread your texts.”

Eren splutters and aims a glare at Levi, who just stares at him as impassively as ever.

“Fuck you,” Eren says, and he marches out of the room before Levi has a chance to notice his blush.

Eren’s not sure if being pissed is any better than being embarrassed, but the annoyance does feel a bit closer to normal for him.

Lesson two takes place after Eren’s six o’clock statistics class. His warning text was safer this time—a simple ‘On my way.’ Levi is the one in a rush today; Isabel is off and he can’t leave Furlan being both a waiter and a chef for long. He talks while Eren drinks, and his hand is preemptively resting on the crown of Eren’s head, so Eren has to wait for the tug and pretend that Levi’s hand isn’t distracting him from properly listening to the man’s words.

Lesson two is about myths. Levi tells him not to worry about not appearing in mirrors and photos, but to be wary of any liquid claiming to be holy water.

“Can I turn into a bat?”

Levi scoffs.

“Maybe through reincarnation.”

The third day is more relaxed. Levi’s not rushing, and Eren has at least an hour until he needs to be at work, but Levi’s hand is still on his head from the start, and Eren suspects this is going to be part of their routine now.

The lesson is about partners. How to choose them and when to drink from them.

“Nobody anemic,” Levi says. “And never after they’ve had alcohol or drugs or any of that shit. You’ve got to wait until it’s out of their system, or you’re both going to feel fucked up once you’re done. Especially you, as the vampire, since you’ll already be half drunk with blood.”

The next day’s lesson is also about partners. But it’s also about Eren.

“You both need to know your limits,” Levi says. His voice is stern and his fingers tangle in the strands of Eren’s hair. “You need to be careful not to drink too much.”

There’s that tug at his scalp and Eren pulls back, swiping his tongue across the bite mark on Levi’s wrist.

“How do you always know when to stop me?”

“You slow down once you’ve had your fill,” Levi replies, “so it’s easy to notice. Normally it should take a few tries to figure it out, but you’re consistent.”

“What should I do if not everyone’s as observant as you?”

“They’ll get dizzy or weak and will know then that you’ve had more than necessary. But I’m hoping to have trained you to recognize the right amount on your own by then.”

“Sounds like work,” Eren grumbles, and he thinks Levi gave him a little extra today, because he feels more blood drunk than usual. “Why don’t you just stay my partner?”

Levi’s silence is sobering, and Eren nearly takes the words back.

“I doubt you really want that,” Levi says eventually.

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t either.”

Eren feels like he should argue with that statement, but he doesn’t know what to say. So he says nothing, and Levi doesn’t say anything either.

Day five’s lesson is not about partners. Levi is busy and impatient. His hand only falls upon Eren’s head when it’s time for him to stop. The man’s tone is clipped and stiff when he speaks, and Eren has to remind himself that Levi is just in a rush because Furlan isn’t there today, so there’s no substitute chef. It’s not at all because Eren said something stupid the day before.

Right?

The lesson is about turning people. A bite to the neck doesn’t automatically turn someone into a vampire, but Levi tells Eren that the blood spills faster there, so it’s easier to take too much. And taking too much from the neck creates new vampires. Something about the vampire healing saliva overcompensating for the blood it takes, enough of it that it overwhelms the human. There was something else too, about proximity to the heart.

Eren lays a hand over his chest. He forgot that there’s a heart in there. A heart that used to beat.

Levi watches him, tells him something else on his way out.

His heart can beat again, at least for a moment, but only at the cost of someone else’s. That’s what turning people is; a brief breath of life, gained by stealing someone else’s.

Eren touches the scar on his neck and feels sick to his stomach.

On day six, they’re both a bit calmer. The restaurant is busy, but Furlan and Isabel are as lively as ever, and they encourage Levi to take his time. They’re both used to Eren by now; they greet him with smiles whenever he arrives, and he feels guilty for not having any full conversations with them yet.

He feels that he is drinking slower than usual, but that doesn’t stop Levi from knowing when to stop him, detecting a change in speed that Eren is always too hazy-brained to notice.

“What am I learning today?” Eren asks, resting his head on the table.

Levi is walking around the room, probably choosing a weapon to reveal. He’s taken to finding them as he teaches, to save them both a bit of time. The weapon is usually a stake, but he’s also pulled out vials of holy water out of the filing cabinet in the corner a few times.

“I want to talk about turning again,” Levi says, and Eren frowns. He doesn’t like this topic.

“Okay.”

“It’s not always involuntary. Actually, it’s more likely to be voluntary these days.”

Eren’s frown deepens.

“Who would volunteer to be a vampire?”

“People who want to be immortal, usually. Sometimes they want the strength. Some just want to stay with the vampires they’ve partnered up with.”

Levi stops by a photo on the wall. Eren recognizes it as the one he knocked down when he threw the table over a week ago. The photo of Levi as a child, with the cardboard Kuchel’s Kitchen sign. Levi pulls it off the wall and flips it over, carefully removing a wooden square from the back of the frame.

“Have you ever thought about getting turned?” Eren asks.

Levi scoffs.

“Fuck no. A hunter becoming a vampire? I doubt anyone would even turn me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“No vampire in their right mind would want me to live forever. It’s in everyone’s best interest that I die someday,” Levi says, and his voice is completely calm, like he’s thought about it and accepted it.

Of course, it makes sense that Levi will die eventually. Levi is human. He’s going to grow old, just like everyone else. But the thought still puts a sour taste in Eren’s mouth.

Maybe it’s because Eren’s never going to grow old and die.

The weapon hidden in the picture frame is a knife, small and thin and sharp, but Eren isn’t looking at it. He’s staring at the table, twiddling his thumbs, thinking about how he’s not going to die and Levi is.

“What?” Levi says, coming to sit back down at the table. “You going to miss me, brat?”

“Yeah, maybe I fucking will,” Eren snaps, and he really doesn’t know why he’s so worked up over this because of course Levi’s going to die someday, he’s human—

A hand comes to rest on his head, heavy and familiar and comforting. And when Levi speaks, it’s like a sigh, with something in his exasperated words coming off as almost affectionate.

“You’re so damn honest.”

Eren shifts just enough to look at Levi, not wanting to lose the hand Levi is resting on him.

“Is that a bad thing?”

Levi huffs, but he sounds like he’s on the border of a chuckle.

“No. It’s refreshing. But you need to learn to take a joke.”

“I can take a joke,” Eren insists. “You’re just bad at telling them.”

“Oh, don’t turn your shit sense of humor back on me—”

“Wha—you’re the one who has the shit sense of humor!”

Their conversation devolves into half hearted insults that leave Eren laughing, and he’s so distracted by Levi’s teasing that he almost doesn’t notice the way the man’s hand lingers on his head, fingers combing through his hair.

They only stop when Furlan comes in, begging Levi to get back to work. Eren is still grinning on his way out.

~ ~ ~

The lights are off in Kuchel’s Kitchen on day seven. The day marks a month since Eren first met Levi. A month from the day he mistakenly ate garlic and tasted Levi’s blood.

Eren presses his face against the front windows of the restaurant, trying to see inside. The chairs are all flipped upside down and on the tables like they are after closing. He pulls his phone out of his pocket. It’s only eight. He sends another text to Levi, asking if everything’s alright. Levi simply texts him that he’ll be out in a minute.

Eren huffs a sigh, leaning against the brick wall of the restaurant.

The whole restaurant has a sort of old fashioned, cozy feel. The red bricks on the outside, the heavy wooden door with a literal bell hanging on the inside. The tables inside are all dark wood and thick red tablecloths, and there are black and white photos on the walls, most of people that Eren doesn’t know or recognize, though he has noticed a few of Isabel and Furlan on his trips to the break room. Eren can picture it all in his head fairly clearly, even without having to look through the window.

It’s different from the vibe he gets from Levi. The white and yellow tiled floor, the red walls… It’s colorful and bright, and it feels more like something Eren’s mom had decorated, rather than a no nonsense, practical man like Levi. The wallpaper even has fucking flowers on it.

And then there’s the name. Kuchel’s Kitchen. Who is Kuchel?

Eren thinks of the picture in the break room. The small kitchen, the cardboard sign. Little Levi, and the dark haired woman handing him a plate.

Maybe Levi’s mother helped him with the decor. Either that or Levi’s got a soft spot for flowery wallpaper and pretty colors.

It’s sweet, either way.

Eren hears the sound of the door unlocking, and he’s already looking when Levi steps out, the chime of the bell accompanying him.

“Sorry,” Levi says, beckoning Eren inside. “Isabel and Furlan said they both couldn’t make it to work, so I had to close early.”

“Are they your only employees?”

“They’re the evening shift,” Levi says, “I’ve got a few others that work during the day.”

Eren hums a little, casting a glance around the still darkened room.

“We could’ve met somewhere else if you wanted,” he says, and Levi just shrugs in response.

“I needed extra time to clean up around here anyway.”

They slip into their normal seats in the break room, and Eren leans onto the table, resting his chin in his hands as he watches Levi push up the sleeve of his shirt.

“I’m not busy today,” Levi says. “Are you?”

“No. No work and no school for me today.”

Levi nods, laying his arm across the table.

“Then, today, feel free to ask me anything you’re still not sure about.”

Eren pauses, his hands reaching for Levi’s arm.

“Is Kuchel your mom’s name?”

Levi’s entire body tenses, and Eren stops with his mouth halfway to Levi’s wrist.

“I meant questions about being a vampire, shitty brat.”

Eren tries to apologize, but Levi’s hand is on his head and he practically shoves Eren’s face into his wrist, stifling anything he was trying to say. Eren lets out a little grumble of protest, but he obediently sinks his fangs in. Levi sighs after a moment.

“...Yes, Kuchel is my mother’s name.”

Eren’s mouth is still occupied, so he squeezes Levi’s arm with his hands, hoping the man understands his request for the man to continue.

“You know that vampire hunting was the family business,” Levi says slowly. “My mother… she didn’t enjoy it. She was the one who taught me that vampires are still people. She learned all the tricks because she had to, but she only killed if it was absolutely necessary.”

Levi tightens his grip on Eren’s hair.

“She wanted an Italian restaurant. Went on and on about that shit. We’re not even fucking Italian, but that’s what she wanted. She started collecting shit—decorations and plates for her future restaurant. Started writing down recipes.”

Even in the midst of his explanation, Levi must be observing Eren, because Eren feels that familiar tug, that silent instruction to pull back. Eren does remove his teeth, complies with the obligatory healing lick, but he doesn’t pull all the way back. He keeps his head low, his lips pressed against the man’s pale skin.

“She was killed when I was a kid,” Levi says and the quiet statement hits Eren like a pound of snow dropped on his back. “She… she always tried to talk shit out, even in the midst of a fight. But there was no point to talking to the ferals. She knew that. She was just stalling—stalling so that my uncle could get me out of there. We all lived together. She was letting us escape.”

Levi takes in a shuddering breath, and Eren sits up, tries to look at him, but the man’s head is turned away. His hand falls away from Eren’s head, and Eren takes it, cradles it in his own.

“When you told me about your mom, I—it was too similar,” Levi says. “I looked at you, and I saw myself. That’s why I let you bite me.”

Eren’s stomach is a painful knot as he thinks about his mother, about that day, about how he couldn’t do anything for her. And he imagines Levi, just a little kid, watching it all play out, knowing exactly what was happening. He feels his own helplessness from the day he was turned and knows that Levi has felt the same. And his mother’s face, her scream are too vivid to Eren now. The images, the memories flash in his head and he squeezes his eyes shut, his hand tightening around Levi’s as his chest starts to burn—

“Sorry,” Levi says, and the word only makes Eren ache even more. “I shouldn’t have—it’s still fresh for you.”

“Don’t apologize,” Eren says, and the words are like a growl, far harsher than he meant to say them. Levi doesn’t even flinch at his tone, but Eren still pulls in a rough breath, trying to calm down, to stomp out the burning. “I’m glad you told me.”

Levi is looking back at him again, and in the place of his usual mask of indifference, Eren sees sorrow and guilt, even as he huffs a sigh and tries to change the subject.

“Didn’t mean to tell you my sob story today,” Levi says, and his voice is under more control than his expression is. “Let’s move on. What else do you want to know?”

The fire in Eren’s chest helps him answer.

“Tell me the best way to kill a vampire.”

[earnestly-endlessly]

Could you please rec cherik fics where they still have powers but being mutant is well accepted? (Kind of like the Daycare Verse by brillingspoons) THANK U SO MUCH YOURE INCREDIBLE

Hi anon, of course I have a list for you. I am so sorry for the delay. I have been super busy lately with work and home renovations, but I’m back and I have a looong list for you. Now, the nature of x-men as a parallel of the very real fight of minority groups for civil rights makes it pretty hard to find fics where everyone accepts mutants.That’s actually why I love the x-men, because they represent the fight of those who are ostracised. So, some of these might have some social commentary, but the main focus does not lie there. Also, if you love the Daycare Verse check out pocky_slash’s fics (who actually wrote the majority of the Daycare Verse). 

------

Cherik ´Still Have Powers Modern AU´ Fic Recs

irreconcilable differences (make for surprisingly good bedfellows) – pocky_slash

Summary: Tonight on The Evening Report with Malcolm Stevens, noted geneticist and mutant equality proponent Dr. Charles Xavier faces off with the infamous mutant rights activist Magneto in a live televised debate over the Genetic Nondiscrimination Act.

(At least, if they can stop flirting long enough to stay on topic.)

Words and Pictures – pocky_slash

Summary: When Lorna's powers manifest early, Charles Xavier's mutant picture books are the perfect teaching tool. Erik just hadn't expected the author to be so young. Or attractive. Or available.

For the Record – endingthemes

Summary: As prominent figures in the mutant rights movement, activists Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are pretty much household names. When a romance scandal between them breaks, their celebrity reaches new heights, and though the increased exposure is great, there’s a big problem -- the two of them are just friends.

Too bad no one believes them.

Runs in the Family – Anonysquirrel (chibirisuchan)

Summary: Alex knew his own reputation. Hell, he'd started some of his own reputation, because it kept some of the smarter thugs off his back. Everyone knew Alex's reputation. There was no way Hank didn't know his reputation, but he'd brought Alex into a house with some really expensive things and a lot of innocent little kids and his too-friendly, too-harmless dad.

But clearly Hank hadn't told his family anything about Alex, just like he hadn't told Alex anything about his family. At least, not about the brain-breaking parts of his family.

"I didn't know where to start," Hank said, for the dozenth time.

Featuring mpreg!Charles in a Kiss The Cook apron, overprotective!Erik in wet black leather, and baked goods. Lots and lots of baked goods.

(Another segment of this series is posted under the Cookie Cutter fic collection - thanks again, Takmarierah!)

Impulse Decisions – listerinezero

Summary: Erik wakes up in Las Vegas with a hell of a hangover, a telepath in his bed, and a ring on his finger. Now what?

You Show Me Yours - endingthemes

Summary: When Erik receives nudes in the middle of the night from an unknown number, he's confused and mildly amused. He doesn't expect it to turn into an actual conversation...with feelings.

As if that's not baffling enough, his friend's brother ends up crashing at his place, further complicating everything.

Some Such Place (The Big Screen Classics Remix) - Pocky_Slash

Summary: Erik's spent the last eighteen months having lengthy socio-political conversations and casual sex with Charles Xavier after seeing Monday matinees at a dingy little independent movie theatre in the Village. That doesn't mean they're friends. Or that Erik should have any say in what Charles is going to do with his future.

(At least, that's what Erik keeps telling himself.)

Into Your Tar, Honey  - tomato_greens

Summary: Really, Alex doesn’t know why he’s in the damn class.

(Or, the one in which Charles teaches an online Introduction to Biology course, and Alex reads more than he expected to.)

Heli Cases - Black_Betty

Summary: "Heli Cases" is a program on PBS whose aim is to educate on the rapidly increasing occurrence of genetic mutation in the general populous by breaking the complex science down into palatable, easy to digest pieces.

It is also the only thing that helps Erik get his fussy daughter to fall asleep.

(Featuring Dadneto, baby Lorna and the struggles of single fatherhood, and Charles as the host of a late night show about genetics.)

Bound - FuryRed

Summary: Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

An Exercise in Frustration – ikeracity

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr's latest critically-acclaimed film Shame features a full-frontal nudity scene. His long-suffering husband Charles is really very peeved about it.

Eyes on Fire - Black_Betty

Summary: Every once in a while, fashion tycoon Emma Frost invites her favourite male models over to entertain her. And by "entertain", I mean she makes them have kinky consensual sex in front of her....Emma never touches herself when she watches, but she always has a glass of wine with her. Emma likes it best when they eventually forget that she's watching.

Charles and Erik meet each other through Emma...

(I've taken some liberties with the prompt, but all the sex is still there, and it's wholly consensual...and gradually, becomes more than just sex...)

Order Up - ikeracity

Summary: Charles has a terrible habit of multitasking, and that is probably why he absentmindedly tells the pizza man that he loves him when hanging up.

Then the pizza man says it back. And Charles is pretty much smitten from there.

Some Assembly Required - manic_intent

Summary: "Alex and Hank were two teenagers who frequently fight in school. One fight got so bad that the principal called in their fathers (as both came from single-parent families)/ guardians for a conference. This was how Charles and Erik meet."

Limited Release - rageprufrock

Summary: When Alex Summers broke out of supermax to rescue his stupid kid brother, he had no idea it was going to be so fucking complicated.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

It’s kind of our whole thing – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: After two years of best friendship, Charles and Erik thought they knew everything there was to know about each other. They're surprised, then, when their first summer as a couple reveals that they have a lot to learn about each other and themselves.

PART 2 of Math Reasons

A Nice Boy (The Family Matters Edition) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's not sure whether the problem is that he doesn't want his parents to meet Charles or that he doesn't want Charles to meet his parents. Either way, he never invites Charles to brunch. Why should he? It's not like they're dating.

apple season – pocky_slash

Summary: "You know," Charles says while they're sitting around the kitchen table reading the paper, "You should take Anya apple picking."

"Don't you mean 'we?'" Erik responds. The silence that follows is enough to make him re-examine his own apple picking memories a little more closely. Uneven ground littered with apples, tree roots, holes, and narrow passage between rows of orchard trees. "Oh," he says.

rooms/shares – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik is single, working a cube job he hates, letting his master's degree in mutant studies collect dust, and living on his best friend's couch. When she kicks him out, he's forced to trawl Craigslist for the least-offensive rooming option within his meagre budget. He never expects a response from the persnickety, high maintenance ad he replies to as a joke, but it's possible this too-nice apartment and mysteriously absent roommate might be the answer to all four of his problems.

Continue firm and constant – aesc

Summary: Moira hasn't seen her old partner in saving the world from threats human and intergalactic, Erik Lehnsherr, for a few years. When she finally does see him again, she finds a man different from the one who's been with her down in the dark and the dirt and the blood... or maybe he isn't so different after all.

Tough little baby telepath – aesc, pearl_o

Five Part Series

Summary: Teenage telepath Charles Xavier takes a job as a consultant, working with prickly police detective Erik Lehnsherr. Charles is used to being on his own and taking care of himself; he has no reason to think that his relationship with this stern, icy man is going to change any of that.

Frosted hearts – aesc, palalife

Summary: Emma Frost has 99 problems, but a date ain't one. Specifically, she has no time to play the dating game--which is fine with her, because she'd much rather run it instead. From a set of sleek, silver and white offices on Fifth Avenue and with her trusty, stylish, and silent partner Janos Quested, Emma has built Frosted Hearts into New York City's premiere dating service, built on the principle that money, and a sufficiently rigorous psionic scan, can, in fact, buy you love.

Somewhere in Frosted Hearts's server is one Charles Xavier, genius and geneticist, with the kind of nicely-starched good looks that sell well on brochures for New England prep schools. He's also a telepath who's decided to give up pursuing serious relationships and instead spend his thirties doing what he should have done as a teenager: have a lot of sex with random people. Fortunately for him, Erik Lehnsherr, metallokinetic and engineering executive, has absolutely no time in his heart or his schedule for anything more serious than... well, absolutely nothing romantic at all.

Mercy of the Fallen (the AirDrop Security Update 2.0) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr feels defined by his past sins and after years of acting against his own moral compass, he's finally struck out on his own. He's his own boss now, and determined to work hard to help the mutant community and make up for years of doing someone else's dirty work.

Complicating this is Charles Xavier, mutant advocate, genetics professor, unfairly attractive telepath, and owner of the coffee shop below Erik's office. Erik may not think he deserves to be a part of the community he's thrown himself into helping, but Charles has other ideas on the matter, and he's determined to do everything in his power to make Erik see himself as a force for good.

you follow and i’ll lead – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: When Charles discovers how frustrated and self-conscious his best friend Erik is about his ignorance about sex, he's eager to volunteer to help teach him and practice. Charles might not have any more direct experience than Erik, but he does have a telepath's mind full of accidentally picked-up fantasies and memories, as well as knowledge of a few dirty books - and more importantly, he's been madly in love with Erik for years. This seems like a brilliant, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that he can't pass up.

Now he just needs to manage to keep his feelings in check, and not ruin their friendship forever.

Snail Mail – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex isn't thrilled when his boss, Erik, starts sending him to hand deliver notes to Erik's husband up at the university--that is, until he sees the Professor's hot new TA, and suddenly, the notes can't come fast enough. If only Alex could work up the guts to ask him out....

this is life (and everything’s all right) – pocky_slash

Summary: Edie Lehnsherr came into Charles' life long before he ever heard Erik Lehnsherr's name, and her death left a gaping hole in the lives of everyone in Charles' family. As the first Purim without her approaches, he begins to get creative in his efforts to bring everyone out of their grief. Kitchen creativity, however, is not quite his strength....

Watching the Detectives – Clocks

Summary: Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are good friends and colleagues. However, when they go undercover at a Christmas party to nab a prime suspect, Erik keeps reminding himself to stay professional and ignore feelings of unexpected jealousy.

Student/Teacher Relations – PoorMedea

Summary: As a TA, Charles knows he can't get involved in all his students' lives. He needs to keep professional boundaries, to make sure that he's an authority figure. But when he accidentally finds out how complicated Erik Lehnsherr's home life is, he suddenly finds that distance hard to maintain.

Fill for the prompt: Erik is the teen dad of adorable baby!Lorna. I just want teen!Erik being a dad, with adorable interactions between him and his baby. Angst is good too since there's always going to be some in such situations, but mainly I want to see teen dad Erik being an awesome dad who loves the hell out of his daughter despite whatever else may be going on.

Conspiracy of Kisses – Alaceron

Summary: Seven-year-old Erik needs to keep his telepathic best friend Charles from finding out that he wants to kiss him. But that's okay, because he has a plan - he'll put on a tinfoil hat.

Favorite Mistake – endingthemes

Summary: Charles Xavier doesn’t think anything of it when he sneaks out without even saying goodbye to his latest one-night stand. What he doesn’t expect is to walk into his new position in the Xavier Industries marketing department and find that his latest hook-up is now his new boss.

Never Take Biology for Granite – ikeracity, pangea

Summary: Charles is an internet celebrity who garners his fame from posting educational, in-depth videos about a different animal every week, though for some reason his viewers are always more interested in his sex life with his geologist husband, Erik, who happens to frown heavily upon all living things.

Except for Charles, of course, whom he's missed these past couple days while attending a geologic convention--though considering the subject material of Charles' newest video, he's wishing he would've stayed away longer.

This Is Not Comedy – baehj2915

Summary: Written for amarriageoftrueminds' prompt for a Cherik version of Louis CK's tangent about the fuckability of Ewan McGregor.

Naturally the similarities end there. I made this about Erik's full on public lust-filled gay revelation, and the chaos that spirals from there.

Snowed In – dedkake

Summary: Charles and Erik have a one night stand, but a blizzard traps them in Erik's apartment afterward.

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Favourite Stucky Fics of 2019!!!

What it says on the tin folks. This is by no means an exhaustive list of all the amazing fics that were published this year, but these are my personal favourites! 😃 (in no particular order)

~

The Fool in the Mirror by thepinupchemist

ABO AU | 111K | Explicit

The night after a near brush with a suicide attempt, Steve discovers the world of support omegas, and in his desperation for relief from the battlefield of his brain, demands to have one.

~

There Is No Shortage of Blood by alby_mangroves/ @artgroves, Dira Sudis (dsudis)/ @dsudis 

Post-WS | 246K | Explicit 

The long slow recovery of Bucky Barnes after his escape from HYDRA.

~

How to Woo the Winter Soldier by writeonclara 

Canon divergent | 21K | General

Steve courts the Winter Soldier.

~

Home Is Wherever I’m With You by cydonic 

Modern AU, Kid fic | 88K | Explicit

This is what happens when you buy a house to flip having only seen the online images: you get more than you bargained for. Bucky Barnes brings all the tools to handle a dilapidated home, but he’s hardly prepared for a smart-mouthed child (with poor aim), a crying baby, and the hottest dad he’s ever seen in his life living right next door.

~

Collar Full of Chemistry by 2bestfriends 

BDSM AU | 188K | Explicit

Steve is very rich and desperate to feel in control of his life again after a recent divorce has left him feeling bitter and lonely. When he keeps crossing paths with a disaster twenty-something, an unconventional solution presents itself. Steve's always been one for following his instincts. Bucky is very broke and can't seem to catch a break, especially after some asshole fires him for one fucking mistake. So of course, it follows that he should sign a contract agreeing to do everything and anything that same asshole wants for a whole year in exchange for a payout that could finally change his life for the better.

~

i'm guilty of treason (i've abandoned control) (series) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid 

Canon divergent | 3 parts | 57K | Explicit

S.H.I.E.L.D Agent Bucky Barnes is captured on a mission and meets Commander Steve Rogers, the erstwhile Captain America.

~

Like Real People Do by 2bestfriends 

Shrunkyclunks | 68K | Explicit

Seven years into an isolated retirement after the Battle of New York, Steve has carved out a place for himself in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains. He has a best friend (his dog, Lady), a frenemy (a local black bear named Rufus), and a cabin in the middle of the woods, an hour's drive from the nearest town. As November comes to a close, he heads into town to pick up supplies and ends up with a stowaway. Bucky hasn't had much luck over the past seven years. Disaster caused his family to move from New York to Indiana, and his life has steadily fallen apart ever since. After one too many heartbreaks, he decides to hitch his way back to the last place he remembers being happy: Brooklyn. He's in the homestretch when he finds himself stranded in a half-empty tourist town in the Catskills and decides to take a chance crawling into the back of someone's truck.

~

happily ever after has bite marks in it by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid 

Canon-divergent, Werewolf Steve | 29K | Explicit

In which Bucky is aggressively okay with his self-imposed exile from society, and Steve is a werewolf who’s nothing like the Brooklyn boy Bucky still dreams of.

~

Political Animals by crinklefries/ @spacerenegades, Deisderium/ @deisderium 

Modern AU, politics | 107K | Explicit

Okay, so the real problem is that you shouldn’t fuck your arch-rival, political enemy, and the person you loathe the most in the world where you work. Or like, at least, you shouldn’t keep doing that. (or—Steve’s best friend is the U.S. Constitution and he can’t seem to stop fucking a hot Republican. They shouldn’t fall in love, but somehow they do.)

~

Slow and Splendored by alby_mangroves/ @artgroves​, eyres/ @inheroism​ 

Post-EG | 65K | Mature 

In the chaotic years after Steve Rogers arrives back in 2023 as an old man, he helps rebuild the world, falls in love with his best friend, adopts a stray cat, and saves the entire timeline. Not necessarily in that order.

~

Civilian by alby_mangroves/ @artgroves, CoraRochester

Canon divergent, Post-WW2 | 72K | Explicit

“Do you want to go somewhere more… private?”

The blond man, after a long silence, had agreed. “My room is just up the block,” he said, jerking his head at the bar’s door.

*

In 1937, Steve Rogers joins the army, and by 1945, he’s back in Brooklyn, dishonorable discharge in hand and nothing to show for years in the Pacific.

In 1947, a seventeen year old Bucky Barnes meets Steve Rogers in a Brooklyn gay bar, and Steve Rogers finally comes home.

~

Wanna Feel the Heat With Somebody by 2bestfriends

ABO AU | 72K | Explicit

Bucky hasn't exactly been a risk-taker in his life, but when you're not only the baby of the family but also the only Omega, risks aren't encouraged, either. So it comes as a shock to himself and his three older, overbearing sisters when he suddenly quits his shitty but reliable job of five years to accept the unsolicited offer from Stark & Rogers. He can't help hoping this will be his chance to find his own way, for once.

Too bad a certain cofounder's scent has him trailing behind the tall, gorgeous Alpha like a lovesick idiot.

~

Extant by keire_ke/ @keire-ke, VenusMonstrosa 

The Martian AU | 27K | Teen

After a sudden and violent storm forces the crew of Insight III to perform an emergency evacuation, astronaut James Barnes was believed to have died and was left behind on Mars. Two years later, Commander Steve Rogers still refuses to let go.

Fortunately, so does Bucky.

~

Quench by AidaRonan/ @bisexualstarbucky  

Modern AU | 9K | Explicit

Or the one where archeology intern Bucky Barnes meets actual archeologist Steve Rogers and reaches levels of thirst scientists once believed to be theoretically impossible.

~

[ill-skillsgard]

Hello my love, I just saw you said you hadn't gotten any requests for Mateo. I feel like I'm being unethical by sending you a request but do you have any thoughts on an AU where the soulmate test matched him with Jonah but here he's waylaid by Adrian or a Modern Ivar? I'm sorry I was compelled to share the thought. Feel free to ignore me.

Hello, dear, sweet love of mine! I would never ignore thee. Send all the requests you want! Anything for you <3

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It was hard to miss the tall white man in a Hawaiian shirt glancing at his phone every five seconds, the enormous grin that split the concentration on his face into one part giddiness, one part lust, his sharp bone-structure absorbing the smile shortly after. Ivar sat across the bar watching him teeter from excitable to neutral over and over until his curiosity got the better of him. Ivar had to know what the man was waiting for. Since the tower of a tourist had come into his sightline, he’d thrown back two shots of rum and two beers—a safe amount of alcohol for someone his height. Ivar wondered if he could make him go three for three. 

He pressed his palms on the table and pushed himself up, notching his arms into his crutches and turning once he had them firmly planted in the sand. The tall man with the innocent eyes noticed him immediately and cracked another one of his lopsided grins. It was hard for anyone to gloss Ivar over. At his full height, he stood almost at odds with the lanky tourist, though his chest and shoulders were bulkier and his tanned skin shone in the setting sun. Ivar caught eyes from around the bar, including the green ones for which he aimed.

Ivar sidled up to the bar and purchased two beers corked with lime wedges. He breathed in deeply and turned around before setting his crutches off to the side. He could stand upright when he had something solid to lean on. The man in his sights turned to him and flashed a customary tourist smile, all courtesy and trying not to notice the condition that set him apart from every other person dancing in the bar that day.

“How’s it going? Enjoying yourself?” Ivar asked.

The man glanced over to verify it was him the broad-chested man with the braided hair spoke to, and his smile grew. Ivar’s eyebrows hopped when he saw all the straight white teeth in his face, the twinkle in his peculiar eyes. He then took in all the other parts he’d missed while spying from across the room: the huge, veiny hands, the length of his thighs, his sandaled feet, his soft brown hair and the flecks of gold in the green irises.

He raised his near-empty beer. “Sure.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude. This is just the best place to stand when you want service.”

The lanky man realized how much of the bar’s real estate he took up and stepped away. Ivar raised one beer bottle. “No need to move. It’s safer for me to have someone to fall on if I tip over.”

“Oh,” the tourist giggled.

“I’m kidding. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t fall and break a hip then make you call me an ambulance. There’s plenty of sand to cushion me.”

The traveller met Ivar’s blue intensity, then pocketed the phone he’d been checking so adamantly for the last forty-five minutes. The look on his face told of amusement and impending small-talk. Ivar crooked his elbows against the bar and waited.

“Do you live here?” The man asked.

“Yeah. When it’s Winter in my home country.”

“Where’s your home country?”

“Very far North.”

“What like, Alaska?”

“Denmark.”

The traveller smiled ever wider. “We’re practically neighbours.”

“Ah, yes,” Ivar chose then to slide the second beer over to the tourist. “You have that Scandinavian look about you. Name’s Ivar, like the Viking.”

“Mateo,” he said, grabbing the beer by the neck. “Skol!”

Ivar raised his drink, and they clinked bottles. “Skol.”

After another half hour, Mateo had that third shot, courtesy of Ivar, his newfound friend and Viking descendant. The conversation progressed at a casual rate until Ivar grew bored with asking innocent questions. He waited until Mateo looked at his phone one last time before zeroing in for the hopeful kill.

“Are you waiting on somebody?” Ivar asked.

Mateo chuckled. “Oh, no. Not really. I’m on a layover. Going to Brazil to meet my soulmate.”

“Just to meet? You mean, you haven’t met them yet?”

Mateo clicked something on the clear screen and showed Ivar a photo of a handsome black man with kind eyes and a lively smile. Ivar sweated, not because of the competition, but because he’d pegged Mateo right.

“We haven’t met. But we don’t need to, right? That’s kind of the whole point of the test. Once we’re together, it will click.”

“Yeah, but... What if it doesn’t? Don’t get me wrong, I support everyone finding their true love, but that’s just one photo. What happens if you meet him and the lower half of him is horribly disfigured?”

Mateo scoffed. “That wouldn’t stop me. We’re matched. It means no matter what, we’re compatible. Plus, he’s gorgeous. Even if he was horribly disfigured from the waist down, it wouldn’t make a difference. Not to me.”

Ivar tasted his confidence rising from his stomach and piping, all the way to his mouth where it manifested as carefully plucked words.

“But you haven’t met yet, right? You’re not officially tied down?”

“No. Not officially.”

“How much time do you have until your flight to meet him?”

“I leave tomorrow.”

“That’s plenty of time,” Ivar said, moving his head to the rhythm of the live music.

Mateo leaned over. “Plenty of time for what?”

Ivar closed the space between them, touching Mateo’s jaw as he whispered in his ear. “Plenty of time to get one last fuck out of your system before you’re shacked up for life. What do you say?”

Mateo’s cheeks turned sunburn-red, his smile a new, shy version of the one Ivar had been studying. He laughed uneasily, scratched the back of his head and laughed again. Ivar didn’t let Mateo rest from the blazing blue-eyed stare. Not until they were in his apartment, undressing each other and kissing feverishly. Ivar grabbed Mateo by the collar of his bright floral shirt and bade him sit on the foot of his bed. Using his crutches to climb down, Ivar went to his knees and wrestled Mateo’s shorts down his thighs. When an erection sprung up between them, they both chuckled.

“Fuck. I knew it,” Ivar moaned.

“Knew what?” Asked Mateo.

“That you had a big dick.”

Mateo scooted forward, shoving his solid manhood closer to Ivar’s mouth. The Viking wrapped his lips around the head, eyes fluttering closed as his tongue besieged the slit already leaking pre-cum. Mateo spread his hands over the sheet and gaped his legs a little more, so Ivar had all the room he needed. The kneeling man took this as a further invitation, and propped Mateo’s legs up by his knees, spreading him and forcing him back for a more thorough licking.

“And what if I didn’t have one? What then?” Mateo asked, feeling cheeky from his unexpected score.

“Then I’d have to adjust my thinking. Reevaluate the statistics that men with big feet also have big cocks.”

“I feel so... Exploited,” Mateo snickered and then melted from the feeling of a hot, determined tongue igniting the nerve-heavy spots along his shaft.

“Oh, I’ll exploit you. I’ll exploit you all night long. Right until you hop on that plane to go meet your soulmate. And I guarantee you’ll keep thinking of my mouth long after you’ve gone.”

Mateo gasped as Ivar throated him, streams of slaver dribbling down his balls. Ivar withdrew to collect the escaped saliva, then deposited the glob over the tip again. He did this several more times until Mateo’s cock glistened in the golden sunset blazing through the dirty window next to the bed. He lost himself in the tightening sensations, letting the stranger treat him with all the experience of a well-learned enthusiast.  After long, Mateo pressed his chin to his chest, grabbing the braids at the nape of Ivar’s neck to pull him off.

“I’m gonna come,” Mateo warned.

Ivar laughed. Mateo returned the merriment with slight discomfort.

“W-what? It’s true,” the gangly tourist admitted.

“Then come.”

“In your mouth?”

“If that’s where you want it, big boy.”

Mateo shivered, chills shooting down his legs into his feet, numbing his toes. “Oh, fuck.”

The next day, Mateo stood in line waiting to board his flight. His eyes locked onto his phone screen and the photo of Jonah that had made his heart twinge the last couple of weeks. He swiped over and looked at a photo of Ivar, shirtless and tan, a beer bottle in hand and stylish sunglasses perched on his nose. Mateo switched back to Jonah, then back to Ivar.

“Sir? Please keep the line moving,” the woman at the desk motioned him forward.

Mateo hesitated. He looked at the photo of Ivar one last time, then sent him a friend request, pocketed the device and put on his most charming smile as he approached the desk.

“Hello,” Mateo said, clearing his throat. “How much to reschedule my flight to Brazil?”

[just-like-playing-tag]

Isabella

Asked by Anonymous. Thank you very much for the ask!!!

Favorite thing about her: She's one of the greatest villains I've ever heard of! She fulfills her role as Emma's nemesis magnificently. I really like how she made her own choices, even if they were selfish ones. We cannot all be Emmas. It's in the human nature the instinct to survive, and I don't blame her for that. It makes it also kind of sweet how she wants to survive for Leslie too- kinda mirrors how, after believing he had died, Emma and Ray wanted to survive for Norman as well. Isabella is determined in being the one who survives in the end, and I think that makes her really cool.

Least favorite thing about her: Eh it has to be how she treated Ray. Now, hear me out:

you know there's this kid who knows that him and his siblings are being raised in a farm. He knows none of them will survive their 12th birthday. He has to see the siblings he obviously loved (because that's what kids do, they love their siblings, no matter how much Ray tried not to get attached) being shipped once every two months. He had to go through all of this, while acting like everything was fine.

And you think "oh yeah why don't we treat him like a fucking animal that's obviously the right thing to do". Just. Girl what's your problem??????? His life was a nightmare, why did you had to make it even worse??????? She called him "dog". She made him hate himself more then the already did. She made it so that he'd never forget that his byological mother hated him. Really,,,, why. Why didn't that boy deserved the "happy life" you promised to give every child you rised. Why did you chose to fuck him up more that he already was.

Even worse, the thing is,,,, I know the reason she did it. It's because she knew Ray was her son, and she didn't want to get attached in any way. It's because him himself was born out of the system that had tortured her in every way. Because that too was probably the manifestation of a deep self loathing for all she had done and she kept doing. But still- woman, you're an adult. And he was a freaking five years old. All you had to do is not to add more trauma.

Uhm also I didn't really like how her redemption arc was handled- but for completely different reasons than the rest of the fandom. What bothers me is how easily they forgave her. I think it's easy to understand her actions when, as the reader, you know plenty about her pov; but I don't think a bunch of kids would forgive her that soon. I don't think they would consider her mom their (but I'm getting to that later). Sometimes the fact that you were forced to do some horrible things doesn't change the fact that you've done them- at least to the eyes of your victims.

Especially Ray. I love him but I really don't think he wouldn't have forgiven her. He'd been upset and thorned of course, but I don't think he would cry over his mother's body– why would he, all of his life she had never been one to him.

Favorite line:

Ok maybe this:

I love this scene, it may be my favorite of hers? I already mentioned it in the past, but I really like how after having lost, she actually makes an effort to protect the children. Even though it's a small step, and even though it's too late, she finally does something to love them as she wanted to. It may be a stretch, but even if that's not how thiss scene is supposed to be read... I still find her resolution amazing. Look at her, so stern and unshakable, like she was made of stone. I love and admire people who take responsibilities into their hands, that's how I aim to be.

But I also really like this. Her tired face. Her admitting her defeat. I don't know, there's just something really beautiful in how this panel was composed.

And this is nice as well, isn't it? All of the above (and under) still stand, but I like how at some point she gave up, and genuinely wished the best for the children. "Lights" metaphors are extremely cliché, but that doesn't make the any less sweet.

brOTP: I really don't know where this came out from but I think in a modern AU Isabella and Yuugo would bond really well just. I don't know. Ruthless bitches with actually a soft heart squad.

Another squad I love:

OTP: Ok totally not in canon, but Isabella / Krone sounds so so nice, I really love them.

nOTP: Bah nothing really.

Random headcanon: Through all the years she has been a mama, she has never ever cried. She's really not one to shed tears.

She really likes reading. She has read all the books of the orphanage as well, even though it took her longer then Ray (she read most of them only after she became mama)

Unpopular opinion: Ok everyone is going to hate me for this but. She has never been a mother to the children. Never. She was kind and nurturing towards them, of course! But honestly it's my opinion that a mother would always chose death over hurting her children. And like, I don't blame her at all for not doing so?? It's totally fine if she chose her life over the ones of countless children; some people think about themselves first, and I respect them for that. The survival instinct instinct is part of all humans, and that's ok. But what I mean is, stop acting as she loved her children as much as a mother would, because she didn't? It's a big part of her character - and it's also part of what makes her an amazing villain. What she was aiming for has always been surviving herself - for Leslie and all that stuff. You can't take off such a big part of this from her. She was determined to do everything to do that, even the most ruthless, bottle of things. She hurt children- but not her children. Those children were never hers, because she never loved them as a mother would.

(I'm obviously talking about mother as a motherly figure, and not as mother by blod– I understand perfectly not all byological mothers would be willing to die for their children, but in that case I just don't consider them mothers to them.)

Song i associate with her: OK LOOK THERE'S THIS ONE LES MISÉRABLES SONG THAT IS ABSOLUTELY PERFECT EVERY SINGLE WORD SOUNDS LIKE IT'S BEEN WRITTEN FOR ISABELLA PLEASE GIVE IT A LISTEN

I Dreamed a Dream (performed by Caissie Levy) - Les Misérables

(Yes she's talking about Leslie) (Yes it's "He slept a summer by my side" because that's how time flee for her and "He took my childhood in his stride" because her childhood died with him) (Yes I'm crying)

I dreamed a dream in time gone by

When hope was high

And life worth living

I dreamed that love would never die

I dreamed that God would be forgiving

[...]

But the tigers come at night,

With their voices soft as thunder,

As they tear your hope apart,

As they turn your dream to shame!

Also, Miss Honey's bridge in When I Grow Up - Matilda makes me think about a younger mama Isabella:

When I grow up

I will be brave enough to fight the creatures

That you have to fight beneath the bed

Each night to be a grown up

Favorite picture of her:

I like this... She makes it look like after decades of fake smiles, this is her first, true, heartfelt smile.

Sorry I'm very incisive tonight

And this!!!!!!!! The coldness, the power, the sheer determination!!!!!!!!!!!

Also love her unreadable face in this; she's so cool!!!!!!!!

Send me a character and I’ll list

[sandersidess]

Partners in Crime

Guess who did this in like twenty minutes?! Hi hi!!!! So I did go a bit tiny overboard, but I am proud of this and if you guys want to add on, then go ahead! I would love to see your own input and any like future decisions. So this is Royality! Oh and I wrote this on mobile.

A/N: This was supposed to be up about three hours ago, but tumblr fucked me up as always

TW: Murder (multiple), A lot of blood, mention of gun and knife, bombs, mutilated bodies, Dark Roman and Patton, ASK TO TAG

tag: @smarterthaneveryoneelse @scarletsaphire @sanderssides-corner @peri-shns-brght @fandoms-are-a-gift-of-chuck @howtobetrash-org @internetwhy @cjcipher234

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Roman looks at Patton and holds his hand, kissing his wedding ring. Patton looks over and smiles softly, humming and squeezed his hand gently. They both stare at each other, kissing each other and Roman made sure it was a passionate kiss.

“I love you,” Patton whispers once they break the kiss, holding the dagger in one hand.

“I love you too,” Roman smiles softly, holding his custom pistol, and leans his forehead against him, “Don’t die on me. Got it?”

“Shut up, Prince,” Patton giggles and puts on his mask after giving a final kiss.

“The couple being called the modern Natural Born Killers have hit the town of Mesa, Arizona! They have killed the owner of a jewelry shop and then killed a well renowned family. The suspects who have only been identified by the last name Prince and Love are at large and police urge citizens to stay safe! Lock your doors, install alarms and do not engage if you see them! Here are what we suspect how they look like, so I repeat, do not engage this duo! They are highly dangerous and will kill! Back to you Steve-“

Patton hums happily and stares up into Roman’s eyes as they dance to the piano music playing in the house. Roman gives him his ever charming smile, keeping a hand on his lower back. He kisses the bloody hand he’s holding, both ignoring the ringing of the victims phone.

“Where else should we go for our honeymoon?” Roman asks him with a soft tone.

“How bout New York? The city that never sleeps,” Patton responds and giggles as Roman twirls him and pulls him close.

“They’ll see our work of art,” Roman nods and chuckles, “We’ll make it into the museum, baby!”

“That’s always been your dream, ever since we were little kids,” Patton nods eagerly, “Roman! We’re going to be famous!”

“Let’s get a move on!” Roman says happily, Patton leading the way out, stepping on the bodies, as they both still holding hands.

“The duo we are calling the Royal Killers have struck five homes and five stores in Topeka, Kansas-“ “They robbed a shop in Philadelphia-“ “Rhode Island couple have lost their life to the Royal Killers-“ “The FBI are working tirelessly to find this couple-“ “We warn you, be cautious, and we will release more information once made public! Once again, be cautious.”

Patton blows out the smoke and hands the blunt to Roman, who kisses Patton quick and takes a hit. They stare up at the starry night, holding hands as they lay in the hammock. Patton looks at Roman and sighs happily.

“You’re the best, Roman. I can’t ever imagine losing you.”

“Neither can I. We will die of old age,” Roman looks at him and strokes his cheek, “We will die together, holding hands and staring at the horizon from our house in Venice Beach.”

“Come here,” Patron grabs him and pulls him into a kiss and Roman chuckles and pulls him on top of him. He drops the blunt on the person beneath them, which fell in a pool of their blood.

“The FBI day they are closer and have released the identities of the Royal Killers! The names are Roman Prince and Patton Love, but they may go behind the alias of Creativity and Morality, Alexander and Samuel, or Ricky and Patrick. Here are their mugshots from years back when they were captured as young adults after robbing an elderly. They both have their own distinctive features. Roman has a scar near his left eye, along with a distinctive mark under his right eye. Patton has a birthmark on his neck, resembling the shape of a heart. They both have tattoos on their shoulder of an armor and heart. If you see them, call the number on screen, the police or FBI. They are considered highly dangerous, their signature weapon being a nine millimeter pistol that is red and gold, along with an eight inch dagger, the end being jagged. Once again, do not engage. They are highly dangerous murderers.”

Roman watches as his husband laughs happily as he ran into the beach, sighing happily and took a video of him. Patton turns around, the sun hitting him just right and made him look angelic in his black tank top and blue shorts. Patton squeals happily as a small wave hit him, falling down on the wet sand. He turns to Roman and waves at him, Roman going towards him and set the phone down to record them. He runs to him and picks him up, spinning him around. Patton laughs and wraps his arms and legs around him. Roman took him more into the water, where it reached up to Roman’s abs.

“I wish I could marry you once more,” Roman says, stroking back Patton’s wet hair, his curls falling over his eyes.

“You looked so good in that red suit,” Patton hums and leans his forehead against him, “You looked like a movie star.”

“You looked so dashing in that dress. White with red fits you so well,” Roman whispers and sets him down, “Absolutely angelic.”

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP NOW!”

Roman and Patton then around, seeing they were surrounded by cops and a SWAT team. Patton held onto Roman’s hand tightly, Roman bringing him close. They were shouting demands, and it was terrifying Patton. Roman hid his face in his chest, both still ignoring demands.

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND SURRENDER PEACEFULLY!”

“Don’t worry dear, they won’t hurt you,” Roman whispers to Patton and kisses his head.

“They’re scaring me. I don’t want to be away from you,” Patton whimpers, tears welling up, shaking his head, “They can’t separate us!”

“GET READY TO FIRE! AIM-“

“And they won’t. After all, the world has to see our work of art, sunshine,” Roman grins and pulled a small remote out of his pocket and pressed a button.

At that moment, Roman pulls Patton down underwater as homemade explosives started going off. There were shouts and screams, the officers trying to scramble away but the area was littered with bombs. Only Roman knew where he put them from two days ago.

After what seemed like forever, but only two minutes, they rose up enough to where their noses were above water. They scanned the area and stood up slowly, panting hard. It was the one time they were glad they could hold their breaths for a long time.

“Are they gone?” Patton asks, his voice scared and still clinging onto Roman.

“They should be. All I see are bodies,” Roman says, “Get on my back. I’ll take us to the car and we’re leaving this country. They’re waiting for us.”

Patton nods and does as he says, Roman not being bothered that he stepped over mangled body parts and bodies. He avoided the bombs he planted, and reached the car. He had Patton get in and Roman starts the car, both still holding hands.

“They’ll never separate us, sunshine. Remember that,” Roman reassures Patton, who nods and shoots at the officer who stood up weakly.

With that, Roman sped off the beach and set off the last of the bombs as they both drove off to the cruise ship waiting for them.

“The FBI and all of the departments have no idea where this serial killer duo have disappeared! They are working with other countries to find them, but it is a tragic event! They have killed over forty officers and over thirty of the best from the SWAT team. All that was found was the cellphone of Roman Prince, which seemed to record their final moments on the beach before officers came into scene. It is a sad day, but the country is hoping they are brought to justice so-“

“You two sure cause trouble.”

Roman turns to his friend, having tucked in his husband. He stared at the trio, Logan stepping up.

“It’s called having fun, eyepatch. You should try it,” Roman smirks and snaps his fingers, “Want to come with us?”

“No, because you two are retiring,” Logan says and Virgil hands over the passports, “You two are lucky you’ve grown and changed from that mugshot. No one will recognize you.”

“Ah! That is a name I do love!” Roman laughs and shakes his head, “Romeo. Not too much different from mine.”

“Patton is now Pedro. It works that you two know some Spanish,” Dolos shrugs and hands over their documents, “Don’t kill anymore. It was hard to get these documents.”

“I worked hard to make those passports,” Virgil scoffs, the scar on his cheek catching Roman’s attention.

“We won’t disappoint you guys! Besides, I did promise Patton a beach honeymoon,” Roman chuckles and looks at the captain from the cruise, pointing the gun at him as he picked up a phone, the trio pointing their own at the other cruise workers, “and I’m not letting anyone ruin his vacation.”

[geek-patient-zero]

Prologue (Part 1)

Or: My Dinner with Reuben

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Dead Trilogy Volume 1

I always loved the cover art. It was done by an artist called BROM. Here’s his website.

Robert Weinberg dedicates the book to Edgar Allan Poe “for obvious reasons” and Bram Stoker “who started it all”, though Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu might disagree with that. On Poe, peppered throughout the book, between the three parts and on the back cover are short quotes from his works, mostly “The Masque of the Red Death”. Obviously. It’s a little BS though. Any elements inspired by Poe are shallow, at least in this book.

Underneath the dedication is a little disclaimer:

While the locations and history of this trilogy may seem familiar, it is not our reality. The setting of Vampire: The Masquerade of the Red Death is a harsher, crueler version of our world. It is a stark, desolate landscape where nothing is what it seems. It is truly a World of Darkness.

For in the grim dark 1990′s there is only war. And vampires.

Going into the book I thought this disclaimer was a little wanky. I expected that “a harsher, crueler version of our world” would translate to “our world but with more rats, goths, and supernatural creatures.” Similarly, the book’s spine labels the genre as “Dark Fantasy” which in my experience usually translates to “regular fantasy but with more rape.” Turns out the World of Darkness setting is a little more complicated than that, but most of the time Weinberg isn’t too subtle on the whole “darker version of our world” thing.

I just want to let you know, before we get started, that I’m not the biggest expert when it comes to V:TM lore. I’ve never played the tabletops, or read their source books. My knowledge comes from Bloodlines, wiki binges, and lore dumps on Reddit and the Something Awful Bloodlines 2 thread. Please bear with my dumb ass if I get something wrong.

Alright, enough preamble, let’s get to the actual story.

We start in Rome, June 15, 1992, at an outdoor restaurant near the Coliseum. A meeting there was set up the night before through an anonymous phone call to the “heart of the Vatican.” For a suitcase full of money, they’d talk about vampires, or as the book dramatically puts it:

“We will talk,” declared the mysterious voice in somber, cold tones, “of The Kindred.”

The first to arrive is Father Naples, named so because it’s a word you’d find on a map of Italy. He’s a member of the Society of Leopold, who only get one more brief mention after this prologue so all you need to know is that they’re Catholic vampire hunters. He’s a big buff guy, described like a cross between a priest and a high ranking CIA agent. He came unarmed.

His faith served as his shield.  Along with the five other agents of the Society of Leopold in the restaurant, including two women disguised as streetwalkers.

The Society of Leopold is the “the devil was behind this” kind of religious, so it’s weird they’d jump straight to hookers when thinking of disguises for their agents, or that said agents would agree to it. But this is the World of Darkness, a harsher, crueler version of our own, and that means there’s hookers everywhere, so put on the hot pants and think of Italy.

So Father Florence here’s got his disguised agents, who “carried enough firepower on them to start a minor war.” He’s also something of a badass.

And, though he had retired years before as a field operative, Father Naples still maintained his training in the martial arts. An expert at both kendo and karate, he could kill an attacker a dozen different ways.

He’s also got some agents in a nearby hotel room with a directional microphone aimed at his table to record the conversation. Soon, the target of all this seeming overkill arrives; a blonde mid-twenties guy in a white suit. His voice was different than the one who made the phone call, implying to Naples, and us, that there’s at least two people involved on the other side of this setup. It’s a neat bit of foreshadowing. After a firm handshake and no-selling Father Naples’s patented death glare, the stranger introduces himself as Reuben, “like the sandwich.” They banter a bit about the biblical Reuben before he decides to troll the Father a bit. First by saying he’s older than he looks, then by passing on the Father’s offer of wine.

“No thank you,” said Reuben. “I do not drink wine.”

He waits a beat for a reaction, then orders a Coke and a menu. I think I like Reuben.

Since vampires can’t eat or drink (unless they have high Humanity and a good dice roll) Father Naples is thus satisfied that the guy is not a vampire trying to trick him, deciding he’s “definitely human. And not very clever.” Reuben had made an obligatory knock at airline food, so now Naples believed the agents recording the conversation could use this clue to track down his real name and where he came from through airline records.

They get to the You Got the Cash/You Got the Stuff part of negotiations, with Reuben showing off the twenty million US dollars in his briefcase (Not euro because we’re the only country whose currency matters fuck you Italy) in exchange for a monologue from Naples about the history of the Kindred, starting from the beginning. Reuben says Father Naples can summarize if need be.

“Summarize?... How does one summarize ten thousand years of absolute evil? An impossible task, but let me try.”

The rest of the prologue until the end is Naples’ exposition on vampires while he drinks a shit ton of vino. Since it’s Vampire: The Masquerade Lore 101, I’ll summarize like our pal Naples.

Vampires secretly control the world. There are thirteen vampire clans descended from Caine, of Cain and Abel fame only spelled with an e for some reason. Ye olde Caine killed his brother, though I once read that in this setting it wasn’t so much just committing the first murder as introducing the very concepts of murder and killing to reality and basically ruining everyone’s lives, including demons. God punished Caine by giving him vampirism, forcing him to kill to survive for inventing killing. The vampirism also gave him superpowers, so he’s like a little bloodsucking demigod. I’ve seen jokes about God punishing Caine by giving him cool superpowers, but according to Father Naples Caine needed them because everyone knew what happened and were pissed at him for inventing murder and eating them. When everyone and everything wants to kill you on sight you need to be OP to survive and then feel sad about it.

(He also didn't learn most of those powers until later, when he met Lilith.)

Caine discovered that he could make more vampires through the classic “drain their blood to the point of near death and then feeding them your own blood” method. He sired three new vampires, who weren’t as powerful as him but still quite capable of ruining your day, a trend that continues through twelve or thirteen vampiric generations, although the latest generations are puny compared to Caine and his kids.

Caine and the Second Generation founded Enoch, the First City, and were worshiped there as gods, I’m guessing because of a mixture of fear and the hope of getting some sweet vampire powers if you suck up to the first murderer. The Second Generation then sired the Third Generation, thirteen vampires that became known as the Antediluvians. They’re the ones the modern thirteen vampire clans descend from. 

Then everything goes to shit for Caine. Again. The Antediluvians, ambitious dicks, rose up and killed the Second Generation, destroying Enoch in the process. This could be thought of as Caine’s true curse: being forced to watch his childer, and their childer, and so on plot against and murder each other as he had done to his brother, and generally being a plague on mankind. See, Vampire: The Masquerade can be a bit too try-hard edgy and horny at times, but then you also get neat bits of writing and lore like that. As for Caine, he disappeared after the fall of Enoch. He’s now a cab driver in Los Angeles. Or a hermit in Greece, messing with traveling scholar vampires. Or both. Depends on who you ask. No, really. I’m being serious.

I should mention that, religious guy that he is, Father Naples likes to pepper his monologue with casual mentions of the devil. He says things like...

“It was then, in his darkest despair, that Caine learned from Satan a monsterous secret.”

“Encouraged by Satan, Caine created three such monsters.”

“And, in time, urged by Lucifer, they, too, bestowed the gift of eternal life on a select group of their victims.”

“They knew not the Lord God, but Lucifer, the Dark Angel.”

...and generally blaming the big guy below for getting the vampires to do vampire things. While most of what Father Naples says about the setting’s history is correct, the Satan stuff isn’t. Lucifer is a character in the World of Darkness, specifically Demon: The Fallen, but he has nothing to do with V:TM. This adds a neat bit of characterization and unreliability to Naples’ narrative; something Reuben will point out at the end of the prologue.

The Great Flood happened, but Father Naples doesn’t mention it. He skips to the Antediluvians founding the Second City, which didn’t get a name like Enoch because in its two thousand years of existence apparently no one could think of one. With the support of their childer, the fourth generation, they ruled over the Second City and, according to Naples, enslaved humanity. But eventually humanity rose up against the vampires, killing some of them with sunlight, fire, and beheading. The Second City fell and the surviving vampires fled. The Antediluvians disappeared. Some modern day vampires believe the Antediluvians were all dead, while others (the correct ones, turns out) believe they’re hiding, resting in torpor (a kind of vampire coma) this whole time and one day, they’d wake up and, as Father Naples says, “...the world of the Undead shall tremble.” This is our first mention in this book of Gehenna, the end of the wold according to the Kindred. He also says their return was predicted in Revelations, but I’m no biblical expert so I can’t tell you what bits of Revelations that might be referring too.

Reuben asks what happened to the fourth generation, or the Methuselahs as they’re now known because they’re old as balls but not “lived before the Biblical Flood” old. Father Naples tells him, then goes on to explain the titular Masquerade, vampire factions, and the thirteen clans.

[electricbluebutterflies]

“Pull over.  Let me drive for awhile.” Kabby

Modern AU, PG-ish, and also on ao3. Probably could get turned into a longer fic if y’all want.

Abby isn't sure what protocol is for bringing one's new partner along for the ride when driving across three states to rescue one's daughter, but right now she's too panicked to care. She is not doing this shit alone.

It would be less stressful if she knew what was going on, so of course she doesn't. All she knows is that Clarke is in a hospital in New Jersey, of all godforsaken places. Why that is remains unknown, and there are too many terrifying options. And in this day and age, driving across Ohio and Pennsylvania is less time-consuming than trying to get a flight out. Gives Abby time to process the situation and brace for a further terrifying phone call, if there is one.

She's driving, for now. Pennsylvania does not seem to be a state with an ending, and nobody with a local license plate seems to have any idea what they're doing. It is now early morning, they have been on the road for seven hours, they have stopped three times for coffee at twenty-four-hour truck stops, and Abby is simultaneously too old and too young for every detail of this mess.

"You've been quiet for an hour," Marcus says, popping her bubble.

Yes, she wants to growl, yes she has been quiet because if she starts talking she won't stop and she is scared. Her goddamn kid is in the hospital, and that has never ended well. Clarke is 24 and therefore should be able to advocate for herself to some extent - this will not be a repeat of the summer camp incident, dear god, it is impossible for the universe to fuck over the Griffin family that thoroughly a second time - but that is invalid if she's unconscious or self-destructive or…

Abby has worked in the medical field for the past twenty-five years. She's seen some shit. She knows how many ways this could go bad, and she's envisioning all of them at once, and-

"Pull over. Let me drive for a while."

"Bad idea. You can't simultaneously drive and deal with me finally… doing whatever it is I am going to do if my body stays still long enough."

"Abby."

"They would not tell me why my kid is in the fucking hospital. That means either brain damage or psych ward. Neither of which I have a good feeling about in New Jersey."

"And this is why you need to not be driving right now. You could make things worse."

She really hates when he's right, and that happens a lot.

She's not sure what this relationship is, how she's going to explain the man beside her to anyone else. They've known each other a long time, been friends for a few years, been lovers for one of them so far. After how fabulously things ended the last time she cared about someone, Abby was in no rush to get in a new relationship, and she appreciates Marcus's patience. He accepts that they are undefined, entwined, living together because that house seemed too big for just her but unlikely to attempt a proper wedding. City hall, maybe, she wouldn't be opposed. But nothing public, nothing she could lose, nothing-

Wordlessly, she takes the next exit and pulls into the nearest gas station parking lot.

"Do what the damn GPS tells you," she murmurs as she gets out of the car. She's exhausted and looks like hell and feels worse, and she leans back against the closed door to steady herself, and-

"She'll be okay. We'll be okay."

Abby is not normally a fan of anything that might get interpreted as PDA, but she collapses against her partner just as easily. He's warm and safe, enveloping her as much as he can and kissing her forehead.

"The last time I had a legitimate conversation with my daughter was after that one bad breakup," she murmurs. "She has no idea you exist."

"We could say I'm a concerned friend. I'm that too."

"I'm probably going to be holding your hand a little too much for that to fly," Abby mutters. "And remember, she's half me. She'll see through that."

"We have three hours to figure this out."

"More like four, if not even longer. At this rate, we're headed straight into rush hour in Philadelphia ."

"More reason for you to take a nap," he murmurs, leaning down for a heartbeat kiss before letting her go. "And more time. I do remember that time you were awake for three days, but that was different."

"Yeah. That was an Ikea dining room set. This is maybe the only thing scarier than that."

She gets in on the passenger side, does her seatbelt, and curls up into as small a ball as she safely can. She's headed into hell, she needs this catnap.

"Wake me up if my phone goes off," she murmurs as she closes her eyes. "Or when we get there. Whichever comes first.

"Will do. We'll get through this, Abby."

"I love you."

"Rest. GPS says four and a half hours. That's as much as you normally sleep most nights…"

"I aim for six, and you can give me shit about that when this is over."

"Just pointing out…"

"Less talking, more driving."

Into hell, she thinks again as she fades out, but at least she's got someone good by her side.

[kariachi]

”So, we’re gonna start today’s Martin Mystery rewatches with The Vampire Returns. Should I have listened to more of the Young Frankenstein soundtrack during lunch in preparation? Probably. But here we are instead.

I love how this show always specifies the exact time shit starts going down. For instance, in this episode, 10:32 pm CEST

~~

Good on Lady Soulsucker’s date for paying enough attention to notice when the girl he’s out with grows fangs and her eyes start glowing. You don’t see that often enough.

Aw and then she takes the daintiest bite of apple with teeth bigger than Date-Dude’s face.

I wonder how they got out without being noticed... can’t remember if the vampires in this episode can do the ‘turn to fog’ thing. Sure I’ll find out later.

~~

Diana sitting there with a book and a crowd of impressed young ladies. What are you showing them, Diana? Did you make this book yourself? Did you mother write it? I can’t think of a reason for the ooo-ing and ahh-ing going on otherwise. Either that or you managed to attract a pack of lesbians and they are trying to get in your pants.

...ya know I’m kinda all for the idea that Diana has unwittingly attracted a chunk of Torrington’s lesbian population and they are all trying to smooze in the awkward way that only a young gay can manage.

Also hello Tonio, it’s nice to see you. I’m going to have to include you in this in some way, I believe, given the location and also that this is a fic for nix.

Martin, Martin, sweetie, no. You are not getting that girl. There were actual sparkles coming off her, you don’t deserve that sort’ve quality. Plus, ya know, she sounds like your brand of nerd isn’t her style. I know the saying is “aim for the moon, if you fail you’ll land among the stars” but let’s be realistic for five seconds

Tonio can see this disaster coming from a mile away.

Amber is not having it, solidly unimpressed. I’m shocked.

You think the girls at this school ever rate the boys and just, give Martin a solid 6/10 for effort and moxie alone? “We wouldn’t date him, but at least he’s entertainingly stupid.”

Amber’s look of shock and concern at the idea of Martin enjoying studying. Like she’s about to call in the Psi Psi Psi girls and Diana, clearly their moron has fallen ill. Diana, meanwhile, is just pissed and I can’t decide whether the idea that this is because Martin is lying to get a date or because ‘has he been lying for the past our entire lives’ is funnier.

Though, given we’ll be working with witch!Martin for this it’s not like he’s lying. He just doesn’t like studying, well, anything they teach at Torrington. (Although I am still a big fan of the idea that he’s perfectly bright and just doesn’t apply himself like, at all.)

Martin don’t growl at your sister, you’ll get enough chances to in season 3.

And Amber trying to let him down easy.

~~

“Very rare, and totally irreplaceable” and you, all the way into season 2, are going to work with them, in your office, immediately after calling in Martin- known disaster and Destroyer of Projects? I swear you’d think MOM wanted her crap ruined. After a point you have no one to blame but yourself.

Martin no.

I repeat, MOM, no one to blame but yourself. Most people with an ounce of sense would stow away the shit they didn’t want destroyed when the guy who keeps destroying shit was called in.

Diana no. You’re being sent on a mission not a fucking river cruise.

~~

Introducing, the world’s scariest tunnel of love. First condoms in the water, now people going missing, this dude is just done.

Well Lady Soulsucker just fucking demolished that place didn’t she. Godsdamn, forget shutting it down because people disappeared, shut it down because it’s officially a safety hazard.

Okay, access hatch in the ceiling, that explains that.

...Okay but Martin isn’t entirely wrong with his assessment here? Something strong and nocturnal is right on the nose, and while the werewolf and half-beast-half-humanoid (and I love he uses that word specifically) hybrid guesses aren’t quite right, they aren’t far off the mark. He brought his A game today.

Diana, darling, kids playing practical jokes generally don’t leave fair rides completely demolished in their wake. That is not a normal occurrence.

Java about to eat half-consumed food off the floor like child did Diana not teach you better than that? I wouldn’t be surprised Martin didn’t but Diana?

500 year old saliva. This is the sort’ve ridiculousness I expect from this show. What, did Lady Soulsucker not swallow, spit, or brush her teeth since she escaped her coffin? Was she going around with 500 years of no brushing on her breath? Of course she’s got vampire hypnosis it’s the only way she could get a date.

Vampire goes rwar at children, flees into the sun to escape capture. Also he may need some heavier clothes, those don’t seem to be keeping the sunlight out.

~~

Martin no.

Billy making himself useful. Helping them follow the massive flashing clue that is the vampire’s clothing.

Martin slow your jock-ass down

Martin no, purple isn’t your color.

Okay, can I just say here that Lady Soulsucker looks fucking weird? She looks like a haunted porcelain doll. Or a shitty oc. Here, a theme song to go with her.

Question, why is there a surf shop in the middle of Paris? Is Paris big for surfing? A true French sport?

Oh, yeah, Simone, I forgot her name. It’s very French. Also dude chill.

Diana will not be stopped by some weird hyper-jealous dude.

She also, ya know, looks like a fucking corpse. But yeah, the reflection thing is your first clue something’s up.

He doesn’t see her, he doesn’t hear her, he doesn’t smell the 500-yo morning breath. I claiming him as an anosmiac by the way, the flag is in.

Welp. I can’t decide whether this feeding was more or less extreme than the last one. I mean, this time was pretty fucking hardcore, but last time she demolished an entire fair ride.

Simone, sweetie, have you considered that if you are looking for a specific guy maybe, just maybe, the way to go about it isn’t to just eat whatever random dude happens to be within hypnotizing range? Just a thought?

“He needs help, I’m going in” Martin says right after watching a guy get eaten by a vampire, proving that while he may not be the moron we deserve, he’s the moron we need. Diana, on the other hand, is a voice of reason and doesn’t deserve this shit.

Lucky those clothes were there to break your fall, Martin.

Martin, after dropping from the ceiling into a vampire’s feeding ground, alone: Don’t make me fuck your shit up! Simone, seeing this: Oh yay it’s my moron! Speak of the devil!

Am I saying Gerard was probably just as much an impulsive dumbshit as his great-x-grandson? Yes. Yes I am.

“Clever, and brave.” And a complete moron of a dork. “Just like my Gerard.”

“And just as handsome” it’s nice to see the looks keep in that family? I don’t believe Gerard got the floaty hair though, but his hair looked stupid so really Martin has the advantage there.

Vampire minions are strong, holding back Java with one hand.

Vampire true love is apparently very sparky.

Well Diana, at least you saved the watch.

~~

Martin gets abducted by vampires, Billy immediately must run to the scene.

I’d be impressed with your strength, Java, if those doors hadn’t looked 70% fallen in before you got to them. You could’ve probably gotten the same result from a hearty cough on them.

Gerard=Martin w/o floaty hair or modern fashion. Don’t know why the portrait is in black in white.

You’d think Billy could’ve taken the thirty seconds to read a brief overview about the woman while he waited for Diana and Java, but no.

No wonder Gerard looks weird, there’s not even a splash of warm color in that outfit. And warm tones don’t do Simone any favors. Coordinate your fashion better, people, you’re vampires for fuck’s sake! What would Mike say!

How do we know about genes from a 15th century vampire? Also I note she says ‘relative’ and not ‘descendant’, but I’m not in the mood to dig into that.

Billy you are literally a galactic conqueror, but your big boy underwear on and get in the basement.

Let’s be real, Diana, that’s just a sibling thing. You go into horrible places to save them so you can give them hell about making you go to a horrible place to save them.

How many minions has Simone gotten together? Like, the clan hasn’t been renewed yet, so... When did she get the time? It’s been like 24 hours

Okay, that explains new guy A, what about B and C over there, who look like they stepped out of Robin Hood? where they sealed in with you? Is this the old crew?

Simone, queen of the night and motivational speeches.

Martin you can’t just call on a specific guy, poor thing probably had a heart attack. “Fuck, my Lady’s new consort has beef, fuckfuckfuck” but no, you just want some fucking fries. And Simone is fucking loving it.

~~

Okay, so we know some of them sleep upside down.

It’s nice to see vampires can still be active sleepers.

Hissy vampires on all fours

Vampire!Martin is perfectly fine with being an evil trophy husband

Vampire!Martin standing there like “yeah, you rule the underworld, babe, rocking it!”

~~

“Do you know how much grief I’ll get at Torrington if my stepbrother comes back a vampire?” Would it really be that much more than you get just for having him as a stepbrother in the first place?

A vampire lord consort and yet still, at heart, an annoying brother

Simone: Get me back my fucking moron and we’re all screwed!

Tell me that’s like, Diana or Java’s dirty sock because I’m fairly certain even Martin doesn’t deserve to have his own stuffed in his mouth

And Simone becomes a massive fucking bat beast. Fur, muzzle, little winglet-dealies, big ears, big teeth, no tail...

Okay, yeah, Java’s sock, cool

Those are some seriously dirty windows. Or, well, were.

Sunlight burns everybody but also burns Simone to fucking ash right quick. Which then removes the curse on her victims.

Also I wanna know more about this apparent vampire gene. It is of much interest, especially given next episode will be dealing with werewolves and in some folklore werewolves when killed become vampires, so...

~~

Martin. No.

Amber really. Either you were setting him up or you yourself are dense as teak.

Oh Martin... stick with spies and monsters, honey

[words-writ-in-starlight]

hellboy or venom for the headcanon meme?

Hey listen I haven’t really been up to writing the longer John Constantine/Hellboy fic I’ve been meaning to write, on account of how my brain doesn’t like me at the moment, but I still care a lot about that pairing, so some of it showed up here.  For this headcanon meme!

(Note: this got long because I LOVE MY BEST BOY, so things are under the cut.)

HeadcanonHellboy is right-handed--he’s one of those people who’s so intensely right-handed that even years of practice doesn’t do much for his manual dexterity on the left.  This is, to put it lightly, A Problem, seeing as his dominant hand is also virtually useless for daily tasks.  His handwriting is awful, inevitably smudged and crooked, even worse than Abe’s and Abe has webbed fingers.  When Hellboy was a kid, just learning to write his own reports, they were completely illegible.  He’s had decades to improve, but at the end of the day, he’s just not left-handed.  All the hours of practice he’s put in on the shooting range don’t change the fact that handguns just aren’t designed for his right hand, and his left hand just isn’t sure enough to guarantee his aim.  This is why he likes guns that do enough damage to mostly absolve him of needing to hit a target.  The Samaritan doesn’t give a good goddamn about his aim--as long as he’s sort of close to center mass, the caliber will take care of the rest.

HeartcanonHellboy, when he was a kid growing up on an army base at double-speed, inhaled urban legends and modern myths like they were pancakes.  Everything from the Jersey Devil to UFO’s was interesting to him, and more than a few of the soldiers who kept an eye on him--a trouble-oriented creature even when he was two years old and too short to reach the upper cabinets--shamelessly exploited this in order to keep him in line.  Sure, Hellboy was a perpetual motion machine from day one, but a good story about some unexplained shit would keep him enthralled for as long as you could make it last.

His favorite story is one that he gets from a secretary, of all people, a young woman who thinks he’s just the cutest and who writes home to tell her auntie about her boss’ curious (and totally human, don’t even worry about it Auntie Etta) son.  When Hellboy’s been told to take care of himself while everyone else is at a meeting, he drifts into her office and Janet Candy has him help her with her filing while she tells him stories about her auntie’s boss, and her auntie’s best friend, and a city in Germany called Veld.

Hellboy’s seventeen and already something of a legend himself when he finally meets his favorite story, a goddess walking who comes across the BPRD’s latest mission by accident and helps them polish off a wayward drake with the kind of crisp efficiency that only comes from a lot of practice.  Hellboy takes a moment to thank God, Jesus, and anyone else who might be listening that no one has ever once noticed him blushing when she clasps his forearm and calls him a gifted warrior.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Hellboy mutters gruffly, because he’s a polite guy when he puts his mind to it.  

“Just Diana is fine,” the goddess says, the Saint of the Trenches, the Wonder Woman of Veld, and she smiles at him.

GutcanonThe army base where Hellboy grows up did not have a full-time chaplain prior to his arrival.  However, he and the professor are accompanied by fully two dozen soldiers equipped with identical rosaries and a brand new respect for higher powers, so the administration holds up for under a week before they go looking for a candidate.

They end up with a Jesuit priest who was recommended to them as the most unflappable soul in the business, a thirty-something convert fresh out of seminary and looking for his first parish, an ex-soldier himself.  Father Laurence signs enough NDA’s to fill Lake Erie, packs his bags, and ships out to Fuck You Nowhere with the expectation that he’s going to live on an army base and never actually have anything to do because it’s not like soldiers are known for being die-hards about going to Mass.  At least he’ll be able to catch up on his reading.

On his very first day, while he’s still unpacking his office, Laurence gets a nervous knock on the door and opens it to find an orderly file of soldiers looking to attend confession and check up on when, exactly, he’s planning to hold his first service.

“Sun...day?” he says warily.  “But I could hold a Wednesday night Mass if you’d like.”

“Would you mind, Father?  Only, most of us haven’t been in a long time,” the lead soldier says awkwardly--apparently the elected spokesman.  “So we were kind of hoping to get started soon.  Some of the boys are looking to be catechized, too.”

“Well,” Laurence says, feeling blank with shock.  “Come on, then, my son, let’s go schedule confessional times.”

He just about thinks he’s gotten a handle on the most bizarrely devout army base in the world when a year-old demon with a stone hand as big as his torso wanders into his office and asks, in a tone of serious concern, “Do you think I have a soul, Father?”

Laurence blinks at him for a moment, considers the situation, and gestures to the couch.  “Do you think you have a soul, my son?”

Laurence doesn’t know it at the time, but he’s just made a friend for life.

JunkcanonHellboy meets John Constantine in Atlanta, when Constantine is twenty-five and fueled by an interestingly volatile cocktail of rage, recklessness, and actual concern for human life.  Their first meeting ends with Constantine dumping holy water over Hellboy’s head and Hellboy immediately deciding that he likes this guy very much.  Over the course of the next week, while they hunt themselves some necromancers, Hellboy teases his new friend, calls him Johnny and laughs when Constantine threatens to shoot him, drags him kicking and screaming into conversations and poker games and, one time, an underworld nightclub where a seven-foot demon isn’t the strangest thing at the bar.  On the one hand, don’t get him wrong, John Constantine is gorgeous in a pale-scruffy-and-consumptive sort of way, but also, any of Hellboy’s team could have warned the kid that, once Hellboy decides he’s going to make a friend, very little short of murder will stop him.

On the last day, before they go home, Constantine sighs and gives up and grabs Hellboy’s coat in both hands to drag him down into a kiss.

“If you make a single Devil Went Down to Georgia joke, I’ll kick your ass out so fast it’ll make your head spin,” Constantine threatens against Hellboy’s mouth.

“Sure thing, Johnny,” Hellboy says, transparently delighted, and pins Constantine against the wall of the motel room.  Turns out that there are advantages to fucking a seven-foot demon with superhuman strength and several decades of experience.  Constantine would die before he admitted it, though.

SpleencanonI’m actually not sure I’m sufficiently familiar with the Hellboy comics to have any real resentment?  Regardless, don’t have any major complaints, so instead:

High fantasy AU where King Bruttenholm the Wise is known for ruling a kingdom that serves as a safe haven for magic users and creatures that might be hunted to death in other lands.  He used to ride out with his knights to keep his lands safe when he was crown prince, until they hunted down a circle of demon-worshipers, which ended with the crown prince gaining a limp for life and a new son.  Instead of being tapped as the heir to the throne (Hellboy does not particularly want to be king, thank you, his father’s work seems like The Worst), Hellboy becomes responsible for defending the kingdom--from magical threats and witchhunters alike.

Enter Constantine, who personally claims to be a dabbler and a sword for hire, and who everyone who’s anyone knows is the finest witchhunter and exorcist in seven kingdoms.

Things are...tense.