#Dadneto and quickson flash fic

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"Come back to me, Pietro," Erik said in a hushed under breath as the father kissed each finger before finishing on the back of his hand. Erik placed Pietro's hand back on the hospital bed. They came to this sterile and cold place; unfeeling; bloody and in desperate need of help.

Erik could only watch as his sohn's chest fell and rise intermixed with the beeping and electronic sounds of the medical equipment kept with the task of keeping his boy, his last remaining blood alive; it was sadly inadequate. Not even his mind brushing against Charles's glow could reassure him. A place that he did not want to be in, nor wished he'd return to. Yet here he was next to sohn...

Erik sang Mi Sheberach loud and true; over and over until it broke and cracked. Pleading with God not take his sohn away. Cried and sobbed and sobbed. He stayed at his sohn's bedside. Charles pleaded with him. Raven pleaded with him. Scott and the rest of the X-Men pleaded with him. Erik refused to leave his baby's side for in fear if he left, Peter would leave them. His sohn had to be protected at all cost. He failed him in the battlefield. He would not fail him, here and now.

The Master of Magnetism, Magneto the Miraculous (to his admirers) or the Merciless (to his enemies), despite all his power over electromagnetic field and magnetism in all its form from the freedom of flight to the morphing of metal to shape it into his own image; Erik Lehnsherr was indeed still human and needed sleep. In the haziness of between wakefulness in twilights and complete deep sleep in the depths of the night; a blanket well worn and comfy placed upon him by gentle hand and a familiar presence of a metal wheelchair and a kiss on his forehead.

A wobbly hand brushed against temple, Erik's eyes shot open. Pietro gave a small smile, his sliver hair thinner than it was. Erik catapulted himself to his son, to hold him, to feel his heart beating, to know that he was alive. Tears poured down his unkept whiskery face as he rained down kisses.

"Hey, Dadneto..." Pietro's voice loopy from all the pain meds that were pumped into him, "I--I'm glad you--you're in my life. Y--You a-a-are a good Dad--Dadneto." Pietro fell asleep in his arms.

@iwillshipyouman I got you more cake to eat your heart out!!!

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Okay vampire au

Erik half vampire raising Peter whose mom was a witch.

Hmmmmm Peter a Quarter vamp?

Erik gave a sigh as he looked over to his sohn his eyes filled with stary wonderment as Charles weaved a cerulean blue spell ring of ethereal light magic. Peter would spend his 200 year long childhood and in his protection learning magic and his father learning the quirks of being a quarter vampire and 3/4 witchblood.

Erik was determined to figure them all out before another baby was taken from him. Peter gained his strength, even superspeed and longevity, he would still age, but very slowly, but held nearly non of his weakness, he didn't need blood nor fear the sun; though it was more an irritant to him. He had no fangs. But Peter ate a LOT. But his hair... oh! his hair was the color of moonlight. Oh! So warm, holding him was like holding the sun in his arms.

Erik held out his tea cup and allowed the hovering teapot to refill. Out of his many talents magic wasn't one of them. Peter needed to be taught the elemental magic, healing, dark and light, animal and the sacred dark and ethereal light magic; that's all the magic he knew about. Charles that flirtatious little minx of a wizard only gave him a quick quirk of a smile. Oh, he knew so much more. He was going to find all those secret spots.

Charles corrected Peter's form, his middle fingers weren't curled in enough. He'd spent the entire week learning the history and the technical aspect of the spell. Charles would never shout or get angry or even upset, but encouraged and explain things in way Peter could understand. if Peter needed a slower pace than so be it.

Mr. Dibbles looked down from high near the fireplace, the charcoals in which he rested in. Mr. Dibbles's dragon egg was found abandon in the woods cold and afraid. Peter had found him while looking for ingredient for an elixir took it back to the mansion. Charles put a pause on the planned lesson for the week and switched to dragon care and zoology and studies of magical creatures and their care. After hatching the little dragon took a fierce liking to Peter and snuggled up him whenever he could.

Peter drew in a deep breath and mirrored Charles's stance and followed the motions of his hands. Light flowed like water, fluidity, adaptability, and connectivity; long and slow movements; the negative and positive energies interchanged, never touching and deep understanding. The light circle swimming with runes interconnecting and becoming more and more intricate like a single snowflake. From that built up energy burst forth all the unkept vines weathering in and succulents grew and blossomed.

Erik cried and ran over lifted his son into the air and swirled him around and brought him into the deepest hug he could give.

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In those brief moments between training, reports of Shaw potential location and occasional meeting with Moira over flight basics and how to write reports for the CIA, minding you he'd never wrote them. Much to the annoyance to Moira and their 'meetings' would consist of Moira popping a blood vessel, first starting off politely reminding him to write them before her tone getting louder and louder at the potential consequence for the mutant division and Charles oh so gracefully coming in to broker a peace between them. Pietro running in and jumping into his lap hugging and twittering and vibrating like a hummingbird fluttering and hovering over a multitude of technicolor flowers; with an overwhelming joy that could fuel a thousand suns. Erik left with a sharky smirk, and Pietro wrapped around his shoulders.

Charles could only give a sideward look. A discussion over chess it would be. But, his time with his sohn was precious and could never be given back. Besides...he scheduled his time with Pietro fifteen minutes before the meeting ended, to end it early. Pietro's second ability was being able to end an argument.

But after all of that, Erik and Pietro could be found in the kitchen baking bread. Substance for the body and for the soul. While staying at the homes of former Maquis, CNR, OJC fighters to gain intel on associates of Shaw; better that than staying at a hotel. They taught him the culinary arts of bread, tarts, madeleine, pâte à choux, and the delicate art of laminating dough. Reflecting back at his younger self, more outwardly angry...learning skill that didn't involve killing Shaw was good for him that and taking primary caregiving reasonability over Pietro.

Brioche bread super soft, subtly sweet and great for making cinnamon toast. The dough wet and sticky; enriched with butter galore and eggs. Slapping against the metal bowl. Pietro jumping up and down on the stepping stool. Letting the dough rest overnight to proof. Waking up the next day punching down the puffed up dough, before braiding it and placing it in a loaf pain; letting it rise again and finally baking it.

Slicing it, slathering spreadable butter over six slices and dusting the slices of bread with cinnamon-sugar. The butter and sugar bubbling under the red-hot broiler while the edges browning.

Erik could only smile as he watched his son tear off the crust to get into that sugary cinnamon-y center. Pietro had a thing for sweets, but for him, Pietro was a cinnamon roll.

@iwillshipyouman

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It was so simple of things were the most holy or kadosh to Erik. Twigs snapped and the puffs of purplish plumes of Pampas Grass and with their silky hair brushing their legs as they passed through the trail; and mini golden sun daisies intertwined with wild wheat.

They collected some blaze red bunchberry, elderberries, huckleberries, and entire blueberry bush. Even found a black cherry tree and harvest the bark and some of the berries which he would show Pietro later how to make an effective cough syrup. Pine cones not only good for starting fires, but also edible acorns, butternuts (a cousin to the walnut, and the hickory nuts. Erik promised his son and the sun of his world a mix berry pie once they got back to the mansion.

The grounds around the mansion were surprisingly filled with so many forging plants, Charles might have to teach a survival class with all this abundance. What was even more surprisingly to Erik was that Charles came along; it didn't take him for the type. But, then again Charles was just filled with surprises.

A sharp whistle and a jolted nod to his son. Pietro stopped and in a blink he was next to him. Sinking into a squat, point to the purple four petal flower that almost looked like an orchid, "This is a violet both the petals and leaves are eatable," Before asking, "Do you want to pick some?" Pietro nodded so hard, Erik worried that his head might fall off. His little hands pulled at the flower and handed it over to Erik to put in their satchel. Charles snapped a photo.

They had been out for more than a few hours, sweat dripped the canyon of his spine. The dark blacks, blues, and purples and turtlenecks that were associated with him was transformed into billowy and loose sheer white shirt and khaki pants

Charles always followed behind him...that tricky son of bitch! Got tsu dánken! Pietro was chasing monarch butterflies so enraptured by the setting ahead of them that he remained oblivious to their relationship.

Coming to a fallen log, Erik sat down followed by Charles and Pietro was he noticed that his Dadneto was no longer behind him. Unbuckling the leather bag and brought out clear containers of raw hexagonal amber honeycomb and handed them out. opening up Pietro's.

The comb flakily soft and tender, gushing out sweet honey tasted like the first ray's of sunshine and freshly cut hey and wildflowers field. The golden liquid sticky nectar In the corners crystalized all the more sweeter for it. Erik laughed when Pietro with honey smeared all over his face and sticky fingers

This was the life he wanted for Pietro free from Shaw. To that promise land. To that land of milk and honey. zavat halav u‘dvash. To where they could all be free.

Liberation for all of mutantkind.

@iwillshipyouman

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Badass and Sadadneto image!

In an aftermath of a battle, bodies, blood, and the gutted innards of sentinels. Erik's helmet face is partially damaged, the nose piece is gone and one of the eye is enlarged; Erik's power make the shrapnel from the helmet hovering near him. His cape is in shreds as it blows in the wind A trail of blood dripping from a gash on his temple. There are charred burn marks on his shoulder, his shoulder plate was torn off during the battle. Erik's chest blunged and stabbed with a carbon fiber knife; quickly dressed during the battle, so he could continue the fight.

Despite the pain, the wounds he's sustained, and any mental doubts about his actions. Erik's blue eyes practically glow and glare that anyone caught in it would die on which they stand. Despite everything, nothing compares to the gut wrench that he feels in his soul when seeing his sohn injured and hurt.

Peter on the ground, fallen in battle, an arrow imbedded in one of his calf, rendering his superspeed useless; blood seeped into his sliver hairline; his armor badly damaged; in spite of everything that Erik sees his boy, his child, his son, still breaths.

Erik lifts his child into his arms, cradling him so that it doesn't irrigate his injuries. Before nuzzling their foreheads together, Peter is too tired even to notice. Erik carries him off to the battlefield in search of those who would help them and eventually come home to Charles and the rest of their found family.

@iwillshipyouman

Eat your heart out!

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Jewish Dadneto Headcanon

For Passover, a major Jewish holiday along with Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, one year Erik decides to make a Seder plate set homemade on the pottery wheel with his sohn Pietro, who's a toddler and he wants to do an imprints of Pietro's hands and feet. He has Pietro help him form the plates and bowls with his tiny hands while sitting on his lap with a tad help from his powers. Pietro just loving the feel of wet clay in his palmfuls, the smells, he has always loved touching things and getting any slimy frogs or snails into the house or mud pies. However this isn't the only set Erik has as he does have many sets of Seder plates, some more antique like those he used to have with his family in made from sliver or blue and white porcelain and others in streamlined modern to switch it up every year.

Erik trying to form patterns in Pietro's wild application of color and fun. After firing the ceramics his young sohn dark moon eyes shined like stars blasting into supernovas at their shiny finish.

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Y'all I do have a some Dadneto/Stepdad! Charles/Cherik/Quickson flash fics on my blog that you can all read with Ao3 down.