#Eric Hastings

[scuttling]

I Can Handle Me A Dangerous Man - Ch 1

Fandom: True Blood (TV) Pairings: Eric Northman/Female Reader or Eric Northman/OFC Word Count: 4,471 Tags: 18+, NSFW in later chapters, it's gonna get real nasty Summary: Sookie's cousin returns to Bon Temps, and Eric wants her... to work for him. 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

When Camila Reyes steps out of the taxi, she is met with a billowing cloud of cigarette smoke, the crunch of gravel beneath her boots, and thick, humid air unlike anything she’d ever felt in Chicago. She takes in the old farmhouse, her home for much of her childhood, and feels guilt and regret settle over her when she remembers the last time she set foot in Bon Temps—the day of Gran’s funeral.

She pays the driver, tips him well even though he chain-smoked the entire ride from the airport, and lifts her bags from the inside of the trunk; when he drives away, leaving her standing in a cyclone of dust, she takes a deep, fortifying breath and strides to the front door. 

Confident is the last thing she feels—helpless, dejected, and unmoored are the first things that come to mind—but she pastes on a self-assured smile and raps her knuckles on the metal frame of the storm door. A short woman with blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail looks at her quizzically through the screen, and then gasps and throws the door open, nearly knocking Cam off her feet.

“Camila Reyes, is that you? I haven’t seen you in, what, ten years?” the woman asks, wrapping her arms around Cam. They’re around the same height with similar builds, but whereas Cam has dark hair and naturally tanned skin, she is all bright yellow curls and skin like a porcelain doll, the gap in her teeth as endearing as it was when they were teenagers.

“Sookie! It’s been a long time, a really long time. You look so lovely,” she says, pulling back so she can look her over at arm’s length. She wears a pair of yellow gingham shorts with a flowy white tank top and white Keds, and something about that is so quintessentially Sookie that it immediately fills her with fondness. Sookie grins.

“So do you – and you’ve even lost your accent,” she says in a way that’s almost accusatory, but she’s smirking playfully. “Now you sound all classy and sophisticated and I’m the only one with the podunk twang.” Cam shrugs and laughs; she didn’t set out to lose the accent at first, but it became clear that her colleagues in the big city didn’t find the Louisiana drawl as charming as television had led her to believe.

“Ten years will do that to you,” Cam says lightly, doing her best not to reflect on the last of those ten years and how everything she’d worked so hard for circled the drain. “Now, I know you weren’t expecting me, and I hate to do this…” she begins, but Sookie brushes her off with the wave of a manicured hand. 

“Don’t you even start,” she says, and then she reaches down to grab one of Cam’s bags and holds open the door. “This is your home too, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, you know that.”

Cam grabs the other bag and follows her through the house, up the staircase that had seen better days many days ago. “I brought wine, if that’s any consolation,” she says, though she knows Sookie means it, that it’s really no trouble for her to stay with her in this big, empty house, “and now you can borrow my shoes any time you want.” 

Sookie glances back and smiles at her. 

“Wine is always good, and your shoe collection is even better, I know that for a fact.” They stop outside what is now a guest room, but which used to be Cam’s room, and she is grateful to see something other than the pale purple wallpaper of her childhood adorning the walls. The room is now bright and airy, painted robin’s egg blue, and its look suits Sookie more than it ever suited Cam. “But the best part is having my favorite cousin back home after all these years.”  

Sookie walks into the room, sets the suitcase on the chair beside the bed, and Cam does the same. Her returning smile is sad; she knows it had to be difficult for Sookie to be here… not alone, but without one of the few people in Bon Temps who really understood her, who saw her for the girl she was instead of what they thought she should have been. Guilt makes her stomach twist. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t see me at Gran’s funeral,” she says—because technically, that’s true. Sookie hadn’t seen her, because she hadn’t made it past the front seat of her rental car. She never even told Sookie or Jason she was there. Sookie frowns, but it’s sympathetic and kind. 

“That’s okay. I know how hard funerals are for you. What matters most is that you’re here now… and that there’s someone I want you to meet.” Cam is grateful for the change of topic, and the flirtatious smile Sookie sends her way has her suddenly very, very curious. 

“Is this someone a man?” she asks, eyes wide and faux-incredulous. Sookie slaps her arm gently and nods her head. 

“Yes, it’s a man… his name’s Bill, and he’s my… Well, boyfriend doesn’t feel like the right word, but I guess that’s what he is.” Her hands move to her hips, and she looks over Cam’s hair, her outfit, and apparently deems it suitable. “Why don’t you freshen up a bit, and I’ll treat you to dinner at Merlotte’s so you can meet him. It’s near-dark anyway.” Cam smooths the hair at the crown of her head, certain she’s got frizz and flyaways no hairspray can contain, and nods. Sookie starts toward the door when Cam calls out after her. 

“You’re treating—does that mean he’s a modern man who lets his lady pay for the meal? How progressive,” she teases—Gran never liked boys who took them out and didn’t offer to pay, and it was a joke between them and their friend Tara; Sookie chuckles like she’s holding in a joke of her own. 

“No, he’s really old-fashioned, actually,” she says thoughtfully. She taps on the doorframe before she steps into the hall. “It’s just that, well, he never eats a meal.”

Bill is a vampire because, obviously; Sookie wasn’t exactly being subtle, but it took Cam nearly the entire drive to Bon Temps’ finest bar and grille to put the hints together anyway. She blames it on the jet lag, even though she never actually left her own time zone. 

They meet him inside, and he’s already seated comfortably in a booth, but he stands to greet her when she and Sookie approach him. Cam is all but attacked by Tara, who hugs her more tightly than even Sookie did, and they make a promise to catch up later when the bartender’s not up to her neck in two-dollar drafts. 

“It’s so nice to see you comfortable here,” Cam comments to Bill later, when he is handed a bottle of Tru Blood by a smiling, if slightly neurotic looking red-headed waitress. He seems familiar with the clientele, greeted Sam and Tara like friends; she has to hand it to her hometown: she would have guessed they’d be way behind the national average when it comes to human-vampire relations. Bill takes a sip and offers her a smile. 

“Thank you. That’s mostly Sookie’s doing,” he admits, and then he glances over at her, at her lovestruck smile. The two of them are so cute it actually makes Cam’s teeth ache. “People weren’t exactly welcoming me with open arms at first, but she has this way of making people listen to her, even when they don’t want to.” 

“It’s a gift,” Cam says, dropping her own hint, but Sookie shoots her an unreadable look and she takes a sip of her beer instead of following up on that. She changes tracks. “I don’t know if Sookie told you, but I’m a lawyer, and I specialized in vampire rights back in Chicago. If you ever need something, legal advice or support, you have my number now.” 

“That’s so kind of you; I will keep that in mind,” he says gratefully, fingers wrapped around the glass bottle. “And I have to say, I appreciate you doing that kind of work. I know not everyone is progressive when it comes to vampire rights, and I’m sure it’s a difficult occupation.” Cam nods. 

“It has its moments. I’ve experienced more than my share of tragedy, had many clients executed by radical humans before we could attempt justice.” She suppresses a shiver at the thought of some of the things she’s heard, things she’s seen. Across from her, Sookie tuts and shakes her head. 

“Executions. What a terrible thought,” she speaks through a frown. She takes a sip of her iced tea, and after a moment, Bill stiffens in his seat beside her. Cam, familiar with vampire microexpressions, clocks the change in his disposition, and so does Sookie; she tilts her head in confusion like she wishes she could hear his thoughts.

Just then, a man approaches their booth, tall and broad, with short blond hair and a peaked complexion that outs him as a vampire immediately. Dressed all in black, he looks especially pale, and shadow falls over the three of them as his hulking silhouette blocks out the overhead light.

“Sorry to interrupt. Hello Sookie. Bill.” The man turns to Cam, his lips curving up into a polite smile as he gives her a tasteful once-over. She can see that his eyes are silvery blue, a cool, icy, complex color that captivates her instantly. “Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“This is Sookie’s cousin, Camila. She’s visiting from Chicago,” Bill says with a tone that indicates the man is unwelcome at the table they share. He pays it no mind and reaches out to take her hand, to lean in and place his lips there in the semblance of a greeting kiss. It makes Cam flush hot, and she hopes it doesn’t rise to her cheeks for all to see.

“I’m Eric Northman. What a pleasure it is to meet you,” he says, eyes drifting over her face now that there’s less distance between them. He pauses there briefly to look into her eyes, curiosity in his stoic gaze. “I see some of Sookie’s features in you.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Eric, thank you,” she replies, though with her dark hair and complexion no one has ever drawn a similarity between her and her fairer cousin. Cam’s mother was Gran’s daughter, Sookie’s aunt, and Cam’s father was of Cuban descent, fresh off the boat he rode in on—and out on, just as quickly as he’d come. “Will you be joining us?” 

“He will not,” Bill supplies in the same clipped tone he’d used previously. He looks incredibly serious, more now like the vampire he is than when it was just the three of them; Eric stands, drops her hand, and flicks an irritated glance in the other vampire’s direction. 

“I do not wish to impose, but I do need a moment with Bill here, if you ladies don’t mind. Business deal,” he adds, and then he looks back to Cam and Sookie, his features more polite. He winks at them. “I promise it will only take a minute.” 

Bill thinks it over—though it doesn’t seem like a request to Cam—and seems to decide it best to accept the invitation and step away from the table; he glances over at Sookie with a brief apology and walks toward the door, and Eric follows him, throwing a glance over his shoulder as he goes.

“Now there’s a man that makes me think terrible thoughts,” Cam murmurs when she expects he’s out of range. “Over and over and over.” She says it partially because it’s true, but also to earn the scandalized laugh Sookie shares as she slaps Cam on the arm.

“Oh my god, Cami!” Cam laughs back, playing indignant. Not that you’re wrong, but…

“Well he does, all climbable and big and strong. And those eyes—you can’t tell me you don’t think he’s handsome.” 

After a brief stare-down, Sookie huffs a sigh.

“Objectively, yes,” Sookie says, with a playful roll of her eyes, “but he’s also Bill’s sheriff, and… I don’t know, rival, I guess?” Pain in the ass is more like it, she thinks, though she’d never say it aloud.

Cam drains her beer and narrows her eyes at Sookie, leaning in. The objectively shit doesn’t throw her for a second.

“Sookie Stackhouse, do you have both of those gorgeous men battling for your attention? I swear, sometimes it feels like blondes do have more fun.” 

She rolls her eyes again, chuckles like the thought of earning Eric’s attention is laughable. She probably still sees herself as the awkward teenage girl Cam remembered her as and not the Southern bombshell she is now.

“I think Eric is interested in things he can’t have, that’s all—not me in particular. And he really likes getting Bill’s goat.”

“So you’re saying I should play hard to get?” Cam teases, but despite the lightheartedness of her comment, the atmosphere changes drastically and Sookie’s face becomes serious.

“I’m saying you should stay far the hell away from him. He’s–he’s, cold-hearted and mean. Cruel. He does underhanded things to get what he wants.”

Cam has always found herself amused by Sookie’s naivety, but hearing her speak so judgmentally about Eric, about vampires, gives her pause. 

“I’ve been in the company of vampires, Sook, I know how some of them can be.” Sookie sits back, tilts her head to the side, and Cam narrows her eyes. “What?” 

“You’ve been in the company of vampires?” she asks, brows raised, and for a moment she is that naive teenage girl again. Cam simply waves a hand.

“Chicago is very different from Bon Temps, or even Shreveport, so yes, I’ve been in the company of vampires. Plus, they’re the only ones that truly quiet my mind, you know?” she adds as an aside, and Sookie shushes her, looks toward the door and back with wide eyes.

“Keep it down. I haven’t told Bill you’re a telepath too, or anyone, for that matter. Next thing you know you’ll be dragged into vampire business, and that is not somewhere you want to be, trust me.”

She can sense the sincerity in Sookie’s voice, so she does soften to a murmur, unable to be heard among the din of the chattering crowd.

“It’s my secret to keep, or not keep—and it was a big help during some of my trials, even if my colleagues didn’t know all the details. I get that you’ve always hated your ability, but it’s an important part of me. I don’t try to hide it anymore.” The thing about Bon Temps, love it or hate it, is everyone knows everyone else's business, and although Cam’s never felt fully herself in this town, she’s not about to hide for anyone else’s comfort. Sookie frowns, contrite.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… not something I’d be doing, if it weren’t for Bill. Eric holds things over him and I’m stuck in the middle trying to make peace.” She doesn’t say any more, because the vampires walk back in, and when Bill takes his seat Eric claps a hand on his shoulder firmly, in a way that could seem friendly but that looks more like a show of power than anything.

“Told you I’d bring him back,” Eric says to Sookie, who suddenly becomes very interested in her manicure; she drags the edge of her nail through the condensation left behind by her glass. Eric pays her no mind and looks to Cam again. “Before I leave, I want to extend an invitation to you. I own a bar in Shreveport called Fangtasia, and I would love for you to come by for a drink some time so we can get to know each other better.” 

The word drink makes her think of the vampire’s unique diet—something completely normal, not usually something she’d normally fixate on anymore than she’d be intrigued by a pescetarian—and she quickly tamps down the flash of interest that jolts through her body at the associated imagery.

“That sounds nice, Eric, I’ll be sure to take you up on that,” she says with a smile, and as she does something tugs at the back of her mind arbitrarily, something she can’t quite put her finger on. She clears her throat. “Bill has the details, I’m sure.” 

Bill appears grateful for her inclusion of him—she figures he’s probably feeling emasculated by the more senior vampire, the way he speaks with a double meaning under his tongue—and he assures Eric he will pass on the information.

“Well then, I’ll let the three of you get back to your evening. Thank you again, Bill,” he says without inflection, and he looks over at Sookie, then Cam. “I look forward to seeing you soon.”

He leaves, and Sookie looks Bill over, runs her hand up and down his back in a comforting gesture. Cam’s not sure if it’s meant for her eyes or not. 

A few moments later, the red-headed waitress returns to take their dinner orders, and Cam orders a massive salad and another beer and asks Bill what he misses most about the 1800s. It proves to be a good distraction, and by dessert his features seem to have softened again. 

When Sookie drives them back to the farmhouse, the twinkling stars in the cloudless blue sky remind her of the depth of Eric’s eyes.

As Cam walks into Fangtasia for the first time, she notes that it’s exactly what she expects: a small, dark, loud nightclub packed with the moving bodies of humans and vampires alike. Some of the humans are hoping to find a community of their peers, folks with tattoos up and down their arms and more piercings than one would think possible; some are there to see their first vampire or try to initiate contact with one; and some are there just to say they went, buying overpriced drinks and t-shirts and taking selfies with the crowd. 

She feels about middle of the road in a navy silk camisole, black pants, and her most comfortable black heels, and she breezes over to the bar and buys herself a martini, finds a table toward the less crowded back of the room and slides onto the stool nearest the wall. 

It takes all of five minutes for Eric to approach her, looking as gorgeous as he did when they first met; this time he is wearing a tight black tank, black jeans, and damn, if she thought she was climbable before…

He quirks a smile as he sidles up to the table. 

“Camila,” he greets warmly, and when she stands he leans in to mimic a kiss on her cheek. She feels that same strange tugging sensation at the back of her brain that she did at Merlotte’s, but the memory leaves her as quickly as it had returned. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

“I had to see what all the fuss was about; your bar is very popular among the travelers passing through Bon Temps these days,” she mentions, thinking back to a strange vampire that had given Bill a hard time at Merlotte’s the other night as they were getting ready to leave. Apparently not everyone was as enamored of Vampire Bill as others. 

“And how do you like it?” he asks, resting his hand on the table top, palm flat, fingers spread. She looks at his broad hand for a moment—a second longer than she should have, maybe—then glances up to look at his face.

“How embarrassing would it be if I said it’s… fangtastic?” she asks with a shrug of her shoulder. Her joke earns a laugh from Eric, and she feels silly for the warmth that flushes through her at his approval. 

“From you, I’ll take it as a compliment. I’m sure the establishments you frequented in Chicago were a little different from this one.” She hums thoughtfully; she’s had her fair share of meetings in swanky hotel bars and fine dining restaurants, but vampire clubs aren’t hard to find anywhere in America.

“Not so different,” she tells him honestly, “though there were fewer eyebrow piercings. I like it here, though, it’s… comfortable,” she adds with a sip of her drink and a tilt of her head. 

It is comfortable, despite the blaring music and the crowd of people talking over one another, because about a third of the bar’s patrons are vampires; she’s used to walking into a room full or half full of them and sighing involuntarily, the weight lifting from her shoulders when she doesn’t have to work as hard not to read the cacophony of their minds.

“That’s an interesting word,” Eric says, eyes roaming over her face. A pretty young waitress in a minuscule black dress steps up beside him, then, and places another martini on the table for Cam. She smiles up at Eric, who does not acknowledge her, and walks away before Cam can thank her for the drink. “On the house,” he tells her, and though she’s only half finished with the one she purchased, she lifts the glass and takes a long sip to show her gratitude.

“Thank you. And thank you for inviting me,” she adds, and when she looks up to meet his gaze she feels that mysterious pull again, then a faint buzzing like white noise on a television screen, or her ears popping at high altitude. “That’s you,” she says slowly, reality dawning on her, and though his features are frozen in surprise, she can see something curious shift in the set of his eyes. 

“Pardon?” 

“Sorry, I—I appreciate the drink, but I already know what you want from me. You want to know if I’m like her.” If I can hear what the humans are thinking, she doesn’t say, but she knows he understands. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’ll admit I am curious about that, but it’s not the only reason I invited you.” It feels like he’s telling the truth, but she’s still unfamiliar with him, and she’s met several vampires she believed to be honest until they showed their true colors at the end. The only reason humans don’t have the same effect is because she can hear their lies before they have a chance to really develop.

“Then why did you invite me?” she asks firmly, because while she’s not ashamed of her ability she does not enjoy being singled out for it, no matter how good looking the other party may be. Eric pauses, then sighs as though she’s forcing him to show his hand.

“I’ve looked into you. Heard about your reputation,” he says, and he takes another long look at her, lingering over her bare shoulders and throat. “You don’t look like a human rights—excuse me, people’s rights—attorney, I have to admit… unless I’ve just been doing business with the wrong attorneys.”

She takes another sip of his drink, because he’s done his due diligence and she’s always appreciative of someone who isn’t afraid to dig through some tough sources. Her firm had never exactly publicized the fact that one of their lawyers was taking vampire rights cases, so he must have pulled some strings to get the information. 

“I was a people’s rights attorney. Now I’d be lucky to try a case in traffic court.”

“Because of your defense of vampires?” he asks, and she can understand why that’s the way he’d see it; she didn’t defend them, technically, because they weren’t and still aren’t able to be held accountable in a court of law, but she did advocate for their civil rights and against forced assimilation.

“Because I don’t treat vampires like animals or humans like they’re superior,” she offers in summary. She taps a finger against the tabletop. “Say I was like her. What would that mean for me? Would you threaten me until I agree to help you? Manipulate me so I do what you want?” 

He sighs again, and this time it feels like an attempt to appear wounded by her question, though she can’t imagine there’s anything she could say to cause this man any type of emotional concern.

“I would ask if you would be interested in doing some… consulting for me. You would be under no obligation to do so, of course,” he says, showing his palms. “Sookie has helped me in the past, but she does not seem interested in continuing that relationship.” 

His contrived description of their relationship forces a huffed laugh from Cam’s lips.

“You instigate problems between her and Bill – or Bill and you, and it puts her in the middle. That’s why she’s not interested.” 

“Is that what she told you?” he asks, leaning in again, this time on crossed forearms. It brings his face closer, and despite her irritation, she kind of likes it. He’s not bad to look at, either way. “I tend to think of myself as a problem solver, if anything.” She leans in too, as much as she can, looks him directly in the eyes.

“I’m familiar with vampires like you—men like you. Everything’s a pissing contest, you’ll do whatever it takes to assert your dominance, and nothing else matters.” If he’s surprised by her assumptions, he doesn’t show it. “Sookie is my family and she has my loyalty. Flirt with her if you want to, that's your prerogative, but I’m not going to stand around and watch you toy with her to get under Bill’s skin. I’m sure you can find a way to do that all on your own.” 

He stands tall at that, brow furrowed like she’s just said something insane. 

“I don’t flirt with her, I just… enjoy exposing Bill’s weakness,” he explains with a shrug. Cam hums, unconvinced, takes the toothpick out of her glass and pulls the single olive off the stick with her teeth, eats it.

“Like all men, I can promise you he has more than just the one,” she says with a smirk when she’s finished chewing, and she downs the rest of her drink in one smooth sip. “That kid’s underage, by the way—the one by the bar with the pink streak in her hair? One of your bouncers didn’t do a very thorough ID check. She’s been freaking out about it since she walked in.” 

Eric turns to glance at the girl, who is saying nothing aloud but does look almost comically on edge, and then back at Cam. She smiles politely, her professional smile, and stands, pushing in her chair and slinging her bag over her shoulder. 

“I’ll think about the offer, if you think about what I said. Thanks again for the drink.”

[comicwaren]

“For the record. No matter what I was going through. I wasn’t gonna let myself kill you.” -- Blade

Cover art for Midnight Sons: Blood Hunt #003

Art by Ken Lashley and Juan Fernandez

[justdealingwithsomeissues]

Blade has learned absolutely nothing and continues to be not just a jackass and an idiot, but a liability for the team as he once again attacks a teammate during the battle with a much bigger and scarier threat.

[abs0luteb4stard]

W A T C H I N G

I'm RE-WATCHING it in order with the Animated Series.

[mystacoceti]

[msclaritea]

Eric Photo Shows off the Benedict Cumberbatch Netflix Series

FEBRUARY 1, 2024

BY SPENCER LEGACY

A new Eric photo has been unveiled by Netflix, teasing the Benedict Cumberbatch series that will be released this year — no exact release date window was given.

“Set in 1980s New York, Eric is a new emotional thriller from Abi Morgan following the desperate search of a father when his nine-year-old son disappears one morning on the way to school,” reads the film‘s synopsis. “Vincent, one of New York’s leading puppeteers and creator of the hugely popular children’s television show, ‘Good Day Sunshine,’ struggles to cope with the loss of his son, Edgar, becoming increasingly distressed and volatile.

“Full of self-loathing and guilt around Edgar’s disappearance, he clings to his son’s drawings of a blue monster puppet, ERIC, convinced that if he can get ERIC on TV, then Edgar will come home. As Vincent’s progressively destructive behavior alienates his family, his work colleagues, and the detectives trying to help him, it’s Eric, a delusion of necessity, who becomes his only ally in the pursuit to bring his son home.”

You can see the new Eric photo below:

Who made Eric?

Eric was made and written by Abi Morgan and directed by Lucy Forbes. The series stars Benedict Cumberbatch, Gaby Hoffman, and McKinley Belcher III and was executive produced by Abi Morgan, Jane Featherstone, Lucy Dyke, Lucy Forbes, and Benedict Cumberbatch.

"... a father when his nine-year-old son disappears one morning on the way to school..."

A repeat of the narrative in the BBC series Ben did, about his missing daughter. AND very fucking triggering for real parents

“Vincent"

Doctor Strange's middle name

‘Good Day Sunshine,’

Isn't that a fucking Beatles song?

"...becoming increasingly distressed and volatile..."

Just like in every other film, Benedict gets forced into.

"blue puppet.."

Another way to put a code for water in the film; a threat and trigger

What I'm seeing is that members of the cult get a crack at torture of the Monarch. It ends here. Benedict, you now have a growing list of NEGATIVE rather than positive projects on your CV. I guarantee your fans are not going to be happy seeing you in repetitive, B level, triggering shite. Normally, an actor only plays a bereaving parent ONCE (cheesy 70s films, do not apply)

YOU have now played a grieving parent of a young child, twice. I'm not even impressed that you're listed as a Producer. Because I know you had nothing to do with the script, but people will think you did, and that you're ripping off your own stuff. So over the self-loathing, sad, slowly cracking up bullshit.

TEWSF...CRAP

BOOK OF CLARENCE...CRAP

ERIC...CRAP!

Benedict, get your shit together. I mean it.

[skyguygeneraltano]

Random thought but for my Pretty Little Liars and South Park fans

The main five boys on CD Park are just variants of the main five girls on Pretty Little Liars and it lines up perfectly. And in this essay I will-

[newsfromsomewhere]

Wooden huts are still (mostly) there

[franceshallsday]

character tags

[richdadpoor]

Netflix DVD Is Letting Subscribers Keep Their Final Shipment

Netflix’s DVD subscription platform will allow subscribers to keep their final delivery of DVDs as the company prepares to close its 25-year-old service, the company announced on Monday. In April, Netflix confirmed it will be shutting down its DVD mail order option, telling existing customers in a Twitter post last week that they will receive up to 10 random discs in their final…

[agaypanic]

Hi! I have a request for Micheal Kelso x reader where it’s like the storyline with him and Brooke except when reader tells kelso she’s pregnant they decide to get married

Better a Friend Than a Stranger (Michael Kelso X Pregnant!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: After having a drunk hook up with one of your friends, you agree to pretend it never happened. But soon you find out that there’s growing evidence of your one night stand with Michael Kelso.

A/N: mentions of pregnancy (duh) and throwing up. reader is in the friend group, not a one night stand with a stranger thing like kelso and brooke were at the concert

***

If you’ve ever hooked up with Michael Kelso, more often than not, you don’t want to admit it. It’s not that he’s bad in bed. It’s just that he’s, well… Kelso. A horny goofball who’s dumber than a dog half the time. 

If you’ve ever hooked up with a close friend, more often than not, you don’t want to admit it. A lot of times, it happens because of a lapse of judgment or a spur of the moment. If your other friends knew, the group dynamic would become unbalanced. 

So when you hooked up with one of your best friends, Michael Kelso, you immediately made him swear to secrecy when you woke up the next morning. He pouted about it, wanting to brag about his recent lay. But Kelso agreed it would be best to keep the little drunken mistake between you. You got dressed, grabbed some breakfast, and headed over to Eric’s to hang out with the gang and pretend that you hadn’t fucked the night before.

A few weeks later, you started to feel uneasy. You had no clue what the cause could be. Thinking back, you hadn’t eaten anything bad or weird, or been around anyone who was sick. 

But when you had to call out of work because you suddenly started throwing up one morning, and then the next few mornings after that, you knew something was definitely wrong.

“I just don’t know what it could be.”

“Are you sure it’s a cold?” Donna asked. Being your closest and probably most responsible friend, you asked her to accompany you to the pharmacy. “I mean, you don’t really look like you have a cold.”

“Well, I’m sick with something.” You sighed in desperation. “I’ve been throwing up almost every day for the past two weeks. I can barely keep anything down, but somehow, I’m gaining weight. I just don’t get it.”

While looking in the medicine aisle for something to treat your symptoms, you didn’t notice Donna leave your side with haste. She came back just as quick, startling you by thrusting some boxes into your hand.

“No.” You said immediately after reading what the box contained. “No way.”

You looked up at Donna, who looked back at you deadly serious. “Yes, way, Y/n.”

“There’s no way I’m pregnant, Donna.” But you yourself weren’t even convinced by your words.

“When was the last time you got your period?”

Donna looked at you quizzically, becoming more and more alarmed the longer it took you to answer.

“...Fuck.”

***

“What am I gonna do, Donna?”

You sounded completely drained, sitting on your bed defeated. In your hands were three pregnancy tests that you had just taken, all positive. You kept looking at them, waiting for them to change to negative signs. But they never did.

“Well…” Donna gently wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side. “You’re not in school anymore, which is good.”

“I think that’s the only good thing.”

You and your friend sat in silence for a minute, trying to wrap your heads around the situation you found yourself in. “Y/n, who’s the father?”

You stiffened at the question. Unfortunately, you knew exactly who it was. “Fuck.”

“Who is it?” Donna took you out of her comforting hold and grabbed you by the shoulders so you were face to face. You clearly didn’t want to answer. “Y/n, it can’t be that bad, right?” She laughed. “I mean, it’s not like it’s Kelso’s or something.”

Your eyes widened at the name before darting around the room to avoid Donna’s gaze. She gasped.

“No.”

“...Yeah.”

“No.”

“Yes, Donna. Yes!” You wriggled out of her now iron grip and fell back on the bed, looking up at your ceiling. “I slept with Kelso, and now I’m carrying a Kelso baby.”

Donna looked at you with complete disbelief, and you honestly couldn’t blame her. Although you loved Kelso, sleeping with him, drunk or sober, was considered a bit of a low. “Y/n, I think I just have one question.” You yelped as Donna whacked you on the shoulder. “How could you be so stupid?!”

“Hey! Don’t hit me, I’m pregnant!” You pouted, lightening the mood just the slightest bit. You sighed. “Look, we were both drunk. And we used a condom, but I guess it broke or something. But in the morning, we agreed to never speak of it.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to speak of it.” Donna pointed at your stomach. “It’ll be better for him to find out from you directly instead of seeing your stomach be the size of a watermelon.”

You shuddered at the thought and sighed, hating that Donna was right. “I know.” 

***

Before telling Kelso about your situation, you avoided him for a few days. Well, not him specifically. You didn’t want to be in the Forman’s basement because you didn’t know how you’d react to the constant lingering smell of weed. Kelso, along with the rest of your friends, just happened to always be in the Formans’ basement.

But you had to tell Kelso eventually. So, after a week of wallowing in your house, you drove to the Formans.

As you pulled over to park on the street, you saw the boys playing basketball while Donna and Jackie chatted on the hood of the Vista Cruiser. Getting out of your car, you didn’t know if your stomach was turning from your nervousness or your breakfast.

You sped over to the girls, doing your best to avoid the rowdy boys and their somewhat rogue basketball. “Y/n, where have you been?” Jackie asked pointedly, scooting over to make room for you between her and Donna. “You can’t just leave me to be surrounded by testosterone for a whole week.”

“Um, Jackie?” Donna narrowed her eyes at the small girl. “You do know I’m a girl too, right?”

Jackie laughed. “Not by the way you dress, Donna.”

“Sorry.” You butted in. You were nervous enough as it is; you didn’t need to deal with this squabble. “I was getting over a bug.”

“You were sick?” The three of you were startled by Kelso towering over you. He tossed the ball in his hands to the side. “Donna, play for me.” You knew your friend wanted to say something about Kelso bossing her around, but you also knew she wanted you to talk to him alone. So she caught the basketball Kelso tossed her and started playing with the other boys. Kelso took her seat next to you. “You were sick?” He asked again.

You nodded. “Still am a bit.”

“Ew.” Jackie jumped off the Vista Cruiser, moving to one of the lounging chairs in Eric’s driveway. 

You laughed at her reaction, turning back to Kelso. “I’m not that sick.”

“Good. Good…” Kelso stared at you for a moment, and you didn’t know why. Then suddenly, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you around and into the Vista Cruiser. Before you could ask why you were now hiding from your friends in Eric’s car, Kelso started talking again. “You know, I can’t stop thinking about that night.”

You sighed. Maybe it was a good thing that you were now away from any listening ears. “Yeah, Kelso, about that night. I-”

“I know we said we’d never talk about it. But…” He trailed off, staring at you again. “God, I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Kelso…”

“And I don’t mean that in a ‘I can’t stop thinking about your body’ way. Well, I do, but not just in that way!”

“Kelso.”

“But it’s weird, because I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before. Not even with Jackie, but don’t tell her I said that because even though she’s tiny, she’d kick my ass.”

“Michael!”

“What?”

“I’m pregnant!”

While your friends continued their basketball game, everything in the car stilled. Michael looked like he was gonna throw up. You felt like you were about to. Your lip started to quiver. He was just staring at you.

“Say something.” Your voice wavered slightly, and you took a deep breath to try and calm yourself. “Kelso, please.”

“It’s mine, right?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you nodded. “Yeah, it’s yours.” You looked out through the windshield, too scared to see his reaction. Donna was the only one keeping an eye on you, and it seemed she was debating coming over to help you get through breaking the news. 

But Donna was suddenly out of your sight, because Michael gently grabbed your face and guided your lips to his. Your eyes fluttered shut as you reciprocated the kiss, feeling relieved that Kelso’s reaction was at least affectionate. 

When he reluctantly pulled away, Michael was quick to speak. “I wanna be with you.” The words shocked you into silence, allowing him to continue without fear of rejection. For now, at least. “I know I’m not the most responsible guy, or the smartest, or the- that’s not the point! The point is, ever since that night, I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/n. I want to be with you, I wanna help you raise this kid, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you! Okay, that’s a bit dramatic, but I don’t care because-”

You silenced Michael’s mindless rambling by kissing him again. You were so overwhelmed with emotions, you didn’t know what else to do. But the action seemed to ground you both.

When you separated again, Michael had another thing to say. “Let’s get married.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, stroking his cheekbones with your thumbs. “Don’t you think we should date first?”

“There’s plenty of time to date after marriage.” That made you cackle.

“This is so backward.” You said with a sigh. “I always thought it was date, marriage, kids. Not the other way around.”

Michael shrugged, wrapping his arms around you. “Who said we had to do things the traditional way?”

He leaned in to kiss you for a third time, but this time, you were interrupted by the car door behind him opening. You both looked over to see Eric leaning into the car, looking horrified.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” He asked, although it seemed he had a good theory. “Don’t make out in my car.”

“Aw, come on, Eric.” Michael rolled his eyes. “What’s the worst that could happen? I already got her pregnant.”

“What?!”

[megalony]

Miss Me

This is my first Eric imagine from The Little Mermaid, I hope you all enjoy it and any Eric requests would be amazing.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts​ @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps

Masterlist

Summary: After coming home from a long voyage, Eric finds (Y/n) back in her old habit of sleep walking.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A bolt of lightning scraped through the sky and sent crackles of white light through the room. And when the thunder started, everything in the room began to rattle. The brush on the dressing table collided with the floor, the drapes in front of the curtains whistled into the room and the bedframe shook from side to side.

Eric's head shot up from the pillow and his foot which had been hanging off the side of the bed, crashed against the floor.

For a brief moment, Eric wondered where he was. A shiver ran down his spine when a warm breeze drifted through the open balcony doors. Oh God, was the ship colliding with harsh waters? Did he need to be on the main deck with the crew? They weren't going to capsize again, were they?

It took a lot longer than it should have for him to realise he was in his bed in the castle. The floor wasn't moving with uneven seas beneath him, he wasn't squished into a small cabin bed and rain wasn't pouring in through a window that never closed.

He was safe in his bed that was firmly on the floor that had no risk of moving or capsizing beneath him.

The sound of the rain never made Eric feel at ease, it had the opposite affect on him because the rain was a bad sign whenever he was at sea. It signalled an oncoming storm and any kind of storm, small or large as a hurricane, was not an easy task to deal with. Even when he was at home safely tucked away in bed under his mother's watchful eye, storms always made Eric's heart bleed for anyone still out on the waves.

Letting his head flop back down to the pillow, Eric waited a few seconds for his heart to calm down before he moved his arm and stretched it out in front of him. He expected his arm to coil over (Y/n) but his limb fell down to the bed, empty-handed.

Where was she?

His eyes shot open and he moved his hand across the bed, scouring around for her but she wasn't with him. She had been there when he went to sleep, he had fallen asleep with her head on his chest listening to the lulling sound of his heart. That was how they always fell asleep when he was back from a voyage.

When another clap of thunder ricketed through the room, Eric got out of bed with a hand brushing his tangled curls out of his eyes. He wouldn't be able to settle to sleep again until he had (Y/n) by his side.

The open curtains provided enough light for Eric to find his shirt that had been thrown on the floor in his earlier haste to strip down to his boxer shorts. He didn't bother doing the buttons, letting the material hang loosely over his shoulders so he looked a little more presentable for a midnight stroll around the castle to find his beloved. He had to see where she was or his mind wouldn't let him rest and it was clear she wasn't in the bathroom because there was no light on in the adjoining room.

It was a relief to find there were still candles burning down to the last stub of wax in the hallway when he stepped out of his chamber. Eric knew this place like the back of his hand but it was no easy task treking round in the dark.

He wasn't sure where he should be looking, it was late into the night with a storm raging outside, what would (Y/n) be doing at this time?

Cold spikes seeped up into the soles of his bare feet when he walked down the hallway, across the slightly damp stone floor that collected the cold like Eric collected his treasures. But the further away from his chamber that he got, the more alert and panicked he began to feel. Would he have to search around the whole castle to find (Y/n)? What would he do if he didn't find her? Maybe he would have to wake Grimsby or God forbid, his mother, and ask for their help.

His steps were light and calculated as he hurried down the stairs and turned left, making his first point of call the kitchen. It seemed the likeliest option that (Y/n) had gone wandering for a drink or a midnight snack.

But when he peered into the vast kitchen, there wasn't one single candle or burner lit up anywhere, the room was cascaded in darkness. No (Y/n). He wasn't sure where to go next.

As he began to backtrack down the corridor, a strike of thunder shrieked down the corridor and a tremor coursed through Eric when something dawned on him. What if (Y/n) was sleepwalking? It had been months since Eric had even thought about (Y/n) wandering off in her sleep, it hadn't happened in so long. Then again, he had been away on a two-month journey and had only come back just last week. She could have started up again during that time and not told him. He knew she didn't like to worry him.

His wild eyes darted right to left, wondering whether he should head back upstairs and keep searching or if he should brave the treaturous weather in case his lover had wandered outside. Surely (Y/n) wouldn't have gone outside in such weather, asleep or not. He had never found her wandering outside, but they had been down to the beach a lot this week since Eric came home.

The mere thought of (Y/n) wandering outside during the storm- wearing very little with no shoes on her feet and no comprehension of what she was doing, made bile rise up in his throat.

"No, no no."

Eric began to shake his head but he found himself wandering towards the castle doors rather than the stairs. Instinct was telling him that if she was outside, he needed to find her sooner rather than later. No one else would know if she was out there or not and wasting time searching the castle could mean she could fall, succumb to any sort of cold or illness out there alone or get taken by the vicious waves.

He almost felt like bursting into tears with how many awful possibilities were coming to mind.

Eric had found (Y/n) in various places when she used to sleepwalk a lot in the past. When they first became lovers he would sneak her into his chambers so his mother wouldn't find out and he had searched everywhere in the castle at four in the morning. Only to find (Y/n) on the brink of entering Grimsby's room wearing nothing but Eric's button up shirt.

Another time, he had woken up just as she got off the bed and was aiming to go out onto the balcony until Eric gently turned her round and guided her back to bed. The only other few times she had wandered, Eric had been seconds behind her, darting down the corridor to spin her round or carry her back to bed. And a few of those times, he had been stark naked, running up to his girl while praying no one was out and about to see him in all his glory.

"Sir, your highness?"

Eric spun away from the door so fast his eyes rattled in his head and he lost his balance and composure.

Looking up through the dimly lit hallway, his eyes narrowed when he caught sight of who was timidly talking to him. It was a maid, someone he regretfully didn't know by name or even by her face. She had a gown pulled tightly around her night clothes and a candle in her hand like she had been disturbed in her sleep.

"Yes?"

"It's your lady, sir. She's... she's trying to get into your study, but she's not saying anything."

A wave of relief knocked the wind out of Eric and sent him tumbling on his back foot, bracing himself on a pillar as he tried to get the blood rushing back to his head. He had been two seconds away from running out into the rain to find (Y/n) and she was safely inside all along. She wasn't at risk of being swept away by the sea or falling ill from the cold and rain.

His legs turned to jelly when he wobbled up the stairs to meet the young girl at the top of the stairs.

"Thank you, I'll take her back to our chamber, you can go back and rest. Thank you again." He rested his hand on her shoulder for a second of appreciation before he turned and propelled himself up the next set of stairs.

The cold floor beneath his feet didn't bother him anymore and the sound of the rain and distant thunder didn't even reach Eric's ears. All he could hear was the thrumming of his heart and the blood rushing around in his head.

Why did his study have to be so far away from his room?

It felt like it took longer than usual to finally reach the corridor of his study and when he did, his eyes found his girl immediately. The closer Eric got, the quicker his heart began to beat in his chest. The maid had been right, (Y/n) was indeed trying to get into Eric's study which he always kept locked out of nervous habit.

(Y/n) had one hand around the door handle, jiggling and twisting it to try and see if it would budge; it would not. She was still in the same nightgown she had been wearing when Eric closed his eyes to sleep and she looked a mix between angelic and dangerous with her hair loose around her shoulders.

Eric found himself freezing in his fast pace when a thud clattered down the corridor. He watched in slight confusion as (Y/n) suddenly tilted her head forward into the door like she was trying to push it open with her head. She took a step back before tipping her head down again and letting all of her body lean onto the door with another bang.

He had seen her walk, run and sometimes even talk in her sleep, but Eric had never seen (Y/n) do this before.

When she did it again, Eric jogged the small distance between them and stood at (Y/n)'s side. He reached his hand out and carefully pressed his palm against her temple so that when she leaned forward again, she wouldn't hurt herself. His arm tensed and tingled when his hand smacked against the door and (Y/n)'s head but he paid no mind to the inconvenience it caused.

"Alright my love, back to bed now."

With his hand still hovering on her temple and his other arm secured around her hips, Eric carefully turned (Y/n) to the side and shuffled her a few feet away so she had to let go of the door handle.

"That's it sweetheart, off we go. It's far too late to be going to the study now." Eric hovered his lips over (Y/n)'s ear before he leaned down to kiss her neck. His chest pressed up to her back and his hand moved from her head, down her arm until he could entwine their fingers together.

"I miss Eric,"

For a brief moment, Eric paused wondering if (Y/n) had woken up already. His eyes cast down to look at the girl in his arms, her eyes were open and staring up at him but it was like she was seeing through him and her expression was blank. She was still fast asleep. The softest smile moulded onto his lips and his eyes creased at the corners as a blush danced up his neck and dotted his cheeks.

Had she been sleepwalking into his study while he'd been away?

"I'm back now sweetheart, you don't have to miss me anymore." There was no need for (Y/n) to yearn for him any longer, he had come home to her, like always.

It took some effort for him to get (Y/n) moving in the opposite direction, it was like her body felt a magnetic pull towards his study and he could feel her turning like she was about to bolt and go back to the room again. But as he let her weight lean on his chest and cocooned his arm all the way around her waist, (Y/n) eased into him. Her head slowly lowered back into the crook of his neck and she let Eric nudge her forward.

As they finally got back towards their chambers, Eric could feel (Y/n) slowing down against him until she wasn't lifting her feet anymore and she was barely shuffling across the stone floor.

He reacted quicker than his mind could comprehend, when (Y/n) slumped against his chest, Eric tightened his arms around her. Bending his knees, he slipped his arm beneath her legs and slowly hoisted her up into his arms, leaning her weight back into his chest. (Y/n)'s head fell on his shoulder and when Eric looked down upon her, something settled inside of him when he saw her eyes were finally closed. She had drifted back to sleep.

With (Y/n) in his arms, Eric gently nudged the door shut behind him with his foot before he approached the bed. His knees pushed into the soft mattress and he lowered his arms down until he had (Y/n) carefully laid down in bed again.

Even with the doors wide open adn the curtains apart, the breeze from the storm was as warm as sunlight. He kicked the covers down to the end of the bed and stripped his shirt before he laid down beside (Y/n).

This time when his arm stretched out, it found what it was looking for and deadlocked around (Y/n)'s waist. He nuzzled his face into the back of (Y/n)'s neck and sighed, content with her scent overwhelming his senses and her hand clamping down around his wrist as if to make sure he didn't move.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sunlight streaming into the room burned through (Y/n)'s eyelids and when she dared to crack her eyes open, she couldn't see anything for squinting hard at the brightness. Her eyes closed again and she tipped her head down until she felt a hard chest in front of her.

She could feel herself beginning to wake up when she nuzzled her face into the smooth bare chest in front of her. And her hands moved until one palm was pressed against said chest and her other arm was coiled over Eric's hip.

Their legs were tangled together like knots and (Y/n) could feel one of Eric's arms was beneath her neck and his other hand was pressed to the small of her back.

She knew he was awake when a kiss was pressed into her hair.

"Morning,"

"Good morning, sweetheart." Eric made no attempt to move, he buried his face in (Y/n)'s hair and nudged his leg further between her thighs, noticing how her breaths were tickling his stomach.

"I've got a headache," (Y/n) mumbled the words more to herself than to Eric but he heard her nonetheless.

She could feel a shiver riveting through Eric when she kissed his chest over his heart and his heartbeat flooded through his skin and pulsed through (Y/n). It wasn't always usual to find Eric tangled around her. They fell asleep in a mess of limbs and kisses and tight embraces but they usually tossed and turned through the night and woke up with only one part of them touching. Whether that was their hands entwined, their feet touching or a leg tossed over the other. But this was a lovely surprise.

"Ahh, I'm afraid you were sleepwalking last night, you were trying to get into my study but it was locked. Were you doing that a lot while I was away?" Eric's voice was tentative and gentle, he didn't want to embarrass (Y/n) or upset her but he was curious all the same.

He could practically feel (Y/n) heating up and blushing against him when she buried her face into his chest until he was sure she was going to smother herself.

"I did wake up once or twice in the study,"

When Eric went on his voyage, he left the key to the study with (Y/n) because he knew his treasure trove enthralled her just as much as it did him. He hoped all of his artifacts would keep her busy and stop her from feeling as lonely while he was away. It had done the trick most of the time, (Y/n) had studied his maps, polished his artefacts and catalogued a lot of things.

But on quite a few nights, (Y/n) had woken up in his study. She woke up sitting in his chair with one of his blazers in her arms or she fell asleep on the rug. One night she had sleepwalked to the study but didn't take the key with her and she woke up in the morning laying in the corridor wondering where she was.

"I'm not leaving you again, my love. You don't need to wander any more."

Eric had spent the rest of the night with his arm around (Y/n) so that if she moved, she would wake him and he could reassure himself he would catch her if she wandered off again. It kept his mind at rest for the duration of the night. (Y/n) didn't have to worry anymore, he was home and he wasn't going to leave her alone for a long, long time.

Her mind didn't have to wander during the night to try and be close to him because he wasn't going anywhere.

[fransfilth]

i wanna take a red pen and correct every grammar mistake eric harris made when he wrote in german, the only things he sometimes got right were the rammstein lyrics he just copied verbatim.

he had german for what, 3 years maybe? 4? most basic grammar too, du hast nicht gekocht bruder

[justdealingwithsomeissues]

Blade kills both Victoria and Modred... and with his last bit of strength Modred spills the land he was carrying around, because upon absorbing Modred, he also took on his geas, and without the soil, he has broken the pact... which will hopefully weaken him enough for the others to take him out.

[eyes-of-metal]

A world without heroes

Prologue

Plot: When 3/4th of KISS goes missing, it's up to Bruce Kulick, the only member without mystical powers, with help of his friend Sola to find the fourth talisman before the forces of evil to save his band and the world.

A/N: Just a little introduction. Let me know if you have any questions or want to be tagged in future parts of this story!

“We need to choose a new guitarist and guardian.” Paul, or The Starchild, tells me as we sit around the box with the one remaining talisman sitting on it.

The talismans were given to us to protect and use their powers to defend. They also gave us our personas, which we use on stage to gain our personas and fight against evil forces. KISS has been tasked with protecting these talismans from falling into the wrong hands, yet we've let that happen already in pursuit of finding a new guardian.

Anyone can have the talisman's power, but not everyone can handle the responsibility or the power without it driving them mad.

Ace and Peter couldn't handle the responsibility of being guardians. They had their demons to battle, so they willingly gave up their powers.

Vinnie is an excellent example of the latter. We chose him because he was a good guitar player, thinking he’d be worthy; we trusted him. Yet his power corrupted him. It made him mad, and we had no choice but to strip him of that power—to defeat him.

We almost lost one because of our haste. I don't want that to happen again; we can't let it happen again. We might not get so lucky next time.

We are currently down a guardian, which isn't good. We need all four because, without a guardian, the talisman is defenceless, yet we can't let it fall into the wrong hands either.

“We can't make a haste decision like we did with Vinnie,” I point out, “Bruce has proven himself to be a good guitarist, and so did Vinnie, but that doesn't necessarily translate to a good guardian.”

“Gene has a point.” Eric, The Fox, the guardian of the third talisman, agrees. “We don't want a repeat of Vinnie.”

“We can't wait much longer.” Paul urges, “Remember, the talisman can only be used by someone with the gift of music, and if we stop playing, we can lose control of that power.”

“We should choose Bruce as our guitarist, hide the talisman, and give him the power once he's proven himself worthy,” I suggest.

“It's not urgent that he has that power, as we stopped using the personas on stage to protect them.” I point out that it would have been important once as we wore the persona on stage, but after Vinnie, we decided to stop doing that. We can harness the power through music without activating the talisman and the personas.

“Alright.” Paul agrees, “But where do we hide it?”

“I know just the place,” I tell him as I close the lid on the box

[4th-make-quail]

Happy WIP Wednesday everyone!! Here is a good chunk of my Eric/Assad fic for your zamasian pleasure, with screenshot text is under the cut~!

The fic is 5.2k total, give or take when I've done edits and got my beta back hehe

Assad was more aware of the position of his own hand than he’d ever been in his life, it felt like. The way he could feel the warmth of Eric’s thigh under his palm, the way he wasn’t moving away - god, the way he was running his fingers over Assad’s shoulder, fingertips just skimming his skin where the shirt hung off there. He shivered. That had to be on purpose. Right? Fuck it.

He squeezed Eric’s thigh, slid his fingers down the inside and squeezed again. Good thighs. Really good thighs.

“So, uh.” He felt his cheeks warm as Eric’s fingers slipped down under the seam of his shirt, caressing his shoulder then up to his neck. “Not misreading this, then.”

“No, you’re definitely not misreading.” Eric cupped his neck and stroked his jawbone with his thumb. “This is what you want, isn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Assad tossed back the rest of his glass of wine and nearly threw it onto the floor in his haste to put it down. He unfolded his leg and draped one of them over Eric’s lap, scooching in closer so that his still-folded leg pressed up against his thigh. “Is it what you want?”

“You think I’d be here doing this if it wasn’t?” Eric put his own glass down on the side table, then leaned over and wrapped one arm around Assad, slipping his hand up the back of his shirt while cupping his face with the other.

Fuck, but his hands were nice. Big and sturdy. And then Assad couldn’t possibly be thinking about hands because Eric pulled him closer and kissed him, deft and slow.

He made a startled sound into Eric’s mouth, then melted against him, glad he’d got rid of the wine glass so he could reach up and push his fingers into those lovely curls. Their tongues brushed and Assad’s eyes closed, giving himself over to sensation; soft lips and the flavour of red wine, plush mouth and the curve of a smile he could feel along with a deep chuckle.

“If I’d figured this out earlier, we could have been doing this so much sooner,” Eric drawled between kisses.

Assad laughed. “And there was me thinking I’d been pretty obvious. All those interviews and fluff pieces and I was sure you weren’t interested.”

“Mm, well now you know. What do you wanna do about it?” Eric’s hand roamed up Assad’s back, “because I can think of a few ideas.”

“Oh, I bet you can.” Assad couldn’t suppress a shiver, though, and he was suddenly too warm with a hat on, so off it went, sailing through the air behind him and leaving his hair free and not too frizzy given that the scenes earlier that day had called for the heavy oil and gel routine. “This is nice, but I think-” Assad straightened, then knelt up and swung his leg over Eric so that he was straddling his lap, “this is nicer.”

He was very suddenly aware that he was getting hard, but considering the whole… everything… he didn’t think that’d be a problem.

Both arms slotted over Eric’s shoulders and he bent to kiss his jaw, the corner of his clever, sardonic mouth.

“Yeah, definitely nicer.” Eric's hand dipped down to Assad's lower back, pushing past the elastic of his pyjama bottoms and boxers to cup his arse.

Assad's hips bucked and he moaned against Eric's neck, pressing open mouthed kisses against his skin. He smelled like aftershave and sweat and wine, a heady and distracting mix, and suddenly it wasn't enough contact, wasn't enough skin.

He sat upright and grabbed for Eric's shirt, pulling it over his head without ceremony and flinging it across the sofa in his haste to finally get his hands on Eric's body.

He was broad and sturdy, with soft tummy and a coating of softer silvered hair all across his chest and down, and Assad couldn't stop himself from touching, from smoothing both hands across his pecs and down to squeeze at his tummy.

“You are so damn hot,” he breathed, eyes wide and cheeks warm.

“Like you're one to talk, wearing this.” Eric's hands went up under Assad's shirt again, framing his waist and moving to cup his pecs too. “The amount of times I thought about you, goddamn. They really know how to dress you, that's all I'm gonna say.”

Eric leaned up and captured Assad's mouth in another kiss, then divested him of his shirt too. His hands were big enough to squeeze Assad’s pecs like tits, and he bent to suck on a nipple greedily, late night stubble prickling deliciously.

Assad's head fell forward and he pushed both hands into Eric's hair, gripping hard as he sunk teeth into his nipple, biting and licking it to ripe hardness.

“Goddamn,” Eric said against his skin, muffled, “you are so fucking hot…” Another bite and then he turned his attention to the other nipple, suckling at it hard enough to make it darken, teeth nipping hard enough to make Assad’s hips buck again, his toes curl.