#au-gust 2023
Text
Just Good Business
Steter | 21k | T
Stiles comes home to find someone unexpected in his apartment. Peter might come to regret holding this specific guy hostage.
Read on AO3 (or check out the beginning below)
Stiles would like to say he senses something off about his apartment. The entrance rug with its flipped corner, maybe, or the extinguished light above the kitchen stove—he always leaves it on by accident when he leaves. The slight creak of a floorboard. An incongruous sense of presence, the sudden awareness that he isn’t alone in his own apartment.
The truth is, he doesn’t notice a thing.
He’s absolutely fucking dead, in his defense. He just wrapped up a seventy-two-hour shift, the never-ending stream of emergency calls broken only by dull waits in the ambulance depot. Some kid shattered his entire femur trying to backflip off a brick wall, and they had a hell of a time with his mom’s wailing on the ride to the hospital. After that, Stiles caught a few scattered naps, but all he wants to do is shower and pass right out. Possibly crawl into bed first if he can manage it.
It’s only when he locks the door behind him that a voice cuts through the silence of his apartment. “Turn around. Nice and slow.”
Stiles startles, jerking around as a figure steps from behind the shelves dividing his kitchenette from the rest of his studio. The streetlight outside casts a featureless silhouette, a man about as tall as Stiles. One arm curls up toward his chest, the other hangs loose at his side. The sleek shape of a handgun sits within it. The gun remains lowered, even as the moment stretches, but the threat is obvious all the same.
“I don’t intend to hurt you,” the person says, maybe following Stiles’s sightline. Despite the businesslike tone, an odd tension strains each word. “But you’ll make that harder if you start screaming.”
The first sluggish thought that pops into Stiles’s brain, which has been lulled into a stupor during the monotony of the trip home, is that this has to be a really stupid joke. Some kind of weird prank Scotty’s gotten up to—only he just parted ways with Scott a little while ago when their shift ended, and he looked as braindead as Stiles feels.
If it’s real, then—well, he’s heard stories like this from his dad, stories that rarely take place in a town like Beacon Hills. Home intrusions can be more dangerous crimes than most.
Which sounds fucking tiring. Stiles is genuinely too exhausted to be terrified of this asshole, who doesn’t even have the decency to catch him when he’s at least had a recent coffee. He thinks wistfully of his bed, and how close he is to getting into it, and has the fleeting thought that he should just shoulder past this prick and collapse into the sheets like he hasn’t heard a thing.
Sure, this might as well happen tonight, Stiles thinks with resignation. “Yeah, sounds like a line, dude,” he counters aloud.
“I’m just looking for cooperation. You help me, we both walk away.”
There’s that strain again, like the man is speaking through gritted teeth. Stiles takes a chance and moves one arm slowly toward the light switch, telegraphing in case the guy’s trigger-happy. Flicks it on.
Maybe that’s another reason the intruder didn’t bother to raise his gun: he didn’t need to. Peter Hale’s face is easy to recognize, handsome and half scarred. That face has been plastered across every news broadcast in Beacon County for days, maybe even across most of the state at this point.
Read the rest on AO3
133 notes
·
View notes
Link
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Characters: Jango Fett, Obi-Wan Kenobi
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Pre-Relationship
Series: Part 2 of witch and wolf
Summary:
AU-gust Day 19: Shifters
After two years, Jango finally manages to find his mate once again.
Obi-Wan would really like to know why his life remains a cosmic joke.
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
AU-gust 2023
16. Road Trip
Pairing(s): Cherik
Warnings: N/A
Charles received the letter upon his arrival in Calais, which led him to believe that it had been sent before he even left England to begin his travels. Grinning, he thanked the porter for bringing his luggage, and agreed to meet his tutor Mr. Summers for a late dinner, before retiring to his room and unsealing the envelope.
Dearest Charles,
Yes, I did send this letter ahead of your arrival, as I knew you would take your time in Dover before making it across the Channel! Just know that you are missed already, as Tony’s attention span is dismal on a good day, and he is entirely insufferable without your slightly less irritating presence around to keep him in line.
(And no, he has still not forgiven his father for forbidding him to join you on the Grand Tour. I imagine dinners at the Stark household will be very chilly for the foreseeable future.)
In any case, I have made arrangements for a Mr. Erik Lehnsherr to meet you in Calais and interview as your translator and guide. The man is a bit taciturn but well-educated and well-travelled, and most importantly speaks French, German, Italian and Dutch. He comes highly recommended by Christian, who met him and took him on as a guide during his own tour three years ago.
But Emma, you say, will this man be good company on the road? And will he be easy on the eyes? While I cannot attest to the former, Christian assures me that he is quite handsome indeed, enough to meet even your high expectations. Most importantly, he shares the same worldly outlook on relationships as you do – and my dear brother of course – so I am certain you two will get along splendidly.
Do remember to write, as I suffer here in London without your charming presence at all the best parties. I will keep an eye on Raven and Dr. McCoy, and send details of their burgeoning relationship.
Yours,
Emma
----
Mr. Lehnsherr sent word the next day, and Charles was quick to agree to a meeting at the hotel. He invited Mr. Lehnsherr to join him for dinner, but the man declined, citing a previous engagement that sounded more like a contrived excuse. And while everything Emma said in her letter was true – he had travelled all over Europe, and was fluent in all the languages of the countries Charles planned to visit – he was also prickly and almost condescending, as though he didn’t quite approve of the frivolous nature of Charles’ travels. His answers, when asked after his family and where he called home, were distressingly vague and curt, and, as their conversation drew to a close, Charles could not imagine spending months on the road with this man, who proved even more infuriating than his two best friends back home.
Finally, after he’d had enough of Mr. Lehnsherr drinking his brandy and insulting England’s weather, he blurted, “Why do you even want this position? You clearly do not approve of my reasons for coming to the Continent, or even to care for my very person. This trip is a chance for me to open my eyes to the wider world, Mr. Lehnsherr, and I will not waste it at the side of someone who will hinder instead of help me.”
Mr. Lehnsherr smiled, perhaps the first genuine one of the evening and replied, “Would you welcome the truth, I wonder? Well, here it is Mr. Xavier. My work as an artist requires that I travel, and a position like this helps me with my expenses. And while I do not think you will learn anything truly meaningful and worthwhile on a trek of luxurious decadence through Europe, I am a quite capable guide, and will do an exceptional job in showing you exactly what you ask of me. Whether you choose anything beyond the attending fancy parties is entirely up to you, as is the way you choose to flaunt your privileged wealth.”
Charles was stunned, entirely unused to such harsh judgement from someone he’d met mere hours before. He bristled as Lehnsherr watched him with those steely blue eyes, sharp and accessing as though he were measuring Charles’ character and finding him lacking. Part of him wanted to send Lehnsherr away with a sound rebuke, and yet another, bigger part wanted desperately to prove him wrong; to show him that Charles was not merely a spoiled rich boy, and that he intended to use his position as heir to the Dukedom of Norfolk to better the lives of those in his care.
“I assure you that I did not take this journey on for the parties,” he countered, with just enough chill in his voice to make his affronted feelings known. “I welcome a thorough education, not just of the rich but of the poorest in the land, though, would you call it decadence if I wanted also to admire great art and learn about music and history to enrich my soul? Before I must be married off and swallowed whole by a life of duty and tradition?”
If anything, Lehnsherr’s smile only grew wider, and for the first time, he met Charles’ gaze with something like approval. “I would be happy to oblige you, Mr. Xavier, in whatever manner of decadence you wish to indulge.”
His cheeks flushed with heat at Lehnsherr words, and he remembered what Emma had intimated in her letter; that the man might share his proclivities for the same sex. He held his breath when Lehnsherr closed the distance and lightly brushed Charles’ cheek with his fingers, only exhaling when he grinned and then stepped away again.
“Well, Mr. Xavier,” Mr. Lehnsherr said, licking his lips as he took a slow sip from his glass of brandy, “do I have the job?”
Charles blinked, flushing again when he realized he’d been staring at Lehnsherr. He poured himself a refill, before turning to meet the man’s steady gaze.
“Yes. Mr. Lehnsherr. Be ready to leave the day after tomorrow.”
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
Title: lovers again
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: T
Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail
Pairings: Renheng, past Xingyue
Link: Here!
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
🖕😎💅💀▶️🏳️⛺
make a story/outline based on these emojis. (The messier/more nonsense the better)
"Fuck you, Alex," taunted Monty, eyes wild like a hungry dog. There was something attractive about Standall, even though he was so fucking annoying.
Alex raised his eyebrows, blue eyes hard and cold like ice.
"Okay, Montgomery," he said flatly, putting on the dark sunglasses he'd been wearing on top of his head. Not that it made a difference, given how unreadable his eyes were.
"Okay?" Monty choked on the word, wondering if Alex was fucking with him. He had to be fucking with him. A twist of suppressed desire tightened in his chest. Would he fuck Alex if he asked? Monty swallowed the question without answering.
Alex leaned in, voice low and even, breath hot on Monty's neck, and whispered, "Unless you aren't man—"
Loud rhythmic beeping sounded in Monty's ears. He slapped the snooze button with his palm and rolled over. Hugging the blankets tight against his body, he hoped to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep.
Read the rest of Part 1 of Devil Like Me on AO3
Part 1 covers the first three emojis, Part 2 covers the next two emojis, Part 3 covers the next emoji and the epilogue covers the last one.
This is also a fill for AU-gust 2023: Day 31, any two (Day 20: Reconnections, Day 23: Plumbers)
Hope you like it and that is unhinged enough for you - this was super fun to write!
#ask answered#emoji prompt#AU-gust 2023#13 reasons why#13 Reasons Why Fanfic#alex standall#montgomery de la cruz#Malex
10 notes
·
View notes
Link
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Bleach (Anime & Manga)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo, Urahara Kisuke
Additional Tags: AU-gust | August Writing Challenge, Writer, Alternate Universe - No Powers, DnD nerds, Blame the UraIchi Discord, Blame the Rat Pit
Series: Part 3 of AUgust 2023
Summary:
Ichigo has to figure out how to get a group of potential idiots from point A to point B.
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
AU-gust 2023
I’m so excited for the AU-gust this year, last year this challenge pushed me to write the Monsters series, and this year has been going along similarly. At first, I had no idea what I was going to write, but now I have more of a clue. I’ve roughly outlined two of my fics, while I have concrete ideas for the other two.
One is based on the prompt shapeshifter, which will be a Klena fic with a twist and pretty much insane!Klaus. Very gothic and horror vibes.
The second is based on the prompt dark and I’ve decided to go with an idea that has been stewing in my head since last year, Lucien/Elena. I’m extremely aware that these two characters have never met in canon, that they weren’t even on the same show, with Elena on TVD and Lucien on TO. The tag for their relationship doesn’t even exist on AO3. Buuut, I’ve always been a very experimental person, back in college I would throw compounds together to see the reactions, not I’m throwing these characters together and hoping to enjoy their interactions.
The other two aren’t planned yet, so I’ll refrain from talking about them for now, but I’m excited about those too!
14 notes
·
View notes
Link
[ID: Title card for I Think I See The Light by yerbamansa. A still image of Oluwande and Jim standing outside near a stone structure surrounded by plants set inside a faux photo frame with light film grain effect. Text inset includes details about the fic that are repeated below. Inspired by a vintage promotional scene card for the 1971 film Harold & Maude. End ID.]
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Oluwande Boodhari/Jim Jimenez, Jim Jimenez & Spanish Jackie
Characters: Jim Jimenez, Oluwande Boodhari, Spanish Jackie (Our Flag Means Death), Alfeo de La Vaca, Geraldo (Our Flag Means Death), Original Male Character(s)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Golden Age of Piracy, POV Jim Jimenez, Canon-Typical Violence, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Murder, murder masquerading as accidental death, Revenge, in which jackie’s husbands are basically redshirts, Bad Matchmaking, Courtship, Falling In Love, despite the inspiration this is not an age-difference fic, author audited several classes at the david jenkins school of accuracy, no beta we die like alfeo de la vaca
Summary:
When Jim was a child, their family was murdered and they became a ward of the legendary pirate Spanish Jackie. Now that they’re grown, Jackie arranges dates with swashbuckling suitors for them, each chaperoned by one of Jackie’s many husbands. When one husband ends up dead after one date, Jackie goes into mourning, and Jim meets a charismatic, intriguing stranger at the funeral—who’s busy stealing their horse and carriage.
For AU-gust day 6, Specific Movie prompt: A canon-divergent TealOranges riff on Harold & Maude.
This absolutely ludicrous story wormed its way out of my brain over the course of 48 hours and we all have @thetragicallynerdy to blame. I hope they enjoy it the most. :)
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wondering if my Steddie omegaverse fic 28 AU-gust: Royalty will get 300 kudos before 2024.
We are really close 🤩
4 notes
·
View notes
Link
Chapters: 15/31
Fandom: Hannibal (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Serial Killer Hannibal Lecter, Actor Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Pet Sitter Hannibal, Fluff, Topless Maid Will Graham, Best Customer Hannibal, Teacher-Student Relationship, Pre-Slash
Series: Part 4 of AU-gust Challenge
Summary:
A collection of my daily AU-gust Writing Challenge fics/ficlets filled with many different types of Hannigram AUs
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Only Thing Left
Sterek | 13k | T
“You don’t need air,” Stiles echoes. “You swim. That doesn’t tell me much. What are you?”
Derek stares. He slowly lifts his shoulders and drops them back into the water.
Or, Stiles meets a stranger at the spring outside of town.
Read on AO3 (or check out the beginning below)
The town grows less forgiving near its borders. Meaner, Stiles thinks, and uglier too. Once you’re too far from the main streets, the paved asphalt road fractures into rough gravel shot through with weeds.
To one side of it, the ground slopes into a trash-choked ditch. Supposedly, it used to irrigate crops back before he was born, but that farmland is all overgrown now, the grass and wild shrubs almost hip-height, peppered here and there with the kind of refuse that takes real effort to move. Stiles sometimes likes to imagine how it all must have gotten there: shame-faced strangers lugging their mattress through the mud. Sneaking like thieves in the night to set down the old tires that now shelter stray cats.
And then, wedged right in the middle of the grime and gravel and mud, there’s a patch of dark woods that looks totally untouched. Like no one ever thought to use it or trash it, like everyone quietly agreed to leave it alone.
From the road, the tops of the towering pines whisper in the wind. A glint of silver through their crooked trunks turns out to be a wide spring of green water once you get close enough to see, mirror-smooth and shining. The woods are probably just a few acres in all, large enough to walk the perimeter of the spring in a quarter-hour at a leisurely clip, but not large enough to get lost in them. There are small signs of civilization, sure: some sort of barred drain as you leave the road, the weathered yellow sign warning of drowning risks, the hint of an old wooden structure through the far-off leaves. Otherwise, Stiles can almost pretend he’s in a pristine forest somewhere, the trees ancient and foreign and wild.
He likes to do that, sometimes. Pretend to be somewhere else, pretend this is one tiny touch of magic left in his world, its last remaining thumbprint. It’s nicer than the alternative.
When his mom was alive, she used to believe in that sort of thing. Old magic, she called it. She said that it lingered in some places. That humans had pushed it away little by little, maybe, and there was no room for it anymore except in little pockets you might stumble across by mistake. (When his dad was alive, he used to laugh and say that if magic were real, it was already spent up in things like batteries and planes and computers, because who knew how any of that worked?)
If there’s a magic to these trees or still waters, it must have something to do with how calm Stiles feels when he sits under the trees that stretch their branches over the spring, a calm he rarely otherwise feels. The edge of the water is a deep green ring, teeming here and there with rushes and duckweed. Water lilies too, red as a flare. In the middle of the spring, the water darkens almost to black as the ground slopes steeply out of sight.
On the surface, the spring is always cool and placid. But that’s deceptive, Stiles knows. Still waters run deep.
“Hello,” someone says, quiet, and Stiles startles and whips around.
He’s perched on the bank of the spring, his back against a tree, and he should’ve heard someone stepping through the woods around him. The area is so rarely traveled that he wasn’t anticipating anyone else. But the voice, unexpectedly near, hasn’t come from the trees at all.
It’s come from the water. Just a few yards away is a man swimming in the spring, only his head and shoulders visible in the green. He must have entered the water somewhere else, swimming in this direction while Stiles was glowering off in the distance. The banks of the spring curve out of sight to one side, dipping into the trees and then back around further off.
“God, you scared me,” Stiles says vehemently. A relieved laugh bubbles up from him after the shock. “Where did you even come from, dude? Isn’t it kind of cold out to be swimming?”
The swimmer barely moves as he treads. “The water.” The words are again quiet, but the still water carries the sound. His voice rasps, as if he hasn’t spoken all day.
He’s a little older than Stiles, with dark hair plastered to his forehead. He’s markedly handsome, with serious features: his full lips are unsmiling, his strong jaw clenched. The dark water is barely clear enough where he treads to make out a pair of muscled arms sweeping back and forth with slow glace. Even from this far away, his light eyes seem to dance green along with the ripples.
“You come here often,” the man adds.
It doesn’t sound like a question, but Stiles answers it like it is. “Yeah, I guess I do. Nice out here.”
“You’re alone.”
Stiles hesitates for a moment, though the answer must be obvious. It’s a weird thing for a stranger to ask someone they just met in the middle of nowhere, especially a stranger who stares as baldly as this one does, but it’s not like the guy has moved to approach. He’s not threatening. He just waits through the pause, letting Stiles respond in his own time.
“Yeah,” Stiles says at last. “You?”
The man’s mouth twists, dissatisfied. “Always.”
This whole thing feels weird, Stiles thinks, this mystery guy. He tries to steer them toward even ground, neutral conversation. “So, uh, you’re not from around here, are you? Did you just come to check out the spring or something?”
“I live here.”
Stiles blinks in surprise. “Really? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in town before.” No, he knows he hasn’t. He’d remember a guy who looks like this. He frowns, adding, “And, what, you know about this place and you come out here to swim anyway? The water’s gotta be freezing.”
“I like the water.”
Which, sure, that isn’t so unusual on paper. Deepwater Well turns into a popular hangout in the summer, and it’s a lure year-round for the local high schoolers who occasionally come to party on the shores. But it doesn’t change the fact that there aren’t that many swimmers, because those brave enough to enter the spring’s waters sometimes end up drowned. Sometimes worse.
A handful of people have even disappeared from the area over the past few decades, making headlines statewide after searchers found nothing in the woods or water. Something to do with the way the spring connects to underground aquifers, the rumors say, or maybe some sort of current that drags you further down. It’s a karstic spring, full of deep shafts and narrow caverns that have never been fully mapped, and there’s no telling where you’d end up if you sank all the way to the bottom.
That’s probably why the nut jobs come out of the woodwork to talk about it online sometimes, joking about rare cryptids. And why there are conspiracy theories galore from every flavor of armchair detective imaginable. Stiles included. He has a morbid affinity for that sort of research, a shameless interest in the details of disappearances and cold cases, and this place always used to mystify him because it’s right in his backyard. But the internet holds few answers, even for him.
If this guy lives around here, he must know all of that, and yet he’s decided to swim anyway. Dumb decision, but who’s Stiles to judge. Maybe he’s one of those weird thrill-seeking, adventure-type people.
“Sure. It figures. Because of, you know.” Stiles makes a vague gesture at the guy, though he’s thinking in particular of those toned arms. “You, uh, just look like it.”
“Do you swim?”
“Yeah, in the summer. And in a pool. It’s kind of cold for it now.”
“It’s not cold once you’re in the water.”
“Sounds like what some crazy swimming enthusiast would say,” Stiles jokes. Even the thought of getting in the water makes him pull his hoodie a little tighter around himself. It’s not particularly cold today, but the breeze always makes the crisp fall air sting his skin. “That’s a sure-fire recipe for hypothermia. I’m too fragile for that. All skin and bones.”
It’s hard to be sure, but Stiles thinks the man’s lips twitch at that.
“What’s your name?” Stiles demands.
This time, it’s the man who pauses. It’s long enough that Stiles’s eyebrows begin to rise. “Derek.”
Stiles huffs out an incredulous laugh. “Why’d you have to think so hard about it?”
“Long time since I used it. The name.”
“You don’t get out much?”
Derek grunts. “No. What is your name?”
“Oh, yeah. Stiles.”
“Stiles,” Derek says slowly, stretching it out like he’s testing out the word.
“Are you at the community college?” Stiles wonders, still trying to feel Derek out. Gauge his age. “Or do you work?”
“Used to,” Derek says gruffly.
Stiles waits but, he doesn’t offer anything more. Which is fair, Stiles figures, because maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it with a stranger. And Stiles doesn’t like people prying into why he’s not in school. But still. “Really playing the man of mystery angle, are we?”
“Where do you come from?”
“Town.” When Derek just stares at him blankly, Stiles jerks his thumb back toward the road.
“What is it like there?”
“In…Beacon Hills?” Stiles asks, incredulous. “You’re not really from around here, are you?”
Derek just grunts again. “I have not seen it.”
This guy, Stiles thinks. What the fuck?
Read the rest on AO3
#sterek#sterek fic#mine#au-gust 2023#that's a wrap!#crazy that it's over so fast#also i've somehow put derek in a Situation in 1/2 of the au-gust fics this year lol#anyway you know how sometimes you write a thing and it's like#this is gonna please maybe three people and i'm one of them?#this is that fic 😂
35 notes
·
View notes
Link
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Characters: Jango Fett, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Pre Vizsla, Silas the Mandalorian (Star Wars)
Additional Tags: AU-gust | August Writing Challenge 2023, Alternate Universe, Mand'alor Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sith Jango Fett
Series: Part 3 of praeliator and vizsla, Part 10 of AU-gust 2023
Summary:
AU-gust Joker: Role Reversal
Mand'alor Obi-Wan Vizsla meets Darth Praeliator for the first - but certainly not last - time.
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
AU-gust 2023
Pairing(s): Cherik
Warnings: N/A
2. Immortals
In the six months since Erik moved to Westchester, he’d explored almost every inch of Greymalkin, from the dozens of finely furnished rooms to the surrounding acres of vast woodland that made up the Xavier estate. According to Charles, one of his ancestors migrated from England to the US in the late 1800s, and commissioned a replica of his family home to be built - almost brick for brick - on the new land he purchased. Even the furnishings had come from the original Greymalkin located in West Berkshire, which meant the house was littered with priceless antiques often centuries old. Erik had spent many a lazy afternoon roaming its halls, wondering what secrets might be revealed if one knew just where to look.
It'd been raining since Charles left that morning for the city, to take his sister Raven to their regular Sunday brunch. Erik had declined the invitation to tag along, not wanting to intrude on their well-worn tradition, but also because he sensed that Raven didn’t approve of his relationship with her brother. It wasn’t that she was rude to Erik, or that she’d been anything but unfailingly polite, but he knew enough about her from Charles to know that her treatment of him was out of character. When he asked about it, Charles had merely brushed it away, murmuring about Raven not wanting to get too attached as she’d had with some of his previous partners.
There felt like a ring of truth in what was otherwise an unconvincing lie, though Erik decided to let it go since it had little real impact on his relationship with Charles.
Since he couldn’t go for a run, he decided to try reading in the library, and while away the afternoon amongst the dusty old tomes. A copy of Brontë’s Jane Eyre happened to catch his eye, as it reminded him of his sister Ruth and how she would sometimes read to him when he was sick, or if he simply wanted a bedtime story. He remembered very little of the plot of the book, since it was so long ago, except that one of the characters had been hidden away in the attic. That train of thought led him to remember that he hadn’t explored the one upstairs, even though he’d combed through every level and every room of the giant mansion. There didn’t seem to be any reason not to check it out right now, he thought, though he realized belatedly that Charles had never actually shown him how to get up there.
Still, it didn’t take long for Erik to find the entrance, a fake bookshelf in one of the corner rooms that slid aside to reveal a hidden staircase. He’d read enough mystery and gothic novels as a kid to expect the presence of secret rooms and concealed doorways, especially in an old manor built by an eccentric millionaire. And for a passageway that likely didn’t get much use, it was clean and well lit, opening up into a giant loft space that encompassed almost a whole other level.
There was furniture wrapped under tarp, and chests of old clothes that were dated from various periods of the past century. He even found an old uniform from what he assumed was one of the World Wars, though Charles had never spoken about a family member who’d served. On closer inspection, he found a bullet hole in the material, right above the heart, and wondered whose macabre decision it was to keep the uniform. There were letters too, bundled together at the bottom of the chest, and Erik pulled the stack out gingerly, mindful of their condition.
He was stunned into silence at the picture that fell out of the first letter he opened.
It was a black and white print of what appeared to be Charles and Erik in uniform, the edges of the photo worn and faded from age. The two men were standing side by side outside the front doors of Greymalkin and grinning at the camera. The resemblance was so uncanny that Erik was almost convinced he was the person in the picture, and that he’d somehow forgotten getting dressed up and posing for it with Charles. And the man in the picture looked exactly like his Charles, with the same smile and broad shoulders and easy charm.
How was it possible that Charles had a relative who looked just like him, who also knew someone who looked enough like Erik to be his twin?
But it was not until Erik opened a second chest, and then a third that his breath caught and his heart started racing, as they were full of items – everything from old, faded photographs, pencil sketches and painted portraits, to clay masks and marble busts – bearing his face.
He shuddered, when his gaze fell on a beautiful sketch of his own profile, signed and dated by the artist:
Charles Xavier, 1458
Erik dropped the picture and ran from the attic.
#gerec writes#cherik#immortals#day 2#charles is immortal#erik is the lover he keeps finding over and over#in case it wasn't clear lol#au-gust 2023
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Title: honeymoon
Rating: T
Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail
Pairing: Jing Yuan/Dan Heng, Past Yingxing/Dan Feng
Canon-divergent AU featuring married Jingheng and honourary Jingheng son Yanqing
Up to you as to if this is a cute married fic or a weird toxic fic
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49278826
12 notes
·
View notes
Link
Chapters: 1/31
Fandom: Hannibal (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Summary:
A collection of my daily AU-gust Writing Challenge fics/ficlets filled with many different types of Hannigram AUs
6 notes
·
View notes
Link
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Bleach (Anime & Manga)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo, Urahara Kisuke
Additional Tags: AU-gust | August Writing Challenge 2023, Immortals, Ichigo is unhappy, His stuff!, Kisuke finds him adorable still, Blame the UraIchi Discord, Blame the Rat Pit
Series: Part 2 of AUgust 2023
Summary:
When one looks at an article for a new museum exhibit, it's always annoying to find your lost items there.
12 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
fattyboy777
Lover Of Fat :3
whiteandbluenikehuaraches7-blog
white and blue nike huarache - nike huarache shoes
torpdamm41
The Journaling of Arildsen 801
stebby13
Untitled
foxfoxfox6699
Untitled