#ao3 is gonna lose their shit i just know it

[woodchoc-magnum]

all these broken parts

all these broken parts buck/eddie, 56k, mature

author: woodchoc_magnum

read the tags: angst with a happy ending, getting together, pining, depression, post-season 7, b/t breakup, buddie roommates era

summary: Set post-Season 7, where Eddie is struggling with depression, trying to put his life back together, and hopelessly in love with his best friend.

excerpt:

"Eddie, come on. You have to get up. You can't just sleep and hope that things will miraculously get better. He's angry, yeah, and it's going to take time, but you have to keep moving."

"I don't want to keep moving," Eddie snaps at him, sitting up in bed, positively fuming. "That's all I've ever done! I get shot down in a helicopter and I just keep moving. Shannon leaves me and I just keep moving. Shannon fucking dies and I just keep moving! I nearly died and I just kept moving – well, I'm done! Nothing is better! Everything is worse! No matter what I do, I keep hurting people, but if I just stay here in bed, I can't hurt anyone." With that, he curls up into a ball with his back to Buck, pulling a pillow over his head.

Eddie's stubborn, but so is Buck, and he decides to play dirty.

"You're hurting me," he says quietly.

"How?" Eddie spits. "I'm not doing anything to you."

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "I'm scared."

"Scared."

"Yeah. That you're gonna sink so deep into this thing that I won't be able to pull you out," he says honestly, "and that one day… you'll be gone. I'll lose you. I think about what Chim went through with Maddie, and… I'm to blame there too, you know? I knew she was hurting; I knew she wasn't well, but I didn't do enough, so… I'm not gonna let you run away from this, or hide away, or… any of that shit. I'll stay here. I'll drive you to your appointments. I'll sleep on the floor in your room if that's what it takes to keep you here."

He glances over at Eddie, and registers the slight shake of his shoulders – Eddie's crying, in silence, but still. Buck's words are having an effect.

"You remember when you told me that I'm not expendable?" he continues. "Well, you are irreplaceable. You're my best friend in the whole fucking world. I love you. I would do anything for you, so… that's why I'm here. And that's why you won't chase me away."

Eddie lets out a shuddering sob. "Fuck," he blurts out. "God fucking damn it."

"Yeah, you are stuck with me," Buck says ruefully. "Bet you're regretting that right about now."

"No, I– never," Eddie weeps. "Never. Okay?"

Buck glances over at him again – he's crying, hugging himself, and Buck just can't leave him on his own anymore. So he slides over the bed, spoons around Eddie and wraps his arms around him in a burly hug.

Eddie freezes, at first, but then he relaxes, letting out a sigh as he allows Buck to hold him. They lie in silence together, until Eddie slides a hand down Buck's arm, and entwines their fingers together.

"I got you," Buck says in his ear.

"Yeah," Eddie murmurs. "You do."

Read the rest on ao3

[oralmisery]

Stiff by Day, Stiffer at Night

written for @steddiesmuttyseptember

[ complete fic on ao3 ]

Rating: E | WC: 7,007 | Tags: Smut, Humor, Lingerie, Blow jobs, Hand jobs, Brat Steve Harrington, Bathing/Washing, Light Dom/Sub undertones

Week three prompt: Lingerie

Steve is a mannequin that comes alive at night. 

Eddie occasionally dumpster dives at Starcourt Mall. 

The corroded coffin boys break in Eddie’s new find like teenage boys do–with mischief and vandalism. The not so lifeless Steve holds Eddie accountable and makes him clean up the mess he and his friends made.

Eddie knew Starcourt Mall was a corporate parasite draining the economic and cultural vitality of Hawkins; practically stealing customers from local businesses–the mom and pop stores that are generational legacies. However, being that the local businesses’ version of economy and culture consist of sneering at Eddie's crumpled single bills and following him around their stores like he was going to walk away with their entire inventory in his pockets, he wasn't remorseful in the least for being a patron of the new mall. Besides, there was a record store Eddie could browse while Jeff dared Gareth to steal panties from Victoria's secret. It had an actual metal section, small but existent.

The mall also had some of the most unique dumpster finds, not that Eddie made it a habit, he just looked from time to time.

“Why did you-mphf , even take this thing?”, Gareth said. He and Eddie were finding it difficult to maneuver Eddie's latest find through the trailer's small doorway.

“Same reason-push man-you and Jeff stole frilly underwear-oof ”, Eddie said, knocking his elbow into the wall and almost losing his footing. “I saw something, I wanted it, and no one stopped me, besides my acquisition was free”.

“Can't believe you went dumpster diving for a mannequin” Gareth said, finally angling the mannequin's legs right so they could get inside the trailer. They started down the hallway to Eddie's room.

The mannequin was a masculine one, tall and fit with defined musculature that was somehow supposed to represent the average man. It was bare when Eddie found it and the smooth white plastic body proved slippery to hold. The sculpted hair on the head pressed into Eddie's stomach when Gareth gave an impatient push.

“Slander , I didn't go into the dumpster, it was just right outside of it, mint condition” Eddie said, hands grappling with the mannequins shoulders as they tipped it up to stand in the middle of his room. “Ya know this thing will actually get use, which is more than I can say for the lingerie y’all pilfered. Who are you going to give it to? I don't think I’ve even seen you talk to a girl”.

Gareth's face scrunched up and he opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by Jeff, “we can give them to Gareth's mom”. Gareth’s outrage turned to a new target and he swiped one of Eddie's pillows to whack a laughing Jeff.

Jeff dodged, “What are you going to use the mannequin for?” he asked Eddie, holding a swinging Gareth back with his superior arm length.

Eddie turned the mannequin a couple inches to the right, looking over its plastic figure with roving eyes, “So many applications Jeff, imagine! a prop for our sessions, a corroded coffin mascot, a model for new t-shirts”. Eddie turned and smiled, wide and mischievous, “also I'm gonna scare the shit out of Wayne with it”.

Eddie wiggled his fingers at the others, "now get comfy, we are not parting ways until we get our setlist right, I'm going to roll a joint and grab some beer” he bounded from the room.

Eddie plopped down at the small kitchen table and opened his lunchbox to roll a joint. He twisted the filter paper with ease and sealed it with a quick swipe of tongue. With the joint tucked behind an ear, he grabbed a six pack from the fridge and headed back to his room.

“Okay boys, so I think we- what the fuck ?”.

The mannequin was now wearing a pale baby-blue, lace lingerie set. 

“I think he looks really good, right Eddie?” Gareth said as Jeff cackled.

Eddie bit his tongue. It did look good. The light blue bra stretched tight around perfectly sculpted pecs. The cups of the bra were completely transparent, the only opaque elements were delicately embroidered flowers and petals. Eddie could easily imagine pink nipples, bruising the sheer blue purple between the floral adornments. The same sheer fabric curtained around the bottom of the bra, creating an hourglass figure on a chiseled torso. Dainty straps enhanced broad shoulders. The whole piece stretched into a shape vastly different from the curves expected of it on a feminine figure. The paradox had Eddie's mouth watering. 

The most modest part of the ensemble was the front of the panties. There was a wide triangle of opaque blue cloth, then the rest was just as sheer and flower adorned as the bra. Even though the mannequin’s groin was smooth and flat, the square muscular cut of the hips sparked the image of blue cloth pulling obscenely over a bulge. Eddie swallowed thickly. Unlike Jeff and Gareth, humor wasn't at all the emotion Eddie was experiencing right now. He didn't want them to know what he was actually feeling, lest they stop being his friends.

Eddie laughed, loud and performative “I'd prefer if the top was more filled out” he said. He might as well have spoken absolute gibberish for how meaningless those words were, but he wasn't going to expose himself. He was a goddamn dungeon master and he knows how to put on an act, how to control a room–reveal information only when he's ready to. 

When players are a little too close to unraveling the mystery you give them a distraction, a side quest.

A misdirection.

Eddie swirled around and grabbed a marker from his desk, he uncapped it and flourished it in the air. He grinned at Gareth and Jeff, then nodded at the scantily clad mannequin.

“I think it needs some ink”

—----

Eddie woke up to something jabbing his ribs. He shifted with growing annoyance, wondering what was digging into his side. Then he recalled, not long before Gareth and Jeff left, that Jeff had pulled off the mannequin's arm and they took turns brandishing it like a sword. Eddie dimly remembered the arm next to him in bed when he passed out in a tipsy haze. He rolled over and started to sink back into sleep.

Something wiggled along his spine.

Eddie jerked upright and to the side with a strangled gasp. He moved so fast that his spine made an odd popping noise and by some miracle he didn't end up on the floor. Something was alive in his bed.

“Is that my fucking arm?”.

Eddie screeched and whirled towards the voice that just spoke. There was a man in his fucking room. It was too dark to see anything more than a silhouette, backlit with meager moonlight from the small window.

“W-what th- H-holy shit , I don't have any money man!”, Eddie said, frantic and garbled. He felt light headed; his heartbeat a rapid pulse in his ears. So at odds with the sluggish ebb of his thoughts and the sleep still encumbering his limbs. 

“I dont want fucking money, give me my arm asshole”, the voice said. 

“Wha -I don't know what that means, l-look just take whatever and go”.

The voice groaned like the home invader was the one inconvenienced.

“Like I want to be here? You're the one that kidnapped me from the mall, then stole my arm! now give it back”, the man said, a slight whine edging into his vexed tone. 

Eddie wasn't convinced they were having the same conversation. His body moved on autopilot, trying to appease the man’s commands as he mentally debated if this was all a vivid dream. He patted his person as if he had anything on him besides a worn t-shirt and boxers.

“Next to you, Jesus”

Eddie blinked, still processing, “Kidnap ? The fuck-I never, how ev-, I-I took a mannequ-” he said, dazed, his hands reaching out blindly on the bed sheet next to him. His left hand bumped into something warm and smooth.

There was a click. The darkness was cut through with the bright glow of his bedside lamp. 

Eddie noticed first that the man in his room wasn't wearing clothes. Mostly. He looked around Eddie’s age and was just miles of smooth tan skin and toned lines that were not at all hindered by a pale blue lingerie set. Indecent was not a word Eddie used often, the term usually directed at him, but the current display had him clutching his metaphorical pearls. Also, there were crude scrawlings of black marker all over the man’s face, like the first person to fall asleep at a truly vicious sleepover. He had uneven sketchy glasses, a stupid french villain mustache and a crooked goatee. 

The second thing Eddie noticed was his searching hand was resting on a hairy forearm. There was a severed arm in his bed.

“WHAT THE FUC-” Eddie leaped up and away, tripping over the blankets wrapped around his legs and falling straight into the almost naked burglar. The man grabbed Eddie (third thing Eddie noticed is the guy only had one arm) trying to keep vertical but they both went down in a tangle of limbs.

“Ow! fuck, Dude ”, the stranger groaned.

“Oh my god, what the fuck, there’s a fucking arm in my be-,” Eddie’s words muffled into incomprehensible noises when the other rolled them sideways, pinning Eddie under him as he sat up. The man didn't respond to Eddie's alarmed yelp. Instead, he reached over to grab the arm on the bed spread.

“Ew , don't touch i-”

The man ignored him and Eddie noticed that for all the separation of limbs going on there was remarkably little blood. None. No gore, exposed bones or flaps of skin. The place where the mans’ shoulder ended was fuzzy–like TV static. The end of the arm was the same way, like Eddie couldn't focus properly on what he was seeing.

The man hoisted up the arm and with a quick motion, snapped it back into place. He shook it out and started moving both shoulders in circles. Like a seasoned athlete warming up for a game.

Eddie watched speechless, mouth hung open. He wanted drugs to be the explanation, but he was unfortunately familiar enough with being high that he knew what stone cold sober felt like. Eddie's eyes lowered. There were more doodles and words scrawled on the man's chest and stomach. Eddie paused on a hand-drawn devil face, horns and everything–Hellfire’s club logo, right above the man’s belly button. Eddie remembered drawing it, and cursing when he made the second horn too big cause the marker skidded across a plastic ab.

With a dread thick in his gut, Eddie turned his head slowly and glanced at the corner of the room where they had left the defaced, barely-clothed mannequin.

The corner was empty.

“Where am I? This is not the GAP”

Eddie looked back at the man still sitting on him, now with two arms, crossed across his chest. His handsome face was carved with a scowl, bordering a pout. Eddie absentmindedly observed that the guy was hot . Like, probably the hottest man Eddie had seen in real life. And it wasn't the sexy underwear–the same pale blue combo that Gareth had stolen. The man was so attractive, he made a dying marker look good. He had brown swoopy hair, expressive eyebrows, pink lips and moles everywhere .

“You-you're the mannequin ?” Eddie asked. The question feels stupid–obvious but also absurd. Like asking if the moon was real and if it was made of cheese in the same breath.  

“Yes, duh ” the man rolled his eyes, “also it’s Steve, now why am I here? Did you rob the GAP or something?”, Steve said, eyeing Eddie's room like it was tainted.

Eddie blinked, dazed. The mannequin had a name. And it was rude as hell.

“Hellooo, do you have ears? Why did you rob the GAP and take me? Where's the new summer collection, huh? I was in The All-american Polo with a contrast collar, slim fit and the #5 khakis, size 32", Steve said. His chin tilted up as he stared at Eddie down his nose.

“I didn't rob anywhere, are you talking about the GAP in the mall ? Starcourt mall?" Eddie asked.

The annoyance disappeared from Steve's face, leaving it cold and intimidating–anger sunk under the surface to fester. His eyes narrowed, “are you always this slow?” he asked, voice tight. 

Eddie opened and closed his mouth. The manne- Steve’s glare was making his skin feel hot and itchy. He’s had unrealistic dreams start like this before, unfortunately the way those usually end is not a likely outcome in this situation.

“I didn’t know you're from the GAP, you were out by the dumpsters, man”

“The dumpster?!” Steve looked affronted. He jumped up and off Eddie to start pacing the room ranting. 

“The fucking dumpster ? They were going to throw me away? I'm supposed to be displaying hot new summer looks at reasonable prices. I’m the frontline of fashion, dammit! I don’t deserve to-to model a fucking trash bag ”. He abruptly stopped and whirled around on Eddie who was sitting up, trying to drag himself back on the bed.

“Why am I in this ”, Steve asked, plucking at the lacy bra on his chest, “also fucking marker? Are you serious, you guys 8 years old or something?”. Steve waved an angry hand from his face to down his body. He planted his other hand on a jutted hip.

Eddie's eyes followed Steve’s wave as if it was an invitation. His eyes slid down Steve's figure, marker and all. Eddie swallowed, the bulge wrapped in baby-blue was bigger than the one he had imagined.

“Are you going to answer any of my questions or just keep staring at my crotch?” Steve asked. Both hands on his hips now, unashamed, almost presenting in contrast to his sharp words.

Eddie's eyes flew up, his cheeks hot. 

“Uh yeah, or…no, I’m 20 not 8 years old”, Eddie said. Steve’s glare was volatile. Eddie put up his hands in surrender, “sorry , we were being stupid, just messing around. I'm so sorry, we didn't know you were, uh, alive …do, ah, all mannequins come to life?”

“As far as I know, Just me” Steve answered, preoccupied, looking off into the distance. He ran a hand through his hair and pursed his lips, “Ugh , can't believe they threw me out, I'm the best male sport model they have, I'm the only one that does the athletic stance”. He demonstrates with a pose that Eddie assumed was flawless but he's a little distracted with how the lingerie stretched around Steve’s spread thighs, leaving a little less of his crotch to imagination.

“Uh, well that's great…I mean the pose not the being… fired ? not sure why they threw you out but, um, I can drive you back-" Eddie hiccupped when he was roughly pulled up by the front of his T-shirt. Steve leaned in close and snarled.

“Absolutely not, you're gonna clean up what you did” Steve said. His face inches from Eddie’s.

“What?” Eddie asked, wrong-footed. They were so close, he could see flashes of the inside of Steve's mouth.

Steve furrowed his brow and shook Eddie, “all the marker, you're gonna wash it off”.

[ continue reading ]

[kisses4lao]

Hello fellow lop fans. As someone who has the deluxe edition pre-ordered, I can say I'm very excited to play the full game, but im also excited ABOUT THE FICS WOOOOOOO CMON FANFIC WRITERS YOU KNOW THIS MAN IS SEXY YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO!!!

[thevioletcaptain]

if you as a fic reader ever become possessed by the urge to do a popularity bracket with the fics other people wrote and shared for fun and for free, consider:

don't ❤️ 

[imwritesometimes]

🤞there's some screamin' laptop deals for memorial day/father's day coming up cause my laptop's been on its last leg for like over a year and its questionable if it'll run every time I boot it up

[anachronismstellar]

I was talking to my girlfriend and she said that she just goes through a tag and sometimes it's hard to find good fics if the fandom is too big or if there's too many fanfics.

So, idk how anyone else does it, but here's my "how to find good fics and lose yourself in madness" guide:

Open our trusted and beloved ao3 on the fandom/ship tag what you wanna read about. Or other site you prefer, but this works best for ao3, I'm old, idk how to deal with wattpad nonsense, sorry

Go through the filters <- LISTEN HERE KIDS, THIS IS OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE!!! FILTER THE CONTENT U DONT WANNA SEE PLS FOR YOUR MENTAL HEALTH

Find a fic that you like. I tend to stick to long ones, so I filter the word count as well but you do you

Read the fic; kudo the fic; comment on the fic; bookmark the fic; even better, and/or DOWNLOAD THE ONES YOU WANNA READ AGAIN (you never know what the future might bring and again IF THE AUTHOR DELETED THEIR STUFF ITS NONE OF OUR BUSINESS)

Then open the author's profile, click on works AND FILTER IT AGAIN THIS IS IMPORTANT!!! YOUR FAV AUTHORS CAN WRITE WHATEVER THE SHIT THEY WANT AND YOU'RE NOT ENTITLED TO COMPLAIN, JUST MOVE ON

Read all the fics that they wrote for the fandom you're hyperfixating rn, and again, kudo/comment/bookmark/download

Go to the Author's bookmarks. Because we USUALLY write what we like to read, so the author's bookmarks will probably have fics that, if you liked their fics, you gonna like them too.

FILTER. FILTER THE ONES YOU DON'T WANNA READ. USE THE EXCLUDE TAGS FILTER FOR THE LOVE OF-

Read all the fics the author had bookmarked

Find a new author that you liked.

Go back to step 4.

Congratulations, you're late for work/school/family gathering/any other appointments you might have.

Have fun!

[peachsukii]

Burn Out

『♡』  pro-hero fem!reader  x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-hero au | engaged | aged to 23 | bakugo POV! ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

summary: Japan’s #4 Hero, Dynamight, is holding (forced by his agency) a meet and greet with fans - for the fifth time this year - by popular demand. The only difference? It’s three hours longer than the previous four. tags & warnings: fluff, soft bakugo, pro-hero bakugo, reader has a quirk & is also a pro hero, reader & bakugo are engaged! a/n: i thought the idea of reader waiting in line every time he has a meet and greet was such a cute gesture and relaxes him when he’s overwhelmed by fans :) ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 1,300 ꒱

“I really gotta do this shit for 4 hours?!”

“Sorry, Dynamight. It’s standard hours for meet and greets, plus you get the exposure to retain popularity amongst the public.”

God, what a fuckin’ joke.

How the hell does Deku do this all the time? I’m not a people person, end of story. I’ll sign shit and let them sell it, but actually meeting people? My goddamn nightmare. Especially the damn fan girls, they’re rabid fuckin’ animals. I hate when people only see me a piece of goddamn meat and not a top rated hero.

“Why are you still here?” This agency lady is really pissin’ me off. What the hell else does she want from me?

“Just going over the logistics. You’ll be hosting at a store in Shibuya Crossing from 1PM to 5PM tomorrow. You’ll be doing signatures on pre-approved official photos. We’ll meet at the agency at noon and you’ll get suited up.”

I hate these stupid publicity pricks.

“Can’t I just sign ‘em and you sell ‘em? I really gotta do it in person?”

“No can do, you know the process by now. The hours are just extended to allow as many fans access as we can.”

Why the fuck do fans need “access” to me? They don’t. I’ve got better shit to do.

“Whatever. See ya tomorrow.”

───

It’s almost 1PM and I’m already fuckin’ over being here. Nonstop “do this, not that,” “don’t take too long,” “don’t accept large gifts,” blah blah blah. It’s a damn signing, not a conference, I shouldn’t need to follow some stupid rule book.

“Before settling in for a grueling four goddamn hours, I gotta call my fiancé.”

“Make it fast, you’re set to start in 15.”

Was it an excuse to talk to her? Hell yeah it was. I didn’t need to call her for shit, I needed to get the hell away from that agency lady before I said shit I can’t take back.

Really wish she could sit here with me instead of with the agent with stick up her ass.

───

[y/n] Hey babe, what’s up? I thought your meet and greet was happening now? [Bakugo] Yeah, in 15 minutes. I needed to step out before I sit here for four fuckin’ hours. What are you up to? Sounds like you’re outside or somethin’. [y/n] Nothing really, grocery shopping and boring stuff. Are you nervous? [Bakugo] Me, nervous? Fuck no. I just don’t wanna be here for that long. It’s exhausting. [y/n] I don’t blame you, the last few were much shorter. Do you need me to bring you anything? [Bakugo] Even if you did, I don’t think they’d let me take it from ya. [y/n] That’s so annoying. It’s not like I’m a stranger. [Bakugo] Y’would think so. Fu-dammit, sorry baby, but I gotta cut ya short. This agency bitch has been breathin’ down my neck all week. [y/n] It’s alright. Make sure those fan girls don’t take all of you, I still want my share of the number 4 hero! [Bakugo] Hah, y’know you’re the only one who gets that. I’ll talk to you later baby, love you. [y/n] Love you too, good luck!

───

I. Am. So. Fucking. Tired.

If I hear another person screech over me just looking at them? I’m gonna lose my damn mind - and it’s only 2:30PM.

“Dynamight! You’re my favorite hero, thank you for signing this!”

At least most of the kids that showed up weren’t loud and annoyin’ brats.

“Thanks, appreciate th’ support.”

I’ve signed my name so many damn times that it’s starting to look like gibberish. They wouldn’t even let me use a stamp or some shit like that. Y’think that would appeal to their “access” plan if more people could come and go if it meant signing this shit faster.

───

3:45PM.

Fifteen. More. Minutes.

Exhausted is a goddamn understatement. I don’t wanna talk to anyone for the next 24 hours when this is over.

I’m grabbing the next poster from the agent, tunnel visioned on gettin’ the fuck outta here, when a familiar voice catches my attention.

“Hiya Dynamight!”

I can’t help but laugh. Did she really stand in line this whole time?

“The hell you doin’ here?”

She’s dressed head to toe in my merch - sweatshirt from the winter line, joggers from the athletic set, even her damn shoes are the limited release sneakers from the crossover line with Deku.

“Just supporting my favorite hero. I’d love if you could personalize my poster.”

God, I love this woman.

“Hah, y’got it.”

To my favorite hero, y/h/n, my shining star - love, dynamight

I slide it over the table to her and the look on her face is priceless. Her smile never fails to brighten my day, no matter how shitty it is. Really feels like no one else is here but her in the moment.

“This’ll be worth at least $50 online. Thanks!”

“Hey! That’s special, idiot.”

“I’m kidding, Ka-Dynamight.”

“Did ya wait in line this whole time?”

“I did! I wasn’t shopping earlier, I was in line for you. I wanted to support my soon-to-be husband.”

The high school girl behind her makes a face when she says “husband.” It’s not like our engagement is a damn secret. Can’t help but shoot her a dirty look, hoping she gets the “fuck off” memo.

“Dynamight, 5 minutes until we wrap.”

“Back off! It’s my damn fiancé. I’ll take as long as I want.”

All I wanna do is jump over this table, throw her over my shoulder and blast our way home. Dive onto the couch, crammed together against the cushions and pass the fuck out to the sound of TV static.

“It’s okay, I’ll let you go.”

She leans over the table to whisper, “I’ll see you at home, baby. Love you!”

I don’t really care who hears. I shouldn’t have to fuckin’ whisper to my soon-to-be wife in public.

“Love you too. Thanks, sweets. You’re the best.”

Fuck, her ass looks damn good in those joggers. I’ll never get tired of watching her walk away. The way she sways her hips when she walks is dangerous game for me.

“Alright, Dynamight. Last one.”

Thank fucking god.

“Hey, thanks for-”

“Was that your fiancé?”

These damn high school girls are such a pain in the ass.

“…yes. What of it?”

“Isn’t she, like, number 42 or something super low ranked?”

Not fallin’ for whatever shit she’s trying to pull. I sign the poster and slide it over to her, hoping she shuts the hell up and leaves.

“What, I can’t get a personalized photo like her?”

Well, she asked for it.

“Fine, give it back.”

number 42 and still better than you. fuck you - dynamight

I shove the poster back to her roughly on purpose, crinkling the edge against her stupid long claws-for-nails that were tapping impatiently on the table.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Learn some damn manners.”

I don't feel any remorse as the stupid agent starts scolding me for "mistreating fans." The brat had it comin', what can I say?

"I'm outta here. Later."

"Wait, Dynamight, you need to -"

"No, I don't. Not my problem. I'm done."

───

Finally, home sweet home. "Hey baby, I'm home."

"Hey Kats! Made you some early dinner on the stove and the blanket is nice and toasty for you."

When did she even have time to do that? It's only been 45 minutes.

"Damn, what are ya, superwoman?"

"Hah, I wish. Have you checked your phone yet?"

"...No, why?"

She laughs. "#dynamight is trending again. Somethin' about you signing 'fuck off' on a fan's poster?"

Oops.

"Yeah, well I -"

"Fuck her, she's lucky I didn't smack her upside the head."

And that's why I'm marrying her.

Just a cute little "Bakugo hates people" fluff lol

[starlightvld]

Up in Smoke

(Also on AO3)

The first time Ghost rips the cigarette from Soap's mouth, drops it on the ground, and stomps on it as he passes by, Soap is too stunned to say anything for a full ten seconds. They've only been working together consistently for a couple of missions, and even as his superior officer, the audacity of the action floors him.

By the time his brain restarts, Ghost is long gone.

--

The second time Ghost steals Soap's cigarette, he bursts out in a string of Scottish curses and tackles Ghost from behind before the wanker can drop it on the ground. An impromptu sparring match ensues, fists and curses flying. 

Afterward, he doesn't feel much like a cigarette anymore — not with the split lip, anyway. Besides, the buzzing under his skin that usually drives him to smoke is just... gone.

Price catches wind of the incident, of course, and calls them into his office a few hours later. By that time Soap has calmed down enough to be... maybe not okay with it, but at least able to see the humor. 

"What's this about you muppets scuffling by the smoking area?"

"Just a little sparring to blow off steam," Soap says.

"Ghost?"

"Nothin' to worry about, Captain."

"No? I've got one soldier who looks like he just got back from a bar fight, and the other..." He squints at Ghost. "He get a hit in on you, too?"

"Yeah," Ghost replies in that deadpan tone of his. "Coupla black eyes."

It's a joke. 

Ghost is telling a joke. And it's objectively not funny. It's not. But Soap bursts into hysterical laughter all the same. 

The corners of Ghost's blacked-out eyes crinkle. 

Price rubs his temples before dropping his hand on his desk. Soap presses his lips together to contain his laughter.

"Sparring happens in the gym. I'm sure you know the place. It's where we have things like mats and gloves. I catch you two bare-knuckle fighting again, and you will regret it."

And it's enough to sober Soap up. He avoids Ghost as he ducks away to catch dinner.

--

The third time... well, no. He supposes that's really the fourth time. 

Because the actual third time, Soap had come back from a shit mission where everything went wrong. Intel was faulty, exfil was delayed, and people under his command died. It didn't happen as often in SAS as it had in the regulars — the soldiers here were well-trained and hard to kill — but that made it all the worse. 

When Ghost tried to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, Soap growled. 

"Back the fuck up, Lt. Or Price is gonna be disappointed in both of us."

Ghost paused, and their eyes met. Slowly, Ghost lowered his hand. 

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Fuck no."

"Thank God."

Soap didn't have it in him to even huff a laugh. He took a long drag and blew the smoke away from Ghost as a peace offering.

To his surprise, Ghost didn't leave. He spun around and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. They stood there together, utterly silent, as Soap let the heat and sting in his lungs soothe the beast inside that wanted to rip the world apart.

When he was done, though, he was surprised to find he didn't want another. Usually after shit missions, he'd stand there and smoke half a pack before his hands would stop shaking.

He finally met Ghost's eyes. The man quirked a barely visible brow.

"S'pose we should take it to the mats this time?"

Ghost pushed off the building and started walking. Soap followed like a lost child looking for a way home. 

--

The fourth time is in Chicago. His hands are shaking not from losing soldiers but from almost losing his own life. The cigarette trembles in his grip as he stands outside the bar, the biting wind turning his fingers and probably his lips blue. He lifts it to his mouth, inhaling deep—

And then it's gone.

The whine that bubbles up from his gut and bursts from his throat is nothing short of humiliating. But God. God. He needs it.

"Not now. Please, Ghost."

"Why?"

Ghost hasn't thrown the cigarette down. Yet. He cocks his head to the side and gives Soap a long look. Soap can only tremble from the cold and a need that goes deeper than a simple hit of nicotine.

"I just... I need it."

The cigarette drops to the ground, but Soap doesn't have time to lament the loss before that same hand is curling around Soap's neck and pulling him into a fucking massive chest. The other arm comes around Soap's shoulders and...

Ghost just stands there, holding him. And Soap can't help melting into the warmth and solidity of the man who saved his life just hours ago. He dares to curl in deeper. To raise his hands and clutch at Ghost's jacket. To let a few, silent tears escape his tight control.

Finally, his muscles relax. Ghost must feel it, because he turns and leads Soap back toward the bar.

"Why do ye even care?" Soap mumbles from his spot tucked into Ghost's side.

"Because those things'll kill ya."

Soap supposes the "I like you alive" is implied at this point.

--

Soap loses count after Chicago. He gets stretches of days when Ghost is on a solo op or out with one of the other operators when he can smoke in peace. So he does.

At first.

He's been hooked since he was a rebellious teen trying to make his mark on the world. He's tried to quit multiple times, but it never seems to stick. The first bad mission or adrenaline-filled near miss and he's back at whatever smoking spot he can find, puffing away.

He finds himself trying to cut back, though, even when Ghost is away.

Any time Ghost is on base, all bets are off. In addition to darting by and making a grab for it or sneaking up behind him and flicking it out of his hands, Ghost has gotten more creative. Sometimes Soap will pull out a cigarette only to find he's "lost" his lighter. Sometimes the cigarettes themselves go missing — he clutches his chest and mourns all that wasted money whenever a whole pack disappears. 

He supposes it's all just going up in smoke anyway, though.

He should be angry. But in truth, it's almost a relief to hand over the reins to Ghost. To let the man help him by annoying the shit out of him until he wants to give up on it entirely.

Which is definitely the point. Ghost has made that perfectly clear.

So, whenever he gets the urge to calm his racing thoughts or overactive mind with a cigarette, he finds Ghost and annoys him instead. They talk, or spar, or simply sit in silence together, doing their own thing. Ghost doesn't often touch him — their moment in Chicago is still the closest Soap's ever gotten to the elusive Ghost — but he also doesn't push Soap away when he slumps into Ghost's side after a hard day or leans over his back when he's sitting at the table in the 141's common area on base.

The urge doesn't go away, of course. And sometimes, when things get really bad, Ghost will just sit or stand with him like he did the third time. Still, he finds himself smoking less and hanging out with Ghost more.

--

The last time Ghost steals a cigarette from Soap, he simply stands beside Soap and holds out his hand. Soap immediately knows something has gone terribly wrong. Still, he's too invested in the game now to not hand the cigarette over.

He nearly keels over when Ghost pulls up his mask and takes a long, hard drag. Soap watches in fascination as his cheeks hollow, his neck muscles strain, his lips curve around the paper. It's erotic in a way he really shouldn't be thinking about in regards to his emotionally unavailable superior officer, but the knowledge hasn't stopped him yet. Since that day in Chicago — probably before if he's honest — he's only ever wanted to be closer.

Ghost coughs a little and hands the cigarette back.

"Fuck. Just as disgusting as I remember."

"Ye used to smoke, then?"

"Before I joined up, yeah. Hated it, though."

"The smell? Or—"

"Everything. The taste, the smell, the heat..." Ghost trails off, his hand rubbing over his bicep in a strangely specific way. He shakes his head and looks back at Soap. "Not your problem, Johnny. Forget about it."

Soap's hand is darting out, fingers curling into Ghost's jacket, before he's properly thought through the action. Ghost pauses before turning back. They stare in silence for a moment until—

Soap stubs out the half-burned cigarette and drops the butt in the trash. He licks his lips. Glances up at Ghost. The mask is still sitting on his nose, and Soap stares at his lips for longer than he should before pulling the pack out of his pocket and throwing it in the trash, too.

"Cannae have ye thinking I stink, can I?"

"Too late."

But Ghost's throat bobs with a hard swallow. Soap wets his lips, takes a step closer, and uncurls his fingers to slide his hand up Ghost's chest until his fingertips are resting on Ghost's shirt collar.

"I dinnae think it is."

Ghost turns and walks away. Soap closes his eyes and drops his hand, internally cursing his impulsive behavior. The scuffing of boots walking away from him is like nails on a chalk board.

Until they stop, and a gruff voice calls out, "You comin'?"

A slow smile slides across Soap's mouth. "No' yet."

A huff — exasperation? laughter? a bit of both? — before, "Better get movin' then."

And Soap has never been more glad to follow an order.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 17

part 1 | part 16 | ao3

Heat rolls through Steve’s gut; low and quick, a vicious flare, and then he coughs and looks away. “Jesus, man," he splutters, "learn to take a joke.”

“Mmm-hm.” Eddie's smug smirk spreads wide, grows teeth; gotcha bitch, and Steve’s about to tell him to fuck off when he claps his hands to his thighs and abruptly stands up. Does a big stretch, swinging his arms out side to side, reaching overhead until his back makes a noise like a twisted sheet of bubble wrap.

“Holy shit!” Steve frowns. “You’re gonna break your spine.”

Eddie gives him a flippant smile. “That's the idea. Anyway...” He pretzels himself up again, groaning as his neck and shoulders pop. “Seeing as we’re trapped in here for the foreseeable future, you wanna do what the little psychos asked? Play twenty questions or have a heart-to-heart or whatever?”

“Seriously? And just give them what they want?”

Eddie shrugs. “Seems like the fastest way out of here, so yeah.”

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“Please. You negotiate with them all the time." He folds forward at the hips, looking at Steve upside down between his legs, and twists a curl around his pinky. "Those kids have you wrapped around their grubby little fingers."

"They do not!"

"They totally do. Besides," he swings back upright, "I’ll negotiate with anyone if it gets me back home to my girl.”

"Oh." Steve stumbles at that. "Didn't know you had a girlfriend.”

Eddie laughs big and bright, shaking his hair all over the place. “Yeah, Harrington, I have a girlfriend. You're funny. Y'know, Henderson could have saved us a lot of time here if he'd just told me you were fun—”

“Okay, then who’s your girl?” Steve interrupts with a huff, because Eddie’s just hopping around in circles while he laughs like Steve's a fucking moron for making a totally reasonable assumption, and he doesn't understand what's so goddamn funny about it.

“My girl, Harrington,” he all but coos when he collects himself, “is my guitar.” He bites his lip and mimes playing a riff; Steve doesn’t know shit about guitar, but he knows that Eddie’s fingers are quick, nimble and impressive as they jitter through the air. “We’ve got a show this weekend. Like, a real one this time, not just playing to three drunks at the Hideout.”

“Cool,” Steve says, looking away from his rings. “Congrats, man. You any good?”

“You could say that.” Eddie’s mouth goes smug and pleased, genuine pride shining in his big eyes when he rocks back on his heels. “The frat that booked us seems to think so, anyway.”

“Oh, shit!" Now Steve's impressed, because it's the weekend before Halloween, and that means, "College costume party.”

“Of course you’d be excited about that.”

“Hey, great place to get laid,” Steve shrugs.

Eddie chokes on his own spit. “You’re kind of a slut, you know that?”

“Rude,” Steve says mildly. He's not a slut; he's an opportunist.

The ground's starting to hurt his ass, so he stands up to join Eddie's impromptu yoga session. Eddie leans a hip against the workbench, folding his arms over his chest and giving Steve room to move.

His eyes flit to his hemline when it rides up on a stretch. "Would you..." he clears his throat. "Would you want to come?"

"Huh?" Steve twists around.

"To the show," Eddie adds, ducking his head to hide his face behind his hair. "You'd have to cram into the back with Frankie and the drum kit, but uh..."

Steve lets himself picture it for a moment, some alternate dimension where he's allowed to say yes: the winding highway to Indy, a van full of dudes cracking jokes and fighting over who gets to pick the music next, losing himself in the thrum of a crowd while he drinks and dances and watches Eddie on stage.

His throat feels tight, suddenly. He reaches for the flask and takes another sip of whiskey. "Don't all your bandmates hate me?"

"I mean... not any more than I do." Eddie's answer is quiet, his eyes swimming with candlelight; Steve doesn't know when they moved closer, when a hush settled over the room, but it feels like...

"Yeah?" he hedges, his voice barely above a whisper. Then he steps out onto the ledge; icy cliffside, slippery holds. The mountains are so much scarier than the deep sea. "And how... How much is that?"

His pulse kicks in his chest. Echoes down to his wrist, a nervous current beneath his skin. Eddie's eyes are so soft. Big and brown and dark. Dark like the deep woods; endless; sort of mesmerizing.

"Steve, I—"

The cellar doors shriek on their hinges.

—

part 18

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[alchemistc]

for love that i'll keep tending | bucktommy 1/1

read on ao3

Tommy has been... stewing, for most of the night. There's no way around it.

He's been reserved, picking at the label on his latest craft beer, something he'd actually used his timeshare on the chopper to fly out to Colorado to pick up because Buck had gone down a research spiral and mentioned might be fun to try (after he'd gotten teary-eyed about the one dedicated to a brewery dog who'd passed), only the brewery didn't ship.

Eddie is almost positive they haven't had a fight. He'd spent an entire 24 with Buck, and even if Buck had been keeping silent about it -- unlikely, but always a possibility -- he'd definitely have been brooding about it. But he'd been normal. For the general rule of Buck, anyway, he'd been normal. Maybe even a little more chipper than usual. When he'd smacked a hand to Eddie's shoulder on the way to his Jeep, he hadn't even done the usual rigamarole of acting a little jealous about Eddie and Tommy spending time together without him.

Shit, is Buck losing interest?

But -- no.

No, because a week ago they'd gone to a call for a lost little girl in the canyon, and when they'd gotten to her and she'd told them all about going camping with her dads, and how she'd gotten turned around and lost, Buck had done his normal routine with kids and charmed her into calm, and when they'd found the guys frantically searching for their daughter an hour and a half later, Buck had gotten a look in his eye that Eddie had been seeing a lot of lately.

There was the general look he always gave kids -- babies especially, but kids in general -- like he found them more precious than anything else in the world. And then there was the look he reserved for parents and their kids -- contemplative, a little wistful, like he was remembering there was someone out there in the world with half his genetic makeup.

And then there was the one for gay men and their children. It wasn't like it happened a lot, but often enough that even Eddie sometimes wondered if Buck wasn't accidentally manifesting these meetings. It'd been happening with greater frequency since the moment Andi from B shift had unceremoniously dumped her new baby into Tommy's arms so that she could grab a slice of Bobby's famous apple pie before it was gone. Tommy'd been magnanimous enough to refuse to hand the baby back for most of the evening, eyeing her frazzled hair and the circles under her eyes and making the executive decision that she needed a break, even if it was just forty-five minutes at the station while they all celebrated the new arrival and the extra two weeks of maternity leave they'd had to practically sue the city for.

Buck's love of kids seemed to have laser-focused since seeing Tommy rocking a baby in one arm while he spoon-fed Jee-Yun cake in the seat next to his.

And Eddie hasn't ever really talked to Tommy about kids, in general. He's good with Chris, unfazed in the face of all his angsty teenage moods, happy to be drawn into conversations that even Eddie and Buck sometimes aren't sure how to navigate. He knows Jee's a little obsessed with him, and that it's a point of pride for Tommy. Denny and Mara are always begging Hen to invite him over more.

Maybe it's finally hitting, though? That a future with Buck almost certainly means children, at some point?

The heavyweight match ends with a technical KO in the third round and Eddie stands to grab another round of beers.

"I bought a ring on my day off," Tommy says, staring hard at his mostly empty growler, and Eddie drops back into his recliner with a grunt.

"Okay," Eddie tells him, leaning in with his elbows on his knees. Neither one of them speaks as the next bout is announced. It's technically the one they went halvsies on the package for, but Eddie doubts either one of them cares enough about it to refocus. "I gotta say, man, if you're having second thoughts I'm the wrong person to talk to, because I'm gonna get defensive and tell you you're a damn fool, and I doubt it's gonna be helpful."

Tommy turns to give him a look so unimpressed that Eddie's actually a little jealous. That, at least, is helpful.

"Okay. Good. Great, even. So, what exactly is it that's been making you leak existential dread all over my couch since you got here?"

Eddie can think of a couple different possibilities. He isn't Buck-close with Tommy, but they talk, and it's not like he hasn't been around the two of them together enough to not have been privy to some of the more intimate conversations they've had. Family is a rough subject for all of them. So there's still that glaring what if they haven't talked about kids possibility. Or just a general fear that Buck isn't ready for this step -- completely unfounded, but Tommy's a lot more insecure about this stuff than he tends to let on.

Tommy grimaces. Gestures vaguely, and shakes his head, before he finally makes eye contact. "Evan's the grand gestures guy. And now I've got a ring burning a hole in my pocket, and jack shit as far as how to propose."

And this -- this is actually the most delightful answer he could have given. This is primo blackmail material. The best man speech is literally gonna write itself.

Eddie lets him stir in it for a hot minute. He tilts his head back and forth, nods to himself, rolls his tongue over his teeth, waits, waits, waits until Tommy narrows his eyes at him and reaches for a bottle cap on the coffee table to toss at Eddie's head.

Eddie laughs. "You could ask him two days laid up in bed with the flu, covered in flop sweat, and the answer would be the same."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Clearly my point is that he deserves more than that, and I don't have a clue where to start."

"Well," Eddie starts, "I'm aware that everyone and their mother thinks I have a secret, elaborate proposal planned out for Buck already, but I am once again reminding you that we've been over this and I'm not actually hiding any unrequited feelings for the man you want to be your husband. So."

That saga won't make it into the speech. That's a private little story for the three of them to look back on, twenty years from now, and laugh about. That's a weekend stretch of conversations in the woods of Big Bear, sharing a tent that really should have only fit one of them, that Eddie will never be able to properly express his gratitude for.

"So you've got nothing," Tommy says, a little accusatory, a lot bitchy.

"Buck likes making big gestures, man. I have zero point of reference on what he'd like if the tables were turned."

But -- actually.

Tommy huffs, melting into the couch cushions like his marionette strings have been cut.

There's a thought percolating, though. He's just not sure --

"I shouldn't be worried," Tommy says, more to himself than to Eddie. It'd been an interesting revelation, half-a-year in, finding out that Tommy was actually kind of a yapper, once he was comfortable with someone. "We've talked about this. Marriage, kids, the whole nine yards. I don't know why I'm building this up in my head."

Which is unintentionally the most helpful thing he's said so far.

"I have... an idea," Eddie drops, tentative, as Pereira once again proves why he gets the title card every time he fights. Tommy's eyes snap to his, interested. "Depends how much you trust Jee to keep a secret."

She's her fathers daughter, so very little should be the answer. They'll have to keep her in the dark until day of. Probably find a way to keep Buck distracted until things are fully in motion.

Tommy leans in.

_____

Eddie's still riding the high of finally beating Josh and Maddie at pool when Buck and Tommy slide into the bar, the two of them grinning ear to ear. Eddie spots it first, and shoots a wide eyed look at Tommy, because they'd spent a week trying to plot out a time when everyone necessary to The Plan would be available for a long enough time to make it work without cutting corners. That day is still... three and a half weeks away.

And Buck's got a ring on his finger. Eddie's already seen it up close, a simple gold band, an inscription on the inside he doesn't really know the significance of, even if it'd made Tommy go a little moony-eyed when Eddie read it aloud.

Tommy... is also wearing a ring.

Dios, did Buck go out and buy a ring the night Tommy came over for the fights?

They're made for each other. They're both insane.

Buck isn't exactly subtle when he slams his hand down on the eight-top they'd snaked half an hour ago, and if Maddie hadn't immediately shrieked and drawn the attention of half the bar, Eddie is certain he'd have wiggled his fingers for emphasis. Maybe done a jig before he Vanna'd Tommy's bling, too.

Josh immediately monopolizes all of Buck's attention by demanding Buck tell him the story with haste, Buckley, so Eddie gets a chance to raise an eyebrow at Tommy, who quickly rolls his jaw to hide the massive grin threatening to overtake his entire face.

"Well I wasn't dying of dysentery," Tommy deadpans, as the smile leaks through at the corners of his mouth. His nose scrunches when he tries to bite it down.

"He forgot to put the box away before I got back from my run," Tommy admits, cheeks dimpling, and then the fight is out of him, left fist clenched tight so that the thick band catches in the overhead light, deep grooves stretching towards his ears as he unleashes the depths of his happiness upon the world.

Eddie can picture the mad scramble, the awareness that he's been caught, the doe-eyed grin that seems to be reserved specifically for Tommy.

Buck is making a gesture that is probably less obscene than it looks, based on the way Maddie continues to grin without any sign of pulling a face. Josh is sighing.

Chimney and Hen are gonna be pissed they were running late.

Eddie owes Hen twenty bucks.

("Yeah, have you met them? I'm taking bets right now, there's no way Tommy lasts a month with a ring and a plan.")

Maddie seems to realize at the same moment as Buck that they'd narrowed their focus so completely that the prospective fiance has had time to order drinks. She rounds on Tommy with the same unhinged joy she'd fostered in her brother, growing up.

"You didn't tell me!" she says, and Eddie assumes that means Tommy had (eventually, and god does he know way too much about how active their sex life is) divulged his plan.

"You would have told Howie," Tommy accuses, and when Maddie doesn't deny it Tommy just looks smug. His grin goes soft around the edges when he catches Buck beaming at him over his sisters shoulder.

Eddie takes the opportunity, before the rest of the party arrives and derails the conversation for a second retelling, to round the table and gather Buck up in a hug.

Buck's embrace is tight, and maybe a little teary. Eddie clings back, and thinks of the years and years of disappointed hopes, the loves that fizzled out, or burst into flames, the thing behind Buck's eyes that had only made itself known after Tommy stuck around.

Hen and Chim find them like that. He doesn't even let her get a word out before he's giving Buck a hearty smack on the back and digging for his wallet.

[heartlesscorpse]

Pyramid Head thoughts 2🩸🔪 △

MORE PYRAMID HEAD BRAINROT WOOHOOO— Hell yeah brother. Anyways OH MY GOD I was getting pissed off from this app bc I couldn’t edit this when I had it in my drafts for some strange reason BUT IT’S ALL WORKING FINE NOW. Yay. I’ve also been slowly chipping away at my Pyramid Head x reader recently for the past few weeks and it’s coming along smoothly (surprisingly), hopefully today or so it’ll all be finished and I can polish it for any mistakes or typos I accidentally made then it’ll be tossed onto AO3. :))))))

It’s difficult having to be roaming about Silent Hill knowing that he now has a companion of his own to keep company in this shit hole, it’s a nice thought but now there’s the hassle with keeping an eye on you at all times.

Man loves you but you gotta fuckin’ STOP disappearing from his sight whenever he looks away from you.

Stop getting into trouble damnit it’s a good thing he’d been stalking you the whole time but seriously you’re gonna give him a tiny heart attack if you keep doing this. >:(

This is why he ends up having to carry you around wherever he goes because you can’t slip out from his grasp and it’s easier this way to prevent you from running off.

Honestly, whenever Pyramid Head’s injured he’s not even gonna understand why you’re looking like you’re on the verge of bawling your eyes out.

‘Tis but a flesh wound’

But he’ll play along anyways if you were really worried and wanted to help him with injuries.

And he obviously enjoys the attention from you. :))

Cuddles 24/7, if you’re tired just take a break someplace safe and he’ll let you curl up in a ball in his hold, bc he absolutely adores having you in his arms.

Despite Pyramid Head not able to talk at all he does like hearing some of your rambles from time to time considering you’re the most talkative one between the both of you.

Pyramid Head likes giving you some small shiny little trinkets every now and then as small presents, bc you’re his and why the hell not shower you with some things every now and then?? He would’ve come back from patrolling around the town with some things like quarters, some pieces of jewelry, or weird little trinkets like teeth or small animal skulls, and those kinds of things if you’re into that.

He also likes receiving a few small gifts from you every now and then as well. Small things like little paper cranes or also some weird little trinkets you’ve been finding around Silent Hill, mainly bones, and you would craft into little charms. Gifts from either him or you would’ve all went into some ragged satchel you found so you could carry them with you at all times and you wouldn’t lose them.

🥩⋆♱✮♱⋆🔪 🩸

[chiaraanatra]

A Place For My Head

𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑏: JJ knows just how to cheer you up after a shitty day at work.

Warnings: fluff, characters are 18+, swearing, mild angst due to mentions of mild verbal sexual harassment, pet names (cupcake, pretty girl, & kittycat), kissing, no use of Y/N.

AN: first JJ fic! Based on this post and my exchange with @starfxkr about JJ and Kitten!reader and their love for Linkin Park.

Song: A Place For My Head by Linkin Park

《 m.list || ao3 》

You spend the 15-minute ride to JJ's in silence. It was peak touron season and the bar you worked at was packed with frat boys and married 40-somethings drinking away any semblance of civility they had. The tips were good but if you had to deal with one more drunken asshole commenting on how your ass looked in your shorts, you were going to lose it.

You tried to remind yourself that none of that mattered now. Soon you and JJ would spend the rest of the day soaking in the Carolina sun, surfing, and letting the tides wash away your problems.

JJ was waiting on the porch, surfboard under his arm when you pulled onto his gravel driveway. Wasting no time he ran over, throwing his board next to yours in the back of your truck before hopping into the passenger seat. He was surprised to not be met with blaring music, but he thought little of it. "Wassup, Cupcake?"

You only shrugged before attempting to put the truck in reverse; however, before your hand could reach the shifter JJ's blocked your action. His brow was knit together in concern. When you didn’t elaborate, he spoke, “Okay, what’s goin’ on?”

“Nothin'…” your hands ran over your face.

"Nah, none of that shit." JJ knew you better than anyone, he knew ‘nothing’ never actually meant nothing, especially coming from you.

Your head hit the wheel with a light thud, "Just assholes at work… The only things worse than Kooks during off-season are these fuckin' tourons..." Your head lifted to look out your windshield, "‘Nice ass sweetheart.' 'Wanna show me around after your shift?' 'Bet I can show you a good time'...” you groaned and rolled your eyes, “Fuckers..."

JJ's tongue pressed into his cheek. "Bastards... They got good taste though," he half-joked, placing an arm around your shoulder, "Maybe I should start coming by during your shift. Let all those tourons know you’re mine." A small smile graced your lips at the thought. “You know I would too.”

“Yeah, I know…” A small sigh left your lungs. “But I don’t wanna think about that now.”

JJ gave you a signature smile and moved his hand from your shoulder to your bare thigh. You couldn’t help but smile back as you made your way out of his driveway and onto the road. He gave your thigh a light squeeze, “Where’s your phone?"

You pointed to the bag sitting at his feet, “Front pocket.”

“I know what'll make you feel better." He dug through the bag trying to find your phone. Once in his hands, he quickly unlocked it and opened your music app. He grabbed the cord connected to your cassette adapter. A soft buzzing filled the cabin before you recognized the familiar sound of a guitar softly picking.

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. As the song picked up, you and JJ mimicked the drumbeat, slamming your hands on the steering wheel and above the glove compartment respectively. You looked to JJ in anticipation of Mike Shinoda's first verse. JJ was right on cue, his rough voice filled with enthusiasm as he rapped along.

I watch how the moon sits in the sky in the dark night Shining with the light from the sun The sun doesn't give light to the moon assuming The moon's gonna owe it one

You always had a particular music taste, loving almost anything and everything. You were thankful that JJ shared this sentiment. However, there was no denying that Linkin Park was your band, and 'A Place For My Head' was one of your shared favorites off the Hybrid Theory album. The two of you were often heard blasting the song, let alone LP's entire discography, from your truck or the Twinkie. JJ always took Mike's part, rapping smoothly along with the lyrics, while you would scream Chester's parts at the top of your lungs.

Chester’s voice rolled through your speakers and mixed with your voice. You could feel the frustration and pent-up aggression escape with each verse of the chorus.

I wanna be in another place I hate when you say you don't understand (you'll see it's not meant to be) I wanna be in the energy, not with the enemy A place for my head

The bridge of the song hit, and you both were screaming the lyrics with little care for your ears or vocal cords.

You try to take the best of me, go away! You try to take the best of me, go away!

The song faded out, being replaced by your combined laughter as you threw the truck into park.

JJ looked over to you, “Feeling a bit better, kittycat?”

“Maybe a little.” You tried to sound nonchalant, but you knew your smile gave you away.

JJ rolled his eyes, “Sure.” He got out of the truck, practically sprinting over to you, muscled arms pulling you into a tight embrace while his lips pressed lightly against your hair.

“Thank you, JJ,” you whispered before wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss his soft lips.

“Any time.”

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

OBX Taglist: @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @daisydark

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[veltana]

Sell my soul - 1

✦ Pairing: Lloyd Hansen/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~1k

✦ Rating for this part: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Alpha!Lloyd, Omega!Reader, omega auction, slow burn, eventual smut, pet names (sugar plum).

✦ Summary: Lloyd buys you

✦ Note: Due note that this is a drabble series and the parts will be short, but I hope you like it any way! I started writing this because Lloyd was trying to hijack my brain and take over the Buy my heart series, so he got his own instead, and I'm gonna make him suffer 😈 Reblogs, comments and asks are much appreciated!

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

“This is bullshit,” you mutter as you pull on the sheer dress. It's basically see-through. Why can't you wear regular clothes? Isn't it embarrassing enough that you have to sell yourself, you have to be as close to naked as possible also?

But you do it anyway and don't say anything more. This is really your very last resort. Everything else you've tried so far has been a failure.

Panic starts to rise in your chest. What if he's out there? What if he buys you?

Then you realize that everyone sitting out there is an alpha and he wouldn't be allowed in. It calms your nerves a bit but you still glance around now and then as you wait for your turn. He's found you before. You're not safe anywhere.

“This is bullshit,” Lloyd growls as he adjusts the mask covering his face. He recognizes the scents of at least three alphas, despite being unable to see their faces. The masks aren't hiding shit. He knows they're more for the omegas on stage than for the alphas but so far the entire event has been a disappointment, and he regrets attending.

Instead, he studies the high ceiling and artwork on the walls, only glancing at the omegas appearing, one after another getting bought.

Just as he's about to up and leave the omega on stage catches his attention. Eyes that keep flickering and a stubborn mouth, but otherwise delectable! He raises his paddle before he even knows it. A few people bid too, but Lloyd is determined. His paddle is the last to go up.

The omega's mouth is a thin line. A smile cracks Lloyd's face below the mask as he rises and makes his way out to pick up his newly acquired omega.

“Be nice, be nice, be nice. Be nice to the alpha who bought you. You need his protection.” You remind yourself as you stand outside in your clothes after being shown out by the attendant. There isn't an alpha around and your eyes keep searching. You don't like to be out in the open like this but if you huddle against the wall he's probably going to think you're weird. Or you'd have to explain.

With a roar, a flashy sports car pulls up. The owner steps out and looks at you. He’s tall with neat hair slicked back, a mustache above his smile, eyes sparkling with glee. You look away, he obviously thinks you're a prostitute. It would be great if your fucking alpha could show up.

“Hey, get in!” The man calls. You glance at him before saying, “I'm waiting for someone.” “Yeah, me! Omega, get over here right now or I'll command you.”

You stare at him. He waves a piece of paper. “You're the alpha who bought me?” “Damn straight, sugar plum!” Sugar plum?! Your name is on the paper!

“Actually,” you begin but he interrupts you. “We can talk in the car, come on now!” Displeased, you walk over.

The inside looks barely used but it’s filled with his scent. It’s a delicious perfume that smells like the woods after it's rained, an earthy clean smell with an undertone of burnt sugar that makes you think of creme brulee. Saliva pools in your mouth and you ignore it.

Your new alpha, who still hasn't introduced himself, steps on the gas and the car shoots down the road. “Where are we going?” “To my place, it’s not far!” At the speed he's driving, you're downtown within minutes, too focused on holding on to ask any other questions. He doesn't offer any more answers, either. Soon, you lose track of where you are, finding yourself in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Elegant houses and high-rise buildings blend together unnaturally. He parks in an underground garage, and the elevator ascends to the tenth floor. Everything looks new and untouched almost. You've never been in such a place before.

Inside the door, you stop and stare. The apartment you used to live in was a perfectly adequate size, but this is ridiculous. On top of that everything is spotless and sleek. Sure, his scent is present in the apartment, but otherwise it looks like no one lives in it, very similar to the car. Your new alpha seems to be very neat.

You look down at yourself. It's been a while since you had the opportunity to wash your clothes properly. The bag in your hand with your few belongings has seen better days. The alpha struts into the apartment, not noticing you've stopped. You don't have socks on so you don't want to take off your shoes.

Frozen in place you can't decide what to do. Everything is just too much. But you're still at the front door, if you turn around you can run and go back to what you know. It would be easier in a way. He doesn't know you. He has a name but it won't get him anywhere.

Steps coming towards you snap you out of it and you meet the eyes of the alpha. They are calm and blue. The urge to run settles and you notice he has a bundle of clothes in his arms.

“You'll have to borrow some of my stuff until we've washed yours and gotten you more clothes. Bathroom is this way,” he jerks his head and turns around. This time you follow.

The bathroom has everything one could wish for and you look longingly at the tub. How long ago was it that you had a real bath? The alpha puts the bundle down on top of a basket and then shows you where to find towels and what all the different dials in the shower do. You nod, trying to keep up.

Then he turns and heads out but before he shuts the door you blurt out, “Wait! What's your name?”

He turns around and grins at you in a way that is both creepy and at the same time not unpleasant. “It's Lloyd Hansen, sugar plum.”

next

[hazelfoureyes]

Sending in anon because I'm a coward... 😩

I'm a new reader, and I just have to say-- your "a doe in fall" series is just... AMAZING!!

I could go on, and on and on about how much I love it. But what gets me the most is always Alastor's dialogue, because as someone who is also on the aro/ace spectrum, I just get it so much. Especially the subtle hoping that reader can like... Read his mind about how he feels for her, and the weird sort of stockholm syndrome we sometimes develop with ourselves after being alone with only our own company for so long, and it really is, lol, like you just get so used to being alone for so long because you know the idea people have of you, you can't truly live up to, so you don't want to "disappoint" them that you actually aren't like they are, so you just sorta... Keep them occupied at arms length-- Therefore you're forced to adapt to your company being the only love you have for a long time. it's like an obligation.

And when or if the special somebody who understands you comes along, you realize... "Wow, I've been living like this for so long, is this what it feels like to be loved and appreciated, in spite of my oddities, or maybe even in favor of them? Strange..."

Emphasis on the "strange" part because, when you're so deeply entrenched in your own soul, sharing your space for another almost feels more like learning how to swim rather than an instant "click", sparks, fireworks and whatnot. The excitement of the magical "other" has been long since drowned and snuffed out of you.

So, when this somebody who is similar to you, or just simply understands, doesn't try to change you or ignore you, but instead envelopes you and adores you, the appreciation is deep and overflowing. But there's a part of you always pinching your heart, a sort of awareness of something that isn't the case, wondering "Is this a dream? what if it is and I'll wake up and this is not at all what I was thinking?".

Haha... ANYWAY, sorry for the slightly morose and LONG read 😂 But I always think of how similar I am to how you write alastor and it's scary in a way, but comforting (especially since he's my first and biggest fictional crush) except in this case my profession would actually be burlesque. Especially since I work in the exotic dance world. It's fascinating being aro/ace in the SW world, I could go on forever- But yeah, I absolutely love your writing!! Makes me feel less alone in this world. Annnd surprisingly I always feel so sensual after reading, I love love love it!! Reading before work always gets me in the mood to dance and pretend I'm Y/N, lol!!

Much blessings ❤️❤️

*cracks knuckles* listen here babycakes, I eat this shit UP. Exploring Human Ace Alastor is my BREAD AND BUTTER. I go into ESSAYS in the AO3 comments in this 😂

you really understand, which makes me so happy and is confirmation I’m conveying him the way I want to.

Now I’m gonna ramble and echo you basically 😂

I really think Alastor (atleast in this story) feels that excitement and strangeness of how open he can be around Autumn (since she doesn’t have a proper name cuz she’s reader 😂). He’s a fish out of water despite the fact he’s actually being his most authentic self. Like you said, it’s new to him just to be … Alastor. To be honest and upfront. His normal operating mode has been so restricted for so long he’s struggling with how to be himself. And then that fear—- well what if I’m too much? What if I ruin this, when I finally have something worth keeping? He’s never gotten this far and the fear of losing that comfort is terrifying but so is the actual comfort itself. It’s new and foreign.

A deep uneasiness that’s if he fully embraces this he’s gonna just fuck it up and it’ll be his fault this time. Not a misunderstanding or misalignment of needs but a confirmation he wasn’t good enough anyway.

“it is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all” he would say that’s bullshit

and because of the situations he’s been in before, he’s never gotten to actually explore physical intimacy in a “safe” environment. He was always going into interactions because he had to if he wanted to keep people around. It was a necessity, not something he actually sincerely wanted to participate. So he tried to keep them happy with other means of affection and intimacy to maintain some safe distance but eventually, always, things would fall apart. At a distance or up close.

that’s why that most recent part was called Learning. Alastor is trying new things to learn more about what he’s okay with or doesn’t care for even offering in the future. Autumn is learning (that night, tho she doesn’t understand it yet) that he’s still figuring out how to meet her halfway (even tho she’s not even asking for that) when he’s used to being forced to meet people where they are. And Detective Brady, of course, is learning he may have found motive for Tommy’s disappearance.

I’m really glad you’re enjoying his portrayal and that you’re resonating with parts of him! That makes my soul hum! 💖 your line of work mixed with your Aro/Ace-ness sounds like such an interesting conversation if we’re honest! That’s a small aspect I love about Autumn. She’s in this field that’s (wrongly) considered to be hyper sexual and full of air headed wanton whores, but she’s the first person to be like “oh! You aren't into this stuff. Let me adjust my expectations. I’ll ask for clear verbal consent, not initiate, and I’m totally okay with never fucking again if it’s for your love and company.”

I work in the SW industry in a sense (Personal Assistant) and one of my biggest pet peeves is all of the shit people project on SWers.

sorry for the essay I could talk about this for ETERNITY

omg and THANK YOU! 🥺💖💖💖💖

Referencing:

A Doe in Fall (Human Alastor x Burlesquer Fem Reader)

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hi! I've spent hours reading your Steddie stuff when I honestly should have been sleeping because work and adulting. Gotta be some of my favorite writing! You have requests/prompts open? I have 2! If you like them :) 1. The Soulmate idea of people having a moving animal tattoo representing their Soulmate. Steve has hyperactive bat who loves to drape itself around his neck quite possessively. Eddie with a retriever pup or something that likes to curl up over his heart. 2. Always a sweetheart Steve? No King Steve era thing. He bugs Eddie to learn about D&D to understand his kids better qnd our poor metal gremlin melts :) I'm Soft Boi, so sorry for no angst.

I'm posting the 1st one here, but on the second one, I am gonna just give a rec instead. Last Man Standing by @griefabyss69 (GriefAbyss on AO3) is kind of this request but taking it to filth level 😈 But anyways, this idea is so fucking cool my dudes. I love a good soulmate AU, and when it's something super unique like this, I lose my shit. I definitely think someone could make a slow burn with this idea and if anyone does, please let me know! - Mickala ❤️

---------------------------------------------------------

He used to hate it.

A bat was such a menacing and disgusting creature.

Anyone who saw it would give him a look that was equal parts apologetic and concerned.

But when Steve started getting left alone at home, when he only had surface level friends, when he cried himself to sleep because the silence wasn’t enough to drown out the negative thoughts, the bat wrapped itself around his neck, and he didn’t feel so alone.

He’d started sleeping with his hand on his shoulder just to feel closer to his soulmate.

Hoped that whoever it was wouldn’t be disappointed that he was theirs.

————-

Eddie convinced himself for his entire childhood that the golden retriever tattoo that ran up and down his arms every day was some sympathy soulmate tattoo.

There was no way his soulmate was someone this hyper.

And then Wayne explained there was usually a story behind the tattoo, something more than just the personality or energy of a person.

At night, the retriever would pace across his chest, eventually settling right over his heart.

He wondered what his tattoo representation was.

He hoped it was a bat.

————-

“Dude, it’s not a big deal. Just show us!” Tommy yelled to Steve from the pool.

Steve had managed to hide it from his friends for so long.

He wasn’t ashamed necessarily, but he definitely didn’t need Tommy and Carol or any of the rest of the basketball team to see it.

The tattoo often stayed hidden pretty well during the day, usually hid on his thigh or stomach. He got away with always wearing shirts for practice and skipped post-practice showers with excuses that he had a study group to get to.

But his pool was a problem, especially now that he was at an age where everyone wanted to come over to swim when his parents weren’t around, which was often.

He tried to make excuses, said he was just worried about the sun, worried about a creepy neighbor watching.

It only worked a couple of times.

Now it was night, so no sun.

The neighbor was on vacation.

And everyone expected him to strip down and get into the pool.

So he did.

Everyone stared in silence as the bat flew from his stomach to his back and settled on his shoulder.

It seemed like it wanted to be seen, but still wasn’t sure how it wanted to be perceived.

Steve could relate.

No one commented on it, probably too afraid that one wrong word would get them kicked out of the pool permanently.

When he went to bed that night, the bat took its place around his neck, his hand rested in its place against his shoulder, and he sighed.

“I hope you’re being seen,” he whispered into his empty room.

——————-

The golden retriever was completely still for more than eight hours the same night Starcourt exploded.

Eddie tried not to panic for the first few hours, knew it could be any number of reasons the tattoo wasn’t moving.

But after hour six, he called Wayne at work, worry carrying over the line as fireworks boomed in the background.

“It’s not moving. It- you said when it stopped it meant- they can’t be, though.”

“Eds, take a few slow breaths, son. C’mon now, you’d have known if he-”

“But what if mine’s broken? What if the connection isn’t right?” Eddie tried taking breaths, but it wasn’t working.

The more he thought about it, the more likely it was that his soulmate was gone.

By the time Wayne made it home from work, the retriever had moved from his forearm to its usual place over his heart, and Eddie was fast asleep on the couch, his hand resting on top of it.

—--------------------

Being dragged into more freaky Upside Down shit was not on Steve’s to-do list. Then again, it never really was.

He wouldn’t have even bothered coming with Dustin and Max if not for the fact that Dustin was terrified something had happened to his new best friend Eddie.

He tried to hide his terrible mood, but knew he was failing.

He woke up this morning to his bat already on his leg, seemingly asleep, though it was normally still around his neck or on his shoulder when he woke up.

It hadn’t moved all morning, and he was a little worried about what that might mean.

He was also getting more worried by the day that he’d never meet his soulmate.

He knew it was dramatic, but most people he went to school with had met theirs by now, their tattoos now permanently placed in matching spots on their bodies.

“Dustin, this is so stupid,” he reiterated for the hundredth time as they walked up to the boathouse door.

He kept thinking it to himself as they poked around looking for Eddie, as he was being held against the wall with a broken bottle to his neck by Eddie, as he felt a flutter in his stomach at the way Eddie was watching him as they told him about the Upside Down.

He didn’t take the time over the next couple of days to pay much attention to his tattoo, didn’t really consider the fact that what little time he slept, he was so out of it he didn’t even notice whether the bat was on his neck or not.

Didn’t think about it until a moment in the RV alone with Eddie, when something in his brain told him to check on the bat.

“Sorry, just. Can you wait one second?” Steve interrupted Eddie’s thought as kindly as he could.

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie responded, confused.

He slipped to the back, not bothering to close the curtain that separated it from the rest of the RV.

He lifted his shirt in hopes of seeing it, but it wasn’t there.

He groaned and unbuttoned his jeans, rushing to just check and see if the bat had moved at all.

He shoved his jeans down and frowned.

It was in the same place still.

On his inner thigh on his right leg.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, or what he thought was under his breath.

“Everything okay?” Eddie’s voice was much closer than he expected, making him jump and rush to pull his pants back up. “Shit, was that your tattoo?”

“Yeah. It hasn’t moved in a while.”

“Neither has mine.” Eddie moved in closer. “Actually, mine’s on my thigh too. Kinda makes it hard to check.”

“Which thigh?” Steve couldn’t help asking.

“Right.”

“What is it?”

“Golden retriever. Can’t really imagine who it would be,” he admitted.

Steve’s first and only pet had been a puppy. A golden retriever named Daisy.

She was his entire world for almost a year until she chewed on one of his dad’s expensive watches and ended up being given to a man who worked with him.

He cried for days after that, didn’t talk to his dad for weeks, not that that was difficult to do since he was gone more often than not.

He vowed that he would get another one the moment he was an adult.

That didn’t quite work out.

But his nannies all used to call him a retriever, his energy contagious in the best way, his playful demeanor a relief. As he grew up, it got dulled by his parents, expectations, society, but he knew inside, all of that was still there.

“What’s yours?” Eddie asked, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“A bat.”

Eddie tilted his head and looked at him, eyes squinting to take him in.

“A bat?”

“Yeah. He’s a playful guy, but kinda shy it seems like,” Steve’s smile was fond until it was sad. “At least until he stopped moving.”

“When did he stop moving?” Eddie ignored the fact that it was a he for now.

“I guess I noticed it the day we found you in the boathouse.”

They both stared at each other for a moment, possibly coming to similar conclusions.

“What about yours?” Steve asked quietly, though something told Eddie he already knew the answer.

“The day you found me in the boathouse.”

“I-”

“How-”

“Dingus, we gotta go!” Robin was suddenly yelling as the RV door slammed open.

They could figure this out later.

They would have to.

—-----------------------

As Steve sat by Eddie’s bedside in the hospital, he thought about how often the bat tattoo had been the only comfort he had, the only thing that kept him from being completely alone.

He thought about how Eddie had always done his best to include the people who didn’t belong anywhere else, how he’d put on a show to protect himself, but hated being seen.

Wayne watched him from the other side of the bed, silently judging him, probably trying to figure out how to kick him out.

But he couldn’t.

He felt the pull now.

Now that he’d been around Eddie, somewhat gotten to know him, how he was fearless when it came to the gremlins, was willing to give up his own life if it meant getting Dustin to safety, he could feel the tug on his heart.

It was inconvenient since they didn’t know when or really even if Eddie would wake up.

So he waited.

He waited for Wayne to kick him out. He waited for doctors and nurses to have answers. He waited for Eddie to wake up.

He waited to know if he’d be able to have his soulmate or not.

—-------------------

Eddie’s first word when he woke up was Steve’s name.

Steve let out an uncontrollable sob, curling down so his head rested in the sheets of the bed.

Wayne’s hand was on his back, his voice trying to speak to him and Eddie at the same time.

They’d gotten closer over the last few days, Wayne’s calm presence enough to keep Steve from completely losing his mind with worry.

But the pain meds in the IV drip seemed to catch back up to Eddie within minutes and he was asleep again.

“He woke up though. Your boy woke up,” Wayne said to him, holding his hand.

“Yeah. He did.”

—-------------------

When Eddie left the hospital, Steve insisted on pushing his wheelchair to Wayne’s truck himself.

The nurse agreed with little argument; The hospital was incredibly understaffed and overrun with patients from the “earthquake” and she had a million better things to do.

The walk down was mostly quiet, but not awkward.

“I think some of my tattoo is missing,” Eddie finally said, barely more than a whisper.

“From the bats?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Doesn’t change anything.”

“No?” he asked, voice full of hope.

“Not a thing for me.”

—------------------------

They dated.

It was unconventional in every way.

Steve had never pictured himself with a man, but now he couldn’t picture himself with anyone but Eddie.

Eddie had to explain that they couldn’t just go out and hold hands like any of Steve’s other dates, they had to be careful.

It wasn’t always easy; Steve got frustrated and Eddie got insecure.

But they always ended their nights with soft kisses, with whispered words of comfort and promises.

They fell in love like that, the tattoos only the beginning of something that no one could have expected.

[morningstargirl666]

hi! do you have any long canon klaroline fic recommendations?

i’m missing klaroline and actual canon isn’t gonna cut it

I'm going to assume by long fics you mean multichaps? I've always found this fandom seems to be lacking in them, and I'm not talking about the 5-10 chapter fics --- I mean the long ass, epic-length fics that transport you to another dimension and rob you of nine hours of your life in a back-alley because you couldn't close the ao3 page at 1am. Other fandoms seem to have dozens of them but klaroline? Not so much. Writers here seem to prefer the 50k one-shots or playing with a different AU altogether, which is fantastic of course, but sometimes you crave something different, you know? Something you can lose youself in. It's what made me write TBBW, initially. However, that doesn't mean the fandom doesn't have some canon-divergent gems.

Epic-Length Wonders:

Red Queen by KS_Caster / @ks-caster

3-Part Series, Over 200k+ words. Season 4 Canon-Divergent. The last part is a WIP. I absolutely adored this fic when I first read it and I still adore it now. Klaus puts Caroline first and continues to put her first during the search for Silas' cure and it is fucking amazing. The werewolf/hybrid world building in the second fic inspired me to write more fics like it. It's not had as much attention since it was moved to AO3, but trust me, this fic is a hidden gem.

Wicked Schemes by willowaus / @willowaus

30 Chapters, 260k+ words. Season 1 TO Canon-Divergent. Ignores the baby plot. Caroline inherits the powers of a harbringer and the way its weaved into the fic so flawlessly makes you question if it wasn't just canon to begin with. Honestly epic world building. Wolf!Klaus also makes an appearance! A true klaroline classic.

make them bow. by for_darkness_shows_the_stars / @stars-and-darkness

35 Chapters, 220k+ words. Season 1 Canon-Divergent. Klaus is dropped into season one while Caroline is still human. Klefan bromance. Damon retribution. Forbes family dynamics. Klaus covered in blood. Council Members and Founding Family warfare. There's a reason this is the most commented-on fic in the entire fandom even though it's barely been out a year.

Binge-In-One-Sitting Multichaps:

Til I Tasted You by KiryTheStitchWitch / @kirythestitchwitch

4 Chapters, 22k. Canon Divergent/Soulmate AU. Will ruin you with single most devastating declaration of love in existence, forewarning you now.

throw roses into the abyss by marxandangels / @marxandangels

7 Chapters, 99k+. WIP. Technically Season 6 Canon-Divergent (after Liz dies) but ignores canon for the most part, especially TO wise. Explores the concept of humanity-less vampires so well, with a dash of world building on the side. Klaus and Caroline's relationship is also explored with such nuance --- like these two aren't just attracted to each other but entwined by their very souls, kind of nuanced. Oh, and the bloodsharing scene drawn by here by @stardust414 lives rent-free in my mind.

Someone's First Choice by unpublishednovelist

10 Chapters, 29k+. Post-Canon. This one's a WIP but I'm keeping my eye on it because it's good. Like hella good. Caroline decides to say fuck it and goes with some college friends to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, accomadation covered by our favourite Original hybrid. She breaks up with Tyler over voicemail. Queen shit.

All I Need by emeraldvixen

14 Chapters, 60k, E rated. Canon-Divergent/Wolf Mate AU. In the mood for some hot and steamy smut? Emeraldvixen's got you covered.

the fate makes for a lousy poet by for_darkness_shows_the_stars / @stars-and-darkness

7 Chapters, 50k+. Season 3 Canon-Divergent/Soulmate AU. The Originals in pajamas. Need I say more?

Who put Bella down the Wynch Elm? by for_darkness_shows_the_stars / @stars-and-darkness

7 Chapters, 60k+. Post-Canon. A murder mystery whodunnit with original side characters and Caroline in all her bad ass glory, after she's left Mystic Falls and its hellmouth-worthy shenanigans. Just - for a minute - imagine canon expanded on the tvd universe and revisted the fact the Originals are little more than nightmarish stories in the supernatural world, or that Stefan is the most infamous mass murderer on the east coast and maybe you'll understand how amazing this fic is.

Important to note these were all specifically Canon-Divergent multichaps. There's plenty more gems out there, just for different AUs and lengths. I also only looked at my ao3 bookmarks for this, so like, I'm probably forgetting several.