#bulletproof hearts au

[konoharfts]

*beacons you to a dark corner* psssst hey, you 🫵 do you want a sneak peek for the new AU I’m working on?

Hehehe of course you do >;)

Cyborg!Anko for my Bulletproof Hearts AU!! There’s a lot of context needed to make this make sense (and I’ll get into it once I’m done *at least* Genma and Kakashi’s character sheets as well) but uhhh the AU is mainly based on the MCR Killjoys universe, but I take inspiration from Cyberpunk, Fallout, Mad Max, Trigun… so think retro-futuristic post-apocalyptic Japanese -American fusion :) The tokujo squad run a gas station out in the middle of the wastes which they also use as Anko’s mechanic shop, Genma’s radio station, and the base of operations for the rebellion against the fascist government of Neo-Konoha! So if that sounds interesting stay tuned because I’ve got lots where that’s coming from!!!

[stressed-sock]

by some strange inter-dimensional incident, the bulletproof hearts au and ghost fire au peeps meet,,, 👀

(bulletproof heart au by the awesome @konoharfts!! \o/)

[garlicsunshine]

been thinking about @konoharfts bulletproof hearts au, and how tenzos storyline could be adapted if they were to exist in this au.

okay, so, *slaps illegible scrawled notes down on ur desk* androids and emergent consciousness.

im thinking hashirama was the first android to have emergent consciousness. and it was unintentional, it just happened.

so ever since, there has been lots of experimentation in an attempt to recreate this. lots of programing, potentially attempts to fuse an existing humans C into an android. for years the results were always the same. either (1) C never arose in the android. (2) C arose but it quickly resulted in some sort of existential internal malfunction that destroyed the droid. shuts down and never turns back on, fused circutry, stuck in thot loops, lots of options here. (3) human C was transfered temporarily but quickly dissipated into nothingness. losing that person forever and the android no longer having C, but retaining some ghost coding.

tenzo is the first android to have a stable C since hashirama.

their programing has lots of safeguards in place and they have always been told that its what keeps them safe. keeps them from turning out like the other androids. however, (unsurprisingly), it is actually just coding to keep tenzo loyal to the system / government / maybe even to danzo specifically.

💁✨ tadaaa

[yeh-kaali-kaali-ankhein]

Yoongi isn't very expressive when it comes to showing his emotions but his actions always speak louder than words

I lobe you yoongi boongi 🫀❤️

[absoluteangsty]

@bytepire

She is gonna cover her sister's mouth gently.

"Zi, my boyfriend can't spell- So if its something that we wanna talk about we have to spell it out. He gets excited when he hears T-R-E-A-T-"

[boygirlctommy]

i have the best ctommy playlist of all time i think B]

[kquil]

SIRIUS BLACK | BIKER BOY

sum. : no one messes with a biker boy's biker girl

tags. : fluff ; modern day au ; muggle au ; bikerboy!sirius ; bikergirl!reader ; childhood friends to lovers ; sirius being a flirt ; boyfriend material sirius ; unrequited love? not really ; protective sirius ; angry sirius ; book-lover reader ; you balance each other out ; which is why you're the perfect match! ; Sirius swears a lot when he’s angry…

length : 1.8k

navi. | more sirius black

Growing up as Sirius’ childhood best friend had its ups and downs. The main down was that he was easy to fall in love with and be loved by, even if it remained platonic all this time. However, he came with many ups that kept you close despite the unrequited ache in your heart. His spritely, adventurous and charming nature brings out a balanced playfulness in you, pulling you away from your books so you can enjoy other things life has to offer. 

Naturally, as you grew older, the influence you had on one another’s decisions also grew and he had been able to convince you to join him in becoming a biker. He didn’t want to be alone in learning how to ride, getting a license and eventually purchasing a motorcycle so he had to bring you along for the ‘ride’ too. 

You’ve doubted your choice many times but the freedom it brought to go riding was addictive. Whenever you were angry or sad, all you had to do was hop on your motorbike and leave all those negative feelings behind to finally feel better again. The journey also led to many wonderful memories together, mainly out at 2 am with hardly any other vehicles around, so you had most of the roads to yourselves, giggling at each other through your earpieces and sometimes breaking into song just to fill the silence. All late-night outings also ended in him treating you to your craving for fast food that night.

“My treat, dollface,” it was always his treat; he made sure you never had to pay for a single meal. And even when you try to sneakily pay for items by withholding your order or pretending that you’re not hungry, he’s already memorised your preferred meals from every fast food place, so it’s futile. 

“It’s only courtesy that I ask what you want to order, you know that, right? Because I already know your orders by heart, so there’s no stopping me pretty girl.” you remember the once over he gives you, his smug smirk only growing when he finally meets your eyes again, “It is pretty cute, though, seeing you try so hard to defy me,” — how can he be so infuriating but so charming at the same time?!

On the road, Sirius tends to be the more reckless one while you remain more responsible. It’s the same dynamic you two built growing up, you need each other for balance and you’ve both realised this a long time ago. Since you know how fitting you are to have in one another’s lives, it’s no wonder you’ve stayed with each other for so long. 

To accommodate his reckless behaviour on the roads, you keep a lookout and sometimes go ahead of him to see if there are any patrolling policemen around so he can do a wheelie. However, It’s not a bulletproof strategy and he eventually gets himself a ticket for his reckless behaviour. And, though you felt guilty for not being a better lookout, he doesn’t blame you. He got caught by an undercover cop so you couldn’t have seen it coming anyway. After being ticketed, Sirius hears your whimpered apologies coming through his earpiece and rushes forward to hold you close and comfort you when it should have been you comforting him for receiving a ticket. 

“It’s because I was an idiot and roped you into my shenanigans,” he scoffs angrily at himself, holding you tighter. There’s a pause and when he hears your quiet sniffles, he softens his voice to an almost-whisper, “Please don’t cry, love… you’re too pretty to cry,” 

You stay at the side of the road, hugging each other for a long time, even when the policeman has been long gone and Sirius has never asked you to keep watch for his stunts ever again. 

To accommodate your bookish and goody-two-shoes behaviour, Sirius makes sure to always stop by your favourite bookshop so you can indulge in your favourite book-browsing activity. Even when you protest and tell him you don’t need to go inside or browse any books, he always insists and when you end up taking a book or two to the counter, he always pays. You fall for it every time!

“You don’t have to pay for my books, Siri…”

“I don’t think you realise that I can more than afford it and that I don’t care what you think because it was my idea to stop here in the first place,” you hug him from behind around the waist as he pays for your books and asks that they provide a bag. 

“I’m gonna become a spoiled brat because of you,” you huff with pursed lips but he only pats your hand, where it’s placed on his front. 

“That’s the mission, doll. I bet you’ll just become even cuter,” you can imagine his smiling lips and winking eyes through his helmet and you have no words to say. 

Ugh! There’s no winning with this man!

It was impossible to not fall for a man like Sirius Black. It was sweet torture being his childhood best friend but you’ll get what you can take…

Tonight was yet another night where Sirius invited you out for a late evening ride. It’s pitch black outside but you know that makes it perfect because there will hardly be any other cars on the road. So you quickly gear up and pull out with your bike and park by the pavement, ready to leave upon Sirius’ arrival. The man soon arrives and gives a wave before aligning his bike beside yours. Coming to a full stop, he leans over, tilts your helmet up from beneath its front point and leans down to touch the front of his helmet with yours in a kissing gesture.

“Good evening, beautiful girl,” He greets smoothly and stares longingly at you from beneath his visor as he makes a show of holding his head up with the palm of his hand as his elbow rests on the front tank of his bike. The infuriating git has gotten into this flirtatious habit recently and you don’t know what to do with yourself whenever he does it. The only thing you can do is urge him to hurry up and not waste time as he’s blocked you in with his bike and you can’t escape the situation.

“Hurry up Siri, or else it’ll be morning by the time we finally head out. And you were the one to invite me for a ride in the first place,” you disguise your flustered state with a semi-angry huff. 

His smooth chuckle filters through your earpiece like a seductive song and shoots a shiver down your spine, “Doesn’t matter, as long as you’re there with me, who cares? We can watch the sunrise together~” The two of you start to pull away from where you’re parked and head down your usual route. Tonight’s indulgent meal would either be at McDonalds or Five Guys. 

“Stop flirting with me, loverboy, you don’t stand a chance!” you tease. 

“Never!” he shouts and laughs when you tell him off for being too loud. 

It’s a fun ride for a while; it always is when there are hardly any cars around but, even with cars around, there usually aren’t any problems. Tonight, however, you think you’ve encountered the worst kind on the road: a pissy, drunk driver on the road.

“Whoa! Watch out! Dollface!” Sirius shouts in panic. 

“Oh my god!” you shriek and sharply turn away from a car that suddenly appears at your side on the dual carriageway. The car appeared out of nowhere and, if it weren’t for your fast reaction time, you would have collided and crashed. 

“Doll?!” Sirius calls out, his anger overlaid by worry. He’s seen what happened from where he was behind you and the drunk driver after almost getting hit himself. 

“I-I’m okay…” Looking through the window, you raise your hand, palm-side up as if to ask what’s wrong but the driver only flips you the bird. This was someone you didn’t want to continue any interactions with so you pulled away to the other lane and maintained a safe distance. It was no use, however, as the driver taunted you by pushing into your lane again. “He’s crazy…” you comment and pull back to ride beside Sirius instead.

But Sirius had other plans. He makes sure you stay back while he charges forward and hits hard against the driver’s window until you see the driver pull it down. Through the earpiece, you hear only Sirius’ side of the altercation as your heart races and drums against your ears. 

“WHAT THE HELL’S WRONG WITH YOU?! HUH?! FUCKFACE?!” there's a pause where you believe the driver gives a piss-poor excuse and Sirius wasn’t having any of it, “SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH! YOU COULD HAVE SERIOUSLY HURT MY GIRL AND THAT’S FUCKING UNACCEPTABLE! YOU HEAR ME?!” you pretend him calling you his girl didn’t make your stomach flip, “NO! A— I SAID SHUT. UP! YOU THINK I’M NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT?! WATCH ME!” Sirius’ threat must have done something because you see the car begin to speed up but Sirius quickly follows and angrily punches the man’s side mirror so hard the mirror cracks and snaps where it’s attached to the car’s body. With his cracked wing mirror dangling pathetically at the side, the car finally speeds away and you hear nothing but Sirius’s heavy breathing in your ears. 

“S-Siri?...” He doesn’t say anything but motions for you to follow him off the motorway and leads you to the parking lot of the McDonalds you usually stop at. Once there, Sirius takes off his helmet and waits for you to pull up and follow suit. Hurrying off your bike, you also remove your helmet and are cut off by a hug just as you ask if he is okay. 

“I’m not okay…no…” he voices into your hair as you squeeze him tight, “I don’t know what I’d do if you’d gotten hurt, doll,” a sour expression crosses Sirius’ features, one that he buries into your neck where he kisses at your pulse point and you pretend your face isn’t heating up because of it, ”that pigheaded prick deserves to die for even attempting anything,”

“I-It’s alri—”

“I’ve memorised his number plate. I’ll track him down and make his life a living hell, I swear to god… How. Dare. He? Stupid fuck, trying to hurt my girl. He deserves worse than prison. Give him the bloody guillotine, chop off his legs and arms, cut him in half and finally chop off his head…no that’s not good enough. I should round up the boys, give him the beating of his miserable, worthless life—” You’re sure Sirius would have gone on for longer if you didn’t jump at kissing him for calling you his girl for the second time that night. 

All thoughts of torturing the disgusting pig who dared play with your life were wiped from Sirius’ thoughts instantly. Now…all he can think of is how soft your lips are…how sweet and delicious you taste, and how he can easily kiss you all night long. 

navi. | more sirius black

a/n : i'm dedicating this to a wonderful friend of mine @thebestofoneshots i just want to remind her that she deserves so much good for her big heart and endless kindness, and i hope she can find some comfort in this short imagine as a fellow motorcycle and Sirius Black lover. i promise you she's one of the kindness people you'll ever meet and I think she's in need of some extra loving right now so if you could show her some love and support by checking out her writing and leaving her a kind message, it would mean the world to me and her. I LOVE YOU LILLY!

[caplanbuckybarnes]

The Devil's Tailor (mafia!bucky barnes)

Summary: you work for dangerous criminals, most notably, the mafia leader himself, when they need new suits and dresses for political statements.

Warnings: mafia au, a smidge of flirting

WC: 630ish

Read on AO3!

--

The faint scent of cigar smoke clung to the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly pressed fabric. You stood behind the counter of your little tailor shop, fingers delicately threading a needle as if the world outside didn’t exist. But you felt it—the weight of his gaze before he even spoke.

“Miss Y/L/N,” came the low, gravelly voice. “You’ve outdone yourself again.”

You didn’t look up immediately, letting the final stitch slide into place before tying it off. “You say that every time, Mr. Barnes.”

Finally, you raised your eyes to meet his, and there he stood, James Buchanan Barnes, the most dangerous man in the city, dressed in a suit you’d made for him just weeks ago. The midnight blue fabric clung to his broad shoulders like a second skin, the silver cufflinks gleaming under the dim light. Everything about him screamed power, from the glint of his vibranium hand to the calculated smirk playing on his lips.

But it was his eyes that caught you—the sharp, steel-blue gaze that seemed to strip away every layer of pretense.

“Well,” he drawled, stepping closer. “Maybe it’s because you deserve the compliment every time.”

You fought to keep your composure, placing the freshly finished tie on the counter between you. “Flattery won’t get you a discount.”

His smirk deepened, and he reached for the tie, his fingers brushing yours. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, you’re worth every penny.”

“You mean my work is,” you corrected, stepping back to give yourself some breathing room. “What can I do for you this time?”

Bucky leaned against the counter, his presence overwhelming in the small shop. “I need something special. A suit for a meeting.”

You arched a brow. “Special how?”

His expression turned serious, the playful air dissipating. “Let’s just say this meeting might be… heated.”

You nodded, understanding the unspoken words. A bulletproof vest wouldn’t suit his needs, but a suit lined with discreet protective layers? That, you could do.

“I’ll need measurements again,” you said, grabbing your tape measure.

“Think I’ve grown?” he teased, but his tone lacked its usual lightness.

You walked around the counter, gesturing for him to stand straight. “Arms out,” you instructed.

He complied, and as you worked, you couldn’t help but notice the scars peeking out from his collar, the tension in his shoulders, the slight weariness in his eyes.

“You trust me with this?” you asked quietly, your fingers grazing his wrist as you measured.

Bucky’s gaze softened, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I trust you with more than that, doll.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, you forgot about the tape measure in your hands.

“Why me?” you whispered, meeting his eyes. “You could go anywhere. Hire anyone.”

He tilted his head, a small smile curving his lips. “Because you don’t ask questions. You don’t judge. And, most importantly…” His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You make me look damn good while keeping me alive.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to focus, clearing your throat. “Well, let’s hope this suit does the trick.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “If anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

As you finished taking his measurements and scribbled notes, Bucky lingered by the counter, his eyes never leaving you.

“You know,” he said as he turned to leave, “they call you The Devil’s Tailor out there.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “Only because I work with the devil himself.”

Bucky’s grin was wicked, his eyes glinting as he opened the door. “Careful, doll. Keep talking like that, and I might just make you mine.”

And with that, he disappeared into the night, leaving you with trembling hands and a heart that raced faster than it should.

[auggieblogs]

Milk & Honey | Lando Norris Instagram au

Lando Norris x fem! reader

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which Lando's girlfriend happens to be a baker (own a bakery too) and love snoopy?

author's note: Hiiii everyone. This is me trying my hand at smaus, and honestly? I had so much fun writing this sjshjs. Hopefully I'll be doing more of it in the future. Let me know what you all will like to see next, my requests are open. Thank you so much for reading<3

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 154,133 others

yourusername I love my job😼(owning a bakery and annoying Lando)

tagged landonorris

comments:

username sjgshsjsjd you are ADORABLE.

username you get paid for annoying Lando?

yourusername nope, I do that for free😊

username the first pic??? and what if i cried???

f1 best baker in town!!!

*liked by landonorris and yourusername*

username she's silly, ur honour🥰

username those double choco cookies be good

username SHE'S SO PRETTY. LANDO BRO, I HOPE YOU CAN FIGHT

landonorris you can never annoy me

yourusername are you saying I'm bad at my job? (I love you☹️)

landonorris I love you more, bub❤️

username hey god, it's me. AGAIN.

lando.jpg

Location📍: M&H (milk and honey)

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, and 356,234 others

lando.jpg cookies and snoopy.

tagged yourusername

comments:

username I love studying at y/n’s bakery, it’s so cozy🥹

username plus she serves the best pastries and matcha yumm

username also the best selection of books!!!

username and the best music too.

danielricciardo why would you ever allow Lando in the kitchen???

yourusername he’s not THAT bad, c’mon😭

oscarpiastri yes, he is.

alex_albon yes, he is.

carlossainz55 yes, he is.

team_quadrant yes, he is.

mclaren yes, he is.

lando.jpg damn. not my own team turning their backs on me😞

yourusername did they lie though?

lando.jpg babe not you too!!! my heart’s already breaking

yourusername BABY GO ON TWIST THE KNIFE

lando.jpg HEY HEY HEY. OH WHY YOU’RE WEARING THAT TO WALK OUT OF MY LIFE

username oh bless this comment section. I love it here🙏🏼

username y/n and lando #directioner confirmed.

username awh look at them baking together. time to check if my head is bulletproof or not haha

username parting my hair with a chainsaw

yourusername babe???😭😭😭

username omg y/n!!!!

username they are so Liz and Wes coded

*liked by yourusername*

yourusername I love snoopy:))

charles_leclerc we’ve seen the 25379 snoopy stuffies.

yourusername that is an exaggeration!!!

maxverstappen1 lying to our faces

yourusername oh shush, at least I am not obsessed with countries and flags AND LANDMARKS?

yourbestfriend she’s lying again

yourusername piss off??????

landonorris you are literally playing GeoGuessr right now

maxverstappen LET'S PLAY TOGETHER PLEASE PLEASE @ yourusername

username y/n being a Snoopy fan is the most y/n thing ever, im afraid

username she is such a nerd, how do I not love her😟

landonorris posted on their story:

[sidekick-hero]

Happy Birthday, @pearynice 💜💜💜 Kei and I hope that you enjoy our little colab for your birthday!

steddie | rated: m | 3.5k | AO3 | first fill for @steddiebingo prompt: modern au

This story is inspired by a gorgeous piece of fanart by @firefly-party. You can find it HERE.

MELISSA: "Greg, you're right by the red carpet, waiting for music’s biggest stars to arrive. Who are you most excited to see?"

GREG: "That’s a tough one, Melissa. Britney Spears is making her first appearance here in over a decade, which is huge. But if I’m being honest? Eddie Munson."

MELISSA: "Ah, yes—Munson, lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin, nominated for Best Song and Best Album tonight. Why him?"

GREG: "Well, we all know he loves the spotlight and never shies away from a little chaos. But the real buzz? The rumors that the openly out rockstar and notorious flirt might be debuting a partner tonight—potentially breaking hearts everywhere."

MELISSA: "Oh? And where’s this coming from, Greg? You seem to have the inside scoop."

GREG: "The internet, of course. Fans went full detective mode trying to identify the moaning in the background of their platinum hit Harder—which, surprise, turns out to be Munson himself. Maybe just a stunt, but then there’s the mystery figure popping up in his Instagram posts. A freckled, muscular shoulder here, a broad hand on Munson’s thigh there, tousled hair in rumpled sheets… You get the idea. So speculation is through the roof that tonight might be the night he goes public."

MELISSA: "Intriguing! We’ll definitely be keeping our eyes peeled. Anyone else to watch out for?"

GREG: "Absolutely—Best New Artist nominee, Steve Harrington. He skyrocketed to fame on TikTok with his boyish charm, cheeky lyrics, and ridiculously catchy songs. Despite all that, he’s stayed surprisingly private, avoiding the spotlight as much as a rising pop star can, so his arrival is one of the most anticipated tonight."

MELISSA: "I’ve got to admit, I’m excited for Harrington too. He’s got that special something. We’ll check back in with you later, Greg!"

The noise outside the bulletproof glass of their sleek limousine still rings in Steve’s ears. It’s a dull roar, a chaotic symphony of excitement, but he knows it’s his nerves that make everything feel louder, sharper. More overwhelming.

He hates that he’s this nervous. It feels like a betrayal to Eddie, who has been ready to step into the spotlight as a couple the moment they became exclusive. Steve was the one who asked him to wait, to keep them a secret.

Eddie never resented him for it. He understood Steve’s need to make it on his own—as Steve Harrington, the artist, not Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson’s boyfriend. The idea of people dismissing his success, whispering that he got here because of Eddie, that his music only mattered because of his famous rockstar partner, was unbearable.

But now? Now, he’s nominated for Best New Artist. His hard work got him here, and nothing else. No connections. No favors. No shortcuts.

And now, he’s ready. Ready to show the world who owns his body, heart, and soul.

As if sensing the shift in his thoughts, Eddie reaches for his hand, fingers lacing together with ease, warmth grounding Steve in the moment. Then, Eddie brings their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to the golden band on Steve’s ring finger—silent reassurance, a promise without words.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Steve exhales, his grip tightening. The way Eddie says it—soft, patient, like he already knows but wants to hear it anyway—makes the weight in his chest ease just a little.

“I guess I’m just nervous, y’know.” He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “It’s probably stupid—”

Eddie doesn’t let him finish. “Nope. Stopping you right there, sweetheart. It’s not stupid. You are not stupid. It’s okay to be nervous—this is a big deal. But I got you, okay? Every step of the way.”

And Steve knows he does. It’s the only reason he’s sitting here now, hyping himself up to do this the right way—their way—rather than quietly dropping a soft-launch photo on Instagram and letting people lose their minds while he hides out, letting Chrissy, Eddie’s manager and best friend, handle the fallout.

But he’s here. He’s ready. Even if the thought of stepping out of this car and facing the world, letting them dissect not just his music, but his love, makes his pulse spike.

He glances at Eddie, at the way his leg bounces in excitement rather than nerves. “Why aren’t you freaking out?”

Eddie grins, like he’s been waiting for that question. “Easy. Because I’ve been waiting for this moment since the night I saw you on that tiny stage with your acoustic guitar, eyes closed, completely lost in your own world. And I knew right then, I’d do anything to be in that world with you.”

The car slows. The outside noise intensifies. Their moment is here.

Steve barely has time to think before he’s cupping Eddie’s face, pulling him in for a fierce, grounding kiss.

“I love you, Eds.” A steadying breath. A squeeze of Eddie’s hand. “Come on. Let’s do this.”

MELISSA: "The next car is pulling up to the carpet. Greg, could this be the long-awaited arrival of Eddie Munson?"

GREG: "I wouldn’t bet on it, Melissa. Munson lives for a dramatic entrance, and showing up early? Sharing the spotlight? That’s not exactly his style."

MELISSA: "Hmm, that doesn’t sound like him. Let’s zoom in and see who’s about to step out, shall we?"

The camera tightens on the limousine’s door. A hand reaches for the handle, pulling it open with deliberate slowness. The figure inside remains cloaked in shadow. And then—

GREG: "Well, I’ll be damned. Melissa, I stand corrected. Eddie Munson has arrived!"

Mere seconds after emerging, Munson turns back to the car, reaching inside. The cameras catch the moment his fingers clasp around someone else's hand—and then, in one fluid motion, he pulls Steve Harrington into the light.

GREG: "Oh my God. Melissa, tell me I’m seeing this right. That is Steve Harrington. Eddie Munson just hauled Steve Harrington out of their limousine, right into his arms, and—oh! Oh, he’s kissing him! And not just any kiss, folks—I’d say we’ve just confirmed exactly who was in the sound booth with him for Harder."

The camera zooms in on the two of them. Munson’s hand cradles the back of Harrington’s neck, fingers firm and possessive. His other hand rests against the bare skin of Steve’s lower back, exposed by his daring outfit. Their mouths are fused together, a kiss both reckless and claiming. When Eddie finally pulls back, he’s grinning—sharp, mischievous—while Steve’s cheeks flush a deep, telling pink.

MELISSA: "I—wow. I don’t think anyone saw that coming. The bad boy of rock and the golden boy of pop, together? That’s a tabloid fever dream come to life. Greg, do you think this could be a PR stunt?"

The camera follows them as they walk hand in hand down the carpet, pausing only to pose for flashing cameras. Despite the chaos around them, their focus remains solely on each other.

GREG: "Melissa, I’ve covered hundreds of these events, and I’ve never seen Eddie Munson look at anyone the way he’s looking at Steve Harrington right now. If this is a PR stunt, then give those two an Oscar. But honestly? I think they’re the real deal."

The camera lingers on Munson’s outfit—still signature rockstar, but refined. A patterned see-through shirt beneath a cropped blazer, leather tailored to perfection, the usual spikes and chains somehow blending into an almost elegant look.

GREG: "And can we talk about Munson’s look tonight? Sure, he’s still got his edge, but he’s toned it down—almost like he’s making space for Steve in the spotlight."

MELISSA: "I hear you, but my eyes are glued to Harrington. He’s usually polished, preppy even, but tonight? Tonight he’s turning heads in that barely-there ensemble. I don’t think we’ve ever seen him show this much skin, and let me tell you, I am fanning myself over here."

GREG: "You and half the internet, Melissa."

MELISSA: "And if you look closely—" the camera zooms in on Steve’s accessories "—that’s Munson’s guitar pick on his ear. And tell me I’m wrong, Greg, but is that a tattoo peeking out just above his waistband?"

GREG: "It is, Melissa. So while Steve Harrington may have kept up the ‘clean-cut, all-American boy’ image, his look tonight is telling a very different story."

MELISSA: "If their outfits say anything, it’s that they complement each other perfectly."

GREG: "Like Yin and Yang."

MELISSA: "Exactly. Their public images may be total opposites, but tonight? They’re showing us just how well they fit together."

GREG: "And now, the question on everyone’s mind—can we get a word from the men themselves? Let’s find out."

Eddie is in his element. All eyes are on him, voices calling his name from every direction, and he’s reveling in it. He was born for this—Uncle Wayne always said so, always told stories of toddler Eddie putting on a show for his mama and uncle, dancing on the coffee table like it was his own personal stage.

But tonight, he’s not just basking in the attention—he’s redirecting it.

Because while the world is gawking at them, Eddie is doing his best to keep the focus on himself. He’s cracking jokes, flashing grins, soaking up the chaos to keep Steve from drowning in it. Because while most of the questions being thrown at them are harmless, some are invasive, some mean, and Steve—Steve, who is brave in a thousand ways but still getting used to this kind of scrutiny—doesn’t deserve to take those hits alone.

They talked about this, over and over, circling back to when and how until they ran out of ways to say it. And Eddie had meant every word when he told Steve in the car—he’s been waiting for this moment since the first time he saw him.

It’s probably not very metal of him, but screw it. He’s thrown a lot of his so-called Munson doctrine out the window since falling for the man next to him.

The truth is, Eddie had been ready to tell everyone that Steve was his from the very start. From the moment he pulled him into that bar bathroom, dropped to his knees, and made Steve gasp his name like a prayer.

But Steve had wanted to wait.

Not just because Eddie was famous, but because he was a man. Because Steve hadn’t been out. Had barely even let himself think about wanting men before Eddie came crashing into his life, all wild curls and wicked grins and too much intensity.

So Eddie had waited.

Waited for Steve to ask him to stay the night.

Waited for Steve to take him on a real date, to reach for his hand in the dim glow of a restaurant instead of just the safety of his apartment.

Waited for Steve to ask him to be exclusive, even though Eddie hadn’t looked at anyone else since that first night.

Waited for Steve to ask him to marry him.

Eddie’s answer had always been yes.

And it always will be.

“Mr. Munson—”

A familiar voice cuts through the chaos, making Eddie pause for the first time since they stepped onto the red carpet.

“Greg,” Eddie interrupts with a mischievous grin, tilting his head just so. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Eddie?”

He delights in the way Greg flushes, flustered, because Eddie remembers this guy—remembers the way he had loved to flirt with him during past interviews. And, well, Eddie loves to flirt.

“Right, right—sorry, Mr.—Eddie,” Greg stammers, clearly thrown by the wink Eddie adds for good measure. He takes a steadying breath before continuing. “Eddie, this is the first time we’re seeing you on the red carpet with a date that isn’t your uncle—which, by the way, everybody loved. You should bring him again.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh. “I’ll have to tell Wayne you said that, Greg. Though, I believe his exact words last time were, ‘Not if you paid me, son.’ So… chances are slim.”

He feels Steve chuckle beside him, and that? That’s a win.

Greg smiles but stays on track. “Naturally, I have to ask: How serious is what we’re seeing here? We all know your reputation, Eddie, so I hope you don’t mind me being blunt.”

Eddie grins, raising their intertwined hands and pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to Steve’s knuckles. The way Steve’s breath hitches is almost lost under the hum of the crowd, but Eddie hears it. Feels it.

“I hate to break it to the world, but Steve Harrington is officially off the market.” He turns their hands in his grip, flashing the golden wedding band on his finger. “He’s very much taken… because I put a ring on it.”

For a single heartbeat—despite the noise, despite the flashing cameras—you could have heard a pin drop.

And then, a collective gasp.

Eddie lives for moments like this.

But then, somehow, it gets even better.

“Baby, aren’t you forgetting something?” Steve teases, voice laced with amusement. “Who exactly went down on one knee and put a ring on it?”

That’s his boy. Eddie’s grin stretches impossibly wider.

“Oh, you’re absolutely right, sweetheart,” he says, eyes twinkling. “You are on your knees so often, I almost forgot.”

Steve throws his head back laughing, and Eddie swears the flashing cameras could never outshine the brightness of that sound.

Greg gapes at them, clearly processing, but recovers quickly. “So… it’s safe to say this has been a whirlwind romance, then? How long have you two been dating without anyone noticing?”

Eddie doesn’t even look at Greg when he answers. His gaze is locked onto Steve, unwavering.

“If you’re asking me, my soul has loved his for as long as it’s existed. But if you want the conventional answer…” He pauses, glancing at his watch. “Our first kiss was three years, two months, one week, three days, and—” He taps the glass face of his watch. “Sixteen minutes ago.”

The look Steve gives him in response is devastating.

“Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“If you don’t want me dropping to my knees right here, we better move.”

Eddie throws his head back, laughing as he pulls Steve in for a searing kiss.

“Greg, I hate to cut this short, but you heard the man. And as much as I love showing off my husband, that’s a sight only for me.” He winks before leading Steve away, fingers still laced together. “Though, to be fair, you did all get to hear it already.”

Oh, he cannot wait to read the tabloids tomorrow.

Living with Eddie is, in many ways, like living with an oversized housecat.

For one, he actually gets the zoomies—energy crackling off of him until he’s practically vibrating in his skin. It’s hilarious, if sometimes exhausting. Over time, Steve has learned the best way to handle it: either get Eddie out of their apartment or into their bed.

Eddie also thrives on being the center of attention—especially Steve’s. He hates sharing it, though Steve is grateful he learned to accept Robin as Steve’s platonic soulmate shockingly fast. Still, whenever Eddie feels ignored, he gets obnoxious. It’s actually kind of cute, most of the time. Steve always pictures a giant cat bumping its head against his chest or swiping a paw at him. Sometimes, Eddie doesn’t even bother with subtlety—he just climbs straight into Steve’s lap, further cementing the cat allegations.

Right now, he’s sprawled out across Steve’s chest, completely content as Steve cards his fingers through his hair. If Eddie could purr, Steve swears he’d be doing it.

He’s pretty sure Eddie is half-asleep when the comfortable silence is broken by a soft, drowsy voice.

“I know I’ve said it a million times already, but I’m so proud of you, baby.” Eddie sighs, nuzzling closer. “Best New Artist. Not that I’m surprised—no one deserves it more than you—but I know how much it means to you.”

Steve, sensing that Eddie isn’t finished, presses a silent kiss to the crown of his head and waits.

“And I— I think I just wanted to thank you.”

At that, Steve lifts his head, blinking down at Eddie in bewilderment. “Thank… me? For what?”

With his chin digging into Steve’s chest, Eddie tilts his head up, those big brown eyes locking onto Steve’s—just like they did the very first time and every time since. “For today. For telling people about us. For shocking Greg with me.” They both grin at the memory. “For choosing me. For loving me.”

Steve scoffs, half amused, half incredulous. “Where’s this coming from? Are you sick? Is the world ending? Are you being secretly deployed on some top-secret government mission and can’t tell me?”

Eddie groans. “You think you’re really funny, don’t you?”

Steve grins, pressing a short, sweet kiss to his lips. “Yeah, I do. But seriously—you’re acting like any of this has been some kind of hardship. I know I asked you to wait before we went public, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to tell the world I love you. You know that, right?”

Eddie tightens his grip around Steve, nodding. “I do. And I told you—I get it. I really do. It’s just… seeing you up there tonight, holding that shiny trophy, showing the world how metal you are—” He huffs out a breath, biting his lip before adding, “I guess I just realized how lucky I am.” He pauses, then cringes. “I’m not making a lot of sense, huh?”

Steve chuckles softly, brushing his lips against Eddie’s again. “Not really, you sap. But it’s, like, three in the morning, and we’ve had a long day, so I’ll let it slide. And for the record? I’m the one who got lucky. Don’t think I didn’t notice what you did tonight, diverting all the attention off me.”

Eddie smirks. “Not like that was a hardship.”

“No, but it was still kind and thoughtful.” Steve narrows his eyes playfully. “You’re not fooling me, Munson. Everybody thinks you’re this big, bad rock star, but I know the truth.”

Eddie raises a brow. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Steve smirks, running a lazy hand through Eddie’s curls. “You’re a gooey marshmallow on the inside. All soft and sweet.”

With a grin and eyes as soft as Steve always accuses him of being, Eddie growls playfully. “That stays our secret, Harrington. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Marshmallow Man.” Steve’s smirk barely has time to settle before Eddie nips at his pec in retaliation.

They lapse into comfortable silence, wrapped in the kind of warmth and closeness only their own bed, their own home, can provide. But there’s one question that’s been lingering in Steve’s mind ever since they took their seats at the award show, waiting for the night to begin.

“Was it how you imagined it?” he asks, voice quiet in the dim light. “Coming out as a couple, I mean. You said you thought about it since you met me.”

People mistake Eddie’s impatience and impulsivity for thoughtlessness, assume he never stops to think before he speaks. They’re wrong. Eddie’s sharp, always quick on his feet, but when something really matters, he takes his time.

Like now.

Steve waits, watching as Eddie sifts through his thoughts, his fingers absently tracing patterns along Steve’s ribs.

Finally, Eddie exhales, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Better.”

Even after all these years, that one word makes Steve’s heart flutter. “Yeah? Why?”

Eddie hums, thoughtful. “Because it was real. It was us. When I first imagined it, I had no idea—no idea what we’d become. I mean, I had dreams, hopes, sure. But the real thing? It’s so much better than anything even my wildest imagination could’ve come up with.”

Some days, Steve wonders if it’s possible to die from a heart that’s just too full.

Instead, he settles on, “You think we broke the internet?” He’s pretty sure they did, but he wants to hear Eddie say it.

Eddie’s laugh is bright, delighted. “God, I hope we did.”

Of course he does. That’s his husband—thriving on chaos, leaving a trail of havoc in his wake.

Steve shakes his head, amused. “I married an absolute weirdo.”

Eddie waggles his eyebrows, voice dipping into a purr. “Oh, sweetheart, I know you love it when I get weird.”

Steve groans. “Oh my God, you’re such a nerd.”

“Yeah. But I’m your nerd.”

“You are. Only mine.”

“Only yours,” Eddie promises, sealing it with a slow, tender kiss. “So, wanna take a look?”

He sounds like a kid on Christmas morning, barely containing his excitement, and Steve already knows where this is going. He sighs, long-suffering. “Fine. You check, just give me the highlights.”

If only he knew he’d be eating those words a few weeks later—when Eddie insists on reading and re-enacting every single dirty story—“it’s fanfiction, Steve”—about them that catches his eye.

Not that Steve’s complaining.

[konoharfts]

Look Alive Sunshine ~

New Bulletproof Hearts AU lore just dropped

Here, have Kakashi and Genma’s character intros and thumbnail designs and notes for 6 out of the main 7!!! (I’ve already posted Anko ;) )

(If this is the first Bulletproof Hearts AU post you’re seeing, for context this is my Danger Days inspired AU featuring the tokujo squad and also Kakashi :) )

And now for the official intro:

In the fallout following the Resource Wars , and shortly after we lost Kiri to the waves, the Senju company in collaboration with the Red Fan company establish Neo-Konoha, the new capitol of the remnants of the Land of Fire. A shiny new city free from the troubles of post-war faction life, and the dizzying desert heat.

Here in the city everything runs on chakra energy. No more nuclear or fossil fuels, that’s for the old-world now. By tapping into the “dragon veins” flowing through the earth chakra can be cultivated and converted into the fuel that powers all of Neo-Konoha’s beloved bright lights, hover-cars, gadgets, and gizmos. It’s even opened up the doorway to cybernetics and body-modification. With chakra being an energy source that resonates with life it’s never been easier to merge man and tech. Now, many new companies wanting to make their mark on chakra-tech industries have sprouted up, and Chakra City (Neo-Konoha) is very kind to those wanting to contribute to the expansion of the city, and the growth of the economy.

The city is split into three main branches. The tall buildings and neon lights of the inner-city, the seedy bars and backroom deals of the under-city, and the plastic smiles and white picket fences of the residential district. Everything inside the city walls is labeled as Neo-Konoha, and everything outside in the wide open desert plains is labeled as the Outer-Ring, where many live in the little non-radiated pockets of barely habitable land. Made barely habitable thanks to the over mining of chakra, causing the land to be drained of its vitality. Life in the O.R is rough, it’s a lawless wasteland filled with criminals, thugs, and the kindest and realest people you’ll ever meet. It’s the home of all of those who don’t belong inside the city walls. Those who were cast out, or those who chose to leave, and those who had no choice but to be born.

After the tragic death of chairman Minato Namikaze the Golden Era of Neo-Konoha has been replaced my Sarutobi Hiruzen’s age of radio silence, aided by president of ROOT Danzo Shimra who’s company specializes in keeping the people “in line”. A powerful regime threatened only by a newly established pack of desert rats out in the Outer-Ring consisting of two of Minato’s former bodyguards, the previous head of the intelligence division, a woman who’s more machine than human, a sickly smuggler, and more recently a once-double agent turned pink hearted. These anarchists call themselves Wildfire.

Operating out of an abandoned gas station from back in the old era of gas powered vehicles Wildfire’s unofficial leader Genma Shiranui runs a 24h radio station - titled S.E.N.B.O.N radio - where you can tune in to all of the greatest punk-rock hits AND get all the information you need regarding the movement of Neo-Konoha’s exterminators, soldiers, and SCARECROWs out in the O.R. How to best avoid them, and how to best blast ‘em to one of the four respectable levels of dead without sending yourself sky high with ‘em. Unintentionally Shiranui becomes somewhat of a guardian angel for the people struggling against the chains of oppression out in the wastes. What was once a station created to provide some musical escape with just a sprinkling of survival tricks turned into the stage in which the revolution is set.

In that same gas station that’s home to such an iconic station are all of the other main members of Wildfire. We’ve got Anko Mitarashi, who has a mechanic shop where she can do just about anything given the proper materials. Anything from mods to prosthetics, vehicle repair and customization, making whole new gadgets, and making cyber-cycles from scratch. Meanwhile, when he’s not out on an assignment Raidō Namiashi’s running the “convenience store” that’s really just a front for the whole fence thing they’re running. Ibiki Morino is used as the group’s ‘intimidation and muscle’ but when he’s not scaring Konoha dogs shitless he’s slaving over his pride and joy, a car that’s more modifications than car. Hayate Gekkō manages their connections to the smuggling routes and also makes it his life mission to act like the station’s cat. Agent Yūgao Uzuki, former SCARECROW assigned to take down the rebels, turned double agent, turned Wildfire loyalist tries to take charge of planning as much as she can. After witnessing the state of the leadership in the revolt rocking konoha she’s flabbergasted they accomplished as much as they did.

On the side of Neo-Konoha Kakashi Hatake, Mad Dog, agent #07, and Hiruzen’s top SCARECROW, is assigned to take Wildfire down. The group consisting of his old comrades and friends, before they turned traitor. With his soldier prowess and the use of the advanced AI program ‘B2’, created by Obito uchiha, Kakashi is the only individual able to stand against Wildfire, the question is, does his loyalty to Neo-Konoha and his trust in “Obito” outweigh the ache he feels. The niggling feeling that there’s something very wrong, something he’s missing.

This is not a tale about heroes. This is not a tale about glory. This is a tale about people. People living, and people dying, and people clawing their way through life, and people snapping at the hand that tightens the leash. There is no victor, there is no clean cut, just what is left when the fire burns through. The embers that sparked the Wildfire are doomed to fizzle out and die in the infancy of the flame. But as long as you stick around to witness the trees burn, they cannot claim it hadn’t happened at all. When a tree falls in a forest, tune in to the sound. Because remember, they can’t control you if you don’t give in to the silence.

Orrrrr

The tokujo gang fight against the oppressive fascist regime of Neo-Konoha while spreading chaos through the wastes and making Kakashi’s life way harder :)

So yeah, I hope that makes sense T~T it’s so late at night when I’m writing this I fear I may be too cryptic…. BUT PLEASE TELL ME YOU GET THE VISION!!

If anyone is interested in more lore feel free to ask anything <<33 I’m going to try and post some mini comics and blurbs for this AU often-ish (for art practice and also I want to push my brainworms onto y’all) so stay tuned?

Alright I think that’s enough yapping (for now ;) ) if anyone read all of that I shall give you one (1) soft little forehead kith :) 😙💋

Okay byeeee~~~

[gerec]

Do you have any canon movie fics to recommend? (could be canon divergence too)

the best ones of course

Hi Anon,

It's impossible to define 'best ones' when it comes to fic as everyone has their own set of preferences but I'm happy to share some of my personal favourites. :D And this list barely scratches the surface of all the incredible fic we've been blessed with in this fandom so def. do your own search on ao3 and filter for your preferred tropes! Also, feel free to check out some of my previous fic recs posts on my blog for more options! Happy reading!

XMFC

never too late to be who you might have been by acetamide Erik wakes suddenly and takes a deep breath, and realises that there is nothing.

Replay by SlightWeasel (series) After Magneto of an X2-ish future succeeds in the unthinkable, Charles sends his consciousness back to 1962 to guide Erik away from the path that will lead to the genocide of the human race forty years hence.Charles knows that Erik has always loved him, and intends to use this knowledge + sex to seduce Erik away from his ideals in his youth.There’s no way this well-thought-out, sensible, debugged and 100% bulletproof plan can possibly go wrong.

When We Two Parted by nekosmuse At the end of X3, a still depowered Erik travels back in time to meet 1962 Charles. Cue angst, desperate kissing and happy endings for all. Written for the x-men kink meme.

Lucid Dreaming by listerinezero Magneto finds himself in 1962, on the morning they go to Cuba, in the bed of the young Charles who’d spent months letting him think they were in love before breaking his heart. But he is not the same man he was forty years earlier, and as he gets to know young Charles again, he discovers that things might not have been exactly the way he remembered them after all.

Time to Grow by zarah5 In which you'll find chess dates which aren't dates (or maybe Charles is wrong about that). -- Based on First Class, this turns (slightly) AU during the beach scene.

Not Half As Blinding by keire-ke Cuban beach AU. Charles discovers that death does, in fact, solve everything.

Blood and Steel and Miles Between by dreamlittleyo (Post-movie AU.) On a beach in Cuba, Charles manages to talk Erik down from the edge. But even after the missiles have been diverted, compromise is impossible. There are two different futures to build, and Erik and Charles will always be separated by their principles. But when Charles is kidnapped and the X-Men can't find him, Erik will get him back no matter the consequences.

Homecoming by nekosmuse Five years after they part ways on a beach in Cuba, Charles sends a telepathic message: We are under attack.. Erik drops everything to rush to Charles' side. In which battles are fought, war is avoided, a middle ground is found, and happily ever afters do exist.

how near to fairyland by ikeracity Since childhood, Charles has kept all the things he can't let go of in a beautiful room in his head. Cuba brings his precarious balancing act crashing down.

The Line in the Sand by ikeracity The CIA agents on the base are bullying the children, mocking them for their mutations. Charles will not tolerate it.

DOFP

Hope by daymarket  A near-decade of hatred can't be wiped out with a single summer, no matter how eventful that summer might be. When Erik shows up uninvited at the mansion, Charles is just barely civil enough to not throw him out, but that doesn't mean he'll let him stay.

Mile High by cygnaut There’s only so much time you can spend sublimating your emotions into chess.

Spark Me Up by blarfkey “This is Erik raw. This is Erik lost. This is Erik looking at Charles like he is the only piece of wreckage in a vast ocean. The only star in the sky.

And such a look does things to Charles.”

After ten years, they are both starving for each other.

XMA

third time's the charm by Gerec XMA ficlets and missing scenes

Regrets by SlightWeasel After Apocalypse, Charles and Erik sleep together—but it’s way too soon for Erik.

as it arcs towards the sun by pearl_o

night by night by pearl_o

things worth fearing by pearl_o

Dark Phoenix

After the End of the World (One Bad Day) by kianspo Set during and immediately after the events of X-Men: Dark Phoenix. Everyone deals with the aftermath of Jean's transformation and everything that comes with it in their own way. Could there be found a measure of peace and happiness after everything they've lost?

Never a Place by kianspo It takes some getting used to. Charles hasn’t seen Erik cheerful, actually cheerful without a homicidal intent of some sort in a very long time—perhaps never. Or. Charles takes Erik up on his offer while trying to process everything. Erik is remarkably patient until he isn't.

rue de la paix by Ireliss Post Dark Phoenix. Charles, Erik, and the winding road towards peace.

The First Move by TurtleTotem Charles and Erik live together now, in Genosha. They get up together, spend the day together. And then... go to sleep in their separate beds.

Charles is going quietly crazy.

[absoluteangsty]

they turned you into a plushie?!?!

"We BOTH got turned into a marketable plushie, Zi- At least we help plant trees or whatever- Save the world kind of deal."

[airbendertendou]

high ♡ frank morrison

soulmate au where you reincarnate until you meet / stay with your soulmate.

cw ; typical dbd warnings [blood n gore] ; heavy song mention, you can decide what song it is ; might b ooc but idc <3 ; how legion looks is up to you! ; dbd lore could b inaccurate

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

Your surroundings were new ; unfamiliar as your eyes flutter open. You’re on your back, staring at the cloudless sky as the summer heat hits you from every summer. You twist awkwardly, your elbows hitting the ground and lifting you onto your knees as you still, eyeing the area that surrounds you. Heated air smacks against you again — this summer was brutal.

You pause — it was summer, wasn’t it?

“Hey, newbie!” A voice barely below a whisper is targeted at you. Turning, you see a person with a beanie covering turquoise colored hair. They rush your way, grabbing your wrist and dragging you with them to a giant machine. “No time to explain. Just put your hands near this — a generator — and they’ll do the rest. Careful of sparks.”

You do as they say, watching as their body tensed. Finally, she introduced herself quietly when she deemed the coast was clear. You clear your throat, “[Name]. Where are we?”

“Coldwind Farm.” The generator clicks and whirs as Nea pauses, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Really cranked the heat up this time.”

The generator sputters to life, a light clicking on above you and exposing you to everything nearby. Nea cusses under her breath, rising to her feet quickly and rushing away from the loud machinery. You follow after her cluelessly, bumping into her back when she stops abruptly. Nea frowns, “we need to go separate ways now.”

“But—”

“Go fix another generator,” calloused hands fall onto your shoulders. Nea squeezes reassuringly and her face switches to something else — someone else. You blink and she’s back to normal, looking around you both cautiously. “If your heartbeat begins to pick up, get away.”

She’s gone without another word and you find yourself standing there, alone and vulnerable.

Shuffling awkwardly, you hustle along a barn, eyeing the field in front of you warily. Letting out a long breath, you take a chance and sprint into the field. Nea told you to work on generators, but you felt safer out of plain view. Crouching down, you hide your face in your knees and simply sit there.

A scream echoes around you and you flinch, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet. The field sways from side to side as something  — someone, maybe — drifts through it. Another scream hits — two more beams of light, showing more generators were done.

Nea would be angry when she found out you did nothing to help. But your head was aching, scrambled with new thoughts and images of the past you couldn’t forget. Someone drifts by you again and you make yourself smaller, frown on your lips as you fight a whimper. You were so confused — so lost and tattered as more thoughts piled into your mind.

All too soon, the sound of your heartbeat began to pick up. Deciding to actually listen to Nea’s advice, you pause. No sound of movement is heard over the thumps of your heart — coast is clear. Jumping up from the field, you turn and book it, only to run straight into a body. 

Pink hair is falling out of a hood, knife poised and ready to strike. The faceless mask seemingly stares at you for a minute, their arm falling until the knife clutters from their hand. A sharp intake, and then the sound of your name, muttered softly from behind the mask.

A ground shaking noise is heard, the killer cursing and grabbing at their knife frantically as you make your escape. A blond is ushering people through a giant door, a bulletproof vest over his chest. His stern face drops at the sight of you, eyes widening as he watches you quicken your pace.

“Shit. Nea was right.” He follows behind you, putting his hands on your back as you pause. “Keep goin’, newbie. We’re almost home.”

Home. Home sounded so nice right now. You race into the shining light at the end of the hallway, ignoring your name as it’s called frantically behind you.

——♡——

The campfire in front of you was not home. There are too many names — too many new faces from either side of you. Nea is across the fire from you ; the man from before sat beside you. Leon is looking over you questioningly, blue eyes surveying your trembling hands and wide eyes.

“There’s not a new killer. So, why—”

“Not that we’ve seen.”

Laurie rolls her eyes, continuing as if she wasn’t just interrupted. “It doesn’t make any sense to just get a survivor, that’s all.”

An older man hums, also eyeing you. Despite the warmth of the fire in front of you, a cold chill has seeped into your being. You shiver and let out a breath — you swear you can see it fog up in front of you. “Could be late, the killer. Make us comfortable and off guard, only for a new killer to show up.”

“I,” you lick your lips. The campsite grows silent as they wait for you to speak. “The one before. Who was that?”

“They call themselves Legion.” Leon is the one who lets you know. He tilts his head, “four of ‘em, I think.” His eyes travel across you again, “seemed to know you.”

“What does that mean?” Laurie speaks up again. Her eyes narrow in your direction, focusing on the way you tense up. Her gaze flicks back to Leon, “it’s a little late for their survivor to appear.”

“Called out [name] as we were leaving.” He bites his lip, attention drifting across the fire before it’s back. Leon looks down, but watches you from the corner of his eye. “Wanted to talk to you desperately.” 

You shake your head before he can say anything else. You look to Laurie’s glaring figure then down as you clasp your hands together. “I don’t know anyone with pink hai—”

A giggle echoes in your mind, spiraling in your thoughts. Her face is so clear in your mind — perfectly structured and grinning as she giggles with three others. Just as quick as the thought comes, though, it vanishes.

As if it never happened.

Fog takes over Leon and Laurie, saving you from any further questions. A chill runs through you and you shrink in on yourself, arms wrapping around your torso helplessly. Mindless chatter is scattered around the campfire — it feels warm, safe here, but you miss the sight of home.

Nea plops down beside you with a huff, new fingerless gloves covering her hands. She tugs them farther up her wrist at your gaze, clenching her hands together as she tries to get used to them. “A gift. You get one if you perform well ; if you’re entertaining enough.”

“Newbie!” is called from across the campfire. The man has a heavy accent as he speaks, an arrogant grin on his face as he waves. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

That’s something you do remember Leon mentioning — the loss of memories. The longer you stayed, the foggier and more distant they became. You dreaded the day that would happen — your mind was scrambled enough.

You hum, picking at your nails nervously. Everyone’s attention is on you again — anxiety crawls up your throat. “A song. I was listening to music.”

A girl with golden hair grins, looking up from the guitar she's tuning. "What kind? I could try playing it for you."

Nodding, your eyes squint as you think of the song you remember hearing. It was so engrained in your mind — so planted into your memories that it was the one thing you could never forget. As you begin to hum quietly, Quentin perks up from across the fire. He lifts an eyebrow, "old school, huh?"

Kate nods along to the silent beat, trying her best to mimic the sound you make. She pauses, ear turned towards you as she continues. You stop abruptly and her eyes snap open. "That's all I remember."

"No words?" Nancy tilts her head.

You shrug, the corner of your mouth tilting up helplessly. "No words." Not yet, at least.

——♡——

Ghostface was your favorite killer. Which would sound strange in different circumstances — but dying daily, hourly, you were bound to get used to it eventually. He liked the chase — liked to skip and giggle and sing as he sauntered after you.

That's why you don't mind playing bait for him. He liked new survivors — only here for a few weeks [that you tried to keep up with] meant you still had newbie status. Currently, a game of hide and seek was occuring — you peeked from the side of a building when Ghostafce wasn't looking, and he'd lift up from behind the bush as he chose to giggle at you.

It made you smile — the way you could act silly in the middle of a murder spree.

Springwood always welcomed you at midnight, the moon and hazed streetlights your only source of light. As you tip-toe — Ghostie was on your trail, of course — the air swoops through. It sends a chill through you — like you're back in the snowy mountains of... somewhere.

A slam to your head sends you sprawling on the ground. Ghostface stops, his knife poised as you blink deliriously. Feng grimaces, "oops."

When your eyes blink open, you're staring at a mountain view. The tops are saturated with snow, hued a light blue and white. The door creaks open, a disgruntled figure coming into view. Their nose is scrunched as a steaming mug is headed your way.

"Here's your stupid hot cocoa."

"How stupid can it be when you have a cup, too?" You find yourself asking. Like this conversation was memorized — like this had all happened before. Your hands curl around the mug, cozying up in the bed you know isn't yours. "Why are you so grumpy today anyways?"

"Julie," they grumble. They huff, sitting beside you, as close as they could without causing a blush to form. "Won't leave me alone about new songs or her guitar or you."

Me? you want to say. But, you remember the answer you always got. 'She's sure we're soulmates — me and her. Doesn't want any of us to get hurt.'

Sweet and selfish — yeah, that was Julie.

You set your drink on the nightstand closest to you, warmed hands falling on their own. "Frank—"

Frank, your Frank. Frank, Frank, Frank. You remembered his name now — you wouldn't forget it again.

He sighs, laying his head on your shoulder. "It's me and you, I know it. It has to be."

"What if Julie's right, though?" You wrap your arm around his shoulers — you always liked being close to him, touching in the smallest bit when you could. "About us not being soulmates? We could have someone else out there."

"I don't want anyone but you."

A distraction. Frank always needed a distraction of some sort or else he'd get mad. When Frank got mad, he exploded. Something he was wokring on — something you helped him with. You jiggle your shoulder until he sits up. "Play me something."

His light beige acoustic guitar stands against the wall. Julie's lilac one is set on his desk, half of the strings missing. Another thing that points them at being perfect together — another thing that separates you. Frank sighs, his eyes pointing to the ceiling in annoyance. [He's too giddy to play for you, wanting your praise and your eyes on him only.]

Clearing his throat, Frank adjusts himself comfortably. You grab your mug, sipping on the chocolate now that it'd cooled down. His eyes narrow, “you tell anyone I sung this for you—”

“I won’t, promise!” You say it through laughter, but keep your promise regardless. The guitar strums and Franks hushed, soft voice drifts into the room. You sway in your seat, your eyes closing in comfort.

When they snap open, Ghostface is staring down at you once more. He tilts his head and you let out a gasp. "Words. I remember words."

As quickly as you can, you have Kate play the melody once more. You sing along as best as you can, the memories clearer than ever. Quentin yawns as he bops his head, the words leaving his mouth in mumbles. Leon hums your song as he works on generators, Meg speaking the words as she gets chased.

Soon, the entire camp is singing a song only you remember. And then Ghostface sings it one night while at the killer's camp.

His back is slammed into a tree, a smaller body pining him there. He raises his hands in innocence. A knife is held to his throat, "where did you hear that?"

He can't even squeak out your name before she's pulled off of him. Pink hair falls from a hood as Susie holds her friend back. Whispers of I told you! echo around the woods before they go silent.

Julie lets out a sigh, "let's hope Frank doesn't find out about this."

——♡——

The air is cold as the fog releases you from its grasp. You wish you had a thicker coat, wish you could sip on that stupid hot cocoa you keep thinking of. Quinten nods as he passes you, almost slipping from the icy ground. Your breath surrounds you in a fog as you tip-toe to a generator further away.

Steve kneels beside you to rewire the generator, huffing as his body wracks through a shiver. "Hate this place."

"I like it," you say absentmindedly. It was cold, of course, but something about the lodge in the distance seemed welcoming — familiar. Your mouth lifts into a smile, "could be cozy up there."

He snorts, "and be in the mercy of whatever Legion member is lurking? Be my guest."

Somehow, that's exactly where you find yourself. Crunching through the snow, you stare up at the barren walls. There should be paper there — pieces of ripped and weathered signs that scream missing on every inch. Signs that you stared at until your skin wrinkled and you forgot them again.

The fireplace crackles as you walk through the front door. Warmth should cover you, should comfort you, but the feeling of loss and dread crawls up your throat like nausea. You gulp — Steve was right, I shouldn't be here.

Yun-jin screams outside — she sounds close, but your feet are glued to the floor. Hurried steps crunch under the window closest to you — you only stare. Looking back is a picture of four people — five when you wipe away the dust. Staring back is a picture of you.

You don't acknowledge the tears that cloud up your eyes when the door creaks open. Heavy, booted feet inch closer to you achingly slow, your heartbeat picking up in fear. Quentin yells your name from the window and the footsteps pause.

Your body is jerked around, teary eyes facing your supposed killer of the day. The mask makes you jolt, the tattoos peeking through causing your tears to turn into sobs. The knife shakes in his hands before it falls to the floor, useless. His mask is ripped from his face, heaving breaths the only thing in the room.

As the world goes dark, your sobs grow louder.

Your head is in someone's lap as you slowly regain consciousness. You feel like you're floating — like the game you've been forced to play has been put on pause. Blinking your eyes open, you see Frank peering down at you. His eyes are rimmed red, a teardrop falling from the tip of his nose and to your cheek.

He lets out a shaky sigh, "I never wanted you to be here."

You swallow, your chest suddenly tight and your throat dry. "I thought of you," you say. Frank's chest heaves with a sob he doesn't allow to escape. "Every day. Every decade. You were the face I would dream of, but couldn't name."

Frank almost cradles you to his chest as he cries. You rub his back as well as you can, shushing him as he hiccups. When he releases you, he helps you sit up slowly. Finally face to face with him, all thoughts leave your mind. Your hand raises absentmindedly, tracing the scar you once memorized.

Frank lets out another sigh, trembling as you stare at him. "You shouldn't be here. You're too good for a place like this."

"Where are we, anyways?" Your eyebrows furrow as you take in your surroundings. Like the lodge, it's warm and familiar. You grow even more confused. "Your room? Why?"

"Dunno," he shrugs. You're gathered back into his hold, one hand settled between your shoulder blades. "Don't care."

The room around you seems to rumble at his words. You wince, meeting his eyes with a small grin. "Don't think we have long, Frank."

His shoulders sag at the sound of you saying his name. Laying his forehead on your shoulder, he takes in a deep breath. "I knew it — knew Julie was wrong. We are soulmates — we have to be."

You pull away from him briefly, lips pursed in thought. "And now you have to kill me."

"No." Frank is adament —sure in his statement. "Not you. Not ever."

The room rumbles again and you grin. "Guess she knows that, too."

——♡——

idk how satisfied i am w this one but after sitting in my drafts half done for a year, it’s finished !!

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my July 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Bulletproof by justahappycloud / @justahappycloud (137k)

Harry's relationship with his boyfriend — sorry, fiancé — is quite literally in shambles. More often than not, days at their flat end in repressed tears, lonesome nights on the couch, or giving his back to the man he adores more than anything in the world. The lies that come with Harry's lifestyle are tearing them apart, but there's nothing he can do about it. He can't exactly tell the love of his life that every time he goes to work, he kills under the orders of the most powerful man in England. But when the opportunity to end his torment appears, Harry ignores the danger and takes a huge risk in what has to be his most difficult mission up to date. One trip to America. That's all he needs. And after that, maybe he'll get to keep the only person that showed him light in a world where he saw none.

Beautiful War by Itsmotivatingcara / @itsmotivatingcara (103k)

Five years ago, Louis was nearly the next victim in a string of murders plaguing Portland, Oregon. He managed to escape and the Angel Killer was apprehended and sent to prison. Now, Louis' a best-selling author that assists state police with minor cases. He still suffers from the events of the days he'd been held hostage, but he's found ways to cope.

That is, until the killings start up again. A body was found in the woods. A body that bared the same signature the media had dubbed: The Angel of Death.

Special Agent Harry Styles leads the case, and he doesn't buy into the clairvoyant bullshit that Louis spewed to save face five years ago. He's certain that Louis Tomlinson was involved.

Until they meet, and they're both left questioning everything they'd thought to be true.

Or

An FBI-Clairvoyant AU

Want You More Than A by TheCellarDoor / @donotdialnine (73k)

Falling in love with your step-brother’s best friend is a disaster enough. When he happens to be the boy everyone loves and you’re a nerd who wears sweater vests and cries during rom-coms, it takes it to a whole new level.

Your Brightest Star by staybeautiful / @harruandlou (35k)

My baby,” Louis whispered into Harry’s neck, closing his eyes tightly into the embrace. Harry squeezed him closer and Louis could feel him nodding into his throat before he kissed him gently behind the ear.

“I love you,” Harry mumbled into his shoulder.

He tried to move closer, but they were already pressed together from cheek to where their ankles were tangled precariously together. “Me too, me too.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, just for Louis’ ears. They swayed slightly, like a delicate dance to the distilled noise around them.

“Oh, darling. Sunshine.”

Or a series of timestamps from the sunshine, baby! universe 𖤓

Part 2 of you're the sun to me

Of the Earth by angelichl / @angelichl (24k)

Harry embarks on a backpacking trip in West Virginia to figure his life out after breaking up with his boyfriend. He meets Louis along the way.

Foolishly Laying Our Hearts On The Table by runaway_train @runawaytrain (11k)

“You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten. 

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully. 

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

Or

The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

Congratulations, Mr. President by OneSweetWorld18 (Katbrown88) / @onesweetworld18 (2k)

Louis holds his first meeting as PTA President at the Boo Hoo Breakfast on the first day of school. Harry is a supportive husband, and Niall is supportive, as always.

I'll Be Yours Forever ('Til Forever Falls Apart) by callmelover / @whenyoucallmelover (1k)

“You're just so intricate and beautiful. I want to know every part of you. I guess I can't help it.” The blush that warms Harry’s cheeks is more beautiful than any part of himself, Louis wants to argue. He knows Harry wouldn’t let him win, though, so the rebuttal fades from between his lips.

“Well it's a good thing that I think you are just as worthy of being explored, then.”

⚘

or, the one where louis and harry are so in love that love doesn't feel like a big enough word (ft. morning cuddles and just a little bit of kissing)

[ilovedagain]

Damian and Jon, past and present.

(a poem)

Red lines only: Damian, age 12, is laying back on the grass in the Kents' farm, cloud-watching with Jon. He thinks about how Jon is too innocent, but maybe that's because he is too bulletproof for the world to pierce him, taint him. And Damian, twisting his own knife in his own heart further, knows he's crueler than his friend because he has made horrible mistakes.

Blue lines only: Jon, aged 21, (in a Dark!Jon au) is reminscing about the days when they were younger. Damian survived in this world with his heart intact, but Jon has grown into a man with destruction at his fingertips and hate in his heart. And Jon thinks, Damian was able to let his mistakes smoothen his edges, instead of sharpening them—like what happened to Jon.

When both red and blue are read together, it's from Jon's pov, expanding on his view. He thinks about how they were too innocent for the world, but somehow Damian's heart was bulletproof.