#wip: omega voice

[sunflower-eddiediaz]

hi girasol! 🌻✨ hmmmm for the WIP ask game: can i ask you to please let us see a bit of the Omega voice and ex-fwb to lovers?? they sound fascinating!!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

hi wendy! 🥰💜

Omega voice

This one. Hm. It was supposed to be a simple rambling post about "what if eddie accidentally used his omega voice on buck and it worked", but it got away from me. It turned into a long draft and I haven't even finished outlining all the thoughts.

Here is the beginning of the Thoughts:

pre relationship buddie. omega eddie / alpha buck. something happens that makes buck go almost feral, like eddie is in danger and unreachable and for a moment buck thinks he's gone, but even when it's confirmed that eddie's okay, even when eddie is in front of him, the feral state doesn't subside. eddie comes close to him, tries to reassure him, puts his hand on his shoulder and follows his gaze but nothing works until eddie says "Buck, breathe." and he does. buck finally calms down, eddie finally lets hen check him over. He wasn't even injured, his radio broke and they didn't know where he was in the burning, about to collapse building.

Ex-fwb to lovers

The idea is that Buck, Eddie, Hen and Chim are all chatting and Eddie mentions something about Buck he only knows because they slept together. HenChim clocks it and Buck can't lie so he confesses that yeah they used to sleep together like a year ago, but they "mutually decided to stop". Eddie says "come on Buck, we've been mature enough to move on from it. If we're gonna talk about it, let's at least be honest." Their "break up" was just a big miscommunication misunderstanding, and obviously they both want a romantic relationship. They clear up everything right then and there in front of Hen and Chim.

It's not "written", but I have some dialogue:

E : Come on Buck, we've been mature enough to move on from it. If we're gonna talk about it, let's at least be honest. B : How am I not honest? Did we not agree to stop? I mean, as far as I know, we haven't slept together in the last 8 months. E : Don't do that. We wanted different things, yeah. I agreed to end it, but it was your idea. B : How was it my idea? You're the one who initiated that conversation. E : Oh, so you do remember that, but not what i said. B : I do remember, you said you didn't want to keep doing casual. E : Yes, but you wanted to stop, so we stopped. B : I didn't want to stop. E : Then why did you say we should? B : I was agreeing with you, you're the one who wanted to stop. E : I didn't want to stop! I didn't want to do casual! B : *confused buck* E : *frustrated eddie*

wip tag game

[hedwig221b]

snippet sunday monday

tagged by wonderful @endwersed! thank you so much! this is a kinda long(ish) snippet from my @hotgirlstiles wip but I'm feeling generous

The alpha shook his head viciously as if shaking the order off. “Go fuck yourself, Hale! I swear I’ll kill you one day. You think you’re invincible, but—” he stumbled over his words, his eyes narrowed.

Derek, of course, sensed Stiles’ presence. He glanced at the omega who walked up quietly to the railing and pushed one of his hands around Derek’s elbow. His impenetrable gaze was focused on the alpha on the first floor.

In the low pink and purple lights, he didn’t look real. His white clothes changed color along with the lights, and all of his little trinkets only accentuated his preciousness. Nothing gleamed as hard as his eyes, though.

“Go,” said Stiles in a quiet voice.

The alpha looked at him for a moment, then roared, swerved around, and ran on all fours across the bar until he crashed through the exit.

Stiles lifted his chin. He gave the people staring at him a brief glance and turned to Derek.

“I’m kinda hungry,” he said and smiled.

If they weren’t in the club in the middle of the busy city, Derek would’ve run out like that alpha just did. He would’ve headed straight for the forest and found the best game there was: juicy, young, and soft. He would’ve torn its throat with his teeth and dropped the prey at his omega’s feet. He would’ve cut the meat in tiny pieces with his claws and fed the bloody bits right into Stiles’ open mouth.

Derek swallowed.

“Let’s see what they have,” he rasped.

He took the suddenly obedient omega by the hand and sat him down on the sofa right next to himself. When Derek took the menu, Stiles waved it off.

“Order for me, alpha.” He swung one of his knees over Derek’s thigh and dangled his foot. “Cora, you’re scaring people. Come here, please, I need to know all the family drama.”

Scoffing, Cora left the railing and walked back to the sofa.

“So, here’s the thing…” she started.

Derek could hardly concentrate on anything beyond Stiles’ body that settled so nicely against him and the omega’s leg swung over his thigh. When the food arrived — steak and fries, because Derek needed to feed Stiles something bloody — the wolf took it apart and fed his omega slowly and carefully.

While Cora waved her fork around between the telling of the complicated tale, Stiles didn’t lift a finger. He must have sensed something from Derek, something primal and scorching that needed attention and wouldn’t agree to a compromise.

Interestingly, Stiles seemed to find just as much pleasure in the wolf’s actions.  

Derek didn’t forget how he complained about the alphas choosing the food for him, yet, this time he asked Derek to do exactly that. It nearly drove him feral as he realized that Stiles trusted him with the choice. He knew that the wolf would feed him well.

Whether it was a conscious decision or a play of instincts, they fit together. Two puzzle pieces locked and stuck so hard that one could not take them apart without completely destroying both.

Read full version here

[divider link]

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Marina; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that,” she says, because Red Hood is still breathing a little too rough, and his vocoder doesn’t sound quite right either. “I’m not trying to pressure you into naming anyone you don’t want known as a packmate or anything like–” 

“There’s no one,” Red Hood says, and Jazz–pauses. 

What? That’s–does he mean– 

“What?” she says, because literally nothing else will come to mind. 

“No one,” Red Hood repeats, voice rasping even through the vocoder. “No packmates. No one to pick me up. No one safe.” 

A certain psychological profile, Jazz thinks distantly again, and only just manages to keep her teeth in her mouth. 

She could bite him through the armor, she knows. Her alpha fangs can get through ecto-enforced armor, and even vigilante-grade kevlar isn’t going to measure up to that. She could bite him, and claim him, and take him home to her half-unpacked little shoebox apartment and let him nest down with every single piece of bedding and linens and clothing she owns and then use her liminal endurance to fuck him ‘til he’s well and truly satisfied and fat with as many pups as he wants from her, and secure in his place in a pack that would pick him up from beyond the damn grave, if it came to it. 

She could do all that, so she definitely needs to stop thinking about it before she tries to. 

Even if Red Hood’s heat pheromones are twisting with grief and pain, now, and bleeding it all sharper and harder and wider-spread, and all she can smell is an omega in need. An omega who needs a knot to satisfy him, and an alpha to claim him, and a pack to keep him. 

She could just bite right through the collar of his jacket and armor and sink her teeth in, and– 

“Oh, I don’t know if you should’ve told me that,” she only barely keeps her alpha voice out of saying, instinctively digging her nails into his very nice ass. “Not to imply I don’t appreciate the clear communication and your willingness to trust me with that information, just–” 

“Put your fucking knot in me before I shoot you in it,” Red Hood snarls, and rips off one of the scent blockers under the high collar of his shirt and jacket. 

Ah, Jazz realizes. 

Those actually were holding back a lot of his scent, weren’t they. 

A lot of it. 

That’s . . . that’s definitely a lot of scent, yes. 

“Ngh,” Jazz says faintly, and Red Hood–well, technically he headbutts her, but she’s pretty sure he just kind of forgot he was wearing the helmet and was trying to kiss her, since mostly it’s her mouth that takes the impact of it. “Filters. Filters.” 

“Naw,” Red Hood breathes, and grips the back of her neck with both hands.

[endwersed]

several sentence sunday

I feel like it's been forever since I shared an excerpt from something I'm writing - so! Here is a little snippet from my current Sterek ABO AU WIP, the poets are right 🤗

-

“You’re such a moron,” Stiles says, its bite flawed a little by the breathlessness to his voice, the way his hands are clutching helplessly at Derek’s shoulders. “We could have been doing this for weeks.”

“We have been doing this for weeks,” Derek points out, dropping his mouth to bite kisses along the extended length of Stiles’ throat. “You were there for most of it, I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh, shut up, asshole, you know what I mean.” Stiles tilts back to let Derek’s mouth slide lower, pausing to suck a quick mark at his collarbone, skimming hotly even further down until the tip of Derek’s tongue can lave a tight, wet circle around his nipple. “Oh god, yeah, that’s nice, that’s good, more of that, please.”

Derek huffs a short laugh against his sensitive skin, pebbling slightly in the night air.

“See, you call me all these names – moron, asshole.” Derek pauses, nose nuzzling through the thick of hair just over Stiles’ sternum. “And you still think I should give you what you want?”

“Well, duh,” Stiles says, tipping his bright smile up to the dark sky above. “I have it on good authority that you like your omegas feisty. Just doing my bit to keep you interested.”

A low growl rumbles from Derek’s chest. His blunt teeth graze over Stiles’ nipple.

“Trust me,” he says, low and throaty. “You do not have to try hard to keep me interested.”

-

Low pressure tags 💖 @crownofstardustandbone @dear-massacre @eevylynn @hedwig221b @like-lazarus

@lucky-bishop @nerdherderette @renmackree @thotpuppy @violetfairydust

[stitchau]

————————《《FAQ》》————————

This post will be updated over time.

Main artist account: @centfornothing (both tumblr and twitter)

— Usage of Stitch/Fanart

1. Q: Can I create fanart of Stitch?

A: Yes, I'd be more than happy if you do! ^^

Also, do not be shy to tag me! I will, from time to time, check if i was tagged somewhere.

2. Q: Can I use your character in my comic/animation/fanfiction?

A: Yep! I don't see why not.

3. Q: Can I ship *insert character name here* with Stitch?

A: Sure, have fun! But I sure do hope that the character in question is not a child. I am strongly against it.

4. Q: Can I create NSFW🔞 content of Stitch?

A: Yes, unless it involves children/incest. Do not draw stuff like that.

— NOT ALLOWED

I'm being repetitive here, but whatever. These are the only things I don't want people to do with my character, and I hope you understand why.

DO NOT create content depicting Stitch engaging with children in sexual manner.

DO NOT create content depicting Stitch endorsing incest/racism/f*cism/n*zism or anything similar to that.

As advice, I'd kindly ask you not to create stuff like this at all. Please be a better person and be responsible with what you create and put out there on the internet.

— About asks

Questions that I have already answered won't get a reply.

Not all the questions will get their answers. Either because it's not the time for the answer yet or because it's irrelevant/not a question at all.

If there's too many questions, yours might be missed/might get a late reply(currently i have 70+ questions, no joke, and i just cant answer all of them, especially when there's more of them every day). But don't be shy asking questions anyway!

Other reasons for your questions not getting an answer:

I might be busy because I also have to live a life.

If your question is something like "I love your au sm," then thank you. I really appreciate your kind words, you are making my day💞

I might not want to answer your question for reasons. (Provocative questions, personal questions, etc)

If you are asking something related to YOUR OWN mental health. Please, PLEASE, if you have real problems, do not try to find a solution for them from internet strangers, go and talk to a real, qualified professional.

Please do not vent to me, I am not qualified to offer you help. I wish you the best, please stay safe.

And just a separate point about roleplays. Sorry, but I don't really do them. I can play along to something unserious and small, but whole roleplays are not for me.

— About Stitch

Stitch uses any pronouns, but they/them is a preferred one.

They are aroace.

The place they live in is called "Treatment space"(the info on what it is will be elaborated on sometime later). It is accessible for anyone in Omega Timeline at any given point through a door. But it can also be accessed from anywhere if you have one of 2 special keys: small red key that will create a door for 1 person leading to the Treatment Space or the bigger dark red key that will create a much bigger door, also leading to the Treatment Space(backyard). Keys can be mostly found in Omega Timeline, but some are scattered throughout the Multiverse.

They mimic the voice according to the form they have at the moment. So Sans' voice for a form of Sans, etc.

For all the different parts of plush bodies and clothes, there is a separate big room in Treatment Space.

Stitch doesn't need to sleep, eat, or drink.

Their most preferred forms are Toriel(convenience) and Sans(frequency of use).

The forms they don't like to use the most are the ones that are small(like Temmie, annoying dog, Flowey, etc.)

— The Lore(WIP)

Prologue

Chapter 1: Lucky streak — part 1

More info will be added

[inexplicifics]

Been waffling about this, but finally gave in. For the WIP snippet thing, can I ask for Cats Among Wolves #1 and #3, and more of Pirate Laiden - Aiden POV?

For Cats Among Wolves, here's a very unhappy Guxart:

There’s a yank at the rope holding the bag’s mouth closed around the prisoner’s throat; he snarls again, more weakly, as his air is briefly cut off, and then there’s the blade of a knife cold against his skin and the rope parts as easily as butter. The bag is pulled up to bare the prisoner’s mouth, and he gasps for breath for a long moment. He can just barely smell two newcomers past the fug of his own filth. One is a beta; the other an omega. He can’t get much more than that. “What School?” the first voice demands. The prisoner licks dry lips. “Cat,” he rasps. The response is a pair of snarls. “Fucking Cat alphas,” the second voice hisses. “Take his knot before we kill him.” The prisoner pants softly, wishing he could argue with that assessment of his School. He can’t, though. He lost that right longer ago than he likes to think about.

And a rather more cheerful Letho:

“Sure,” Gaetan says, and smirks. “Assuming you’re any good.” Letho snorts, lounging back against the wall. “Still alive, aren’t I? Gaetan snorts back, an inelegant sound. “Point, yeah.” He takes a long swallow of ale. “Right then, hit me: stupidest contract you ever got.” Letho grins. “Stupidest contract…huh. Well, there was the alderman who tried to hire me to kill the drowner in the mill pond.” Gaetan raises an eyebrow. “Seems pretty standard.” Letho shrugs. “Oh, sure, sure. Nice standard contract. Drowner’s not usually a literal log, though.” “A log?” Gaetan’s mouth drops open and then he starts to grin. “A log. They hired you to kill a fuckin’ log.” “Nice big one,” Letho says, enjoying the sparkle in the Cat’s eyes. “Kinda mossy. Couple sticky-out bits that sorta looked like drowner claws, if you squinted and it was dark and you were kinda drunk.”

And a much too smug Lambert from the pirate thing:

“Has anyone ever won all three bouts?” Aiden asks, half out of a desire to distract himself from the throbbing of his broken arm, half out of genuine curiosity. “Yeah - my older brother Geralt, he’s ridiculously good. Faster’n any other swordsman I ever met. It’s fucking annoying.” Lambert shrugs a little. “But I’m better’n he is with knives, and also I’ve dyed his hair bright green five times now and he still hasn’t figured out how I’m doing it.” Aiden snorts with laughter. “How are you doing it?” Lambert smirks. “I bribe his shieldbrother Eskel to swap out his hair oils.”

[madamecaos]

The Howling

AU Werewolf Mafia: F|Reader x AU Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Synopsis: You move to a new town and the people there are just... strange.

Warning: 18+ Mature in next chapters, Lil Gore, Mate-Trope, Alpha-Omega trope, Angst, Overall Violence and Dark Themes

A/N: This is me, avoiding my other WIPs so I can pantsy-through another story that I'm not sure how to plot. Well, I couldn’t decide between Werewolves or Mafia AU, so here’s both.

It was known.

The first night of a full moon after Winter Solstice, every citizen of the little town had to bar their doors, stay inside and hope that sunrise received them unscathed. Otherwise, the victims of little Arcadea wouldn’t come to save you from the mauling beasts. Everyone knew you weren’t meant to go outside.

If only you had known that beasts also lurked in the daylight.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You were new in town. The aftermath of a bad relationship and a great offer of a remote position gave you freedom enough to move to a new place. As long as you had Wi-Fi, you could work. When the opportunity arose in a niche little town, away from the city and surrounded by a sea of woodland, you took it. Anything to place miles and miles between you and your psychotic ex was a great offer.

A ride an hour away from the city was an improvement. Anything was.

But despite the cute little cafes and the upcoming Christmas festivities, the town didn’t receive you with open arms. The locals weren’t gracious to newcomers, so you did everything possible to not intrude.

That’s why you found yourself hiding in the little library, staking claim of your little corner with a watered-down coffee between your hands. It was lukewarm, but enough to stave away the chilling breeze coming from the open doors. Aside from the fact that this was the only place with decent Wi-Fi, it was comfortable and quiet.

Kate, the local librarian, could be heard chatting away as the truck backed up near the entrance. Tuesday meant that new books were coming in. And Tuesday meant that the delivery guy would burst your quiet bubble any second now.

You hadn’t been here a full month and you already felt like you knew too much about him.

Soap was chatty and had a smile too wide that didn’t match your grumpiness. And what kind of name was Soap?

Without looking up, you heard his footsteps. You imagined that he skipped your way, going by the obnoxious clatter of his keys and whatever else he had in his pockets.

Maybe you needed more caffeine to be nicer, you thought as your temples pulsed with an upcoming headache. It was something inexplicable, but whenever Soap came near your instincts went haywire. The urge to be defensive and argumentative rose within you like a second nature.

“New Lass,” he called you, almost cheering. You rolled your eyes at the nickname he donned you with as you refused to give him your name. It seemed that you acting wary of men made him think he had to try and get on your good side, the tough way, by being annoyingly too cheery. To add to your annoyance, your reactions only incited him more.

“Got ya’ more books. Want to see the new batch?” He asked too loudly with excitement, and you winced. “Oh, my bad. Inside voice.” He half-apologized, shrugging with a smile still plastered on his annoying features.

You were just… annoyed.

You took in his outfit. His usual black overall was replaced by dark jeans and a light jacket. Even his mohawk was not covered by the usual beanie, which prompted you to ask him something finally. “Going on a vacation?”

His clothing was not meant for the blistering cold outside.

“Wow,” Soap placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “Oh, New Lass. I thought you were mute.”

“Selective,” you answered shortly, then looked down to pretend to write an email. You hoped he took the hint but going by the lack of screeching chair at his usual loud departure, he was still sitting in front of you.

His shoulders shook in silent laughter, and you questioned him with merely a risen eyebrow. “You would get along with my boss. You two would be a party.”

At your frown, he explained, “Silent and grumpy.”

“Soap!” Someone called from the entrance, allowing you peace as he walked away with a wave. What an odd man.

“See ya, New Lass.” Without turning back, he answered just as gruffly to the person that had demanded his attention, an attitude he had never directed at you despite your unwelcoming brashness. You couldn’t hear the rest, them being too far away.

Peace and quiet drove away the turmoil that usually came along with Soap’s presence, but your temples still pulsed with a surging headache.

“20 years less and I would,” Kate sighed as she closed the door with a click, looking through the glass doors as the truck drove away. Finally, warmth permeated the library again.

“Would what?” You asked and Kate looked at you like you were dense. Well, you kind of were.

“I don’t go for the young ones, but maybe Soap can be an exception,” As realization dawned at what she implied, Kate held in her amusement behind her titivating grin.

“Aren’t you married?”

“Like that has to do anything with it,” Kate rolled her eyes playfully and you ignored the uncomfortable thought of loyalty being so casually dismissed. Again, another reaction you had to thank your ex.  “And you? No man back home that calls you lass?”

The wiggle in her eyebrows brought you a little out of your dark cloud. “No, no man for me.”

You went back to your screen, ignoring the understanding look from Kate.

“Ah, we all came to Arcadea to escape from something,” she said, salvaging what little conversation you had with her. You weren’t exactly social, and amongst the locals, she was the most welcoming one. But that all made sense when she mentioned she was a foreigner as well, married her husband and was brought to the little town where she founded her dream little bookshop.

That might explain the why and how the place stood afloat, seeing as you were the only customer you had seen inside. What you didn’t have a theory for was the mysterious merchandise of books she received weekly, and yet the contents of the library hadn’t changed once.

Soap looked nice and approachable, but the gruffness, tattoos and bulking arms convinced you that it was not smart to ask. The curling instinct you had adopted from the big city told you he was not merely a delivery boy. But it was none of your business, or so you repeated to yourself every time something odd happened in little Arcadea.

And it was a lot.

“You ok there, love?” Kate asked as you stared ahead, lost in thought.

“I think I’m clocking out early,” You stretched in your chair, closing the laptop. “This migraine calls for a long nap.”

“All right, hope you feel better!” Kate called out as you made your way to the exit. Until she left you with a parting advice.

“Oh, and y/n” She started, the lack of endearment calling for your attention. You turned, expecting the common cheery demeanor one can expect from Kate. Instead, the hardened glance made you freeze. The grim expression seamlessly bleeding away the woman you had been getting to know these past few weeks. This was a stranger standing in front of you. “Don’t go out tonight.”

Without any chance of asking for an explanation, the happy demeanor returned, and Kate left you gaping at the entrance as she hummed away to the back of the store.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

She surely had meant ‘go out’ as ‘hang out’, right? You weren’t exactly friendly with the locals yet, only a few.  Kate was paranoid and you were starving. And it was Tuesday. Nothing happened on Tuesdays.

After sleeping away the headache for what felt like days, you woke up parched and ready to eat a whole three course meal. The migraine had ceased enough for you to see without flinching at every little light, but you knew that if you didn’t eat soon, it would worsen. So still in pijamas, with fuzzy boots and a big hoodie to complete the look, you went out into the cold with your phone, cash and your keys.

The diner across the block closed late, at least late enough for you to eat. And if it fit the mood, you might aim for a milkshake, you thought as you headed into the center of the town.

As you walked, you hugged yourself to stave away the breeze weaving through the trees. The woodland was so close to the town you could hear the leaves moving, its hushing billowing out through the deserted streets.

The cold painted your breath in huffs, your distance to the diner decreasing. But as you kept your pace, you couldn’t help but recognize the unusual solace of the roads. They were devoid of life, vendors already settled down for the night. 

Your footsteps on gravel were the only sounds disrupting the silence, but even without any more sounds, the eerie feeling of someone staring at you made you walk faster.

Nothing could’ve told you someone was staring at you but your intuition, your paranoia getting the best of you. You snapped your head back, hoping that your fear was only induced by the darkness. The weathered headlamps were enough to let you confirm that you were wrong. No one was there, no shadows followed you. With nothing to show for, you kept walking, pace hurrying nonetheless.

The bell on the door charmed at your entrance. It was quiet, oddly so. You were often received by the boisterous waitress that covered the nightshift. She made the best lattes and made you laugh, getting you away from your shy nature.

All worn booths were empty as you sat in your preferred corner, read the menu that you’ve read a thousand times before, and looked around. It was odd that you hadn’t seen nor heard the waitress yet.

The restaurant looked empty, abandoned even. So with courage, you stood up and sat at the bar, ringing the bell for service. Right now, you would do anything for crumbs.

“Hi, dear,” the waitress whose name tag read as Darla, gave you a hurried smile. “I’m sorry, but we’re closing early today.”

“Please,” Yes, you resorted to begging. “I’m starving. Just the usual.”

“I-“ she stuttered. “The kitchen is already closed. The cook clocked out early.”

At the last word, the entrance bell chimed behind you, making you turn curiously. You felt the breeze, you heard the bell and you heard the door closing… but there was no one there. All tables were as empty when you arrived.

You turned back to face the waitress. The question in your lips stopped mid track at her expression. Her dark complexion had gone white, eyes wide eyed and petrified.

“Make the girl a plate.”

A low rumbling voice said from behind you, and you saw fear bleed into Darla’s expression.

You looked back immediately to your right, your gaze clashing with broad shoulders first, biceps bulging beneath a tight fitted black shirt. It seemed as if his height went on and on as your head tilted upwards, taking in the broadness of the looming man dressed as walking death.

Dark eyes beneath a skull mask perilously studied you. His stare unflinching, unmoving, as your heart made its way to your throat with fear… and something else. Something odd and uncanny made the hairs on the back of your neck rise. The sensation of someone chasing you confused you. You were sitting still, and he hadn’t made himself an obvious threat, despite the oddity of his mask in the middle of a local dinner.  Your mind spun at the lack of sense, your heart wildly beating, pinned beneath his stare. While petrified on the stool, your body slowly but surely felt heat rise, perspiration building along your temples as if you had already ran a mile.

That damned migraine came back tenfold, and you still sat there, looking up like a deer in headlights, eyes threatening to scrunch at the buzzing lights. If you were to look away first, he would take it as you submitting to whatever fear was taking ahold of you. You kept silent, holding in your gasps of air. 

What is this? Who was he?

Somehow, he had walked behind you so silently and so fast, you hadn’t seen him enter. He had crossed half the diner in seconds, landing at the opposite side of you. Something you wanted to believe was impossible, but here he was.

He was the first to break eye contact, allowing air into your lungs. All the odd warming sensations stopped at his departure. Without a glance back, he entered the kitchen then pivoted to the exit door, Darla moving away to give him a wide berth of space.

“New cook?” You joked timidly, trying to break the tension of the now fretting waitress. Metal spoons and pans clattered as she filled a foam container with whatever she could find. Her hands shook.

“Go,” Darla whispered with a pointed look, handing you a bag with whatever lukewarm food. At your hesitation to leave her alone, she pushed it to your chest, then motioned you to the door. 

“I can pay-“

Darla side stepped the counter, hands on your shoulders pivoting you to the exit.

“It’s on the house. Now, don’t do anything stupid and stay inside.”

With that, the door clicked hurriedly behind you, not allowing you to turn and ask the million questions you had for her.

You were at odds with yourself as you stared at your dark reflection on the glass door. 

On one hand, you wanted peace. It was the main reason you came to this town for, and asking the right or wrong questions often led you into more problems. But on the other hand, a huge man with a skull mask with an in-defensive woman didn’t bode well. And the panic in her eyes made you repeat the interaction over and over again. 

Darla shut off the lights as she went back to the kitchen, leaving you standing at the closed entrance of the now dark restaurant.

You debated if it was worth it calling the police, or if that fell under the list of what Darla deemed as something stupid.

Holding the bag to yourself as you walked back to your apartment in a hurry, you ignored Darla’s warnings. You’d rather bet on the ‘stupid’ but safe option and put in an anonymous tip. The receiver sounded bored, nonchalant even, not caring that a woman was alone in her job with a strange man. The interaction didn’t go as planned, especially when the person you spoke with treated you as if you were insane and not something to believe. The conversation turned oddly quiet when they asked you to describe the man, the mention of a ‘skull mask’ twisting their questions into more personal ones.

Who are you? What’s your name? What’s your place of residence?

 You hung up.

You did what you could, right? At least Darla’s danger won’t fully fall into your consciousness, you tried to convince yourself.

But the interaction interrupted whatever you thought of doing that night. You couldn’t concentrate. There was something off-putting that insisted that you had to go back there, but you were astute enough to know that it wasn’t a safe route. As an outlet, you called the restaurant several times, hoping that the internet’s spotty phone number was a true one. No answer. Maybe… just maybe if you saw if Darla was ok, you could rest. Then after assuring her safety, you would be relaxed enough to go back to your own business and hide in your apartment once again. After scarfing down the lukewarm food and pacing over the options, you did something else Darla had mentioned, something she had warned against.

With keys between your knuckles and pepper spray in your pocket, you went back outside. You just wanted to see that Darla wasn’t hurt. One glance and you were out.

This was the moment in horror movies when one would demean the main character for doing something so obviously stupid, you thought as you shivered with adrenaline and uncertainty.

The streets were just as empty as the restaurant, a full moon at its peak providing most light.  The pavement was so dark its reflection bathed the street in white.

As you neared, you slowed your pace and approached cautiously.  You shook the doors by the handles, but they were already locked. That much you already knew… but you’ve seen the odd man going out the other exit.

Cautiously, you tiptoed to the right corner and came around, peeking into the darkness to scope the back of the establishment. This is surely the way you’ll die, you thought with a tight grip of your keys as you rounded the wall. And at the turn, you clashed into something warm, so warm that the hands grasping you back to a wide chest could be felt through all your layers of clothing.

It was almost as if he had materialized from the shadows. Even with whatever minor moonlight shone through, it was not dark enough for you to be completely blind. You should’ve seen him coming.

You pushed the person back with all your strength, but they did nothing but chuckle, still too near for your comfort. At the sound and the familiarity of the creeping sensation crawling up your neck, you relaxed a little.

“Oh lass, I didn’t think it was like that,” Soap goaded, holding you close. “Only one word today and you’re already throwing yourself at me.”

“Get off me,” you shook your arms as you looked around him, behind him. At least, tried to, but he annoyingly planted himself in your line of sight, prohibiting you from searching for another sign of life.

“Hey, attention on me, yeah?” Soap stood closer, presence prompting you back to his attention.

“What are you doing here?” You questioned him, gaze still looking around you. “Where’s Darla?”

“Whose Darla?” Soap mused as he walked forward, forcing you to take steps back. “And I could ask the same.”

“I’m hungry,” you answered quickly, knowing that would be the first excuse you would use if the waitress asked for your intentions by disobeying her warning.

“Something told me you ate,” Soap said as he pointed with a look the red stain on your hoodie. He leaned closer and inhaled. You leaned back and ignored the odd gesture. “Pasta, to be exact.”

“Well, I’m still hungry.”

Seconds passed, and gloom dimmed his grin.

“Ah,” Soap sighed, disappointed. “So you’re the one that called the police.”

You froze, fear chilling the back of your neck. How did he know that? Nervous sweat and an accelerating heart with wide eyes took over you. Annoying Soap wasn’t acting like a child prying for your attention anymore. The seriousness and the slow tilt of his head made him seem as a complete stranger, much like Kate had been.

Had she known the danger of the delivery boy? Was she in on whatever was going on?  

“Oh? Did the police come by?” You asked, thinking that it would be best not to admit anything. “Why would they need to come here?”

Soap’s lips tilted, and not in the amusement you’d been accustomed to. At your struggle to swallow, his sight slowly landed on your throat. His gaze leisurely angled up to your eyes, moonlight catching oddly on his irises.

“Hm,” he took his index finger to his chin, musing into the air mockingly. “What to do with you now.”

He looked down on you, as if he was holding a secret you didn’t know. Deliberating… In a sudden flash, he was beside you, arm around your shoulders back pushing you forward. His proximity jolted you, your temples resurging the headache from earlier.

“Come, It’s time you to meet the boys,” He offered, not leaving you another option.

“What boys? I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m leaving now.” You tried to turn back, but the both of you had already walked to the back where you supposed the dumpsters were.

“This is not a good idea, so I’m leav-“ You tried to say again, but it was too late.

“Look what I found,” Soap said loudly. As you rounded the corner, you blinked at the dim light, the backlight providing enough for you to make out three silhouettes and… maybe a dog in the back? They all looked big, all broad as Soap, but Soap lacked what they had in height.  

The same man that had interrupted you earlier stood the furthest, his imposing shadow drawing perturbing darkness over the bricked wall, swallowing whatever light the moon provided. You could make out his form through the darkness. He was unfazed, unmoving, unlike his counterparts.

His untiring glare pinned you in place again, imposing itself in front of the prowling dusk-like silhouette bleeding away at the corner of your eye.

“What have you done?” One of the other men questioned with despair, genuinely worried at your presence petrified beside Soap. With a hand movement, the motion-sensor light activated, bathing the strangers with a harsh truth, immediately providing you with the information you were lacking. Now you understood Darla’s fear, its sight leaving you breathless.

The man in the skull mask was accompanied by other two, all just as bulky and threatening. The man perturbed at your presence was dressed in casual black just as Soap, the other one dressed in a police uniform. The golden badge caught in the light as the man stood taller, preparing for action, as if to chase you when you imminently ran away.

But your gaze couldn’t really focus on anything else except the dead body laying between them, all men surrounding the corpse. A pool of blood gushed from the cook’s torn neck, a chunk of it missing. You didn’t really know him… had known him.

He had been rude and standoffish, much like the rest of the citizens of the little town, but you really hadn’t seen any action that prompted for death, and a bloody one at that. But again, not knowing much about anyone had led you to this moment, prying for the safety of a stranger.

And now someone was dead, and you might be next. They all stared at you, at your rising panic.

“I didn’t think you would kill him so quickly,” Soap said nonchalantly, and your heart pounded itself into your throat, crawling upwards through your ribcage, preventing you from screaming. He voiced it so casually, as if this was his norm. “And besides, she’s the one that ratted us out.” 

You felt the burn of Soap’s gaze on your profile, his arm around your arm confining. Suffocating.

“Brave for someone so little.”

The one in the police uniform stepped forward slowly, stern look at odds with the amusement in his voice. He might have seemed the oldest with the light mutton chop-beard, or at least the leader, going by the respect in Soap’s expression. As he got nearer, you felt Soap stand straighter. If he was someone Soap respected, he was someone you were to fear. That much you knew.

Their accents were not much like your own.

Your eyes jumped frantically from the body to him, the Sheriff badge pinned to his uniform catching in the light again, giving away his job position. Even with the threat imminently approaching, you also watched around him. The other stranger and the skull mask staring back at you were not forgotten. Too many threats you had to watch out for, you thought as you searched for an exit, for a way to drive away the attention from you.

“Don’t touch me,” You furiously shook Soap’s arm, ducking away, the lack of warmth reminding you of how actually cold it was. Your hurried breaths came out in puffing mist, truly showing them how scared you were. The fingers tightly curled around your keys were wait, fully prepared to drive jam your only weapon into someone’s throat, even if it did nothing but distract. You were determined to die fighting.

As if knowing your intentions, your eyes returned to the man you had briefly met before at his amused huff, the black of his skull mask camouflaging with the darkness behind him. It was almost like you couldn’t help but stare back at death.

Despite being the one standing the farthest away, too still for him to seem preoccupied at your actions, you knew subconsciously he was the biggest threat of them all.

“Hm, pup has teeth,” the Sheriff mused as he frowned, annoyance in his face aimed at Soap.

“And the other one is a yapper,” the one with the skull camouflage retorted, comment aimed at Soap too, his voice again sounding like a grumble in your ears, as if was too low of a sound for you to register.

Instinctively you minutely winced, adrenaline making your pulse jump.

The Sherrif’s ever studying gaze caught the movement, frown turning menacing. “That seems like a problem.”

You waited for him to pounce, to cut your throat as they had done to the one that cooked the best burgers in town. Or at least, for him to command you to start digging your own grave.

Seconds went by and the breeze picked up momentarily. Only the lulling shush of the billowing leaves was heard. You shivered as it hit the back of your neck, flying some of your loose baby hairs to your cheeks.

You wanted to think you were delirious. No matter how subtle the rise of his shoulders, you could tell when he inhaled. As did the others, simultaneously.

The threatening nature of the leader flattened to a blank expression, but his eyes, unmoving from your features, were as intense as your ongoing rising panic. You understood immediate violence, already bracing for whatever they had planned from the moment you saw them. What you didn’t understand was the realization dawning on the other two at the back, nor the proud stance in Soap.

But the Sheriff raised his hands in a placating manner and took a few steps back, submissive, expression now beseeching you to not fear him. The shift in attitude had you gripping your keys between your knuckles harder, thinking it was another tactic to lower your inhibitions.

“Impossible,” the unmasked one at the back whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.

“She’s had a headache for days now,” Soap added the much unnecessary comment. You glared, realizing that he had been observing you too closely, Kate probably spying for him. She was the only one that knew about the headaches.

“Grumpier each time I come near,” Soap added, almost tenderly. At your glare, he grinned. “See?”

“What? Can you shut up?” You sneered, taking more steps back, them allowing it. Almost feeling violated at the fact that you never had any privacy, anger interlaced itself with your never-ending fear. Your shifting mood wouldn’t now stab Soap in fear, but in rage at his grating voice.

“Easy there.”

The one with the mask hummed at the bite in your tone. That rumbling sound again drove your gaze to his like a moth to flame. It was sorely a reminder of your precarious situation, a gravely dangerous one.

You have been here before, trapped with a man that wanted to hurt you, you thought. You thought you escaped from that, that Arcadea was your way out. But as Soap stood near, you realized it was lie, and you might never come back alive this time. Four men and one woman didn’t bode well for other reasons too; you weren’t a stranger to the sins against your flesh either.

“You should smell her,” Soap finally said, humming with pride, not understanding how unsettling it was for you to hear. The creepiness in the comment made you forget about your anger momentarily, your eyes catching the lifeless ones of the cook. Slowly, your gaze drifted upwards, until it landed on now luminescent eyes behind a mask, moonlight reflecting oddly. Even through it, you noticed the harsh frown aimed at you. It spelled danger, and that was enough for you to bolt.

“Soap!”

You pivoted and ran, but just as quickly, you stopped and skidded on pavement. The adrenaline didn’t allow you to feel the shock of you landing on your behind, your hands taking the brunt of the impact as you stared upwards wide-eyed.

There was nowhere to go, and there was no way you could run away from it.

A hulking figure bled from the shadows, rising at its hunches. Snarling teeth, each one the size of your forearm, salivated in a snarling smile. A wolf the size of a two-story house stood amidst the night, hiding the high full moon behind it, taking the sight of your exits with him.

A hand caught you by the back of the hoodie as you crawled back, pulling you up.

“Breathe, lass,” Soap instructed in what he thought was a comforting way, but his grasp along the sight of the nearing beast turned your stomach. “You’re ok.”

“No, Soap!”

Before he could heed his boss’s warnings, Soap’s hand grasped the back of your neck gently. It was the first time he made skin to skin contact, and what a mistake that was.

 Electricity cursed through you painfully and you screeched. It started from the top of your neck then down to your lower back, blinding agony crawling like a shiver down your spine. You fell to your knees, bone clacking with the floor loudly.

“You NEVER touch a dormant, much less her!” The Sheriff ran to your aid, hands hovering yet not daring to touch your shivering form. Something was strangling you from the back, your fingers clawing your throat and the nape of your neck where Soap touched you as you gasped for air.

The daring Sherriff finally grasped your wrists over your sweater, avoiding skin,  preventing you from hurting yourself.

“Breathe through it, love,” he encouraged, hiding away the panic in his voice.

Soap jumped away from you at your scream, looking at his hand blamed for assaulting you.

“What do we do?” The one that mentioned the odd impossibility of your existence also stood near, worried gaze aimed at your hunching form. “We’ve never met an Omega before.”

Perspiration seeped through your clothing, shivers racking all over your body. You now laid down completely, hugging your bruised knees to your chest in fetal position.

A sudden current of unexplained emotions surged through the odd sensations of your body. Almost like not knowing how to pick, your emotions jumped from blinding rage, and oh so suddenly, back to despair then again to happiness. Sobs of overwhelming consciousness were pulled from you against your will. Your hands were freed, allowing you to clutch your head.

“Make it stop,” you begged repetitively through your crying, migraine increasing by the second.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Soap repeated again and again, apologies increasing at your wails.

You covered your ears at his voice, clenching your eyes shut.

“Hush” the gruff man sporting the mask said from the back. “No Beta should speak now.”

They made way as he neared, steps carefully calculated.

Unlike Soap’s voice, the lower rumbling coming from the looming shadow didn’t feel like screeching. His voice almost lulled you from the up and coming anguish caving away in your chest.

“What’s happening to me?” You managed to choke out, your voice feeling like nails trying to crawl up your trachea.

“It will pass soon,” he said, dark eyes intensely focusing on your own. He didn’t kneel beside the others, standing away, hiding your sight from the pacing beast behind his back, almost sensing how uncomfortable it made you. Even through the neutral tone and mask, you noticed how agitated he was at your state. The why and the how of the reason you knew that was lost on you.

“Stop that, you’re making her nervous,” the Sheriff spoke at the beast’s growl, but with a huff, it followed instructions and laid down slowly, as if not to disturb you.

After one last upsurge of overwhelming emotions, it slowly lulled down to a passive wave that you had to fight through. It was almost as if it had drained you, physically and emotionally. You could only stare in a haze at the military boots kneeling beside you.

Minutes followed in silence, allowing you reprieve from your heightened senses as your tears didn’t cease.

“How are you feeling, pup?” The Sherriff asked lowly, scared of disturbing you from your sudden peace. You tried to breathe out an answer, but nothing came out. You laid down there, limp, and exhausted, and yet it was not enough to stave away the need for comfort.

This wasn’t you, but you couldn’t fight the honing focus of your sight. And through your breathing, a scent snapped you up into action, like a string pulling you forward. The men hovering over you leaned back as you raised your head slowly but desperately. It was a need for… you weren’t sure for what.

Without aiming to, your self-preservation was lost amidst the confusion, making you forget all these months where you forced yourself into isolation, away from people and their touch.

You looked around, as if searching for something. The men stared at you bewildered as it called to you, sounding like a faraway howl deafening your usual self. It moved you against your will, it’s rebounding echo merging into a chorus of ravenous animals demanding your presence. The image of snarling teeth right behind your neck snapped into your mind.

Without control of your movements, you clumsily rose to your hands and knees, palms scraping the pavement as you crawled forward. The men shielding you made way, confused at your desperate state. Your gaze roved around, until landing exactly on what you were instinctually searching for, on whom you were called to.

He wasn’t far away, standing close to the comrades kneeling beside you. As you neared slowly, you saw the eyes behind the mask minutely widen.

“Ghost?” the Sheriff asked slowly, given his frozen state at your crumbling form reaching for his ankles. It was almost as if you couldn’t wait to get to him, your hands not knowing if to push you forward or reach for him.

You finally got to the stoic man, grasping his pants by his ankles, pleading at his towering indifference. You pulled and pulled, and a whine was pulled from you when he didn’t move.

Finally, you dared to look up, eyes clashing with amber irises in an intensity that matched the onslaught of sensations you were forced to breathe through earlier. It wasn’t animosity that found you, but shock and confusion, and maybe awe. From your view from the floor, it was almost humbling that a man that size was just as confused as you.

Your eyes watered at the sight of his unmoving form, reaching closer and upwards with the intention to climb him.

“Simon.” Someone sternly called his name, snapping him from whatever had made him freeze in panic like a novice. He slowly but surely kneeled, your hands refusing to let go of his clothes. Just as desperately, when he reached your height, your arms tried to close around him, pressing your body to him in a tight hug, but his torso was too big for you to touch your fingertips at his back.

The cold of the pavement, along with the smell of blood, had left you shivering. Almost too cold to be natural, until a big, tattooed hand gently, tentatively, placed itself at the nape of your neck.

Your lashes fluttered at the warm sensation, shoulders sagging in releaf, allowing you to breathe normally.

The others looked up, surprised at the kind gesture given by their most ruthless killer, or so you assumed going by the blood you had seen stuck at the soles of his boots.

Without waiting for instructions, that hand traveled slowly down your arm then to your side as if not to spook you. Just as carefully, an arm locked itself behind your knees, bringing you to his chest. The screeching need of him to hold you lulled, allowing exhaustion to melt you against him.

“Ghost?” Soap whispered, looking over you with trepidation at the consequences of him using his voice. “What are you doing?”

Your head felt heavy, forehead resting in the space beneath his jaw and his neck. Even through the baclava you could smell him, musk and something akin to sandalwood easing you to rest. The warmth surrounding you might have emanated from the hard chest you were pressed against or the trunk for arms now holding you to him, you weren’t sure what made you feel suddenly so secure. The only thing you were sure about right now was how tired you felt.

The masked man that had terrified you in the beginning dignified Soap’s question with merely a grunt for an answer, his quiet steps lulling you to a deep sleep.  

From far away, the howling now didn’t sound so menacing, nor so loud, easing into your subconsciousness as if it were completely natural, for his warmth had quieted whatever unexplained horrors had taken over you.

A/N: Hoped you likes it! I'm open to suggestions on what should happen next 𓏗𓏗

[valiantstarlights]

Ahhhh so many good options!! Can I ask for Fostering Abused Omegas? Thanks 💕

@embroiderling

Of course! 🥰

CW: human trafficking, abuse, depression

So, okay, in this AU, omegas are very rare. Like maybe 10% of the population. Because of this, they are treated differently. In some countries, they're treated like treasures. In some, they're treated like animals. Most countries treat them normally.

The Endless are from Greece, which treats their omegas like they're gifts from the gods. Unfortunately, Dream is kidnapped by Burgess, who wants a pet omega of his own. (Burgess also does a little omega trafficking on the side to line his pockets.)

Dream and the other omegas in Fawney Rig are rescued a couple of years later. Most of the omegas are sent back home, but Dream refuses to go back. The truth comes out that we was sold by his parents, actually, and not kidnapped. Burgess relished telling him about it, and showing him the contract his parents signed. (Dream was sold a day before his 18th birthday, making the contract 'legal.')

So he is assigned to a carer: Hob.

Hob is a beta who has been 'fostering' omegas for close to 10 years now. He's like, the go-to person for difficult cases. Dream comes to him battered and bruised, bone-thin and wary of everything. He seems to have accepted that he's going to die soon. But of course, Hob isn't having it.

--

"Why do you waste your time caring for me?" Dream asks. He sounds so tired, like it takes all of his energy to even speak. He leans his head against the window pane, passively staring at the sunset sky outside. "I am going to die. That is a certainty."

"Well," Hob says, as lightly as he could. "I'm known for being very stubborn."

Dream sighs. His breath fogs the glass for a moment, but he makes no move to wipe it, or to look away from the clouds. "You will not succeed with me." And it's the way he says it, not sad or challenging, but like he was stating a fact, that had Hob discreetly hold the tray filled with food tighter, his anger for Burgess a bright beacon on a dark night. "It's better for you to devote your time caring for someone else."

"My time," Hob says, voice gentle and even only through great difficulty. He is reminded of every omega he cared for before. They always come to him hopeless and lost, wondering why they're still alive and struggling to find a purpose to live. Hob should be used to it, but he's not. It hurts him every time. "My choice to make."

--

Ask about my WIPs

[lexirosewrites]

hi, I’m LexiRoseWrites

(pfp made by @/itcanbepalped)

☆ you can call me Lexi or Lex

☆ 28, nonbinary, bisexual, autistic, and a nurse

☆ they/he/she, but they/he preferred— gendered terms of any sort are fine with me!

☆ twitter/X: @LexiRoseWrites1

☆ my inbox is open and you’re welcome to ask me anything or send me a request! (I will delete hate/bullying sent, so don’t bother)

☆ please ask before writing about one of my posts! I am not a prompt generator, so make sure you ask first!!

☆ this is an 18+ blog because while I write lots of steddie and specifically omegaverse content, occasionally you’ll find NSFW things or a dead dove here (always heavily tagged) because I’m apparently the big scary proshipper you’ve been warned about

☆ blog navigation: #my fics, #my asks, #wip Wednesday, #throwback Thursday fics, #spreadsheet Saturday, #slick Sunday

↓ masterlist of ficlets and fics below the cut ↓

TUMBLR FICLETS

Steddie:

☆ Amnesia ☆ Card Games ☆ Dinner Reservations ☆ Handcuffs ☆ Lingerie ☆ Not Dating ☆ Serial Killer Soulmates: part 1 | part 2 ☆ Steve Accidentally Summons a Demon: part 1 | part 2 ☆ Steve Isn’t Coping ☆ Transfem Stevie ☆

Omegaverse Steddie:

☆ 24-Hour Diner: part 1 | part 2 ☆ Alpha-for-Hire Eddie ☆ Autistic Omega Steve ☆ Baby Mine ☆ Birthday Massage ☆ Bitchy Omega Steve / Lovesick Alpha Eddie: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ☆ Camboy Steve ☆ Everyone is a Beta ☆ Expectations ☆ Fake Dating Fertility Clinic ☆ Fate Binds Us ☆ Hairdresser Steve/Rockstar Eddie ☆ Health Class ☆ Hellfire Cult ☆ I didn’t know we were dating: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ☆ Infertility ☆ Kas Eddie ☆ Losing Control ☆ Nestless Omega Steve ☆ Older Steve/Younger Eddie ☆ Oral Coach Steve ☆ Pathetic Omega Steve ☆ Platonic Stobin ☆ Scent Blockers ☆ Speak Now ☆ Steve Gets A Puppy ☆ Such A Good Boy ☆ The Bachelor ☆ The Best Present ☆ The Reunion ☆ Time Loop ☆ Unknowingly Claimed ☆ Wealthy Steve/Busker Eddie ☆

General Omegaverse:

☆ Alpha/Omega Voices ☆ Basic Guide to Omegaverse Terms ☆ Bite Lore ☆ Rejection Sickness ☆ Scruffing ☆

AO3 FICS

All of my fics are steddie unless otherwise stated, mostly explicit and omegaverse, but check actual tags before reading anything please!

☆ Current WIPs ☆

A Million Dreams: A/B/O, circus AU, 2/4 chapters, 10k

Keep Digging (until you find my heart buried next to yours in the ground): A/B/O, archeology au, soulmates, reincarnation, 2/3 chapters, 17k

Scatter The Ashes: A/B/O, mafia AU, sequel to Watch It All Burn, 4/16 chapters, 18k

Waking Up In Vegas: A/B/O, accidental mating, rockstar Eddie, 5/15 chapters, 33k

☆ Unfinished (Series) ☆

Going For The Gold: A/B/O, ice skater Steve/hockey player Eddie, 18k

Jailbirds Can’t Fly: A/B/O, dead dove, prison AU, bitching, 12k

Keep It On Campus: A/B/O, college AU, 22k

Lucky Number 666: A/B/O, mafia AU, single parent Steve, 3k

My Heart’s Been Borrowed and Yours Has Been Blue: A/B/O, divorced kindergarten teacher Steve/tattoo artist Eddie, 25k

The Bunny and The Wolf: A/B/O, mafia AU, 154k

☆ Complete ☆

A Prince and His Pauper: A/B/O, medieval/royalty AU, stuttering Steve, 100k

All I Want For Christmas Is You: A/B/O, Christmas fic, 6k

And The Sun Will Rise: A/B/O, zombie apocalypse AU, 41k

Baby Mine: A/B/O, omega Eddie/alpha Steve, unplanned pregnancy, hurt/comfort, 2k

Bandaids (And Other Home Remedies): A/B/O, pediatric nurse Steve/single dad Eddie, 87k

Bleeding Heart: A/B/O, vampire Eddie/human Steve, 21k

Business Before Pleasure: A/B/O, Buckingham, Office AU, 16k

Exigency Contact: A/B/O, threesome, Steddie/Stargyle/Steddigyle, rockstar Eddie, 10k

Five Years: amnesia, 1k

Fragile (Handle With Care): A/B/O, soulmates, rockstar Eddie, 117k

He’s So Mean: A/B/O, high school AU, 3k

Let Me Be Your (Teddy Bear): A/B/O, bitching, 11k

Mad World: trans male Eddie, childhood friends, 3k

More of You to Love: A/B/O, chubby Steve, 4k

Never Be Alone Again: A/B/O, dead dove, stalker Eddie, 3k

Oblivious: t4t, mutual pining, 3k

On A Different Page: A/B/O, didn’t know they were dating, 7k

Online, Offline (Out of My Mind): A/B/O, soulmates, online dating, actor Steve/mechanic Eddie, 41k

Screaming Your Name In The Dark: A/B/O, dead dove, Kas Eddie, alternating past/present timelines, 27k

Silver: A/B/O, silverfox omega Steve/younger alpha Eddie, 6k

Tell Me About It, Stud: A/B/O, studding, 7k

The Rings Stay On: cis female Steve, 4k

The Start of Something Perfect: A/B/O, soulmates, 2k

The Stutter and The Freak: stuttering Steve, 14k

Touch Me: A/B/O, omega/omega, therapist Eddie/touch-repulsed Steve, 12k

Unholy Matrimony: demon Eddie/human Steve, 5k

Unsafe Bet: A/B/O, high school AU, dating as a prank, 65k

[nburkhardt]

NO ONE LOOK, I CAN’T GET THIS IDEA OUT OKAY?!

It’s omegaverse with mpreg because I’m a sucker for it that loves it. Anyway, the idea !!!! Modern AU because it’s easier and I don’t wanna research shit

not only is it a modern au, it’s a famous au 😏

Steve’s an out & proud omega. He’s also known for his baking/cooking TikTok. It’s something silly he decided to do on a whim. He’s internet famous.

Eddie’s an alpha that’s also famous, as in Corroded Coffin is huge. He’s the lead guitarist, the face of the band. In your face kind of famous, there’s rumors and speculation around him always kind of famous. Ya know?

They’re also a couple. Like, mated & everything. But no one realizes it. Steve likes the privacy, so when Eddie talks about him just calls him “honey” and never, ever mentions Steve by name. Steve also talks about someone named ‘Bambi’ and says that’s who tests all his recipes. But never mentions that Bambi is this famous rockstar.

It all comes out one day when Steve makes a bizarre combination and Eddie’s voice is heard in his video.

Not only their relationship is out, but so is Steve’s pregnancy.

~

Don’t look at me!! My brain is always full of ideas and yet refuses to write anything more than descriptions 😠 I’d love to write the wips I got in my drafts but when I open it nothing comes to mind. I’ll get there someday. I swear.

In the meantime, enjoy this idea.

[sunflower-eddiediaz]

Hi Sun !! How are you ?? ✨ and for the make me write game : ☕️ & 😌 <3

Hi Ana! 😊 Today's alright and I had some creative fun :D

☕ Eddie & Karen

Mara looks up from the Switch in her hands. "Hello, Mister Diaz!" "Hi, Mara. You can call me Eddie." Maybe it'll work. Denny still slips and calls him Mr. Diaz sometimes. "Can Chris stay a little longer, Eddie?" Oh. That was a mistake.

😌 Omega voice

Buck decides that he wants a snack. He gets out of his bunk and makes it to the loft. He finds Eddie with a mug in hand. A mug full of coffee from the smell. "Oh so you've completely given up on sleeping, huh?" Buck keeps his voice soft, not disturbing the stillness of the empty kitchen.

make me write

[hedwig221b]

several sentence sunday monday

Thanks for the tag, @endwersed!💗 I'm shaking with the need to share this wip that I've been writing for @hotgirlstiles and as it won't see the light until I finish it, I thought I'd treat all of you lovely kittens with this piece

Carefully, he inspected Stiles’ face since the omega refused to meet his eyes. “Do you want a second date?”

Stiles was silent for as long as he could afford, and then murmured a quiet and guilty, “No.”

Sharp satisfaction splashed upon Derek’s insides like burning acid.

“Want me to reject him for you?” he asked with his head inclined.

Stiles stiffened with one steak lifted above the plate. He turned his big eyes at Derek.

“You’ll do that?” he asked in awe-filled disbelief.

Derek clenched his teeth so as not to blurt out all the things he was ready to do just for that gaze alone.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Stiles bloomed with a breathtaking smile. For the first time that day, it was completely genuine, fresh like the first rays of sunshine on the morning dew. His eyes shined and his cheeks went pink with pleasure.

Derek couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to.

“Thank you,” said Stiles with a true shyness this time trembling in his voice.

Unable to speak, the wolf nodded.

He wanted to run again. Not away, but just run to expel the energy, the rage, and elation that built in him from being near Stiles. All his senses were on edge, strung tight like a cord, ready to snap and take.

How much would Stiles fear him were he to know how close Derek was to wolfing out? Would he run? Would he scream when Derek inevitably chased?

The tips of Derek’s fingers shook with restraint. He clenched them into fists.

He didn’t talk much after that, closer to his wolf than usual. He couldn’t tear his gaze — most certainly intense and uncomfortable — from the now relaxed omega. Derek waited until Stiles took the first bite before taking his own — something that was easily missed by the omega who hardly knew any of the werewolf traditions and what it meant when the alpha steps aside and let you lead.

Stiles crawled under his skin where the fur lay hidden, waiting for a chance to burst and growl. He went further, through Derek’s muscles and his veins — his very flesh — to settle there as if he owned the place.

Derek tasted the food that the omega made for him — god if only he knew — and hungered for the taste of the future with him.

He wasn’t alone in that hunger, though. Oh, no. Those filthy vermin wanted Stiles, too. In fact, one of them sat not even an hour ago across from Stiles, just like Derek did now, and fantasized about the same things.

Yet, Stiles came back to him. He came back because he knew Derek could provide for him just like he wanted. Stiles came back and asked the wolf to get rid of his rival.

If only Stiles knew.

Read full version here

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[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for yesdangerpls; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Given how compatible they clearly are, Jazz wonders what it is about the scent of gunpowder and blood that this omega likes so much, but . . . 

Well. He’s a crime lord, or a vigilante, or some combination of the two. Maybe it makes him feel safe, having an alpha who smells like they can protect him in a way he’s familiar with. Jazz doesn’t actually have any idea how to fire a traditional gun, of course, but probably “ectoplasm and electricity” wouldn’t be a scent Red Hood would even recognize, much less find reassuring, so . . . 

Maybe she should take a few classes or something and start going to one of the local gun ranges, actually, if that’s something he–oh, well, that’s a presumptuous thought, Jazz recognizes, cutting it off before her inner alpha can get any more ahead of itself. 

They are very, very compatible, which is her only defense for that.

“Is there someone I can call for you?” she barely manages. “Someone safe, or–” 

“Knot me,” Red Hood snarls, less a plea and more a demand. Maybe he’s the bratty type of omega, Jazz thinks, and then has to beat down her inner alpha for immediately wanting to turn him over her knee. 

Or just shove him down to his knees and give him what he's asking her for. 

That is really, really not appropriate. Or helpful. 

Or getting out of her head, either. 

“You really don’t want me doing that right now,” she says, only barely keeping the alpha out of her voice. Red Hood makes a desperate, choked sound, digging his fingers into her back and tightening his arms around her neck and thighs against her sides, and then slips a bit away from “bratty” to . . . 

“Alpha,” he whines pleadingly. “You said I smelled good. Fucking liar. If you liked how I smelled you’d fucking knot me. M’wet, c’mon, m’wet for you, I need it so bad, stick it in me–” 

Okay, never mind: definitely still a brat. 

This is not really an ideal situation, Jazz observes. 

Well–in one sense, anyway. 

In another sense, she could just give him exactly what he’s asking for right now. 

She needs to not do that, though, which means . . . figuring something out, somehow. Just–before she ends up in sympathy rut, ideally. 

She is definitely ending up in sympathy rut no matter what, obviously, so she needs to mitigate the issue before she does. Just . . . somehow. Mitigating. Issue. 

. . . somehow. 

She's . . . not thinking as clearly as she could be, maybe.

“You're in heat drop,” Jazz says as patiently as she can, trying to just–minimize her breathing, a bit. Unfortunately talking necessitates at least a bit of it, but liminals don't need that much oxygen, really. Comparatively, she means. “You need a clinic or a spotter. Or at least a private nest, if nothing else.” 

“I need your entire fucking knot in me,” Red Hood snarls, and squeezes her tight enough with his arms and thighs that she has to put a lot less effort into remembering not to breathe. Which is actually a little helpful, honestly, but still not solving the situation.

[clownery-and-fuckery]

Take this quick Modern!AU WIP as I write nothing but pain

Echo chuckled nervously. "You don't need to call us," He assured Hunter over the phone. "I have everything under control."

"You sure?" Hunter sounded worried. "I just– I feel awful taking the whole day out, even if it's for a good reason—"

There's a reasonably loud popping sound from the kitchen, several, varying degrees of "shit" screamed, and a strong smell of something burning.

Echo winced hard, but he doesn't dare look. He doesn't want to know yet.

"What was that?" Hunter asked suspiciously.

"Omega.. dropped her AZI down the stairs," A white lie. "Nothing big. She's picking him up now."

The voices in the kitchen are panicking, Omega'a voice is high and stressed- that burning smell had gotten worse.

"She sounds worried," Hunter groaned. "Maybe I should come check—"

"No!" Echo raised his voice. "Everything's alright, isn't it, guys?"

He knew they heard him. Why they didn't answer immediately, he doesn't know, and that scares him.

"Everything's great!" Wrecker called back, like a saint. "Nothing out of the ordinary here!"

"Nope!" Omega chirped, as well. The panic is palpable.

Echo sighed. "See?" He tried to assure anyway. "They're fine. And I'll keep them in line, till you get back." He promised.

Hunter let out a weary sigh, and agreed. "Thanks, 'Cho," He mumbled. "I need this."

"I know," Echo smiled. "Now go enjoy your day."

The line goes dead, and Echo waits all of seven seconds before storming into the kitchen in a furious blaze.

"What's going on in here?!" He asked. "I said 'act natural', not– oh. Oh what the fuck."

Echo stared open mouthed at the once burning oven, eyes finding the metal responsible for the loud popping sound, and then his eyes track the trail of a.. travelling fire. A fire Echo can no longer see.

The smoke is still being cleared by Omega, who now stood alone with a teatowl as she flapped the smoke towards the windows. "Hi, Echo!" She waved.

"Omega–" Echo gaped, staring at their burnt kitchen. "What happened?"

"Oh–" Omega looked sheepish now. "Uhm, I left the fork in the tray when Wrecker put it in the oven..." She sends him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Echo, I didn't know it'd blow up."

"That's– fine," He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Where are the other three?"

Did they seriously leave their little sister to pick up their mess? Wrecker and Crosshair, Echo understood but didn't condone- but Tech? He expected a bit more su—

"Oh," Again, Omega sheepishly pointed outside. "Tech caught on fire."

Echo can only stare, and stare, until he catches up with what's been said to him.

"He what?!"

Tech's currently rolling around on the grass while Wrecker and Crosshair work together to hose him down, btw. he's fine. Hunter's sanity might not survive the ordeal, however.

[starrylothcat]

I wish you would write a fic where established relationship between reader and Crosshair gets a little angsty when reader has to treat/comfort Crosshair while he’s suffering from some sort of temporary sensory loss. (Sight is preferred but any would be cool)

Ohhh what an idea, I love this! Thank you! Sorry this took so long, haha!

I had a wild week at work and finally had time to type out this little angsty brainworm 🤓

This is in response to the “I wish you would write a fic about…” ask game that I can’t find the link to!

By My Side

Pairing: Crosshair x Gen!Reader

Warnings: Angst, loss of vision, mentions of drugs/imprisonment. Hopeful ending. Just some classic CrossAngst.

WC: 1300 (I got way carried away)

Summary/Fic Scenario: You and Crosshair were together before Order 66. Crosshair decided to join the Empire, you did not. You begged him to come with you and his brothers, but he made his choice.

You assisted TBB in rescuing Crosshair and Omega from Mount Tantiss and brought them to Pabu. You offered your home for Crosshair to rest, as he was unconscious from the rescue. Cue angst. Will I write a full fic about this one day? Do I have a WIP? Maybe. Hehe. I hope this is up your alley, anon!

When he finally woke, it was to darkness.

Crosshair tried to control the panic rising in his chest, gripping the blankets tight under his fingers.

He blinked again, the darkness easing up just a bit, some fuzzy blobs of color visible.

Panic was still steadily rising, trying to choke out a word, any sound, but his voice was hoarse.

He slowly sat up, realizing he wasn’t restrained in any way, and the bed he was lying on was soft.

Soft?

Crosshair focused momentarily, listening, his one sense that wasn’t currently disrupted.

He could hear distant waves and quiet cries of birds.

Laughter drifted in on a breeze, salt catching his nose.

He wasn’t on Mount Tantiss anymore, that was for certain.

His panic let up slightly as he desperately tried to rub his eyes, hoping to clear the fog.

If he wasn’t there, where was he? Was he dead, is this a dream? A new type of drug they had him under?

His memory was as hazy as his vision, not remembering anything or now he got to be here.

The last broken thought he had was speaking with Omega, her trying to comfort him, saying she knew his brothers were coming to rescue them.

He remembered scoffing at the notion, but deep down, wishing her hopeful statement was true.

Crosshair took a breath, trying to collect his muddled thoughts. His head was pounding and ringing, blood rushing in his ears.

His body was weak and sore, and he was completely disoriented.

While captured, they only fed him the bare minimum to keep him alive. If he had to fight his way out of wherever he currently was, he didn’t have much strength left.

It didn’t help that he still couldn’t see.

Crosshair couldn’t continue his plan of escape, hearing a door click and soft footsteps approaching.

“Who is there?” He managed to croak out, the panic and adrenaline that was coursing through his veins mixing with a crushing exhaustion that was now taking over his body.

He was feeble, vulnerable, but still wouldn’t go down without a fight. Crosshair tried to stand, his legs giving out and immediately falling to the ground, unable to make out anything but fuzzy shapes in front of him.

Something was suddenly touching his shoulder, and he scrambled away. He hit his head on what must have been a side table or dresser as he desperately swiped the air with his hands at nothing.

“Stay back!” He hissed, lost in darkness, trying to feel for anything around him to use as a weapon.

“Crosshair…Crosshair, it’s okay! It’s me.”

Crosshair froze, bristling at the sound of your voice. He curled himself into a corner like a wounded animal, ready to strike.

He must be dead. This must be hell.

It was your voice.

You.

Pain gripped his heart, he couldn’t speak.

“You’re safe. We’re safe.”

A million emotions pulsed through his system as he processed the fact you were there. Was this a hallucination?

Crosshair felt a touch on his shoulder again, realizing it was your hand. He flinched at your touch, but didn’t pull away. Your contact was hesitant, unsure.

“Tech said your vision should return within a day or two. It’s a side effect of the drugs from the lab.”

Crosshair felt like he was falling, every word you spoke opening old wounds. He may as well be back on the operating table, being sliced open.

It was you. It had to be. Your cadence, soft yet affirming, the voice that haunted his dreams every night.

After all he did…you were here?

He was glad he couldn’t see your face, what expression did you wear? Disgust? Pain? Anger?

“We can explain everything later. We are all here, safe from the Empire.”

“Omega…?” He finally croaked out.

“Her too, she’s fine, just resting.”

Crosshair let out a breath. She was right, they did come for them. And so did you.

The last time Crosshair saw you, Kamino was burning, sinking to the depths.

He asked you to come with him.

Your hurt, tear-filled eyes still burned in his mind, the sadness on your face, your desperate words to get him to stay with you.

He did not forget the wrathful anger that practically ate him alive as you left him on Kamino, choosing his brothers over him.

Crosshair felt what you had shared never mattered, feeling foolish at ever letting you in, feeling betrayed that he had shown you part of him that no one had ever seen.

The one person he tentatively and slowly let inside was now turning their back, just like everyone always had.

He should have known.

Pathetic.

At least that’s how he felt initially.

As time went on, and he lay alone in his small Imperial quarters, he thought of you.

He thought of his brothers.

He thought of what he left behind.

He thought of what Cody told him, his words taking hold in his brain more and more. Had he made a mistake?

Now here he was, back with them, back with you.

Fate has a funny way of doing things.

Crosshair stayed silent, letting you help him back into the bed.

What can be said after all this time? After the things he’s done?

Why were you here, helping him?

Crosshair felt the side of the bed lower as you sat next to him.

“Crosshair, I…” You started, also not knowing what to say.

“I can explain everything later, or your brothers can. They are right next door. They figured it was best to give you some space. But I…I thought you might need someone around when you woke up.”

Crosshair could pick up the weariness in your voice.

“I can go if you’d like.” You spoke quietly.

Crosshair wanted to reach out, touch you. But he didn’t deserve that, after all he did. He didn’t even deserve to be in your current presence.

“No.” He rasped.

He felt the bed rise as you stood up.

“Let me bring you some food. You’re probably starving.”

Crosshair heard your footsteps leave his bedside, and picked up on the uneven sound of your steps.

“Wait,” Crosshair called, your footsteps stopping.“Are you hurt?”

There was a few moments of silence.

“Just a few scrapes and bruises, nothing serious.” Your crooked footsteps continued out of the room.

Crosshair knew you were lying, obviously dealing with an injury received while rescuing him.

Guilt stabbed at his chest, knowing you were hurt because of him, carrying scars that you’ll probably have forever.

A reminder of what his family had to go through to rescue him, something he was unworthy of.

Yet here you were, caring for him, at his side, even after everything. Risking your life to save the man who tossed you to the side, abandoned you and his brothers for something he thought was right and was too stubborn to see before it was too late.

Crosshair laid there, hearing the occasional sound of a pantry opening, a plate being set on a counter.

He must be in your home, wherever this is.

You came back into the room, setting food down at the bedside table next to him.

Crosshair wearily sat up again as you touched his hand, guiding it to the food.

“Why are you doing this?” He whispered, your hand not leaving his.

Crosshair could feel your hand trembling.

“You were lost. So we found you.”

Your hand tightened around his.

“I said terrible things. I’ve done terrible things.” Crosshair could feel bile rise in his throat, nauseous at the recollections of what he did serving the Empire. Or maybe it was the drugs wearing off. Or maybe it was remembering how he left you.

He was dizzy.

It was all too much.

Crosshair felt your other hand carefully touch the side of his face, which he instinctually leaned into, desperate for contact that wasn’t medical machinery or hands forcing him into restraints.

“I’m sorry.” Crosshair felt hot tears sting at sides of his eyes, confused, lost, anguished.

Forgiveness isn’t something easily earned. He knew that.

It was going to take a long time to come to terms with everything, with his family, with you.

But for now, you were here, and the rest will come later.

Taglist (y’all being tagged in this sorry lolol)

@littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @secondaryrealm @secretthegriffin @sinfulsalutations @anxiouspineapple99 @idontgetanysleep @starqueensthings @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @dreamie411 @coraex @aconstructofamind @multi-fan-dom-madness @freesia-writes @kashasenpai @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @wizardofrozz @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @the-cantina @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @sleepingsun501 @sunshinesdaydream @kimiheartblade

Divider by @idontgetanysleep

[slicesofapple]

Favorite TodoBaku/BakuTodo fics

So, I am fairly new to this fandom/pairing, but I decided to start building my favorites list. Already it is very, very hard to choose. There are so many amazing fics and incredible authors writing them! But these (in no particular order) are the ones I am coming back to/re-reading the most. (I'll be adding to this as I go, this is just the start of it). Many of these authors have other fantastic todobaku/bakutodo fics as well.

playing with fire by ninanna. rated M. How things unfold and overlap, hurt and please between two people who do not see any potential in each other beside rivalry and occasional partnership. [Note: I think this is now my favorite all-time fic; it's a tour de force; spectacular. all ninanna's todabaku/bakutodo fics are - the author reaches in and rips out your guts in the best way possible.]

The Feel of His Hand is Like Home by XenophonSpeaks. rated T. A typical mission goes unexpectedly south, leaving Todoroki reeling with panic, injured and compromised. Thankfully, he didn't embark on this mission alone. [This author! so good.]

Sated, by Crossfire. rated M. Some Alphas and Omegas get cuddly, or tired, or hungry. Some Alphas and Omegas like to fuck. Bakugou and Todoroki like to fight. [I'm a sucker for (especially non-explicit) alpha/beta/omega, and this one hits the sweetest of sweet spots.]

anything you say can and will be held against you by delectum. rated G. What is the correct protocol for when the villain you’re supposed to be apprehending starts flirting? [So funny and perfectly executed.]

Be Kind, Rewind by seventh_time_lucky. rated T. What starts off as a normal-seeming Sunday starts to get stranger and stranger, until Shouto finds himself locked out of UA, with no money and no phone, and the only person he can find to help is Midoriya. But Midoriya is too tall and cries every time he looks at Shouto, and Shouto starts to think something has gone really, really wrong. [Perfect angst. wip.]

Finding and Holding by bigcatsmallcat. rated T. Shouto gets temporarily quirked into a mushroom. [This one is really bakutododeku, but it is so adorable I had to put it in.]

Something of Silence by Viidoll. rated T. When Bakugou Katsuki is unexpectedly hit with a muting quirk, he makes it his mission to hunt down the moron stupid enough to silence him. Reluctant to receive help, he somehow gets it anyway - in the perplexing form of one Todoroki Shouto. In the process of losing his voice and struggling to get it back, Bakugou might just learn a little about listening. [Ah, one of the earliest ones I read of these two. So perfect.]

put some socks on by Tierfal. rated T. Shouto comes home after an extremely long day, and Bakugou is sitting on the couch. [The banter here is especially delectable.]

the witch's familiar by orange_cheetah. rated M. The night he escapes from the castle, crown prince Todoroki Shouto finds himself cursed by the magician in his father's employ. Undeterred, Todoroki strikes up a deal of his own: kill the most powerful witch in the kingdom to have the curse broken. There's just one small problem: he's somehow ended up as the familiar of the witch in question—Bakugou Katsuki. [This is such great storytelling, the way the pieces all slot into place at the end.]

i'm tired, i'm tired of not loving you by yekijan. rated M. [Amnesia fic. So much fabulous angst.]

Ten Years Wanting by Ramabear (RyMagnatar). Rated E. Bakugou. His name is Bakugou. Or at least that is what they call him.Everyone has been calling him by some other phrase that he cannot understand and that makes his head hurt when he hears it too much. Bakugou doesn’t feel right until he hears Todoroki call him that and then it does. He remembers Todoroki calling him Bakugou. He has never really said his name with fondness and even now, as he tells Bakugou what he expects of him, he doesn’t say it kindly but he does say it.Something in the back of Bakugou’s mind tells him that this is progress. This is more than what there was before. This is closer to what he wants. [Another amnesia fic, this time the other way around].

A normal poly relationship doesn't have this many fucking spreadsheets by Anonymous. Not Rated. three teenage boys being fucking idiots because actually being mature about your feelings is for suckers. [wip. this is hilarious but also very sweet. warning: izuku is pretty much an asshole here, at least so far. and it is very much bakutodo/todobaku, not bakutododeku.]

I will love you in every universe by HeavenCat. Rated T. During a rescue mission, pro hero Katsuki aka Dynamight switches places with his fifteen-year-old self. (it's so good! so sweet and funny and good).

Ruin My Life by justhavesex. Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings. He's not a vengeful person, really, he's not. But him and Bakugou have started this little on-going war of theirs back in middle school when they were 10 years old and Todoroki had accidentally—if you got Todoroki drunk enough and fed his ego well enough he would, in fact, admit that it was very much on purpose—accidentally fed Bakugou's limited edition All Might magazine to his cat.

feel free to put your own faves in the comments or tags 😉