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lostdrarryfics · 6 months

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THE BIG FIND 2023: Day 1

The Big Find is a 10-day long Drarry fic-finding marathon to celebrate the blog’s anniversary. Below is the Day 1 compilation of lost fics, both old and new, that we’ve been unable to find. Our aim is to get as much attention to these lost fics as possible, to help people finally find their missing fics! Anyone can participate by reblogging, reading through each list, providing additional fic details, and informing us the title, author, or link of a fic, and their respective number in the comment section. Happy finding!

1.1 It’s a fic where after Draco is sentenced to live in muggle world and Draco first works in a cofee shop and then in a pharmaceutical company formed by a witch. then on a full moon day he suddenly turns into a werewolf and then with bill helps him adjust, and then he becomes potions professor meanwhile Harry adopts teddy and becomes defence professor and Harry magic goes haywire

1.2 it has Draco, Hermione, Ron, and Harry but the main scene is basically just Draco and Harry in the Room of Requirement. Premise is that Harry had been using magic to glamour himself to cover up the signs or the Dursley’s abuse FOREVER so no one has actually seen what he looks like. Somehow I think Ron and Hermione convince Harry to let someone in so he decides to show Draco who he’s dating what he actually looks like and Draco is so shocked/aghast Harry thinks he’s disgusted and one of them (though i don’t remember who) runs away back to the dorm and Harry is deeply upset. I believe it’s relatively short (2-10k?) and i feel like it’s 2-3 chapters or parts but could be wrong. It’s probably AO3 but slight possibility it was FFN (HIGHLY unlikely tho). If it is AO3 then unfortunately it’s not tagged for any of the things i listed.

1.3 Harry and Draco were out with Teddy, and they ran into Neville who questioned Harry about Draco and their relationship. I believe it was winter. There’s another scene that I can remember and I don’t know if I’m conflating two different fics but there’s a scene where Harry and Draco are shopping in muggle London and they’re looking at weird shirts and they run into Vernon who makes some homophobic slurs.

FOUND! 1.4 I’m looking for a fic that was on ao3. Draco is some sort of an artist, not sure if professionally or simply something he pursues as a hobby for his healing. Writer or painter maybe. He has a mentor who tells him to go a retreat by the seaside in a little hotel which he does and he runs into Harry by accident. Harry is overall happy and open to him, but Draco has a lot of anger towards him I think. They start a dom/sub relationship, Draco being the dom, taking pleasure out of humiliating Harry. Towards the end there’s a scene where he makes Harry suck off a stranger in a bars bathroom or maybe the stranger sucks Harry off while Draco watches. But I think this is a where Harry has enough because ultimately he only wants Draco. It’s a happy end if I remember well.

1.5 i read this fic on ao3 it was unfinished and a muggle au. harry works at an office (I think) where he is the boss and he meets Draco at a bar. Jily is still dead so Halloween is hard for him. He also dated Cedric I think and Cedric died. Draco helps bartend with Theo, and Draco is dressed like a cat cause of Halloween. Draco then gets assaulted and harry punches the guy. after that they hangout in Harry’s car.

1.6 Draco and Harry had a one night stand (I think?) and Draco gets pregnant, he doesn’t tell Harry and then leaves the baby with him once it’s born, Harry didn’t know that he is the father but keeps the baby. Said baby gets sick and the treatment involves the father so he publishes about it in the Prophet and ask the baby’s dad to please show up. Draco does and had some test done, they start the treatment and Harry asks him to stay.

FOUND! 1.7 been looking for this fic for a long time. i think draco is some sort of healer in the fic and harry always come to him injured and he helps patch him up also they’re close friends and by the end of the fic they go to ginny’s quidditch match and the gang helps them realise they have feeling for each other?

1.8 I believe it was on AO3 but I could be wrong, I think it was a number of fics in a series but it could have been chapters but I’m fairly sure it was complete. It was set post-war, Harry had become an Auror and was apparating home from an alley while buzzed. There was a line about how the whores don’t hit on him anymore because he never takes them home? He hears a weird noise and his magic automatically sobers him up. The noise is Draco, who got kicked out by parents and got roofied. Harry rescues him, I think Draco passes out? and then Harry is annoyed because his buzz is gone and he has to deal with this. The second fic (or chapter) opens from Draco’s POV. He’s looking around the bedroom he’s in and he figures out it’s the old Black house because of the furniture and that Harry must have rescued him but taken him home instead of the hospital. He decides to seduce Harry and he’s able to conjure like a mirror and brush? and there’s a line about how this is the only spell he’s able to do wordlessly/wandlessly? I think the POV then switches to Harry and there’s a line about how Draco has managed to get like a single ray of light from the curtains to fall on him perfectly. Harry is aware he’s being seduced but he’s into it. Then I think the next chapter has Harry confronting the Malfoy parents about how they’re going to get married and they’re not going to hyphenate names, Draco is going to take his last name. The final fic is maybe from Lucius pov (or narcissa?) Draco threw Harry a really big birthday party and reveals he’s pregnant which causes Lucius to faint? And there’s a line about how the baby has brought both Harry and Lucius to their knees.

FOUND! 1.9 harry tells draco that he wants to wait until theyre eight years into their relationship to get married so that hed have spent more time loving him than hating him before they tie the knot

1.10 auror fic where Draco and Harry have to work together to arrest some child abuser and learn about each other’s past. I don’t remember if they were in relationships or it was drarry but the focus was the work in the auror force and their building relationship.

1.11 major plot point is ginny and Molly Weasley being behind some sort of plot and eventually are imprisoned. I know Ron is an ass for much of the fic, hermione helps solve a case or problem with Harry and involves draco. Not a lot much else I recall fic is not The Haunting of Harry Potter by Alexandria_ofCiro

1.12 was either 1 or 2 chapters, it was on ffnet. Set in the eighth year. The plot is somewhat similar to the show/manga “boys over flowers”. Also Draco was being bullied due to receiving a howler (I think, sorry it’s been a long time since I’ve read it) Neville has an unrequited crush on Draco and they are friends.

1.13 takes place in the eighth year but some of it also takes place after the war but before the eighth year. Draco receives an inheritance from a high ranking Veela who died which made him a Veela. Most of what I remember takes place before he goes back to hogwarts and is basically him learning how to be a Veela and stuff

FOUND! 1.14 Draco cursing his family name (Malfoy) because he wants to feel pain each time someone says it to it. So i think the fic starts with Draco working as a cafe barista in the human world and harry walks into the shop and calls him Malfoy, so the curse is kinda unlocked and Draco gets sick so he has to stay under surveillance in Harry’s house

#the big find 2023 #drarry #drarry fic #drarry fic search #drarry squad

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somewherebetweendisorder · 6 months

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Cold Brew Love

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

A cofee shop AU

Warnings: angst, fluff, eventual smut

~~~

The lock slides home with a satisfying click, signaling the end of Eddie's day. He loves the bar, coated in water to slide drinks easier, the music, crackling through the ancient speakers, and most of the patrons. He likes them better when they're heading out for the night. The sound of glass on glass when the guys at the bar are toasting another weekend, the chorus of playful jeers when Mr. Birkman buys another round of shots that he can't afford. But when the day is done, there's nothing better than locking up and going home.

The air has shifted, the last remnants of September bleeding out into a cool October, leaves falling in fiery waves from the trees. His jacket vest combo is feeling a bit too thin, a bit too worn to fend off the chill, and he shivers against the autumn wind. Maybe he should grab a box of hot chocolate mix or something.

He slides into the van, wishing the heater worked better, wishing he could afford to fix it. It'll have to do until the next paycheck. That could be a gamble, knowing how cold it gets overnight, the new touch of frost lingering even in the sun. Driving slow, he debates a single cup of hot chocolate or a box of packets.

"They'll probably be the same price," he mumbles as he glances at the coffee shop to his left. It's the only place in Hawkins that sells just coffee, boasting the best cup in town, and Eddie avoids it like the plague.

He wouldn't stop; he swears to himself he wouldn't stop if he wasn't suddenly looking at the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Baggy jeans with battered Vans and a smile brighter than the dawn breaking over Hawkins. Hair loose, wind-whipped, and shining in the raw sunlight, you're taking orders in the line, moving from car to car with more poise than he's ever witnessed in one person, like a dancer.

That's all he needs to make a sharp left into the parking lot and pull in behind the other waiting cars, more eager to see you closer than he is for the hot coco he had been fantasizing about. The line creeps forward, agonizingly slow, but before he has a chance to gather himself, you're bounding up to his window with a cheerful grin and a perky, "What can I get you today?"

He freezes, words dying on the tip of his tongue, thoughts crashing together in a useless, messy heap. Hawkins is far from a large town. How has he never seen you before?

"Uh, do you have- Do you have hot chocolate?"

You grimace, frowning apologetically before you even speak.

"We do not, I'm sorry. It's obscene, really, but my boss doesn't take suggestions, so coffee and tea it is. Either of those sound good?"

Eddie shakes his head while speaking. "Yeah. Just- A small black coffee is fine. Thanks."

You seem unfazed by his behavior, tapping away at the tablet in your hands. "Okay, sweet. And can I get a name for the order?"

"Um, yeah, 'course. It's, uh, Eddie. With two d's."

"Eddie with two d's. Alright, they'll have your order ready at the window, Eddie."

He wants to stop you as you walk away, moving to the car behind his, wants to ask your name, but he's caught on the way you spoke his, saccharine and light like you weren't tilting his world upside down with those eyes and that smile.

"Get ahold of yourself, man."

The window slides open the moment he gets to it, a small paper cup shoved into his partially outstretched hand. It's hot, almost too hot to hold and he scoops the receipts and change out of his seldom-used cup holder frantically so he can set the cup down.

He doesn't spare a glance at the girl behind the window as he mumbles a thank you, doesn't really care if it's not you. A perfect stranger in every right, but he wants more. Feels like somehow he's seen you before. God, he must know you from a past life. What else could it be?

As he pulls away he chances a sip of the coffee. It's as bad as he remembers, searing his tongue, almost sludge-like in consistency. Setting the cup down he sighs, shaking his head. Still worth it. Of course, it was worth it.

The moment his van door jerks open with a loud creak he's popping the lid off the cup, pouring the drink out into the dry grass bordering the Munson drive.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" You turn to Krista as she hands out a cup of tea to a customer, never knowing where she's actually taking a conversation.

"That guy was cute."

You crane your head to see out the window, taking in the dark blue truck that you see come through regularly. "Wasn't that-?"

"Not him, the guy earlier. Eddie. The guy with the curls."

"Oh. Oh. That guy."

You saw him. Really saw him from his chipped black polish, contrasting the silver of his rings as his fingers drummed a nervous staccato beat against the steering wheel. The steering wheel that was peeling at the top, leather flaking away from the seam. His brown eyes were wide, almost too big for his face, looking anywhere but at you as he spoke. He would be impossible to ignore.

Not that you'd been here long, maybe two months, but most were regulars, ordering the same thing day in and day out thanks to small-town habits. You could relate to that, the familiarity of routine. The move had turned your world upside down, shaking up everything you knew and dropping you in Hawkins of all places. And you'd definitely never seen that guy before. Eddie. The name suited him, seemed to fit his cupid's bow and gangly frame just right.

"Yeah, that guy. What'd you think?"

"Um." What sort of question was that? How could you even answer? He seemed to be your type right down to his little flock of bats, but Krista talked too much, and really, it would be more fun to think of him without having to play twenty-one questions with her over your thoughts about a stranger.

"I don't even know him. How could I have an answer."

She laughs, shaking her head as though something about your dismissal of her question is funny. She laughs like she knows something, and it irritates you. Moving away you drop a dirty shot tin into the sink, watching it slowly fill with sudsy water, sinking to the bottom with a soft clink against the enamel.

Eddie is not a coffee person. He'd watched Wayne drink it every morning for years, sighing after the first sip, face bathed in steam from the freshly brewed cup. When Eddie worked up the courage to try it, he poured a full cup, eager to prove a point. His first sip was hot, searing his tongue, bitter as if he were drinking charcoal. Topping it off with milk or stirring in spoonfuls of sugar never made it better; it just tasted bad.

He preferred his brew, cold and malty, on draft at the bar. So why was he once again in the drive-thru of the only coffee shop in Hawkins, eagerly anticipating you opening the window to hand him the cup of black sludge he wasn't going to drink?

God, would you even be at the window? Yesterday you had been outside, but today he's the only one here, crawling out of the bar a bit later than usual.

The thin panel slides open with a squeak, revealing you, fresh-faced, hair pulled back, a few loose strands framing your face sweetly. You smile at the sight of him, eyes crinkling around the corners, making his long night worth it, nearly convincing him he should just drink the damn coffee today, instead of pouring it out.

"Hi, there! Back for more of Hawkins's best coffee?"

Eddie desperately wants to smile, offer a witty reply, with a cool practiced tone, as if he talks to pretty girls all the time. Like the nymphs in the woods come to visit when he makes his way out to his old table in the woods.

But as usual, he's speaking before he can really think it through, words tripping into each other, pitching off his tongue clumsily, cheeks tinting a faint pink.

"How'd you guess?"

Maybe it's not the worst thing he could have said. You giggle softly, turning to pour his cup of coffee, shaking your head a bit.

"Mm, I dunno. Guess I'm hoping we haven't lost the monopoly on the Hawkins' coffee market since yesterday. Offers me some job security."

It's a weird response, long, and over-indulgent like you're humoring him. The way you say it, clearly, quietly, almost like you're knee-deep in sharing a secret, voice ringing with sincerity has him pausing with his fingers outstretched for the cup. For a moment, he's not sure how to react. Does he love this, or hate it? Are you playing along out of pity?

You look up, meeting him in the void between the drive-thru window and his waiting hand, fingers brushing his palm, sending a wave of heat through him, goosebumps erupting across his arms, skin tingling like he was shocked by a live wire.

"Oh yeah, that's a real concern in this town. Better make sure no one sneaks off with the secret recipe."

"Don't worry. If anyone did, it would be me." You say it lightly, winking as you drag your hand away from his, lips twisted up into a jovial grin.

"Smart girl."

The car behind Eddie honks, loud and long, tired of waiting for him to pull forward.

"Sorry," Eddie begins, hastily setting his cup down, dark liquid sloshing out, spilling over his hand. "Fuck. Sorry! Didn't realize anyone was behind me. I'll um- I'll see ya later."

He's pulling away before you can say anything, your balmy laugh chasing him, treacly and soft.

He'll go back tomorrow. He knows he will, even as he pours another wasted cup into the Munson yard.

"Hey Pam, we're out of cream and green tea bags."

Your boss looks up from her phone, glasses perched on the end of her nose, blinking slowly as she processes your words. "Cross 'em off on the menu."

She's looking back at her phone, an obvious dismissal, abundantly clear after the last time you asked her to restock before her usual shopping day. Nodding to yourself you step away, moving back to the small prep area, snatching the nearly empty tip jar off the window ledge.

"Krista, wanna go grab cream and tea at the store?"

She watches you count the change out on the sticky countertop, neatly stacking the change and uncrinkling the bills.

"That's not gonna be enough, Miss Overachiever."

You look up, fingers curling tightly around the bill you had just been dutifully smoothing out. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Once, twice, three times.

"I'm aware. Just trying to figure out how much extra I need to give you."

Before you can finish she's pushing her way in, sliding the coins off the counter into her palm, crumpling the few bills again as she shoves them into her pocket.

"You're pathetic, spending money on a job that pays fuckin' peanuts. It's gonna cost at least another five. I'm only going because I love you so much."

"What would I do without you?" You pull out the neatly folded money in your back pocket, all you had for lunch, and pass it over.

She's breezing out the front door, the bell jingling, giving you away. Thankfully you weren't trying to keep this on the down low. Sagging against the cool metal work table you plant your hands on the edge, wincing when your palm lands in a tacky, half-dry puddle of cream. God, this job.

Small towns don't lend many options, but surely there's someplace better than this. Peeking through the narrow window you take in the strip across from the shop, small businesses just opening for the day.

Your eyes catch on the LED signs lining the record store's windows. That could be promising, music has always been an easy escape, a world to disappear into. It couldn't hurt to stop by, ask around, see if you can convince them they need two more hands to stock shelves. Any more time here and you might end up in trouble like before. A change might be good, sooner rather than later.

"Alright, I've clocked out and wiped everything down for the night. You need anything else before I go?"

Pam doesn't look up, shuffling papers around on her cluttered desk, grunting in response. It's infuriating, the slight grating across your skin, itchy and hot. Why does she behave like this? Does it make her somehow feel better, powerful? You've worked with coffee before, it's the only reason she hired you, so why now are you so beneath her?

Taking this as your cue to go, you pivot on your heel, following the short hallway, shoving open the door with a stiff arm, enjoying the way it slams harshly as you exit. Maybe it's juvenile; hell, you know it is. But it feels nice.

The neon lights across the street call to you, orange and yellow and pink, promising something to ease the pain, a balm for another shift wasted. You start to cross the street, remembering to look for oncoming traffic at the last second, Docs scuffing harshly against the curb. You lick your thumb, bend over, try to soothe the rough patch away in vain. It's a tiny thing, the mark, the curb, the day in general, but suddenly everything is an avalanche. Teeth clenched so tight a sharp pain worms its way through your jaw, you straighten, growling out a repressed scream, nails biting into the delicate flesh of your palms.

Sky dark, sun dipping low as the peachy gray smear of dusk fades, you step out into the street, skirting a pothole, shoving your fisted hands deep into the pockets of your jacket. Ten more steps and you'll be crossing into warmth and a universal familiarity. Five more steps and the music will touch you, pick up the pieces of this day. Three steps and your fingers will be curling around the frigid handle of the door. Two steps, one, and then sanctuary.

Chimes above the door jingle softly, calling attention to your presence as you try to slip in unnoticed. The carpet is thin, rough, scraping against the worn soles of your shoes, hues of purple and blue rippling away from your feet in odd geometric patterns.

The store smells musty, an old, lingering smell, like it's never really been cleaned well permeates that air, mingles with the low sounds of guitar and bass trickling through the speakers around the store. Records are stacked neatly on the counter, high enough to hide whoever is working the register, business cards spilling across the surface that vinyl isn't occupying. The shelves are filled, new and used, categorized by genre, then alphabetized.

The general organization of it all had your toes curling in a simple sort of pleasure as you make your way deeper into the store, allowing your fingertips to brush along the faces of a few covers, smiling when you find one of your favorites.

Near the back of the space, the light dims, a small stage and seating area nearly concealed by the shelves and racks of records and vintage stereo and photography equipment. It's an odd assortment, none of it really cohesive, yet it fits all the same.

"Ten minutes 'til close!"

You jump, startled, turning to face the front. The counter is blocked from view, and you wonder if it is a general announcement or if you are expected to answer. All that's left to look at is a thin rotating rack with a hand-drawn sign above it that reads "Local Talent".

A cover catches your attention, crudely drawn, but with intent, with care, like the artist wanted nothing more than to see their vision to life by any means. The edges look burned intentionally, the design lingering with you, preventing you from skipping over it.

"Corroded Coffin," you whisper to yourself, fingers curling over the edge, tipping it toward you as though it's fragile, some great epiphany hiding just behind it. Nothing jumps out, nothing feels different as you flip the CD over, reading the song titles, feeling some odd sense of kinship forming with the mind behind these songs. You haven't even listened to it yet, and it's speaking to you like this, one of those instincts. When you know, you know.

Stepping away from the stand you hold the case close to your chest, protective, or using it as a shield from what you don't know, but it remains there until you get back to the front. The case hits the counter with a muted tap, cheap green laminate an ugly backsplash.

The man behind the counter is older, thick-framed glasses drawing your attention to the pale blue eyes that skirt over you, uninterested, assessing, quickly drawing judgment; you don't belong here. A beat passes before he reaches for the item you set down, scanning it and placing it in a bag.

"That'll be $12.97."

"Sure thing. Here ya go," you extend your hand, credit card dangling between limp fingers, confidence long gone, eager to run away. "It's um- This is a really nice shop."

"Thanks."

That's it. He passes your card back with the bag, not even looking at you, as dismissive as Pam. And it's even worse the second time around, bile churning in the pit of your stomach, inching up your throat, fingers twitching with anger, jaw ticking.

"Listen, actually, I came over to see if you need any help. Part-time, or full-time. I can stock, clean, run the register. I work at the coffee shop right over there." You pause to gesture uselessly, fingers curling into a fist mid-air. "I'm a hard worker. And I know music."

He does look at you now as you deflate, burst of esteem withering like a flower without sunlight, hungry and dying, crawling in on yourself. His face is riddled with doubt, lips twisted up like he smells something rotten, putrid, and noxious.

"We're not hiring right now, sorry."

He doesn't look very sorry as he shifts, getting to his feet, reaching for the keys at his belt pointedly.

"Okay. Thank you for your time."

The bells rattle again, far less cheery this time around, the sound is monotonous, hollow. As the metal door thuds closed behind you you shake your head, trying to dislodge the thoughts clawing their way up in your mind, decomposing figures breaking through the soil, ready to torment, ready to hurt. You just need it all to be quiet.

Jogging back across the road you pull out your keys and unlock your car, all but falling into the seat, unable to relax but dissolving into the worn fabric all the same. Assholes, all of them. Your fingers flex, squishing against firm plastic, reminding you of the new treasure clutched tightly in your hands. Tearing off the cellophane, crinkling it loudly in the stale air lingering in your car. The CD slides in, a soft whir as it begins to play, deep bass beginning to leak through the speakers, the ones that still work anyway.

It's real, the music, every note hitting some tattered cord within you, licking the pain away, replacing it with some small measure of relief. You can't help the smile playing on your lips, barely there, but there all the same as you slam the gear shift into drive. Apparently, not everything in this town sucks.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff

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highly-radioactive-nerd · 11 months

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Something I really hate that's happened since KotM is the internet fandomification of Godzilla. The superwholockification of Godzilla as it were. Where people don't discuss the films, themes and characters so much as they make aesthetic mood boards for their cofee shop au gijinkas with personalities that have nothing to do with the original character.

Yknow I guess there's no wrong way to play with your toys, but some of the stuff I've seen is just so divorced from what Godzilla is I can't understand the leaps made from point A to point B.

I dunno, maybe it's just me being a cranky old gatekeeper, but I feel like there's a ton of people just missing the point completely. Immune to the charm and replacing it with something else.

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cranberrymoons · 3 months

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Coffee Shop Au for WIP Weekend!

@steventhusiast @shares-a-vest @sidekick-hero

COFEE SHOP AU!!! 🗣️☕️

this one started over the summer when I got a very aggressive brainworm about Eddie running a shop called Corroded Coffee and then at the end of august when ao3 was down for a few days, I posted the first chunk of it here on tumblr and then immediately ruined goldie's life by making them wait 6 months for an update 😭 but I've been working on it! it's still on the list! the whole thing is about 10k right now and I DO want to finish it and get it posted for real at some point SOON I PROMISE

anyway, here's a little snippet :)

“You’re very smooth,” Steve says. “Everything you do is like –” He laughs, shaking his head. “Like something out of an old movie or something.” Eddie makes a face. “Smooth makes it sound like it’s an act.” “Is it not?” He shrugs. “My uncle raised me right.” “You were raised by your uncle?” Eddie hums, nodding a little. They come to a stop as they wait for the light to change, and he squeezes Steve’s hand. “My parents didn’t really stick around.” He takes a breath, staring across the street. “Dad was in and out of prison, until he was just… in. And my mom was all over the place, but Wayne was always there.” He shoots a look over at Steve. “No Hungarian nannies for me.” Steve laughs a little. “I regret telling you that, by the way.” “Was she like – a live-in nanny?” Eddie asks as they start walking again. “Did she carry a big handbag and fly with her umbrella and sing songs about spoonfuls of sugar?” “No,” Steve says, laughing harder. “She was just a lady. She took care of me after school when I was a kid. My parents weren’t around a lot either.” “Oh, so ‘nanny’ is just rich people speak for ‘babysitter’,” Eddie says. “Got it.” “Basically,” Steve says. He tucks his chin into his scarf to hide his smile and lets their hands swing between them as they walk. After a moment, he looks over at Eddie again. “You never answered me, by the way. Do you live around here too?” “Yeah, just –” Eddie points in the direction they’re walking. “A little ways up, on the right.” “Oh,” Steve says. He raises his eyebrows. “Okay.” And Eddie laughs, giving him a teasing, sideways glance. “Okay.” They walk for another moment, Steve swaying closer into his side until Eddie slows them to a stop as they reach the steps up to a brownstone, old and rich-looking with lights glowing in the upper story. “So,” Steve says, tilting his head to the side. “I guess this is you?” Eddie lets go of his hand to settle it on his waist instead, pulling him closer. Steve lets himself be pulled, feeling his heart kick, his breath catching a little as he stares at Eddie, head angled back. They’re almost the same height, but Steve is just an inch or two shorter, and up close like this it feels like Eddie towers over him. “I’m going to kiss you now,” Eddie says. “Is that okay?”

(lol at my wip weekend literally extending INTO THE NEXT WEEKEND because I'm such a slow replier rip)

#my fic #ask #wip games #momotonescreaming #steventhusiast #shares-a-vest #sidekick-hero

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hashileio · 11 months

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Sup! I Saw your art and man i couldn't hold myself ;-;

Can ya give this sucker for skele bois an info about this "cursed cofee AU"? (Idk if i write it right lmaooooo)

Oh hehe the cursed coffee shop au was just a silly idea I came up with while talking with a friend.

This was the very first post for it!

Essentially, the premise is Nightmare runs a little coffee shop and the boys are all (not very good) employees there.

Nightmare is the manager, Killer mans the front/register, Dust is a barista, and Horror is the baker!

I’ve toyed with the idea that Dream runs the HR side of the company but nothing’s really set in stone on that end haha.

#answered asks #cursed coffee shop au #I will def have to go back and make sure things are properly tagged so they can be found easier hehe #It's definitely not a very original idea but I'm a sucker for domestic aus like this and i wanted the boys to have a cute environment

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whentheynameyoujoy · 1 month

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I'm not saying I want a Dune cofee shop AU but if there were one, it absolutely would need to include Stilgar as a fanatic chain mail reader.

#dune

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rev3rb · 3 months

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Ummm... Do u have translation of guren shinya mika and yuu cofee shop au (i don't know it's name), if u do plzzzz send❤️

Coffee shop AU? Admittedly I wasn't sure what you were talking about at first, but after looking it up, I totally remember what you're talking about.

You're talking about a Drama CD right? I do actually! Here's part 1 and part 2 of it courtesy of @2minutesofyourtime-blog. The tumblr links on the post don't work so don't use those. The audio one is fine though!

#Owari no Seraph #OnS Drama CD #anonymous asks #My posts

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whoneedsapublisher · 9 months

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Ciel and The Vault Dweller

Day five of Nasuverse Femslash Week, tagging @nasuversepromptweeks as usual. This time the prompt was "Alternate Universe/kink" and I really considered just writing some smut set in a cofee shop AU or something but in the end I came up with a Ciel/Arc story set in the Fallout world.

Words: ~2000

Summary: Paladin Ciel had a mission. Enter the military base said to contain experimental weapons technology, and reclaim anything of interest for the Brotherhood. The mission's danger rating was relatively low- security wasn't expected to be too tight for a Paladin, but the military robots had kept any other factions from setting up shop there. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, it should be an easy job.

Also on Ao3.

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Ciel was going to kill someone. And if she had her wish, it would be the clueless woman currently rummaging through her pack and chatting to her as if they were having tea together, not in the aftermath of a battle.

Unfortunately, that seemed unlikely, given that right now, she was entirely at that woman’s mercy.

As part of her Brotherhood training, she’d been taught a threat ranking of the various foes she could expect to encounter in the Wasteland. The top of the ranking was about what you’d expect: Deathclaws, Super Mutant Behemoths, high end military robots like customized Assaultrons. Lower on the list were other giant natural threats like the larger end of Radscorpions,Cazadors, various Super Mutants, and some of the more organized factions that weren’t in good standing with the Brotherhood, such as the Enclave and the NCR. Even lower were scum like raiders and wildlife like molerats.

But there was one entry marked as “Special”. One that she was warned could be either barely more threat than a raider, or worse news than a whole pack of Deathclaws.

Vault dwellers.

It always seemed to be vault dwellers who caused some of the biggest shakeups in the Wasteland, one way or the other. Sure, sometimes it was the emergence of some rogue faction, or a particularly notable member of a faction like that one kid from Arroyo who’d been instrumental in taking down the main Enclave base, or a surprise faction showing up and taking over entire states like the NCR or Caesar’s Legion, but time and time again, some strange man or woman would clamber out of a vault and make it their business to turn the world upside down. As if the world wasn’t disrupted enough already.

This particular vault dweller seemed to be firmly in that camp. When Ciel had come across her poking around a former military base that she’d been sent to retrieve technology from, she’d gone by the book- which was to say, she’d pointed her thermic lance at the target and demanded immediate surrender or retreat, in the name of the Brotherhood. Generally, that was where a lot conflicts with humans ended- unless you were up against a particularly drugged up raider or at least a very stupid one, anyone with a working brain decided to go the other direction when someone wearing power armor pointed a weapon originally designed to cut tanks in half at them. The vault dweller, though, put her hands on her hips and glared at Ciel without a hint of fear.

“How rude! I got here first, you know! And who the heck are the Brotherhood of Steel, anyway?”

An unusual reaction, but not one that wasn’t covered by her training. Ciel had moved on to the next stage of the “intimidation” section of first contact guidelines.

“We are an organization formed from the remnants of the US Military, dedicated to the preservation and securing of technology. If you interfere with our work, you will be eliminated.”

Technically, a lot of her supervisors had advised her to skip this part.

“If they don’t run immediately, just kill ‘em,” her sergeant had said during training. “Either they’re trouble, or they’re too stupid to live. If it’s the former, you’re doing the Brotherhood a favour by killin’ em. If they’re the latter, you’re doing the world a favour.”

Ciel, though, didn’t care for that attitude. Wastelanders might be distasteful and troublesome, but they were still people. So she gave this foolish woman a second chance to live.

One she’d squandered immediately, of course.

“You guys sound like jerks, and I still got here first,” she’d said, crossing her arms. “You go away! I read in a magazine that they have a cool gun here, and I want it!”

Ciel had stopped trying at that point.

“Entering combat,” she’d said, raising her lance and thrusting it forward, turning on the heat cutter.

What should have happened was that the annoying woman in front of her should have been chargrilled and sliced in half. What happened instead was that all of a sudden the woman was holding a strange little box in one hand, and with a terrible buzzing noise, Ciel’s power armour servos all locked up at once, freezing her in place with her weapon only inches from the woman’s chest. The autofit system started malfunctioning too, squeezing her in so tightly that she couldn’t even reach the manual release.

In other words, she was trapped like a sardine in can in her own damn power armour while the woman curiously circled around her, inspecting her armour and weapon with a detached interest that make Ciel feel like a museum exhibit.

Not that this vault dweller probably knew what the hell a museum even was.

Vault 45 wasn’t one that Ciel was familiar with. She’d never seen the entrance anywhere, and it was her first time seeing a jumpsuit from it. All that really meant, though, was she didn’t know what flavour of crazy this woman was.

It still seemed familiar though, somehow.

That was when the woman had found Ciel’s pack and started rooting through it.

“Stop that,” Ciel had snapped, but obviously, it had been to no avail.

“Ooh, what’s all this stuff, anyway?” the woman said.

“The contents of that pack belong to the Brotherhood of Steel, and-”

“I know who they belong to, I want to know what they are,” the woman interrupted her, and then paused. “Actually, I guess I don’t know who belong too, other than the organization thing. Who are you, anyway?”

“My name is Paladin Ciel, and as a ranking officer of the last legitimate branch of the US Government, I command you-”

“Ciel, huh? That’s a kind of pretty name. Are you pretty, Ciel? Oh, my name’s Arcueid, by the way. I have a last name, though. It’s Brunestud! It’s okay that you don’t, though. Shiki said that most Wastelanders don’t have one.”

“I am not a Wastelander!” Ciel snapped.

“Oh. Are you brotherhood guys from a vault too? Are you wearing a vault suit under there? Hold on, lemme check.”

“Check?! What do you mean check-”

To Ciel’s horror, Arcueid balanced on top of a nearby fallen Mr. Gusty to reach up to Ciel’s helmet, and, with disturbing strength, twisted it off like she was opening a can and threw it aside.

Ciel blinked at her. Arcueid blinked back.

“Oh,” she said. “Guess you are pretty, Ciel. That’s pretty funny. Get it? Pretty funny?”

Ciel scowled at her.

“I didn’t ask your opinion,” she snapped. “And you just damaged Brotherhood property. As official military hardware of the United States, willfully damaging it is borderland trea-”

Arc placed her hand over Ciel’s mouth, cutting off the rest of her sentence. Then she laughed in delight as Ciel’s angry yells were reduced to mumbling.

“Hahaha! You look sooo mad, Ciel.”

And Ciel was mad. Furious, in fact.

Unfortunately, mad wasn’t the only thing Ciel was feeling right now.

Ciel was not one for sexual promiscuity. Or sexual activity in general. She was devoted to her duty, after all. But, well, she’d grown up in the Brotherhood of Steel. She hadn’t always been a Paladin. When you were a trainee, there was a certain… encouragement to spend time off duty, not studying or training. And in that time you were further… permitted to experiment.

Long, awkward story short, Ciel was never going to be able look Scribe Henson in the eye ever again, and she’d found out that she was into girls and furthermore, into bondage.

So a girl who, Ciel was loathe to admit, was very attractive, and also playing with her while she couldn’t move? That was making Ciel furious, but also more than a little turned on.

“Hee hee. I should find a marker,” Arcueid said. Before Ciel could find out what nefarious plans she had with that, though, a beep came from her waist, and Arcueid frowned.

“Aw,” she said. “The power armour is going to reactivate soon… hmm, what to do, what to do…”

She pondered for a minute, and then smiled. “Okay! It’s boring exploring on my own, so I’ll give you a choice, Ciel!”

Ciel stared at her, confused.

“Either you stop being so mean and we can work together and loot this place together- I take the cool gun and you can have all the computers and stuff if you like technology so much. Or…”

Suddenly, the smile vanished from her face, replaced with an utterly flat expression. Her eyes widened as her pupils dilated, and her sclera flooded with blood, turning red in an instant, her iris flashing gold like they’d been dipped in metal.

Her fingers tightened around Ciel’s face, feeling like an iron vice slowly tightening around her.

When she spoke again, her voice was low and cold, with an edge of menace so palpable that Ciel’s arousal disappeared in a flash of fear.

“Or I crush your head and paint the inside of that power armour with your blood so thoroughly that no one will wear it ever again without smelling your rotting corpse.”

Ciel’s eyes widened as the fingers pressed harder.

“Nod or shake your head. Five seconds.”

Ciel’s brain raced. Her training didn’t cover anything like this. She still couldn’t move. After seeing what she’d done to that helmet, the threat didn’t seem like a bluff. Her head was already starting to hurt from the fingertips digging into her.

“Four.”

Was there any guide to this? Any procedure at all? Was there some secret way to escape power armour? To self-destruct it maybe?

“Three.”

If she couldn’t escape, was she just supposed to die here? Was there some way to communicate the threat to the brotherhood this woman posed with her death? Could she leave some kind of dying message?

“Two.”

A statement from one of her trainers popped into her head.

Don’t get cocky out there, alright? Retreat and bargaining are always an option. I don’t have any use for a dead hero when I could have a live soldier.

“One.”

Ciel nodded rapidly.

There was a terrible pause, where Arcueid’s eyes met Ciel’s, scanning her for sincerity.

And then, as suddenly as the change had come, it was gone. Arcueid’s eyes returned to normal, and the pressure on Ciel’s head vanished as Arcueid raised her hands above her head in triumph.

“Yay! A new companion!” she cheered, jumping off the robot and doing a little victorious pose. “Shiki always says all the fun places are too dangerous, so I have to go alone! But you were going here anyway, so you’ll come with me, right? Plus, you have to have all sorts of new stories! This is gonna be great!”

Ciel’s power armour flickered back to life as Arcueid celebrated. She flexed her fingers experimentally, and then picked up the helmet.

Sure enough, it was ruined.

Sighing, she tucked it into her pack for later repair.

As she followed the vault dweller into the facility, Ciel finally realized why Vault 45 had seemed familiar.

She hadn’t ever heard of Vault 45. But she’d heard of Serum 45. A “cure” for FEV, that had succeeded in reversing many mutations, but only partially. An attempt to make a cross between Super Mutants and humans, with the strength of the former and the intelligence of the latter. A project eventually made obsolete by advances in the Super Mutant process, but at the time of the vaults, that hadn’t happened yet. If Vault 45 was their testing ground…

Ciel watched the door of the facility close behind the two of them, and wondered just what she’d locked herself in a military base with.

#tsukhime #nasufemslashweek #arciel

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