#and i drew six characters in like two days?? what the hell

[ohtobeleah]

Bleed For This // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: It’s not Maverick that goes down in the Snowy Mountains, but you & Bradley Bradshaw. And someone doesn’t make it back.

Warnings: Character Death. F-18 crash. Bradley Bradshaw x best friend!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Author Note: Day Fourteen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Bleeding through the bandage. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It wasn't supposed to end like this, with you standing over the freshly laid dirt that covered your best friend's coffin. It wasn't supposed to end like this, the two of you. Your entire life you had been told over and over that you and Bradley Bradshaw were meant for each other. That the two of you were two peas in a pod, the light of each other's lives, the solace in each other's discomforts. Each other’s person. 

But yet here you were–standing over his freshly laid grave sight right next to the man who he strived every damn day to be every bit like. Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw and the woman whose heart was just as big as Bradleys, Carole Bradshaw. Bradley had always wanted to be every bit like his dad:

Now he was. 

“I should probably get you home.” It was Jake's hand on the small of your back that drew you out of your own little make believe world, where Bradley was still alive and you couldn't feel his blood on your hands. “Come on Kerner, let's get you home.” 

“Yeah–” You sighed in complete and utter defeat, it felt all too surreal to leave your best friend behind six feet under. “Do you think he's cold?”  You asked softly as Jake led you away from Bradleys fresh grave sight. The two of you were the last to leave as grey storm clouds loomed overhead just waiting for the perfect moment to pour down. “He shouldn’t have come for me Jake, if he had just gone back to the carrier, he’d be alive.” You still had your arm in a sling, your collarbone had been busted in your ejection. Your arm had been burned to pieces. “I should have brought him a blanket, it’s gonna be so cold tonight.” 

Jake couldn't begin to understand what it was like to lose someone you grew up with the way you and Bradley Bradshaw had. The two of you were the stuff of legend, the Nepotism duo, the lovers who were too blind, too stubborn, too focused on your careers to realise forever was standing right there. 

“I think he’s happy to be with his parents again.” Jake replied as he walked with you slowly, arm slung over your shoulder. He felt it was his duty to keep an eye on you. Your dad had asked that of him and who was Jake to deny the wishes of Commander Kerner. “You know Rooster, he groomed that stupid moustache every morning just to be a little like his dad.” That made you laugh, for all the times you teased Bradley for his moustache, you never did mean it. 

You were really going to miss that stupid moustache. Hell, you were really going to miss Rooster. You'd never stopped to think about a life without him earth side, and now you were living in it. 

In a world without Bradley Bradshaw. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Two Weeks Prior:

Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. But from what you had tasted of desire you held with those who favour fire. But if you had to perish twice, you knew enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice.

The icy snow made your body shiver and shake. It stung like nothing you had ever experienced before. It made your entire body rigid, like tiny pins and needles were jabbing into every little part of you. But then there was a warmth completely unparalleled to the burn of the snow that you laid face first in. It was a burn so deep that it took your breath away as you pushed yourself up to your knees. 

“Oh, oh fuck.” You hissed as your vision took a second to kick in. Amongst the blanket of china white snow that rivalled that of pure cut heroin, there were burning pieces of fuselage that flickered orange and red embers of fire every which way the wind chose to take them. 

Then it hit you, you’d been hit by a surface to air missile after trying to save your best friend. Rooster didn't have enough time on his side nor the flares to back up his manoeuvres. So without thinking, without a second of hesitation, you covered him and ended up taking the hit. You’d die for him any day of the week. 

“Shit–” Everything hurt as you took off your flight helmet. Your arm was completely burnt to the point your flight suit had melted right into your skin. You didn't know if it had been a flare or a part of your F-18 that was the culprit. But regardless of what had caused the burn, it fucking hurt. 

As you looked around the snowy forest you never imagined that you’d see what you saw next. You thought for sure you were a goner when you’d been hit, that no one would come for you. No one would turn back for you, look for your fighter jet wreckage, look for you. 

“Oh god no—“ You saw him flying across the open field, Rooster, your beloved Bradley, your best friend. He was looking for you. “No no no no no.” And in doing so had a S.A.M right on his tail. “Rooster no—“ And he was hit and hit hard all because he came back for you. 

Your lungs felt like they were on fire as you ran towards where you’d see Bradley pull his chute. Your legs wanted to give in as your muscles threatened to tear right off the bone. Every step, every pain filled stride you took your heart threatened to explode inside your chest. But you wouldn’t stop running, not until you got to Rooster. 

“Bradley!” You shouted when you saw him lying in a debris field of his own F-18, completely blown to smithereens. “Oh no, no no no no Rooster!” You had never run so fast and so hard and with such desperation before. It didn’t matter how much you hurt, you needed to get to your best friend, the love of your life. 

Who the fuck chose the both of you for this mission? Why the fuck did it have to be you? Be him? 

“Roo?” You cooed as you dropped to your knees beside him, the blood was oozing through his flight suit. He’d been hit pretty bad, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out just how bad this really was. “Oh god Rooster why?” 

Bradley was looking at you with all the love in the world, those baby cow eyes, so deep and brown and full of tears, looked at you like you were the light of his life. Because you were. You really really were. 

“Drifter—“ It was a play on your fathers callsign. Slider. It made sense, Goose and Rooster, Slider and Drifter. “Hi, hey—you’re okay?” The utter relief in Rooster's voice was evident the seconds his eyes scanned you up and down. “I’m so glad you’re alright.” 

“Hey.” You cooed as you let a shaky hand push the sweaty blonde locks away from Roosters forehead. “What are you doing down here Roo? You should be back on the carrier by now.” There was a pregnant pause between your question and Bradley’s answer as you watched blood pool at his lips. He was bleeding out and bleeding fast. 

“I had to make sure you were okay.” He admitted as you tried to make a makeshift bandage with the leg of your flight suit. Ripping the material clean off your own body. “I couldn’t—“ The cough was bloody and deep and it made your heart sink, but you knew you could save him. You could save Rooster if you tried hard enough. If you committed every ounce of your life to it. “I couldn’t leave you behind.” 

“Well you’re an idiot alright, you shouldn’t have come for me.” You sighed as you worked with what you had. “I’m sorry, this might hurt but I have to try and stop the bleeding alright.” 

“AAAHHH!” Rooster couldn’t hold in his screams as you pressed your hands into his stomach. The blood seeped straight through the makeshift bandage right between your fingers. “Fuck!! It hurts!” 

“Shhh, shhh it’s alright, I’ve got you.” You tried to soothe Bradley as you felt your tears welling in your eyes. “You’re fine, you’re fine, Rooster, I'm here.” Panic, pure panic was rising in your veins as adrenaline kept you from processing the fact your best friend was lying in the snowy field before you bleeding out through the bandages you had made. “You’re going to be okay, I just need you to focus and stay with me alright? You can do that for me can’t you Roo?” 

Bradley didn’t answer you as you applied previously against his wounds. You didn’t give up though, not for a second. 

“Bradshaw, I asked you a fucking question!” 

“I’ve been in love—“ It was a staggered confession as blood trickled out of Rooster mouth. Bloodstained teeth had never looked so good on a person. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Kerner.” Bradley’s eyes never left you as he spoke. He couldn’t feel anything but the cold kiss of death. He saw the reaper over your shoulder coming for him. “You’re my best friend, I just—needed you to—to know that.” 

“No.” You refused to believe this was happening as you watched Bradley’s blood seep between your fingers, staining your skin to the point where you knew no matter how much you tried to scrub them clean they wouldn’t ever be clean. “No, stop talking! You’re fine Rooster, please don’t leave me here.”

“I’ve always wanted to love you.” He kept speaking though, through the pain and the tears and the blood, Rooster kept telling you his deepest secrets. His biggest regret would always be not telling you sooner. His biggest regret would be never getting off his perch. “You’re gonna be alright—“

“For fuck sake Rooster you aren’t dying!” It was pure denial as you tried to stop him bleeding. You knew if you could get the bleeding to stop then you could save your best friend. “You can’t die, I don’t know how to live without you, you’re my person, so please, for the love of god just shut up and focus on staying alive.” 

Rooster didn’t speak for a few minutes, all he did was breathe and try to keep his eyes open. He focused on you and your profile, how beautiful you truly were—even in a situation like this. He thought about what it would be like to marry you, watch you grow old like he had since he was three, what it would be like to spend the rest of his life with you. He hoped that whoever did get to be your person next would be able to handle you and all your fire. That they never tried to smother it. He hoped that they would at the very least, add some fuel to the fire that burned in your soul. He hoped that they’d take care of you and love you and let you know how much you bring to this life. 

“Kiss me.” Bradley whispered just above something audible. “Kiss me, please Kerner.” 

“Rooster?” It was at that moment you knew he was going. His face was all clammy and he was oh so cold to the touch. 

“Please kiss me so I can go.” He begged you softly as he placed his hand on top of where your hands were covered in his blood over his stomach. “My dads here.” 

“Well tell Goose you aren’t ready!” The tears that left your body were grief stricken. It was like nothing you had ever felt before. To mourn someone you loved so deeply, so fiercely and so much that to imagine a life without them it took a piece of you with them. “Tell him you can’t go because I need you here.” You cried as you leaned over to press your forehead to Bradley’s. “You don’t get to die, tell whoever’s here for you to fuck off—you’re not dying.” 

“Just kiss me.” Was all Bradley cooed before you leaned in to press your lips against his. It wasn’t the first time, but it would be the last. He was oh so pale and cold as the ice he laid bleeding out on. You felt his blood on your lips and god you’d never forget that feeling. Whatever had struck him had completely decimated his stomach. No amount of bandages could save him. 

You never stood a chance they would later tell you. No amount of first aid could have saved Bradley Bradshaw. 

“I love you, I love you.” It was like a mantra, Rooster kept saying it over and over until you heard him stop. That’s how you knew he was gone. Because the silence was far too loud and far too heartbreaking and the sound of his I love yous would haunt you forever. 

“Damn you Bradshaw, I love you too.” You cried as you laid beside him, curled up against his body for what felt like eternity. When help arrived you refused to leave his side. And you didn’t until someone had you sedated on the carrier—

“I'm so sorry.” Jake sat in the medical bay watching over you as you slept. “I'm so sorry Kerner.” He spoke to himself as he thought about all the times Bradley had told him in drunken bar conversations how much he loved you, his best friend. “But he did what he did to make sure you got out, that you would be alright.” 

“He left me.” You mumbled just loud enough for Jake to hear. He didn’t know you were awake. You weren’t supposed to be, or so he thought. “He told me he loved me, and then he died.” You would have cried if you weren’t so dehydrated. “I lost my person. How do I recover from that?” 

Jake didn’t know what to tell you, so he didn’t speak. He simply held back his own tears and kissed your forehead. 

“I don’t know Drifter, I really don’t know.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Present 

“We’re gonna head out for a drink, just you and me.” Jake explained as he pulled you in under his arm a little more. The two of you were both dressed in your formal wear. It wasn't exactly the attire for casual drinking. 

“Oh, I can't Hangman.” You denied the proposal almost immediately. “I have to head home and sort out a bunch of Roosters belongings.” Jake understood, but he also knew you needed a friend before anything else right now. And what kind of friend would Jake Seresin be if he let the love of Bradley Bradshaw's life drown in her own inner turmoil?

“Yeah, but before you go do that, I think you need to whine about it some more to me first.” Jake knew that the last thing you wanted to do was to have to pack away your best friend's belongings knowing he’d never need them again. He guessed it was the downfall of sharing an apartment off base with the guy. “I'd be pretty pissed off too if Bradshaw left his crap lying around and I had to clean up after him, so, you definitely need a drink or two.” 

You didn't reply straight away as you walked through the cemetery that now held three Bradshaws. But when you did, Jake's heart sank just a little more inside his chest for you. 

“What are you afraid of?” You asked softly as you stopped and turned to face the man who hadnt left your side since you were brought back to the carrier. Completely distraught and shell shocked. “That I’m gonna–” Before you could even finish your sentence Jake interrupted. 

“I'm afraid that you’re gonna keep crawling into my bed after busting into my apartment in the middle of the night.” That much was true, you had done that a handful of times. But to be fair, Jake never locked his door. He really needed to start doing that. “Look, Rooster left his Bronco to me.” Jake sighed as he looked up at the sky, watching as rain threatened to fall. “But he also left me you too.” He explained with a solemn smile. “It's just us now and I don't know, if you need someone to bitch to or just be–” It was your turn to interrupt.

“My person.” 

“I don't know what you mean?” Jake sighed as he looked back over his shoulder up to where Bradley's grave lay. He swore he could see him, watching Jake as he tried his best to comfort the love Bradley left behind. The love he hoped Jake would cherish as much as he did. 

“But you do.” You smiled softly before you pulled Jake in for a hug. You'd never see your best friend again in the land of the living, but you had a person in Jake Seresin. And he was determined to keep his promise to your dad, to watch over you always. He was going to be your person no matter what. 

“I've got you Kerner.” Jake rubbed his hand up and down your back to soothe your cries. He could feel you crying in his arms. You'd been through a lot, lost a lot too. But you weren't about to lose Jake. 

Not now, not ever. “I've got you.” 

***~****~***~***~***~***~***

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw whump #tw: character death #rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw

[scekrex]

Adam finding his angel s/o in hell after he died because his s/o fought against the exterminations when he heard of Adam’s death (I hope this makes sense) basically he fell from heaven and got one of his wings ripped off

Heaven's gates won't open up for us again

pairing: Adam x male!angel!reader

warnings: language, temporary character death, canon typical violence

note: not beta read bc idc

Extermination day had happened two days ago.

Adam's death had happened two days ago.

And instead of grieving, you sat in court.

“Listen,” Sera sighed, she was visibly annoyed by you ever since you and the army got back from hell, “I understand your concerns, however, we can't just stop exterminations because a handful of executors had been murdered.” She looked at the other angels, then she nodded, “We are already training angels to be prepared for the next extermination in six months, hell's overpopulation must be dealt with and sacrifices must be made in order to reach that.”

You huffed, got up from your seat and slammed your hands on the table, “Are you fucking serious, Sera? We lost Adam, I lost Adam. This is not some tiny sacrifice that we can allow to just happen. They successfully killed Adam, the first man and the leader of our army.”

The other angels eyed your behavior with judgment in their eyes, none of them seemed to agree with you and ever since the last trial with Charlie and Vaggie, Emily wasn't allowed in court again so she couldn't back you up on this one.

You were sick of it, sick of heaven and its rules. Adam died and they all acted like it wasn't a big deal, like Adam's death was a sacrifice they all were willing to make and never talk about again. You were having none of it.

“It’s not like he was some ordinary bitch we can easily replaced, for fucks sake. He was-” Sera harshly interrupted you. “Enough of that. You have been questioning our methods for far too long. We, as the angelic court, made a decision.” Silence filled the room for a moment. Sera cleared her throat, then continued, “We have decided that you shall no longer stay in heaven with us. Your questioning of our methods, decisions and rules showed us that you don't belong among us. So we informed Lucifer. You will be experiencing the rest of eternity in hell among the other sinners.”

You couldn't do anything. Nothing would change their mind, they made their decision and it seems like that had been the plan for a while now and this trial was the last thing that needed to happen for them to actually do it. So you accepted your fate, “I’d rather be down there than up here with you, willingly sacrificing and murdering human souls.”

-

Arriving in hell was surprisingly soft, you had expected more blood to be spilled.

The first thing that caught your attention was a sign that read ‘Cannibal Town’, you didn't pay any mind to it though. You had to find a place to stay, so matter how shitty and small, just some place safe - well, as safe as it gets in hell. You walked the streets, purposely ignoring the sinners that dared to look your way. The white feathers of your wings surely were noticeable, so it wasn't really something you could give them shit for, but having all these pairs of eyes on you made you feel rather uncomfortable, especially because they were the eyes of sinners.

That was all before you felt something sharp piercing through your left wing, you wanted to turn around to check what was going on but you fell to your knees as the pain doubled. It felt like sharp teeth tearing on the sensitive muscles. You screamed loud enough that sinners outside of cannibal town were able to hear you and that only drew more attention to you and the situation you were in.

Your screams filled hell as the cannibals continued to feast on your wing, ripping and tearing on it with their teeth. There was blood, all you could see was the sticky golden liquid that spilled from your wing and covered their faces as they continued.

You tried to get away, tried to shove them away, smash their skulls, anything. But nothing worked. And when one of them bit down on the base of your left wing and you pulled away, trying to escape the unbearable pain that you were in you heard it. You were able to hear them hearing your wing off.

A scream even louder ripped from your throat as you ran, finally able to put space between you and the sinners that caused all this pain. You ran away from the cannibals, one wing still somewhat intact, the other gone.

Out of reflex you flapped your wing, tried desperately to get off the ground and in the air but with just one wing that wasn't possible. So you continued to run out of cannibal town. Where you were heading to you weren't quite sure of, you didn't even know where exactly cannibal town was located. All that you knew was that there was pain that increased with every little movement you made.

Your mind went silent, static was filling your ears as you tried to flee from everything, from the pain, the cannibals that weren't even chasing you down, from all the pairs of eyes that were watching. Until you crashed into somebody. Both of your bodies crumbled onto the floor, the person underneath you let out a grunt of pain as the air was knocked out of both of your lungs.

That must've been it, you were as good as dead.

You got up quickly, ready to run again until a hand wrapped around your upper arm tightly, the claws of the creature dug into your skin which resulted in you flinching and another scream. Another hand was used to cover your mouth to keep you quiet and your eyes widened, that was the first time you actually looked at the person you had crashed into.

The person that was standing in front of you reminded you of Adam, you quickly shook your head at the thought though. Adam was dead. The person that was standing in front of you had horns similar to the ones that once were attached to Adam's helmet but less glorious and smooth and more demonic. His skin was almost white and while Adam used to have human looking teeth, this creature’s teeth were razor sharp. The wings attached to the creature’s back were made out of pitch black skin, the texture looked similar to leather and it reminded you of how the executor’s wings looked. His robe was ripped open on his chest, angel blood had dyed the once purple fabric golden and a wound that seemed to be healing was therefore on display.

Why was this creature wearing Adam's clothes?

And then realization punched you right in the face.

“Adam,” you mumbled and slowly moved towards the person that had once been an angel. The brunette looked down at you once you had calmed down a little and his eyes were filled with something you couldn't put a name to.

“What the fuck are you doing in this shit hole? You're fucking supposed to be in heaven, babes.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #adam x y/n #male reader #adam x reader

[amhrosina]

“Why are you so nice to me?” (Frank Castle x Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST FORM

A/N: oop- i’m in my frank castle era and no one can stop me. this was meant to be 500 words and then i accidentally wrote 3,000. soft!frank is my comfort character and that’s the hill i’m choosing to die on.

Summary: Frank and Reader unexpectedly confront their feelings for one another on a rooftop.

Warnings: mentions of blood/past injuries, soft smutty frank, reader is female presenting w/ long-ish hair

You glared at the bouquet of roses that had mysteriously appeared in your kitchen window, thrusting your purse against the couch with a huff. You had been gone less than five minutes, but you knew that was more than enough time for Frank Castle to send you a message.  

You knew it was Frank’s doing. The flower vase had been plucked from the top shelf of your kitchen cabinets, a place that, conveniently, only Frank could reach. His signal was simple, but effective, and the only way he had been communicating with you for the last six months.  

Six months. That’s how long it had been since you stumbled across his unconscious body on your rooftop, covered in blood and bruises. When he came to, you were in the middle of stitching up a cut on his arm. He had thrashed around, trying to get away from you in his vulnerable condition, but his head had been thoroughly battered, so you had won that struggle. That was the first and likely the last time you would be able to subdue the Punisher.

When you had finished patching him up, you helped him to his feet and said your goodbyes, convinced that you’d never see him again. Then the flowers started arriving. Every once in a while, a new bouquet would appear in your windowsill, and you’d know that Frank wanted to see you. Sometimes he came to your door and knocked, other times he’d slide through the window from the fire escape. A few times, after especially hard nights, you’ve had to track him to the rooftop, where you’d sit with him for hours, not saying anything to each other.  

Frank liked that you didn’t ask too many questions, and at first, that was an easy thing to offer him. You barely knew anything about him, other than the fact that he made sure bad people paid for their wrongdoings. But, as your relationship with Frank had evolved, so had your concern.  

It started really subtly. You would see a report on the news about a warehouse explosion and wonder if Frank was involved. That quickly developed into hoping you’d get flowers so that at least you’d know that he was alive after bad shit went down in the city.  

Now, you were harboring a big fat crush on the big bad Punisher, and you didn’t know what to do about it. Frank was easily one of the prettiest men you’d ever seen, but his demeanor was what drew you to him. Yes, he was responsible for killing some really bad men. Yes, he was violent and angry at the people who took his family from him. Yes, he was extremely grumpy sometimes and would distance himself from you for a couple of weeks at a time.  

But he was also very gentle and caring. You felt it in the light touches he’d press into your back as he walked past you in your tiny kitchen, and in the way he’d consoled you after your favorite stray cat passed away. Even when you had tried to carry too much up the stairs and scraped your knees to high hell, he had gently cleaned the wounds while you tried and failed to hold onto your pride in front of him.  

Frank Castle was a deeply misunderstood human being, but you saw him, and he saw you.  

You glanced at the clock – 11:48pm – and went to put your shoes back on. If it was this late already, he’d be up on the roof waiting for you. You grabbed your first aid kit, which had been emptied and restocked about a million times since meeting Frank, and the bag of sandwiches you’d ordered at the bodega on the corner, grateful that you’d bought enough for two.  

New York City was beautiful during the day, but at night, when the city was lit, and the streets weren’t crowded with cars and people, it was encapsulating. October called for cold nights, so you shivered as you walked through the roof access door. You hadn’t thought to bring a jacket.  

Frank was sitting in his usual spot, back against an air vent, legs stretched out in front of him, looking out into the city. The only indication that he knew you were there was a slight head tilt. His face, in all its beauty, was stoic and surprisingly unmarked. Tinges of yellow and green were scattered across his face – old bruises that were almost completely gone. His expression suggested that he was thinking hard about something, which meant he might not even say a word to you tonight, other than a quiet “Goodnight,” when he was leaving.

You gently sat down next to him, handing him a sandwich and tearing into your own.  

“Thank you.” It was a hushed whisper, barely audible, but you bumped his shoulder with your own in response. You were both silent as you ate, and you spent a lot of that time scanning his body for injuries. He didn’t seem like he was in pain, and you couldn’t see any wounds, but that didn’t mean he was untouched. Frank was a master at pretending he was okay.

You were startled out of your thoughts as Frank slowly leaned his leg towards yours, brushing up against your own in a warm and comforting manner. Your gaze flicked up to his face, only to flick back down to where your legs were touching.  

“Are you okay?” You asked, tilting your chin towards his body. A breeze picked up, and you involuntarily shivered as you turned to look at him.  

“Are you cold?” His voice was a smooth, warm injection into your veins, something you felt in the pit of your stomach. He had already begun taking his jacket off, apparently uninterested in your response. He gently wrapped the jacket around your shoulders and untucked your hair for you, taking care to tuck any loose strands behind your ears. You muttered a thanks, before turning away from him so that he couldn’t see the blush creeping up your neck. He had no idea how crazy he made you.  

His gravelly voiced echoed across the rooftop as he said your name.

“Why are you so nice to me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  

“I mean, the sandwiches, the stitches, the late nights. You let me into your home. You could’ve easily left me for dead when you found me the first night, but you didn’t. You could’ve easily forgotten about me. Gone on with your life and pretended you’d never seen me.”

You met his fiery gaze, curious as to where this was coming from. Your arrangement worked because neither of you asked each other tough questions.

“I...I don’t know, Frank. Maybe I’m just a nice person.” You shrugged.

“No. Not this nice. There are plenty of people who would’ve run screaming if the Punisher ended up half-dead on their rooftop. Some might’ve finished the job. Why did you help me? Why do you help me, even now?”

His gaze was determined, and it dawned on you that he might be asking these questions out of insecurity. Did he think you were doing this in exchange for something? You were as honest as you could be without letting your feelings for him loose.  

“I don’t have a good reason for why I helped you the first time. I couldn’t just leave you for dead, I guess.” You shrugged again, looking everywhere but his face. “I help you because I think you might be lonely. And I’m lonely too. And because I believe you’re a good person, Frank,” you finished, giving him a pointed look.  

He took a slow breath, looking down at his lap. You guessed you were right in your assessment. You gnawed at your bottom lip, hoping you hadn’t crossed a line that would cause him to distance himself from you.  

“I’m sorry,” you start, shaking your head, “I shouldn’t have said that about you. I’m-”

“I think you’re probably right,” he interrupted, looking back at your face, “You make me feel...less alone. Which is probably why I keep coming back.” He granted you a small smile, something you’d only seen on a few, rare occasions.  

“You make me feel less alone too, Frankie.” You whispered, tucking your knees into your chest and resting your chin on them.

You sat in comfortable silence, looking over his features as he did the same.  

“Is that why you came tonight? If you’re not hurt...,” you raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re not hurt, right?”

Frank chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m not hurt.”  

He paused, looking directly at you. You felt a sturdy warmth in his gaze. His eyes, usually distant and cold, were soft and unwavering as he shifted his body to face yours.  

“I think...I mean I’m pretty sure I came because I wanted to see you. Is that such a bad thing?” His question was barely spoken above a whisper. He wore a vulnerable expression, an expression that you’d come to yearn for. Frank Castle was not a vulnerable man, but you’d seen him at his worst, and you’d stayed anyway.  

You faced him, crossing your legs so that your knees were touching his. Slowly, you lifted your hand, softly tracing the scars that littered his face. The scars that you’d sewn together time and time again. Across his eyebrow, down his nose, across his lips, and along his jaw line, until you finally rested your palm on his cheek.  

“It’s not a bad thing, Frankie.” You murmured.

He leaned into your hold, squeezing his eyes shut. You know it must be hard for him to admit his feelings, however confusing they may be. For the short time that you’ve known him, you could clearly tell that he has an undying loyalty to his late wife and kids.  

He leaned in, resting his forehead on yours. His hands came up to cup your neck and jaw. He repeated your name under his breath like a mantra.

“I don’t know if this makes me a bad person, but when I’m with you, it just feels,” he paused, “it just feels right, ya know? I don’t have to hide from you. You see me. You see me, and you don’t run.”

You shook your head. “You’re not a bad person, Frank.”  

Slowly, he leaned in further, pressing his lips against yours. It was a soft kiss, but the intent was clear. Tingles ran through your body he kissed you like you were the most important thing in the world. His hands tightened around your head, pulling you towards him.  

His tongue ran against your bottom lip, asking for permission. You’d never given permission so quickly before. Your tongue met his in a searing kiss. You’d never been kissed with so much passion. Then again, it seemed Frank functioned on passion, whether it be with anger or otherwise.  

You parted from him, catching your breath. His expression immediately turned apologetic, but you shook your head before he could get a word out.  

“Let’s go inside.” You gestured to the door.

He followed you down the stairs, fiddling with your fingers as you led him to your apartment.  

As soon as Frank closed the door behind him, he was on you, his front to your back. He slowly stripped his jacket off your shoulders, dropping it to the floor beside him. His body was warm, despite the chill in the October air. He tilted your chin towards him, angling your head so that you could look at him.  

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You can tell me to stop. I won’t be upset.”

“There you go again, trying to give yourself an out.” You smile at him, turning so you could fully face him. “I want this, Frank. I have for a long time. Do you?”  

He nodded, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He backed you into the wall, pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. His hands roamed down the sides of your body, from your waist to your hips, cupping your ass as he molded his body to yours. Your body responded, arching towards him. He left a trail of kisses from your jaw to your neck, where he focused the attention of his tongue.  

You let out a soft moan, running your hands down his torso. You pawed at the bottom of his shirt, slowly lifting it up his body and over his head. You’d seen him shirtless before this, but he was usually bleeding or unconscious, so you stifled another moan.

Your eye caught a new bruise, blooming ugly and purple around his ribs.  

“Frank! You said you weren’t hurt!”  

“’s nothin, sweetheart. Just a bruise,” he mumbled into your neck.

Your body clenched at the pet name. You could definitely get used to that.  

He molded his body into yours again, lifting your body and wrapping your legs around his waist. Navigating to your bedroom was easy for him, considering all the times he’s had to walk through it to get to your bathroom.

He softly placed you on the bed, bringing your shirt up and over your head. His lips met yours again, and you quickly started undoing his belt buckle. His hands stopped yours from reaching their goal.

“I got it, baby. Let me take care of you, like you take such good care of me.”

You laid back, panting as he unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down your legs. He stifled a groan and gazed at the ceiling. You were wearing a matching set of black lace bra and panties. His hands roamed up your legs, pausing at the tops of your thighs. He leaned in, licking a line from your navel to the top of your panties.  

You moaned, arching into his touch.  

“Frankie, please.” You gasped, begging for him to keep touching you.  

He gazed at you, before reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra. Slowly, he brought his hands down your sides again, pulling your panties down and placing them in his back pocket.  

You were now completely bare before him, gazing up at him with a doe-like expression.  

He mumbled your name under his breath, running his hands across your stomach.  

“You’re...amazing. You’re beautiful. I’ve wanted to do this for so long. I never thought...,” he trailed off. His voice was breathless, like he was trying to take in the sight before him.  

“Please, Frankie. Please.” You pleaded with him to touch you, voice breaking.

His eyes darkened as he slowly took his pants off, holding your gaze.  

Your eyes widened at his size, although you shouldn't have been surprised. You’d seen the man in his underwear many times before when you were patching him up, so you had a good idea that he was big, but you never let yourself think about it too much.  

You shuffled back on the bed as Frank crawled up your body, stopping when his head hung above yours.  

“Is this still okay?” He murmured, looking for any signs of regret in your eyes.  

You groaned. “Frank, if you don’t fuck me into next week right now, I’m never speaking to yo-”

You were cut off with a searing kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and he swallowed your moans as he lined himself up with your entrance.  

He pushed into you with the gentlest thrust he could muster. You pulled him closer to you, arching into his body.  

He let out a muffled moan into your shoulder when he was fully inside of you.

“So wet for me, baby. Fuck.” He grunted as he pushed into you again with more force.  

An overwhelming warmth overtook your body as he got rougher with his thrusts. He was moving at an agonizingly slow pace, but you could already tell you’d be sore in the morning.  

“Please, Frankie. Faster.” You moaned into his chest. He obliged, slamming into you faster.  

The room became a den of moans, skin slapping skin as he fucked you raw. He reached down, circling his thumb around your clit. Your heart very nearly leaped out of your chest. The knot at the bottom of your stomach became tighter and tighter as you got closer to your orgasm.  

“’m gonna come, Frankie.” You shuttered, holding onto his biceps as his finger began making faster circles.  

“Come, baby. Come on my cock, sweetheart.”  

You groaned as your orgasm washed over you. A sickening wave of heat and pleasure overtook your body, and you swore you saw stars for a second. Frank’s finger didn’t slow, riding out your orgasm as long as possible.  

Your heart pounded as you came down from your high. Frank sat back on his knees, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he pounded into you with a newfound force.  

“Where do you want me to come, baby?” He grunted through gritted teeth.  

“Oh god, please come in me, Frankie. I’m on birth contr-”

His moan cut you off as he came deep inside you. Warm spirts of his cum filled you to the brim. He panted, kissing your inner thighs as you both came down from your highs.  

You closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of Frank Castle deep inside of you. You both groaned as he pulled out. Frank disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a cloth, cleaning you. Your legs shook with the overstimulation, which made him smirk and kiss your thighs again.  

You were barely coherent as he helped you under the covers, only coming to when you realized he wasn’t crawling into bed next to you.

“Stay. Stay with me. Please” You mumbled, holding onto his hand as he tried to walk towards his discarded clothes.  

He nodded. “Okay, baby. I’ll stay.”  

He got under the covers, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. He mumbled your name into your shoulder as he left a trail of kisses down your neck.  

“I meant to ask you to dinner, tonight. I wasn’t expecting this.” He murmured.  

You sighed happily, kissing his scarred knuckles.  

“I would love to have dinner with you, but ask me again tomorrow, Frank. I’m sleepy.”

You were falling into unconsciousness quickly. He kissed your temple and nodded.  

“Okay, sweetheart.” 

End Note:

I hope you liked it. This was not beta read so if you see any mistakes, no you didn’t! I’m newer to writing smut (but not new to reading it! lol) This will likely develop into a series, where we get glimpses of Frank/Reader before this night and afterwards. I’m also a hoe for Matt Murdock so don’t be surprised if he shows up. I don’t have a specific point in Frank’s storylines that this takes place, so let’s just pretend it all makes sense.  

If you want to be on a tag list, let me know! 

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #jon bernthal #daredevil #frank castle imagine #frank castle smut #punisher smut #punisher imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #frank castle fanfiction #avengers #matt murdock #amhrosina

[ladytabletop]

My GenCon bookstack!

There's a lot I can say about my first GenCon, but for now I just wanna talk about the cool games I picked up. Starting from the bottom:

Spire: the City Must Fall by Grant Howitt & Christopher Taylor

You got your oppressed elves and your ruling elves and a big ol fucked up city to skulk around in. Anyone who knows me knows I love the themes of this game. @monsterfactoryfanfic just did a fantastic video essay on the game that really highlights the politics and setting, which are what drew me to it in the first place. Grant and Chris signed this one for me, which was unexpected! I picked up Orc Borg for a friend at the same time.

Thousand Year Old Vampire by Tim Hutchings

The ultimate solo game; how could I resist? You are the titular vampire and you live lifetime after lifetime, trying and failing to hold onto memory. This book is so aesthetically pleasing! Very excited to crack it open and play.

Voidheart Symphony by Minerva McJanda

You have the real world and you have the Void, and you gotta try and rescue people from the Castle in the Void. Inspired by Persona! I'd heard of this one in name only - I kept conflating it with other games, though I couldn't tell you which ones. This one's also published by Rowan Rook & Deckard. I was intrigued by the mechanics of this one. Playbooks that change based on whether you're in the city or in the void? hell yeah, I'll give that a try. (also it was less expensive than Heart, which I was on the verge of buying)

Dream Askew/Dream Apart by Avery Alder and Benjamin Rosenbaum

Dream Askew has you playing queer post apocalyptic survivors in a community outside of what remains of society. Dream Apart is an alternate history of an Eastern European Jewish community. This is one I've been eyeing for a while. It felt like the gap in my game design knowledge - defining "belonging outside belonging" online turns into a cyclical discussion, so straight to the source I went.

CBR+PNK by Emanoel Melo

Technically my partner picked this one up, but I was an enabler for it. Love cyberpunk. Do not love six pages of rules for a machine gun (looking at you, Shadowrun). The design of this one is super tight, both in terms of game design and in its packaging/materials design. It comes with dry erasable character pamphlets!

Bang: The Duel by Emiliano Sciarra

Okay so it's a board game, not a book. my bad. I love the original game and my partner and I like playing two player games, so this was a fun find.

Void 1680 AM by Ken Lowery

I can't gush about this game enough. You play a lonely radio DJ taking calls from your listeners. It's a solo game where you build a playlist and it takes me back to my radio days! I was so excited to see this at the @indiepressrevolution booth at the con!

Hunt by Spencer Campbell

This one was also new to me, but I knew I'd buy something at the GilaRPGs booth. I was sold on it as Lumen 2.0, because I already adore the Lumen system. You play a doomed order of knights on a quest to slay a beast. If you succeed, the order is saved, and if not, it's doomed. The design of this one is really tight and modular, so even though it's a self-enclosed one-shot, you could certainly run it repeatedly with different combos every time.

I almost bought so many games, but I did have to be mindful of my spending! Honorable mentions I'll hopefully get in the future: Monster of the Week, Thirsty Sword Lesbians, Into the Wyrd and Wild, Anamnesis, Slayers, Moonlight on Roseville Beach, Cowboys with Big Hearts, Signal to Noise, I Have the High Ground, Apocalypse Keys, and more I'm sure I'm forgetting!

It was absolutely wild to see so many games I've got in PDF in print, and to meet a few designers and publishers I admire!

#the lady rambles #gencon 2023 #perhaps someday i'll shake the feeling of being completely out of my depth

[nabateaprodigy]

Please may I have a Fairy tail scenario of when you (Gray's younger twin brother *you know the rest about him including that he is a kind young man and he is a ice mage like his brother..and he is slightly stronger than Gray at ice mage and Juvia was now his wife*) were asked the awkward question about where babies came from and obviously you spat out your tea at your son's (Greige Fullbuster is your son) unexpected question and you were not telling your six year old son where babies came from literally..it was understandably awkward considering how the hell you were going to explain where babies came from to your son..Greige was understandably confused about it when you and your wife (Juvia Lockser is your wife) told him that Greige was going to be a big brother when Juvia found out that she was pregnant and you two were going to have a daughter (you and Juvia told Greige the pregnancy news yesterday).

Your loving wife, Juvia Lockser thankfully rescued you from an awkward conversation because you were getting rather flustered trying to explain in a way that was appropriate to a six year old boy (you knew exactly how babies are made but you are definitely not telling Greige that!).

You and Juvia are adults and married happily..and Juvia is now Juvia Fullbuster because she took your surname.

*the little boy in the image is Greige Fullbuster*

Papa Where do Babies Come From?

Series: Fairy Tail.

Characters: Juvia Lockser and Greige.

Genre: Fluff.

Proofread: Yes.

Notes: Hmm don't really like how this turned out honestly. I mean I don't think it's awful but I think I could have done better. Also Greige going to be a little OOC here. I've read the 100 Year Quest manga but just couldn't get his personality right here so sorry about that.

Reader: Male.

Today was just like any other day when you woke you saw your lovely wife Juvia. No matter how many times something like this happens you'll never get tried of the sight. You love nothing more than waking up seeing and Juvia laying next to you.

You put your hand on her cheek just admiring her as she slept. You could look at this sight forever and not get tired of seeing it. However, even though you wanted to do you knew you had to get started with your day.

"Juvia it's morning time to wake up." You spoke as you kissed Juvia on the cheek. Juvia then begin to wake up and you saw her beautiful blue eyes that you love so much.

"Good morning darling how did you sleep?" Juvia spoke rubbing her eyes as she had not fully woken up yet. "I slept well as always you know I sleep great when you're here with me." You spoke In response to her.

"That's good darling I'm glad you slept well. I suppose we should start our day now right?" Both you and Juvia now sitting up in bed and hold her. "Wish I could stay like this forever but we have to start our day. Greige might be upset with us if we decided to stay in bed all day."

Juvia laughed. "You're right he would be upset tho I would to see that cute face of his when he gets mad," Juvia spoke as you both got out and started getting dressed.

Juvia had finished getting before you so she went to check on Greige to see if he was awake or not. While Juvia was doing that you went to the kitchen and started to enjoy your food along with some time.

After some time your son Greige came into the kitchen and it looked like he had something on his mind. "Hey buddy what's up? You look like you've got something you want to ask me." You said to Greige as you drank some of your tea.

"Papa, where do babies come from?" Greige asked and you immediately spat out your tea and began coughing. "Papa, what's wrong?" Greige asked wondering why you had such a reaction to his question.

Your mind drew a blank as to how you should go about answering his question. You sat there confused unsure of what to say to him. But just then Juvia entered and saved you from the awkward situation!

"Oh, Greige you're a bit too young to know about that. But I promise I'll tell you when you're older. But I do have something to tell you. " Juvia spoke looking at her son happily. "What is it, Mama?" Greige said curious thinking about what his mother was about to tell him.

You stood up and walked over to Juvia as you kissed her and wrapped one of your arms around her. "You're going to be a big brother! Soon we'll be introducing a new person to this family your little sister!"

Juvia spoke happily that she could now finally tell Greige the news. "Me? A big brother?" Greige said in surprise to his mother.

"That's right buddy soon you'll have a little sister. You'll be a big brother to her make sure to keep her safe okay?" You said to your son.

Greige smiled running up to hug the both of you. "Yes, I promise I'll be the best big brother ever and protect my little sister!"

#request #fanfic #fic request #fanfiction #fluff #x reader #x male y/n #x male reader #fairy tail juvia #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail #ft #ft juvia #fairy tail juvia x reader #juvia lockser imagine #juvia lockser #fairy tail imagines #fairy tail imagine #fairy tail x reader #juvia x reader #fairy tail anime #fairy tail guild #fairy tail x you #juvia x male reader #male reader #fairy tail x reader imagines #juvia lockser x reader #readerfic

[fahbev]

@whumper-in-training

ok I don’t know how long my caption is allowed to be, but here it is! The promised fan art! I REFUSE to be self-deprecating here because I actually do like these a lot. Basically, I read this amazing story called ACP- The Agency for Cryptids and the Paranormal, (https://whumper-in-training.tumblr.com/post/673130936584568832/acp-the-agency-for-cryptids-and-the) and I totally fell in love with the character of Zak. This STORY MAN! It broke my heart in half and then lovingly stitched it back together, like multiple times, and I think that’s the ESSENCE of a good story. So yeah I made fan art. 

I was in the car on a fairly long trip, and I had my sketchbook, and I was like, hey, what should I draw? Fuck it i’m drawing Zak. So I drew Zak. I originally didn’t want to deal with how the hoodie would work with all the weird perspective and just gave him a tee-shirt, but then I yelled at myself: “COWARD! Draw the hoodie!” And so I erased the shirt and drew a hoodie. I figure that the hoodie in the picrew isn’t how the hoodie actually looks, it’s just the closest approximation you can get with a picrew, so I put an alien on it because yes. While I was drawing it though, I hit a fork in the road with the pose. I was going to draw him with his hand clawed and the other on his hip, but then I was like “what if he had his arm up instead?” And so I made two versions.

I drew werewolf Zak hell ya! I spent FOREVER inking this. Okay if was only like two hours, but inking is kinda boring and thus I procrastinated, and so it took me like three days to ink it. It took much longer than usual Bc I went over each line a bunch of times to make it look like fur/hair/eyelashes, but you can’t even see it Bc the colors are so dark! Argh! Usually color more than doubles the amount of time I spend on a drawing, but this time I just quickly threw down some color in only like an hour! I was so sure I was gonna say, “it’ll be quick” and then spend another six hours on it, because that ALWAYS happens, but it actually WAS quick so yes.

Last but not least, I drew the gang all together! Technically I drew this second, and colored it first, but you get the idea! This drawing filled me with all the happy chemicals the whole time making it y’all. After several hours it kinda wore off, but every time I zoomed in on Max’s face I got a fresh rush of serotonin. I decided to draw that one scene where they all fall asleep together because it was SO WHOLESOME! I wanted to draw the whole group, but didn’t know what kind of context to do. Then I scrolled through the blog, found that scene, reread it and was like “yes! That’s the one!”. And so I drew it. I did have to look up “do Muslim women sleep with their hijabs on?” And i’m glad it was a google search and not asking a real person Bc the response I found was basically: “No, you dumbass! Why would we do that? That makes no sense-” and several sarcastic responses to the same question on Quora and i’m just like: “:’D” I did look into it a bit more and realized the hijab has to stay on Bc while they are like family, they’re still not her mahrams. Also I figure that if I was gonna post this, even if she was alone, drawing her without it would kinda be violating her privacy yk? Like i’m exposing her for the whole internet to see. Kinda like drawing her naked would be. Anyway, I love this drawing, hope you love it too!

Ok, still keep your expectations to an army crawl because I never finish stuff, but fanfic is in the works. I am probably gonna wait until it’s finished to post it though, that way I can edit things and change earlier chapters. Also! I’m a total novice writer! So it’s probably crap! I don’t care! I have this policy that I would always rather make the cringe fanfic, wear the ugly clothing, make the stupid drawings, the cursed memes, shout all the embarrassing shit, do all the dumb things that teenagers do (as long as it’s not harmful or permanent obvi), sing all the bad karaoke, embarrass myself a TON, etc, and regret it later, cringe so hard in ten years, than to never let myself do anything, constantly hold back, never reach my full potential and regret THAT in ten years. Thank you for listening to my TED Talk. I still might very well be too shy to post it though ahhhhh. For some reason i’m WAY more shy online than irl, that makes no sense. Like I can walk up to a random person and talk to them no prob, but I get super anxious going in someone’s ask box. Maybe Bc I can’t read their body and face language like that? Idk. Like I said, just don’t expect anything.

#not tagging this bc I kinda don’t want anyone to see-

[proceduralpassion]

Ten Books To Know Me

Thanks for the tag girlie @celestemagnoliathewriter

I'm a book girlie to the core, so I could talk all day about my favorite novels or spend an entire day at Barnes and Noble lol. Anyway, here are ten books to get to know me.

Jade City- Quite possibly one of my favorite trilogies of all time. I just chose the first installment in the Green Bone Saga, well, because it's the first, but all three books are masterpieces. If you're an urban fantasy girlie like me, pleaseeeee read these books. I'll never get over the world and family dynasty Fonda Lee created with this series.

Hide- I will read any single genre you put in front of me, but I'm absolutely a sucker for detective novels. And Lisa Gardner is one of the queens of writing detective thrillers with the perfect amount of romantic suspense. She has like over twenty novels in this genre, but Hide is my favorite. Seems to be a fan favorite too, because they made a TV movie based on this book.

Working Stiff- the only non-fiction book on this list despite the fact that I read a good mix between the two. It's somewhat of a memoir of Judy Melinek who's a forensic pathologist. This is my future career so I enjoyed reading about her journey to get to where she is now.

The Bride Test- my comfort romance novel! Helen Hoang is just one of those writers who I'll read anything from. Most people have read her debut novel, The Kiss Quotient (and that's a damn good book!), but I just reallllyyyy love the Bride Test. Khai and Esme have my whole heart.

Nancy Drew- A CHILDHOOD BANGER. Classic. Went #1 on my childhood Billboard for 18+ weeks. Smashed every record. Lol they could write 1000 Nancy Drew books, I'm gonna read every single one. They were my first foray into being a book girlie at the ripe age of 8, so they'll always have a special place in my heart. (SN: I realllyy have the urge to go out and re-buy all of the Nancy Drew video games).

Six of Crows- Best found family dynamic in a book me thinks? The twists and turns were everything and I loved every single character in the Crows.

Get a Life, Chloe Brown- Another romantic fave! I'll never not love a sassy female lead. And then the male lead was lumberjack height grump?? Sign me up! You'll always be famous, Chloe and Red!

Princess Diaries- Another childhood fave? GASP. Meg Cabot knew the hell what she was doing when it came to teen girl fiction. And she's still writing books for the series! The Quarantine Princess Diaries literally came out THIS MONTH.

TTYL- Okay last childhood banger, I promise. This was a Lauren Myracle series told ENTIRELY thru IM/texting and I loved it. I was in middle school reading these books and lowkey they were a lil too grown for me at the time, but I snuck and read them anyway. Another win for the teen girlies.

The House on Mango Street- OK, a lot of these books have been about being my fave to read. The House on Mango Street, while I definitely enjoy reading, was probably the first book that inspired me to write. We all know this is a modern literary classic, but there's just something so magical about the way she writes. I read that book and thought, yo how cool would it be to write something as awesome as this? Therefore, it deserves a place on this list.

No presh tags for the gworls: @drabbles-mc @tallulahchanel @asirensrage @darqchilddaydreamz @thesirenrealm

#get to know me #books #book nerdie 🤓

[conflictandscotchblog]

It’s The Summer of Seventy-Nine

It’s the end of October, outside my window the leaves have changed, the nights come quick, so what better time to talk about a shore house my friends and I rented during the summer of nineteen-seventy-nine in Seaside Height, New Jersey.

What amazes me, when I look back at this house, and the fact that we rented it for the entire summer, was the fact that I didn’t have a job.

Where the hell did I get the money?

The world may never know.

But, we had a house, less than a block for the beach. There were six of us (more or less); when you have a shore house the number of occupants is fluid.

While you read this, you’ll notice I don’t use anyone’s name. There is a simple reason. Its been over forty years since these events, and my memory may juggle the characters and their situations. I’d rather keep them anonymous than get them wrong.

The events are real, the names have been omitted to protect the innocent.

Get a Job You Bum

Before the summer started, three of us got jobs in a restaurant on the boardwalk. Truth be told, only one of us actually worked there.

A few days into our non-employment, as we enjoyed time on the front porch, noticed the manager of the restaurant head toward us down the street. Like world class athletes, we sprinted from the porch, ran through the house like it was on fire, emerged from the back door, and hurdled the back fence for the gold, and disappeared into the night, never to work (or not work) there again.

Speaking of restaurants.

On the boardwalk in Seaside was a pizza place called The Sawmill. It opened at eleven-thirty every day for lunch, and had specials like ‘two hot dogs and soda for a dollar’ or ‘slice and a soda for a dollar’.

When they rolled up the garage door entrance to open, we would be there. Day after day, week after week, we were there, on the boardwalk, as we waited to place our order.

One afternoon, after weeks of this, as the garage door cleared open, the owner looked at us, sighed, and asked, “Don’t you guys have jobs?”

“Nope,” we answered in unison, “two dogs and a soda, please”.

War – What is it Good For

Food was not the only commodity that we looked to save money on, there was also alcohol.

Morgan David 20/20 is, to be generous, a wine. It is not a wine to be served at dinner, or on a date, or in any social situation. It is a wine that twenty-somethings will drink to get drunk quickly if they have no common sense, and very little money. Hence, its nickname:

Mad/Dog 2020.

To keep drinking from becoming boring, you need to be creative (you didn’t know that, did you?).

One afternoon, with novelty glass in hand (holds a half-gallon of liquid) filled with Mad/Dog 2020, played the card game War with another occupant of the house.

Rules? Simple—you drink every time you lose.

Why is this a drinking game? Because someone loses on every hand. In fact, sometimes both participants lose on a single hand. Bottom line, everyone gets very drunk. Why is drinking Mad/Dog 2020 significant in this game? Because by the end, each person gets lobotomy drunk.

Which led me to this:

After an afternoon of playing War, and no longer able to function as an adult, I staggered into the house and went to bed.

To clarify, this house did not have bedrooms. It had one big room with a half-dozen mattresses on the floor. It had two entrances, with curtains for doors, and to land a spot at night it was first come first served.

I entered the empty room, fell onto the closest mattress, and fell asleep (passed out).

Not sure how much time passed, but suddenly a slew of bodies burst through the curtains, landed on the once empty mattresses, and feigned sleep. A few seconds after that, the curtain drew back, and I was looking up at a not-to-happy police officer.

“I don’t care who took it,” the officer said in a slow, deliberate voice, “just put it back.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

After a moment to process what happened, I got up and went outside.

Not sure what their end game was, but for some reason my friends unplugged and rolled a soda vending machine from the corner deli to the front of our house. Then, to escape from being discovered, ran into that same house, leaving the vending machine on the sidewalk.

I turned, and paraphrased the police officer’s words with, “I don’t care who took it, just put it the fuck back!”

It’s Definitely Coming down

In May of nineteen-seventy-three NASA launched the space station SKYLAB. After nine years in space, with its orbit decayed, SKYLAB would return to Earth in July of nineteen-seventy-nine. No one knew exactly where it would enter Earth’s atmosphere, so people were rightfully nervous.

One Air Force general, in order to assuage people’s concerns said, “It’s definitely coming down”.

I know I felt better after hearing that.

We knew we had to do something, and we knew drinking would definitely be involved.

In the nineteen-seventies, Utica Club Beer could be purchased in beer balls (no time for jokes, please). They held about five gallons of beer, was the size of a medicine ball, made of a frosty white plastic.

Day after day we would buy a beer ball, divest it of it’s content, and move on to the next. Once a beer ball was empty, a hole was cut in the bottom, the plastic cleaned of any residual beer, then it was given to me.

I drew a cartoon face on the front, nothing particular, just whatever came out of my fingers. The general’s quote was written on the back, and the process repeated until we had enough, one for each member of the house.

Once completed, we sat on our porch, beers in hand, happy in the knowledge that if SKYLAB crashed anywhere near Seaside, we were protected with our heads squarely inside our helmets.

So This is Christmas

After SKYLAB burned and scattered harmlessly into the India Ocean (our helmets worked!), we realized a holiday was just around the corner.

What holiday?

July twenty-fifth, ‘Half-Way to Christmas’ of course.

We bought an artificial Christmas Tree (how, in the middle of July, I don’t know). Set it up on our front porch and decorated it with empty beer cans and bottles stabbed on each branch.

It was around this time we noticed that entire families, who returned to their cars after a day at the beach, would cross the street as to not walk directly in front of our house.

On July twenty-fifth we took the tree up to the beach, planted it in the sand, and celebrated Christmas. Not many, if any, put their blankets by our group. In truth, if I saw those people today, I’d think ‘what a bunch of assholes’.

Yes, we were those assholes.

The Church of Perpetual Sorrow

And through it all, there was Rose.

In hindsight, I feel sorry for Rose. She was our neighbor, lived alone, and was a full time resident of the town. If I was Rose, I wouldn’t be mad at us (we were loud, but not bad), I’d be mad at the idiot who rented the house to us.

Rose would sit in a folding chair in front of her house (no porch) and talk to us throughout the day.

“A lot of dead soldiers last night,” she said one morning and I honestly didn’t know what she meant. Was there a battle? A national emergency with the armed forces?

No.

To Rose, empty beer bottles or cans left on the ground, were dead soldiers.

Rose gave us food, but also admonished our actions at times. We were respectful of her, but didn’t curtail our actions because of her.

Rose saw it all. A group of guys with plastic decorated beer balls on their heads. A Christmas tree with beer bottles as ornaments. Drinking games and dead soldiers. People coming and going all hours of the day and night. Families crossed the street to avoid our house (and hers, unfortunately, by association)

It was a long summer for us. Maybe even longer for Rose.

Rose would come out periodically, broom in hand, and sweep the small patch of cement in front of her house. She didn’t seem happy (hopefully not because of us) so we called her ‘St. Rose of the Church of Perpetual Sorrow’.

Did I mention we were assholes?

#drinking #Jersey Shore #beach #Christmas #Skylab

[thatscrewyballyhooeyhollywood]

Classic Film Festival Day 1

Picture it: it's Labor Day weekend 2023. The town is El Segundo, a charming postcard-esque community just south of Los Angeles International Airport. The venue is the Old Town Music Hall, a 188-seat movie palace originally built in 1921, and now home to a 1925 Wurlitzer Theater Pipe organ.

And the event is Cinecon 59: a five-day film festival where cinephiles gather to experience rare, sometimes newly restored, and often otherwise unavailable classics from the silent and studio eras.

I was excited to attend this year, and see an incredible line-up of rare gems over five days, starting with Opening Night.

A Language All My Own (1935)

Paramount Pictures

Director: David Fleischer

Among the many animators working during the Golden Age of Hollywood, the Fleischer brothers (Max and Dave) left their indelible mark on the field with iconic and beloved characters like Popeye, KoKo the Clown, and of course, Betty Boop.

Cinecon opened this year with a newly restored Betty Boop cartoon, in which our titular heroine - a very successful nightclub singer - travels to Japan to perform in front of her adoring fans overseas. At a brisk 6 minutes, much of the cartoon's humor comes from Betty's flight in an anthropomorphic airplane (the plane literally "runs" down the runway), but it does include a unique Betty Boop number - the eponymous "A Language All My Own" - and plenty of classic Betty dance moves onstage.

A very fun opening to what promised to be an exciting weekend.

The Gold Diggers (1923)

Warner Bros.

Director: Harry Beaumont

Betty Boop was immediately followed by this light and airy rom-com, a film long thought lost until four of its six reels were found in the back of an old van a few years ago. Newly restored, and very likely premiering for the first time since its original 1923 release, The Gold Diggers tells the story of Wally Saunders (John Harron) who has fallen madly in love with chorus girl Violet Dayne (Anne Cornwall) and wants to marry her. Unfortunately, Wally's rich uncle and guardian, Stephen Lee (Wyndham Standing) pulls the plug on that dream - all chorus girls are ruthless gold diggers, after all - and he forbids the union.

Heartbroken, Violet turns to her best friend and fellow chorus girl, Jerry La Mar (Hope Hampton) who decides to show Uncle Stephen what a real gold digger is. Maybe once he falls for one himself, the stubborn old codger will realize Violet is truly in love with Wally, and let the two live happily ever after.

Jerry's plan is brilliant, but one thing she doesn't count on? Falling in love with Stephen herself.

I will admit this was a difficult one for me to follow because it was missing two reels, and even with the intertitles explaining the missing sequences, it felt a little discombobulating. But what did survive was beautifully restored, and it had some great laugh-out-loud moments.

Adventure's End (1937)

Universal Pictures

Director: Arthur Lubin

The last film I watched on opening night was this early, pre-Stagecoach (1939) John Wayne high seas adventure.

Funnily enough, Wayne plays "Duke" Slade, a pearl diver working in the South Pacific, who manages to piss off the locals and escapes their wrath by sneaking aboard a whaling ship docked nearby. Slade is immediately drawn into shipboard drama - the captain is dying and he doesn't want his beloved whaler to fall into the hands of his crafty first mate. He implores Slade to marry his daughter, Janet Drew (Diana Gibson), so he can name Slade his heir, and hand the ship over to the two of them.

Surprisingly (yeah, actually, not surprisingly since Diana Gibson is drop-dead gorgeous), Slade agrees to this mad plan, and he is named captain right before Captain Abner (Montagu Love) passes on.

Does first mate Rand Husk (Moroni Olsen) fall in line with this new arrangement? Of course not. He had his sights set on marrying Janet himself, and he sure as hell isn't reporting to some half-naked bum that clambered onto his ship.

So, Slade sure has his hands full. In addition to a new wife anxious to annul their marriage now that her beloved father has died, he now has to captain a whaler that hasn't caught anything in ages, deal with a mutinous crew, and somehow stop his meddlesome pearl diving partner, Kalo (Paul White), from making things worse.

This really was an adventure, even if a bit *cough* of a stretch when it came to the storyline... a dying captain marries his daughter off to some bedraggled stranger who just climbed aboard his ship? But eh, it is what it is. And the visual effects were spectacular for 1937. Some of the whale chasing sequences were clearly rear projection, but some others were done.... how???

[nightmare-eater]

the rob brand of character

#this was so fun to draw #ive only drawn karkat and dismas before #and i drew six characters in like two days?? what the hell #karkat #karkat vantas #homestuck #dismas #dismas mersiv #vast error #im not adding a tag for count chocula #rei #rei ayanami #evangelion #koishi #koishi komeiji #touhou #kakashi #kakashi hakate #naruto #art

[husbandohunter]

What they love about you (part 2)[Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Kazuha. Part 1 here

Genre: fluff

"Poetry for my hopeless romantic heart 🥺 and Kazuha, he was the perfect candidate for this. I decided to put Zhongli first of course, he deserves it after saving my ass in Baal's fight."

=================================

Spirit flows through the Immovable rock (Zhongli)

Nations fall, truths be told, iron rusts and earth erode

Through six centuries these were stories he watched unfold.

He sees you and the archon knew that you shall too grow old

But despite it all, he loves you for your existence, as nothing can compare to your intransient soul.

The purpose of contracts were made to ensure there had been a fair trade between two parties. Like merchants striking business deals for a favourable outcome, like mother nature maintaing the balance between life and death, like how you and your beloved said your vows and whispered promises to one another as evening bids farewell by the warm welcome of the moon's gentle glow. Those days were the most treasured that you couldn't help remisicing them-- when Zhongli appeared in your life. Your mortal life. How time can fly so fast.

Perhaps this had been a common notion among human standards. That to be connected, both sides must share the same factors in order to proceed the contract. Clearly your placement proved to be mismatched. Unlike Zhongli there could be a day when your legs gave up and you can no longer walk. He will go on without you, continuing to drift in places where you cannot reach, where time was out of the question, further and further away until the mist begins to seize your field of vision and soon your eyes were too old to see.

The difference in age can truly make someone feel alone and Zhongli knew it well. Thus he smiled softly like he always does and held you close, speaking with so much kindness:

My dearest.

Your soul existed like an evergreen tree blooming through all four seasons, unwithered and everlasting, even against the cold storm of white. And it could be as soft as the sunbeam cascading through the mountain peaks while they dust the land with their ethereal hues and emitting the warmth that breaths absolute serenity. If artifacts were a piece of what someone left behind then maybe everything you made was considered an artifact-- a treasure. A piece of you in those handwritten letters, the beauty in your fingertips after knitting him a scarf which caused scars to mar them, and because of how heavy your spirit weighs through everything you did, it became evident that the one he had fallen for was not your skin nor your body but the person who resides in it.

And sometimes he wonders if he had met you once upon a dream. What else could explain the mysterious feeling that made you seem so familiar, even when he only saw you for the first time? Or perhaps you were an old friend from the long long past, someone he stargazed with upon the infinite mounds of grass and glaze lilies, someone whom he shared the taste of osmanthus wine, someone he came to cherished just like how he cherished his own nation. Regardless, whether you were that someone or not, he wouldn't hesitate to relive those times all over again.

If there was a day when the world around you decided to cave in, where time inevitably caught up and you succumbed to change, he would still be yours. After all, the immovable stone was meant to be the symbol of constancy. He already sworn to you that his devotion and affection will never waver, they were solely held towards your essence for you had touched him through the things he could not touch, and left a mark that would last longer than his ancient self can last. Zhongli may have lived through many lifetimes but meeting you was the beginning of everything. You were a mortal immortalized in the world his heart, etched so deep that it stirs him apart, there was no room for anyone else.

~xx~

Drowning in the ocean flames (Tartaglia)

There was a man who fell deeply in love with war

They raged inside of him like the spontaneous battlefields he came to adore.

Consumed by desire, pain became an addiciton

And he eventually surrenders to the heat of your passion.

While many fear death, Childe learned to dance with it.

He revels in the way his heart pounds endlessly, as if new life had been born from the inside and then bursted like thunder, sending trembling sensations through his veins, bringing him to the peak of euphoria. The feeling was a drug in which Childe hesitates no more when he confronts it, rather he deliberately seeks it. He seeks thrill in the most dangerous situations since they were the moments that made him feel so alive.

Henceforth the Harbinger sought you out. He inches closer and ever so close, those deep cerulean eyes trapped in your hypnotizing ones. Childe loves how you look at him like you were about to devour him, consume him as the flames in hell would, perhaps destroy him completely to the point there was no turning back and yet...he would not mind.

Childe had been so drawn to you like a moth to a light. No. Rather, Adam and the devil, tempting him to sin because the things he would do for you were undeniably impetuous. It was too late. It was too late when you told him you wanted to stay. Too late when you pulled him down, with arms around his neck, stealing away his breath in one swift manner as well as a kiss. Curse you for having so much power over him, from then and there he was no longer the mighty harbinger everyone knew but a man foolish in love. Take him higher. Higher. Take him far. To say you were alluring would be an understatement. The scent of you brings all his senses to disarray and the taste of you-- by the archons-- had never made him feel so starved. All he thought of was mindlessly running his hands over your small back, reveling in the shape of you, exploring every inch and curve in attempt to make you completely his.

This was the reason why he grew accustomed to dancing with death. Because it was you. You were going to be the cause of his downfall and you were the cause of this insanity. Even though you constantly reminded him how risky the situation was due to being a wanted criminal in his homeland's eyes, Childe pays no mind. Didn't he already tell you to trust him? Anyone who threatens you would be an enemy of his, much to their misfortune. Whether it'd be conquering the world and laying it beneath your feet or walking through the depths of the abyss all over again, he'll make sure to have it all and no one can say otherwise.

~xx~

Shelter (Albedo)

Your warmth was his hearth

Like stars falling onto the earth

Gracing the plains in an empereal bliss

As they trembled under the touch of heaven's kiss

Closing his eyes, you are the first person he sees.

The sound of snow chasing the wind fills the silent night once again while it's whispered blows continued to echo just by the cave's entrance. Albedo had planned to take you back to Monstadt that day but Dragonspine was not the place to be merciful with the weather. No one else except the two of you occupied the abandoned space and a singular camp fire to serve as a source of warmth. You place your hand on your lover's forehead, brushing away his ash coloured strands while he seeps into slumber. Albedo sighs contentedly. Despite the world being engulfed in sheer cold, here he felt safe and sound.

Before meeting you Albedo never really had that. People regularly held him on a high regard and had a hard time matching his pace. He was a born genius to the point that he practically stood out like a swan out of the ducklings' crowd as they admired his brilliance. Truly Albedo was a perfect human being. But when turns around to see the rest he noticed how distant everything seemed. He was so focused on his pursuit towards the universal truth that he hadn't given the time to consider; where is he going with this? And what for? Everyone else looked so happy living in their mundane routines and Albedo soon grew curious about such thoughts. Out of all the places in Monstadt, exactly where does he belong?

Opening his eyes, you are the first person he looks for.

"Welcome home, Albedo!"

The answer was obvious. Home was the sound of his name on your lips. When you were side by side with him while he sketched the landscape from the far distance. In places where the lights were on as he entered the room, knowing you were inside. This feeling couldn't be describe with just a word. Home was not a nation nor was it a destination. Home was in your touch where he felt the most protected.

I'm home.

A sky filled with stars and he only saw one; his Starlight. Your warmth held the emotion similar to the kind where there had only been one cande lit amidst an infinite stretch of darkness. But it also brought the joy of flowers blossoming into the vivid future of new spring. There was no place he'd rather be than the shelter of your arms because with you, Albedo believed he truly found where he belonged.

~xx~

Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves (Kazuha)

Silencing the world

My heart begins to find peace

Soothed by your presence

- For my beloved, (Y/n)

I remember how the first petal of spring drifted by as it had flown into the crossroads of our path. Subconciously my entire being began to still. This particular flower... it must have come far and wide for the wind to carry such a pleasant scent. Although I had intended to continue my venture onwards but the air ceased to sound and I knew that this way was true. And so nature beckons me to the shore where the waves lulled back and forth under the moonlight's entrance, only then I began to sharpen my vision to see what was before me. You stood there on a rock with your face looking into the sparkling sky, singing a tune that drew me near. Just the mere sight was enough to stir my heart alone.

My beloved, do you know why I named this poem 'Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves?'

Watching you was like witnessing the ephmereal birth of a flower sprouting amongst the slums of an abandoned nation. A fleeting miracle where snow falls from the summer sky. I am compelled to capture these feelings in this poem yet there are moments where my thoughts scatter as if the autumn wind had whisked them away and out of my grasp until a singular leaf is only what was left. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary for me to keep a notebook of ways I can describe your presence, instead a few simple sentences would suffice. Nevertheless, I only wish to express my feelings for you.

When you're with me it seems I have nothing to think about. The aura around you can silence the world alone, speaking louder than thunder cries, weighing heavily to those around you in ways it would feel empty if you're not here. Yet I could breath as if alleviated from the burdens of my past. This had me realize that this must have been the will of the wind. You were the greatest gift to have ever bestowed upon me and I confess, sometimes my chest aches because of how much I cherish you, it pierces me like a sharp blade but even if my heart bleeds it will continue to bleed only for your sake.

So wherever you are, wherever you may be, I can feel you in the breeze. Return soon my beloved, I'll be here, waiting.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #albedo x reader #kazuha x reader #zhongli #childe #albedo #kazuha #kazuha kaedehara #genshin #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact childe #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #nya writes

[soulmate-game]

New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

—*—*—*—*—*

For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

#maribat #bio!dad au #bio!dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic jasonette #platonic dickinette #platonic timinette #platonic timari #mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat fic #platonic brucinette #older sister Marinette

[dangermousie]

Mousie’s absolutely subjective, very biased Top 10 web novels list

Please note that this is hardly aiming to be objective, if one can even be properly objective about a work of fiction. It is 110% based on my preferences, which means this list is heavy on the angst and has nothing set in the modern day. It is also heavily danmei-centric, even though I read way more het romance than danmei, because for whatever reason, most of the danmei I’ve read has been insanely good.

10. Return of the Swallow - one of the two non-danmeis on this list. Smart and nuanced and with a large cast of characters. Our heroine is a long-lost daughter of the family that is brought back in and has to cope with familial struggles, crazy royals, court intrigue, invasion et al. It’s SO GOOD! There is romance with the sexy smart enemy general but honestly, it’s the heroine that is the main selling point for me.

9. Transmigrator Meets Reincarnator - the only other non-danmei novel on this list, this was my very first web novel and what drew me into this insanity. This is just a ton of fun, probably the lightest novel on this list, not an ounce of angst to be found. But it’s hilarious and features competent heroine and tsundere hero and I will always love it for opening a new world to me. Anyway, our heroine transmigrates into the novel as the female lead. Unlike the original lead though she doesn’t want to seek adventures and angst - she just wants to comfortably live with the wealthy, nice husband heroine has. Alas, said husband is no longer nice since he has previously lived this story where he was betrayed by FL and then transmigrated/reincarnated into the past. Oh well, the heroine opens up businesses and makes friends. And eventually, her husband realizes his wife is way different this time around. This actually doesn’t have much romance, not until close to the end, but this is so fun I don’t care.

8. Lord Seventh - I am only partway through this so far, but it’s already on the list because it’s smart and somehow intense AND laid-back (not sure how this works, but it does) and is honestly just a really really solid and smart period novel, with the OTP a cherry on top of a narrative sundae. Plus, I love the concept of MC deciding he is not going for his supposedly fated love - he’s tried for six lifetimes, always with disaster, and he’s just plain done and tired. When he opens his life in his seventh reincarnation and sees the person he would have given up the world for, he genuinely feels nothing at all. (Spoiler - his OTP is actually a barbarian shaman this time around, thank you Lord!)

7. Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (MDZS) - oh come on, how are you even on this tumblr if you don’t know MDZS/The Untamed? This was my very first danmei and it’s so much fun! I love everything about it - the unreliable narrator, the looping structure, the main OTP, Wei Wuxian’s laidback, traumatized insouciance, everything. Anyway, the plot in the event you somehow transported here from 2005 is that the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Wei Wuxian, was defeated by the righteous sects over a decade ago and fell of a cliff to his death. Only now that same Wei Wuxian opens his eyes in another body and everything that was supposed to stay in the past starts again.

6. Heaven Official’s Blessing (TGCF) - people either love its meandering narrative, picaresque structure and cast of thousands, or find it a detriment compared to much more compact MDZS. I love it even more than MDZS for those very qualities. It does have a rock-solid, darling OTP, but what really elevates it to me are the MXTX trademark combo of snarky/light tone hiding a ton of trauma underneath, the insanely intricate world-building, and what it has to say about the nature of grace and goodness. Xie Lian is one of my top 5 web novel characters and probably in top 10 from anywhere. Oh, and while MXTX’s stuff is not as angsty for me as Meatbun’s or even Priest’s, there are always exceptions, and there is one chapter in this novel that pretty much broke me and sometimes I still flashback to it and feel unwell.

Anyway, what is it about? There is a commotion in the heavenly realm - Xie Lian, the Crown Prince of a long-destroyed kingdom, has ascended to Godhood. That in itself is not so exciting. However for Xie Lian this is the third time (!!!!) as he’s ascended and lost his godhood twice prior. And now, the biggest joke of the divine realm is back, throwing the heavenly realm into chaos. And elsewhere, Hua Cheng, one of the four most powerful demons of that Universe, sits up and takes notice.

5. Golden Stage - my perfect comfort novel. Probably the least angsty of any danmei novel on this list (which still means plenty angsty :P) It also has a dedicated, smart OTP that is an OTP for the bulk of the book - I think you will notice that in most of the novels in this list, I go for “OTP against the world” trope - I can’t stand love triangles and the same. Anyway, Fu Shen, is a famous general whose fame is making the emperor antsy. When he gets injured and can’t walk any more, the emperor gladly recalls him and marries him off to his most faithful court lackey, the head of sort of secret police, Yan Xiaohan. The emperor intends it both as a check on the general and a general spite move since the two men always clash in court whenever they meet. But not all is at is seems. They used to be friends a long time ago, had a falling out, and one of the loveliest parts of the novel is them finding their way to each other, but there is also finding the middle path between their two very different philosophies and ways of being, not to mention solving a conspiracy or dozen, and putting a new dynasty on the throne, among other things. It always makes me think, a little, of “if Mei Changsu x Jingyan were canon.”

4. Sha Po Lang - if you like a lot of fantasy politics and world-building and steampunk with your novels, this one is for you. This one is VERY plot-heavy with smart, dedicated characters and a deconstruction of many traditional virtues - our protagonist Chang Geng, a long-lost son of the Emperor, is someone who wants to modernize the country but also take down the current emperor his brother for progress’ sake and the person he’s in love with is the general who saved him when he was a kid who is nominally his foster father. Anyway, the romance is mainly a garnish in this one, not even a big side dish, but the relationship between two smart, dedicated, deadly individuals with very different concepts of duty is fascinating long before it turns romantic. And if you like angst, while overall it’s not as angsty as e.g., Meatbun stuff, Chang Geng’s childhood is the stuff of nightmares and probably freaks me out more than anything else in any novel on this list, 2ha included.

3. To Rule In a Turbulent World (LSWW) - gay Minglan. No seriously. This is how I think of it. it’s a slice of life period novel with fascinating characters and setting that happens to have a gay OTP, not a romance in a period setting per se and I always prefer stories where the romance is not the only thing that is going on. It’s meticulously written and smart and deals with character development and somehow makes daily minutia fascinating. Our protagonist, You Miao, is the son of a fabulously wealthy merchant, sent to the capital to make connections and study. As the story starts, he sees his friend’s servants beating someone to death, feels bad, and buys him because, as we discover gradually and organically, You Miao may be wealthy and occasionally immature but he is a genuinely good person. The person he buys is a barbarian from beyond the wall, named Li Zhifeng. It’s touch and go if the man will survive but eventually he does and You Miao, who by then has to return home, gives him his papers and lets him go. However, LZF decides to stick with You Miao instead, both out of sense of debt for YM saving his life and because he genuinely likes him (and yet, there is no instalove on either of their parts, their bodies have fun a lot quicker than their souls.) Anyway, the two take up farming, get involved in the imperial exams and it’s the life of prosperity and peace, until an invasion happens and things go rapidly to hell. This is so nuanced, so smart (smart people in this actually ARE!) and has secondary characters who are just as complex as the mains (for example, I ended up adoring YM’s friend, the one who starts the plot by almost beating LZF to death for no reason) because the novel never forgets that few people are all villain. There is a lovely character arc or two - watching YM grow up and LZF thaw - there is the fact that You Miao is a unicorn in web novels being laid back and calm. This whole thing is a masterpiece.

2. Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - want the emotional hit of 2ha but want to read something half its length? Well, the author of 2ha is here to eviscerate you in a shorter amount of time. This has the beautiful world-building, plot twists that all make sense and, at the center of it all, an intense and all-consuming and gloriously painful relationship between two generals - one aristocratic loner Mo Xi, and the other gregarious former slave general Gu Mang. Once they were best friends and lovers, but when the novel starts, Gu Mang has long turned traitor and went to serve the enemy kingdom and has now been returned and Mo Xi, who now commands the remnants of his slave army, has to cope with the fact that he has never been able to get over the man who stabbed him through the heart. Literally. This novel has a gorgeously looping structure, with flashbacks interwoven into present storyline. There is so much love and longing and sacrifice in this that I am tearing up a bit just thinking of it. If you don’t love Mo Xi and Gu Mang, separately and together, by the end of it, you have no soul.

1. The Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha/erha) - if you’ve been following my tumblr for more than a hot second, you know my obsession with this novel. Honestly, even if I were to make a list of my top 10 novels of any kind, not just webnovels, this would be on the list. It has everything I want - a complicated, intricate plot with an insane amount of plot twists, all of which are both unexpected and make total sense, a rich and large cast of characters, a truly epic OTP that makes me bawl, emotional intensity that sometimes maxes even me out and so much character nuance and growth. Also, Moran is my favorite web novel character ever, hands down.

Anyway, the plot (or at least the way it first appears) is that the evil emperor of the cultivation world, Taxian Jun, kills himself at 32 and wakes up in the body of his 16 year old self, birth name Moran. Excited to get a redo, Moran wants to save his supposed true love Shimei, whose death the last go-around pushed him towards evil. He also wants to avoid entanglement with Chu Wanning, his shizun and sworn enemy in past life. And that’s all you are best off knowing, trust me. The only hint I am going to give is oooh boy the mother of all unreliable narrators has arrived!

The novel starts light and funny on boil the frog principle - if someone told me I would be full bawling multiple times with this novel, I’d have thought they were insane, but i swear my eyes hurt by the end of it. I started out being amused and/or disliking the mains and by the end I would die for either of them.

#cnovel #2ha #yuwu #to rule in a turbulent world #lsww #sha po lang #golden stage #return of the swallow #transmigrator meets reincarnator #lord seventh #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #heaven official's blessing #the dumb husky and his white cat shizun

[midnightwinterhawk]

I put together a little collection of Sterek and Steter fics for funsies. “Just a few fics”, I thought, “nothing too crazy.” Thirty fics later I had to cut myself off and finalize the list. You can thank @the-cookie-of-doom​ for the inspiration. 

These primarily fall under the Hurt Stiles Stilinski category because I apparently like to see my comfort characters suffer. Most of these have hopeful/happy endings but mind the tags. For reals.

Placed under a cut since I have no self control and this turned into a long post.

Sterek

adore to see your eyes fly by @1001cranes

(11,309 l E)

stiles is a pyromaniac, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

take my heart from me by @areiton

(23,188 l NR)

He didn't really mean to adopt Derek's pack of puppies. He didn't mean to make himself important to them.

To Derek.

He just wanted to keep them all safe.

That's all Stiles ever wanted.

"Why Can't You?" by @asterekmess

(3,602 l T)

Now. This was happening now, and he couldn’t be less prepared.

-

After a long night, things between Stiles and his father come to a head.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

(30,314 l E)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

A Victory March by @churkey

(2,688 l T)

When Stiles is eight he learns that nothing will be the same. His dad comes home one day after work and sits Stiles down for a talk. He explains that werewolves and all the monsters are real.

They're real and not hiding under anyone's bed.

Bury the Moon by darthjamtart

(16,592 l M)

First things get bad. Then they get worse. Stiles doesn’t know what he’s sacrificed until it’s too late.

Dying is the easy part.

Love's Violent Delights by @dexterous-sinistrous

(10,685 l E)

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.

Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.

Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Empty by @discontentedwinter

(48,034 l M)

Jordan Parrish is the new sheriff of Beacon Hills, a town haunted by its past.

Your Vision Borrows Mine by hazyascent

(188,781 l E)

Stiles has encountered a fair share of monsters before, way out of his league - the kinds that children are afraid are hiding in their closets and under the bed.

He’d even become one himself when he was void. The nogitsune was in his house, his body, and his mind.

But the worst monster he’s ever faced took even more from him and got away with it.

It’s why Stiles has never really been as terrified of werewolves and kanimas and darachs as he should have been. They’re really not that scary, relatively speaking, and he has a whole team on his side. They always found a way to win - until they lost someone they really loved.

Stiles doesn’t know how to be normal, not after everything he’s done and everyone he’s hurt. The nogitsune is gone, but another monster is on its heels.

His uncle is back. And Stiles has never felt more alone.

It Was a Wednesday by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

(80,129 l M)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?”

Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping.

Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death.

“Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least.

“Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Tiny Houses by @ohmyjetsabel-blog

(77,183 l E)

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

I'm There in the Water by @spaceprincessem

(15,878 l T)

“But it’s—” Derek paused, his words unsure, “it’s not like us,” he swallows hard, chin dipping to his chest in frustration, “it’s like a…”

“An abomination,” Stiles finished, nodding his head as he finally lets his gaze really look at Derek since Scott had pulled them from the water.

He suddenly wished he hadn’t because the way Derek looks at him makes Stiles feel like he is ten years old again. Like Derek is seeing him for the first time since they accidentally fell into each other’s orbit all those years ago. Like Stiles isn’t a burden or invisible.

Like he is enough.

Or five times Stiles felt like he was drowning and the one time he finally caught his breath

Gunplay is Not Really Our Kink by theroguesgambit

(2,577 l M)

“The rules to the game are simple. One bullet, six chances. You pick it up and take turns pulling the trigger on the other man, or we gun you both down right now. You play along, only one of you has to die. Fun game, huh?”

--

Derek and Stiles are captured by a group of hunters and forced to play a twisted game that only one of them might walk away from.

The Price by theroguesgambit

(18,452 l M)

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Nieważny by Zethsaire

(2,037 l E)

The pack is gone, everything they've ever cared for destroyed. Now Stiles and Derek hunt the hunters, taking revenge in the only way they know how; blood.

Steter

Make Me Bleed by @asarcasticwitch

(2,304 l E)

Peter’s expression contorts, impressed or surprised, Stiles can't decipher, but the grin on his face proves he’s not exactly disappointed with the unexpected turn of events.

“Which bite exactly were you hoping for, hm?” The older man curls one hand around the back of Stiles’s neck, trailing his thumb along his pale, fragile throat.

Stiles tilts his head back in unyielding submission, giving the wolf no room to debate his sincerity. “I’m sure you can figure it out, Alpha.

Two Roads Converge in a Graveyard Town by @cywscross

(15,645 l T)

The Deadpool brings one more assassin to Beacon Hills. A man's gotta eat after all.

when you're going through hell (keep going for me) by cywscross

(57,022 l T)

Peter is abandoned in the aftermath of the fire, and Eichen House takes ruthless advantage. Six years later, when he's finally able to move again, he finds himself in a cell with a boy in a straitjacket.

(Kate’s biggest mistake was letting Peter live. Eichen House’s biggest mistake was letting Peter meet Stiles.)

Don't Fail Me Now by @discontentedwinter​

(36,315 l E)

Stiles goes to Derek looking for help.

He finds Peter instead.

Peter takes what he's wanted for a very long time.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

(56,525 l M)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Bite Down by EclipseWing (@shadow-of-the-eclipse)

(27,586 l M)

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

Into Eden by @graciebirdie

(12,232 l M)

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he'd hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn't turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

(4,032 l E)

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

Call My Name by KouriArashi ( @gingersnapwolves )

(81,370 l M)

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Hide my tears in the rain. by MrsRidcully

(6,865 l M)

After  years spent successfully dodging werewolves, evil spirits and wendigos,  it was a drunk driver who stole his Dad, a drunk driver with a  suspended license and a record sheet as long as Stiles’s arm. Stiles  would have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been so busy screaming.

In My Veins Like Disease by romanoffbarton

(1,140 l T)

He tries to leave once.

Foreshock by @twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(22,816 l E)

The day Stiles’ mom died, he almost leveled his house.

Not on purpose. Not even by mistake, really. More by instinct.

Since then he's dug his fingers into everything his has left, holding on with desperation.

Desperation never stopped an earthquake.

Your Touch is My Choice by twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(2,171 l T)

The first time John does it, Stiles is two years old and about to run into the road.

“Mieczysław!” Heart pounding, John grabbed him by the back of his neck and got a hand around his tummy, snatching him back. “No, you have to stay away from the road,” he said firmly.

Shameful Company by Whispering_Sumire (@whispering-sumire755)

(38,779 l E)

"Did I turn into a unicorn?" Peter asks dryly, and Stiles glares at him for a moment before the laughter bubbles up, unbidden, nearly unwilling, and he looks so surprised at the sound, his shock dimming it for a moment before it bursts through with even more trembling ferocity. A long, thin, willowy hand curls into a soft fist over his mouth, and he's shaking, frail, more tears falling, but the copper of his eyes are glowing, crinkling around the edges and scrunched with mirth.

"No," Stiles chokes, chuckling wetly. "No, fuck you, a unicorn? What, like, Rainbowcreep? Zombiesparkle?"

[About a year before the fated Hale fire, Peter starts having nightmares that involve a woman with red hair. The nightmares lead to a spell that brings a man back through time, and, eventually, though the time-traveler is traumatized in the most horrific ways, and Peter's never been good with or for people, in general, they develop a bond that neither of them expects.]

Would You Forgive Me If I Called You Hope, Peter Hale? (Hope, By Any Other Name) by Whispering_Sumire

(10,099 l T)

Stiles has scars. He owns that, he accepts it, he's cataloged and memorized every single one, he's hyper fucking aware of them all.

//

"What do you want, Peter?" Having the more untrustworthy of the Pack getting protective weirds him the fuck out, leaves an odd fluttering in his chest, like moths, waiting perilously and suicidally to be burned.

He doesn't like it.

"You're injured," the man says, "and whatever it is, it's put you in enough pain that I nearly fainted when I-"

"- Used your werewolf mojo on me without my permission?" Stiles smirks, and Peter gives him a black look, crossing a leg over his knee and smoothing out some invisible wrinkle on his pants.

"Tell me the truth Stiles, how bad is it?"

[Or: The one where Stiles has scars, is more than a little fucked up, and Peter notices. He helps.]

#hurt/comfort #angst #dark #hurt/no comfort #angst with a happy ending #fic rec #be kind to yourself and mind the tags #Sterek #Steter #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #Peter Hale #hurt Stiles Stilinski #Sterek fic #Steter fic #to the pain

[earnestly-endlessly]

I love your fic recs! Do you have any with Protective!Erik?

Protective! Erik is one of my favourite tropes so I have a TON of fics to share with you. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

Protective! Erik fic recs

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – madneto, Pangea

Summary: Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

In Sound and Silence – endingthemes

Summary: Erik is assigned to care for the special patient in room 301.

How Not To Meet Your Future Boyfriend – ikeracity

Summary: Erik punches Charles in the face the first time they meet. There isn't anywhere their relationship can go from there but up.

Forgotten – FuryRed

Summary: Charles is having a really bad day. Not only has he woken up in the middle of the afternoon with no idea where he is or how he got there, but when he returns home he’s confronted by a stranger with intense eyes, who insists that he knows Charles rather more intimately than Charles remembers…

Thou Shalt Not Eat Stones – valancysnaith

Summary: Two months after Washington, Raven found Erik in a skeevy motel off the Florida interstate.

“They have Charles, Erik,” she said.

The bedframe shrieked. In the bathroom, the showerhead snapped in half and clattered into the tub.

Demoted – JayPendragon

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a detective-specialist with the NYPD Mutant Tactical Unit, ready to help out where his skills are needed. Or he would be, if he and his partner hadn’t been demoted. For the next four months, he is patrolling the Lenox Hill precinct with Azazel – if he doesn’t die of boredom first. One night they are called in to investigate a potential case of domestic violence, yet the tenant assures them he is both alone and unharmed. However, there is something about this Charles Xavier that compels Erik to follow up.

Warning: Sensitive material, domestic abuse and dubious consent

Watch Your Back – swoopswoop

Summary: Bodyguard AU where Erik is overly protective and things aren't as simple as they seem.

If We Met Differently – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik wasn't the only mutant 'taken in' by Shaw, Erik learns this the hard way when a new mutant is dropped into his cell. They manage to escape together, but things aren't all roses after that. Erik has a score to settle and needs to make sure Charles is safe.

The Color of Love (Character Swap Remix) – BadLuckBlueEyes

Summary: Nobody sees in color until they meet their soulmates. When your soulmate dies, your vision returns to black and white. What happens when your soulmate only dies for a few minutes?

Omega Online – miss_aphelion

Summary: Newly imprinted Charles is having trouble dealing with his overly protective alpha—so in desperation he seeks advice in an omega chat room. Emma Frost is more than happy to help, Raven isn't helping at all, and Erik can't stand to be out of touch with Charles for more than five minutes at a time.

Cannot be Contained in Words – wallhaditcoming (uvcatastrophe) 

Summary: Crime syndicate head Erik Lehnsherr travels to London on business, where he meets oxford student Charles Xavier. Their liaison spawns into a years long transatlantic affair, kept apart by Erik's work and Charles' studies,which Erik chronicles in photographs. When distance ceases to be an issue after four long years, the overlap between Charles' past and Erik's work create a whole new set of complications.

A Pertinent Reminder – ikeracity, Pangea

Summary: Sometimes it's easy to forget that getting involved in Erik's mob business isn't all fine dining and sex on yachts. There's nothing like taking a couple of bullets to remind Charles of the reality.

Part 3 of the Associates series

A Dangerous Game – ikeracity, pangea

Summary: When a familiar enemy of Erik's returns to the city for some old-fashioned revenge, Charles is sucked deeper into the world of the mob than ever before.

Part 6 of the Associates series

You don’t choose the thug life (except when you do) – Anonymous

Summary: Charles is kidnapped and discovers that Erik, the Alpha he has been dating for the past few months and is head-over-heels for, is not just a wealthy businessman but actually the head of a syndicate.

He is rather unhappy about this discovery and Erik gets an earful for lying to him. Then Charles is kidnapped again and really, he hopes mating Erik won't result in weekly kidnapping because he has a thesis to finish and papers to grade.

Marrying a Mob – Ook

Summary: Charles is a teacher at a very exclusive school. When armed men burst in on the trail of two children, of course he stands up to them and gets hurt. The children are Erik Lehnsherr's children (of course); a "prominent businessman" or, less politely, "mobster".

Erik is grateful to Charles for saving his children's lives at the cost of his kneecap. So very grateful.

Naturally he tries to reward Charles for his actions. Equally naturally, Charles will be having none of that.

Azazel finds the whole thing unspeakably hilarious. Naturally.

Rumor Has It – blueink3

Summary: "Did I hear the doorbell earlier?"

"Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof."

Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned upside down for the second time. Though he's slowly learning to adapt to the first, he's not sure he can handle the second. Luckily for him, there are a few people out there more than willing to help.

Forward Momentum – AsYouWish

Summary: Six months after Cuba, Charles and Erik find themselves thrown fifty years into the future, where they meet their older selves, the Avengers, and a world that's very different from their own. Faced with the pieces of their broken relationship, an unparalleled adversary, and dealing with Tony Stark on a daily basis, Charles and Erik do their best to adapt while trying to find a way back home -- and to each other.

Runs in the Family – Anonysquirrel (chibirisuchan)

Summary: Alex knew his own reputation. Hell, he'd started some of his own reputation, because it kept some of the smarter thugs off his back. Everyone knew Alex's reputation. There was no way Hank didn't know his reputation, but he'd brought Alex into a house with some really expensive things and a lot of innocent little kids and his too-friendly, too-harmless dad.

But clearly Hank hadn't told his family anything about Alex, just like he hadn't told Alex anything about his family. At least, not about the brain-breaking parts of his family.

"I didn't know where to start," Hank said, for the dozenth time.

Featuring mpreg!Charles in a Kiss The Cook apron, overprotective!Erik in wet black leather, and baked goods. Lots and lots of baked goods.

Round the Corner Waiting – swoopswoop

Summary: When things go so spectacularly wrong during a relationship, Charles - now a single dad - almost makes a big mistake, only to be stopped by a mysterious man who just might turn his life back around.

Hide Your Fires – swoopswoop

Summary: As the sole heir, Prince Charles, had no problem with the roles and responsibility that would come with ruling a kingdom. Though he was the only one who did not see a problem. After years of being shuttled back and forth between kingdoms, his Regent hoping he would find a match more suitable to being King, he is finally sent to Genosha. Though the path has never been less clear than the one to a foreign kingdom with no ties to his native land.

Shaw’s Captive – swoopswoop

Summary: Magneto killed Shaw, it had to be done for the sake of mutant-kind but what he wasn't expecting to find hidden deep with Shaw's complex was a man held captive, obviously tortured, that somehow made Magneto turn into Erik.

Erik now has a potential human in his citadel as he continues the war with the human's.

Mind’s Eye Blind – Sperare 

Summary: As far as Erik is concerned, if you want to scare a person into talking, you have to present him with something more compelling than what he stands to lose...

And there is nothing in the world more compelling than Charles.

Chipped – Rosawyn 

Summary: Magneto's fledgling Brotherhood find Charles Xavier in a mutations research lab as an apparently willing subject for an experimental suppression device.

Okay, I Feel Better Now – Harleydoll

Summary: The AU in which Erik is sent to a mental health facility after being convicted for Shaw's murder and pleads insanity, and Charles is his paranoid schizophrenic of a roommate. Powers, Hellfire conspiracies, protective!Erik, and of course the inevitable angst.

Five Nights in Nuremberg – FuryRed

Summary: When Charles escapes from the mutant prison he has been held in for the last two years he knows that he’s going to need help to avoid being recaptured.

What he doesn’t expect is that help will come in the form of a mysterious German man who rescues Charles and takes him to his home; a handsome stranger who, frustratingly, doesn’t speak a single word of English…

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Notes: Unfinished but an excellent read. Highly recommend it.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

My Barbaric Darling – baehj2915

Summary: Erik is revivified caveman. Charles is the anthropologist(?) taking care of him. This is as ridiculous as it sounds. Romcom misunderstandings and prehistoric wooing ensues.

Swimming with Sharks – Not_You

Summary: Erik used to be a shark. Now he's not, and has to figure out how to be a good human father to his twins. Charles is willing to help.

Eucalyptus leaf of my soul - kageillusionz, ourgirlfriday

Summary: Zookeeper Raven at Taronga Zoo keeps having ideas on how to capitalize on interest in the zoo mascots, Koala Charles and Drop Bear Erik (the only drop bear in captivity!), who have captured the hearts and minds of the public. First it was to introduce prospective mates (It’ll generate attention, Hank. People are perverts. They’d love to see koala porn.). This idea was not effective the first through fifth attempts, as Erik and Charles seemed to show at best polite interest in the newcomer before resuming whatever marsupial debate they had going. However, the resulting lesbian koala orgies did indeed generate interest. Then Raven unveiled the Hug-A-Koala program, which was successful, as the public showed great interest in hugging Charles, and Charles seemed to enjoy being hugged.

Then Raven unveiled the Hug-A-Drop Bear program, and Hank, not for the first time, wished he had a flask handy.

Notes: Yes, they’re Koalas, yes they’re adorable, and yes, Erik is super protective even as a Drop Bear.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #protective Erik #long post

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 3 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo wakes up with his hearing and a bunch of questions.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, and adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 3, I had to work over the weekend. Anyway, hope you enjoy! 

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Bakugo woke up confused, disoriented, and pissed off. 

He bolted upright, the taste of smoke and ash still on his tongue, but when he whipped his head from side to side, there was no fire, no burning asphalt, no villain, only the empty, dark expanse of his apartment. 

But something was still tugging at him, fucking incessantly, and it took him a moment to realize it was his phone alarm. 

Red eyes flicked to the device on his bedside table, and even though its continuous siren was like nails on a chalkboard, Bakugo found himself unable to move, unable to stop it. 

Because he could hear the alarm. Clearly. Loudly. 

He hadn’t been able to hear his phone alarm in weeks, not really. It was nothing more than a muffled tone that petered out toward the end as it rose in pitch and frequency. Thankfully, Bakugo’s internal alarm got him up most days around the sun, but he’d been late to morning patrols a handful of times. 

But now… 

Numbly, Bakugo finally reached out and tapped his phone. His ears rang slightly in the ensuing silence, but it was barely perceptible, nothing like the perpetual buzzing he’d been living with, like a hive of bees had taken up residence in his head. 

The quiet, after so long, was almost… unsettling. 

And it was all because of that woman. He was sure of it. 

Bakugo pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought about you, the memories of last night flooding back. The blurry image of your face, crouched over him, splattered in a thin mist of red blood and dusted with white plaster. He couldn’t remember much from right after he blasted that villain into the fucking dirt. He remembered the feel of glass breaking around him, and pain, a lot of fucking pain, but then it was black until you appeared. When he’d opened his eyes and met yours, he recalled thinking he should be in more pain, but then you spoke to him and derailed all coherent thought. 

Because he’d heard you. Clear as fucking day. 

That immediately drew his attention, and so did the blood all over your hands. 

There was a lot of it. Way too fucking much for nicking yourself on some glass or whatever bullshit excuse you gave. And Bakugo knew it was bullshit. You weren’t a convincing liar. Well, maybe to some idiot extras you would be, but not to him. He clocked the way you stuttered, the way you fidgeted and averted your eyes. And when you looked at him… fuck, your face was so goddamn guilty. 

Why, he had no idea. 

But he did know one thing. 

You had a healing quirk. There was no other explanation. 

Even if he hadn’t just miraculously recovered the hearing that a doctor told him he would never get back, there were a lot of other little discrepancies. His left arm, for one. Bakugo remembered how it felt when the villain’s asphalt wrapped around his limb, the burning, scalding agony of it. But now, the skin was just pink and barely blistered in some places. 

Then there was the blood. 

When he’d gotten home after ditching the crime scene, Bakugo had immediately beelined for his bathroom to take a shower. But, when he stripped off his hoodie, he realized it was heavier than it should be right before he noticed it was dripping onto his floor. Dripping blood. Without thinking, he’d wrung the hoodie out on the bathroom floor, and a fuck ton of red liquid seeped out of it. 

He had immediately dropped the jacket and started scanning his body in the bathroom mirror, but besides the shallow gash on his abdomen, the burned arm, and a few other minor scrapes and bruises, he was uninjured. 

But… his back was coated in red, and so were the seat of his dark jeans and boxer briefs. It was almost like… he’d been lying in a pool of blood. 

So, you had to be a healer. You just had to be. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to confirm this since the cops had been circling you like vultures. He also hadn’t wanted to be bitched at by any more heroes, or the fucking media, so he made himself scarce. 

But he needed to see you again. Needed to hear the truth from your own mouth. 

And maybe he could coax you into a deal. 

The doctor Bakugo spoke to yesterday obviously hadn’t known what the hell he was talking about. He had made it sound impossible to fix the blond’s ears, and yet you’d somehow done it easily, in the middle of a fucking battlefield. 

With that kind of power, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about going deaf or designing stupid hearing aids with some company. 

With that kind of power, Dynamight would become Japan’s Number One Hero in no time. 

But first, he had to find you. 

Resolved, Bakugo shoved the covers off and slid out of bed, but before he could make it to his bathroom, someone started knocking on his front door. 

No, not knocking. Banging. It sounded like they were trying to break the fucking door down. 

“Bakubroooooooo!” 

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Bakugo grumbled as he padded to his front door. He was only dressed in boxer briefs, but that’s what the idiot got for barging over so early in the damn morning. 

The banging persisted, growing louder and more fervent. 

“I’m fuckin’ comin!” the blond shouted just before he undid the deadbolt and wrenched open the door. 

Eijiro Kirishima, dressed in his Red Riot costume, blinked on the other side of the threshold, his fist still raised to knock. 

“What the fuck, bro?” he asked after a moment of just staring at Bakugo. 

The blond immediately scowled. “That’s my fuckin’ line. What are you doing breaking down my door at six in the damn morning?” 

“Excuse me?” his patrol and agency partner scoffed. “I’m obviously coming to check that you’re not dead since you’ve been MIA for over twenty-four hours.” 

“What?” Bakugo frowned. “I saw you yesterday morning for patrol.” 

“Noooooo,” Kirishima drawled like Bakugo was a particularly stupid child. “That was two days ago, bro. Then that night, I see you all over the damn news, and no one could get ahold of you all day yesterday. I would have come to check on you sooner, but I’ve been having to play damage control with the media because someone decided to blow up a residential neighborhood.” 

“Two days?” Bakugo echoed with a furrowed brow. He’d slept that long? 

“Have you been passed out this whole time, dude?” Kirishima groaned as he shouldered his way into the apartment. “I guess that means you got none of our messages?” 

“Our?” the blond grumbled as he closed the door and followed the redhead to the kitchen bar. 

“Yeah, Denki, Mina, Sero.” Kirishima waved his hand dismissively, marching over to the counter where Bakugo kept the fruit and selecting an apple from the wire basket. “I even asked Izuku to message you, just to see if he’d actually get a rise and response from you.” 

“I don’t need stupid Deku knowing about my problems, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo growled before he stomped over to his fridge to see what he had to eat because he was suddenly starving. 

“Well, that would imply I know your problems, Oh Great Lord Dynamight,” Kirishima snorted and took a bite of apple. “So, what the fuck happened the other night?” 

“I blew up a residential neighborhood,” the blond deadpanned as he turned on his stove, cracking a few eggs into a skillet. 

“Yeah, I saw that. I was more wondering about what led up to it.” 

“What the fuck do you think led up to it?” Bakugo snapped, rummaging through his cupboard for seasonings. “I was walking home from getting a drink, and a damn villain just popped up in front of me.” 

“From what I heard, there were other heroes there, too,” the redhead mumbled around another bite of apple. 

“Yeah, fuckin’ useless extras,” Bakugo sneered as he started to whisk his eggs with a pair of chopsticks, throwing in some leftover white rice and a bit of nori. “They obviously weren’t getting anywhere, and the bastard was tearing up the street, so I stepped in.” 

“To finish destroying the street?” Kirishima cocked an eyebrow, chewing noisily. 

“Fuck off,” the blond said with an eyeroll. 

Internally, though, Bakugo knew the redhead was right. He’d been sloppy, careless, probably still borderline drunk. But he’d just been so angry about the doctor’s appointment, his fucked-up ears, his bleak and silent future. He had just wanted to break something, hurt someone, consequences be damned. 

Except now the consequences were catching up to him. 

Fuck, he didn’t even want to think about what his citizen’s approval rating must be now. 

Silence stretched between the two pro heroes for several long minutes, in which Bakugo finished making his breakfast and Kirishima finished gnawing on his apple core. The blond quickly shoveled a few bites of eggs and rice into his mouth, but his scarlet eyes kept flicking over to the redhead. 

“How bad?” he finally asked. 

Kirishima, to his credit, had learned how to translate Bakugo’s curt grunts years ago. 

“Actually, if I’m being honest, it’s not that bad,” he sighed, tossing the apple core in the trash and scratching at the back of his head. “Could be worse. From the reports I read, most of the damage—besides the road—is superficial. Broken windows, charred and peeling paint, a few busted cars that we’re still trying to figure out if our insurance or the city’s will pay for. It also helped that you saved two people. That definitely softened the blow.” 

“Two?” Bakugo mumbled around one of his last bites. “I just remember the stupid extra on the street that I shoved out of the way.” 

As the memory flashed through his mind, Bakugo frowned. He’d shoved that extra out of the way and got snatched by a giant asphalt hand for his troubles. The blond’s red eyes dropped to his pink and blotchy left arm and then trailed over to his chest. He recalled the sensation of his ribs snapping under pressure, but now only a mild soreness lingered after he took a deep breath. Yet another inconsistency… 

“Yeah, two,” Kirishima said and drew Bakugo out of his thoughts. “Do you seriously not even remember your own heroics? And that girl had such nice things to say about you, too.” 

“Girl?” Bakugo snapped his head up. “The girl whose… apartment I fell into?” 

“Crashed into, dude,” the redhead snorted, but then he narrowed his eyes as a sly smirk tugged at his lips. “But yeah. Sounds like you remember her, huh?” 

Bakugo didn’t like the smug look on his friend’s face. 

“I remember her fuckin’ yellin’ at me.” The blond scowled. “Like I wrecked her place on purpose and didn’t just save her whole block from a lunatic.” 

“I mean, to be fair, if you crashed into my house, bro, I would have yelled at you, too.” Kirishima grinned. “But don’t worry, she’s fine. In fact, when she called the agency yesterday, she asked for you specifically.” 

“She did? Why?” Did she want to confess her healing quirk? Fuck, were there side effects Bakugo didn’t know about? 

“Bro, seriously.” Kirishima rolled his eyes. “You’re Japan’s Number Two Hero, and you saved her life. And, like Mina keeps telling you, you’re not as ugly when you stop scowling.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo flipped him off before he went to dump the dishes in the sink. 

“Yes, dear.” The redhead smirked. “But, in all seriousness, she called to figure out how to file a claim with our insurance. Or at least that’s what she said, but she also asked how you were doing, and she actually sounded genuinely worried.” 

Worried that a random side effect was going to kill him? Or worried that he would say something about her quirk? She’d obviously hidden it for a reason, tried to lie for a reason. 

And Bakugo was determined to find out just what that reason was. 

“Yeah, well, I’m fine,” he grunted as he rinsed off his plate and put it on the drying rack. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.” 

“I can see that,” Kirishima said as he eyed the butterfly stitches stretched across the gash on Bakugo’s abdomen. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t find you dead in a pool of your own blood. That woulda been a real bummer way to start the morning.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered before he averted his eyes to the living room window across from him. “So… what did you tell her?” 

“The girl?” 

“No, you’re fuckin’ mom,” the blond scoffed. 

“Oh, speaking of moms, you might want to text Mitsuki. I called her last night after you ignored my billionth text, so she’s probably going crazy wondering where you are.” Kirishima grinned and then immediately dodged out of the way as Bakugo hurled a fork at him. 

“You bastard!” Bakugo hissed. “Now, I’m going to have to see that hag this weekend or she’s gonna fuckin’ barge over here.” 

“Maybe you should turn the ringer up on your phone.” The other hero shrugged, ducking again when Bakugo chucked an apple in his direction. 

The blond scowled at his friend, but he didn’t reply. 

If you and your quirk were the real deal, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about missing a call ever again. 

When Kirishima realized the projectiles had stopped, he popped his head over the back of the couch and smirked. “But to answer your previous question, I told the girl we would handle the insurance claim on our end if she sent us her info. And I didn’t really have anything to tell her about you since, like I’ve said, I thought you were dead. Kinda. I was at least thirty percent sure.” 

“Have you filed the insurance claim?” Bakugo asked. 

“No.” Kirishima shook his head. “She hasn’t sent in the info yet.” 

“Well… we should go get it from her.” 

This caused the redhead’s eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline, and the surprise on his face quickly made Bakugo backtrack. 

“I just… want to get this shitshow over with,” he grumbled as he averted his eyes again, but he could feel a traitorous heat crawling across the bridge of his nose. “The longer her apartment’s all fucked up, the longer the press is gonna rake me over the coals. The hero ranking’s aren’t far off, and I’m not going to lose to Deku again over some stupid broken windows.” 

“Righttttt,” Kirishima drawled, but his tone was mocking. “Okay, well, I know the hotel the police have set her up at. After we swing by the agency, we can head that way… to get her insurance info.” 

He still sounded unconvinced and like he wanted to needle Bakugo more, but the blond changed the subject quickly. 

“Why do we have to go to the agency?” Bakugo asked, and he frowned as he glanced back at his partner. “Even if I lost yesterday, my next scheduled patrol isn’t till tonight.” 

“Oh, I know.” Kirishima nodded solemnly. “But Nao wanted to have… a word with you ASAP, if I confirmed you weren’t dead.” 

“Fuckkkkkkk,” Bakugo groaned as he dropped his head back. If there was anything Bakugo hated more than the press, it was his actual PR manager. That old hag was good at her job, which meant she was always up Bakugo’s ass about something, and he knew she was going to have a field day with this shitfest. 

“Yeah, I’d recommend coffee and preemptive painkillers before we head in,” Kirishima said. “Plus, some putting on clothes. Maybe we can stop on the way and get her something sweet as a bribe.” 

“No amount of sugar is gonna make that bitch nice to me,” Bakugo grumbled before he spun on heel and started marching to his bedroom. 

“Maybe flowers then?” the redhead shouted after him. 

Bakugo slammed the door in response. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bakugo growled around his cargo, kicking his foot out at Kirishima. “Why did I listen to you? I’ve had to go shopping twice today now.” 

“Come on,” his friend laughed as he dodged the blow, which made the bags in his arms crinkle. “You can’t deny the flowers and cookies sweetened ole’ Nao up.” 

“To you,” Bakugo muttered, shifting the package in his arms a bit. “She still yelled at me for fifteen minutes.” 

“Well, you kinda deserved i—yow!” Kirishima yelped as Bakugo kicked him squarely in the ass this time. “This isn’t helping your image, bro!” 

“No one even knows it’s us,” the blond hissed. 

“Yeah, I guess the hoodies and sunglasses help,” the other pro hero mused. 

“And the fact that we’re carrying all this stupid shit.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Kirishima frowned in that earnest way of his, which made Bakugo roll his eyes. “It’s thoughtful to bring gifts to people who are having a difficult time. Especially when you made that time difficult. You basically kicked her out of her house, dude, not to mention her shop.” 

A wave of guilt actually washed through the blond, which he didn’t like. It made his throat feel tight and his stomach churn, and he glanced away from the redhead with a scowl. 

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we aren’t gonna pay for it.” 

The excuse felt flat, even to him. 

“Still,” Kirishima said as he shifted the bags in his grip, pulled out his phone, and consulted the map. “It must be stressful. So, we’re going to be nice to her, alright? Which starts with the gifts.” 

“And how is a fuckin’ fruit basket supposed to help?” Bakugo asked as he glared around the overflowing mound of crinkling plastic and bright fruit that he held against his chest. 

“Uh, one, it’s practical. Her apartment’s all fucked up, the power’s probably still out if not inconsistent on the street, and she’s been living in a hotel for two days, so she probably hasn’t had some nice fresh fruit in a while. And two, it looks nice!” 

“We coulda just left this shit at the hotel,” Bakugo grumbled. “She has to go back there eventually, right?” 

After old Nao chewed his ass out, Bakugo and Kirishima had gone to the hotel the police said they’d put you up in. Except you weren’t fucking there, and the number you left with Kirishima when you called the agency was going straight to voicemail, so here there were, fucking trekking through the city with a bunch of useless shit. 

Bakugo just kept reminding himself it would be worth it when he got the truth about your quirk out of you. 

“Nope,” Kirishima said and drew the blond out of his thoughts. “The city only pays the first two days after an emergency, unless the villain caused all the damage, but, uh, that’s not the case here, so we’ll be accommodating her until her apartment gets fixed up.” 

“At the agency?” Bakugo asked as his red eyes clicked over to his partner. 

As the Number Two and Three Heroes, the two of them had built a solid agency together. Bakugo still didn’t care for a bunch of extras riding on his tailcoats, so they had few sidekicks, all of whom reported to Kirishima and left him the fuck alone for the most part. But they owned a nice, sleek building in a nicer part of town, and one of the floors was dedicated to individual rooms with beds and other amenities. They were usually used when Bakugo, Kirishima, or the other sidekicks wanted to crash after patrol instead of going home—which Bakugo did more often than not—but they’d never had a civilian stay on the premises. 

Until now. 

“Yessssss, at the agency,” the redhead drawled as a shit-eating smirk crawled across his face. “So, you’ll be seeing a lot of her for the next couple weeks.” 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face.” Bakugo scowled and shouldered past the other hero, who snickered as he jogged to catch up. 

“Take the next left up ahead.” 

“Shut up!” the blond growled, but he followed the instructions. 

This was good news, though. Bakugo wouldn’t have to trek to this shitty part of town more than he had to. 

And he’d have a healer just down the hall. 

They marched along in silence for a few minutes, keeping their heads down, but there wasn’t much foot traffic. Bakugo was lost in his thoughts, planning out the questions he was going to ask you once he could distract Kirishima, but the redhead suddenly stopped in front of him. 

“Hey,” Bakugo grunted as the fruit basket crinkled against the other hero’s back. He hadn’t even notice Kiri get in front of him again. “What’s the damn hold up?” 

“Holy shit, dude,” Kirishima muttered, staring out at the road he’d just turned onto. 

“What?” the blond grumbled, shoving past his friend, but then he stopped, too. “Oh… yeah.” 

The street in front of him looked much worse in the bright light of midday. The road was a torn-up mess, more patches of dirt and gravel than actual asphalt. Most of the large-scale debris had been hauled away, but black scorch marks covered the sidewalks in long, dark smears. The walls of several businesses also bore charring along the facades, but most of the damage was focused in the center of the street. A crater nearly six feet deep was carved into the middle of the road, and the buildings on either side were blackened, their broken windows gaping voids. 

And then there was the hole in what Bakugo remembered as your second-floor apartment. A tarp hung over the wound, but one of the corners had come undone, flapping in the wind and giving split second glimpses into the darkened room beyond. 

Guilt crept up on him again, but Bakugo shoved it down, hunching over the fruit basket and nudging Kirishima. 

“Come on,” he muttered before he started moving forward, and a moment later he heard the crunch of boots on gravel as the redhead followed him. 

There were more people on this street than on the last several, but Bakugo could immediately tell they weren’t customers just passing through. People swept sidewalks, clearing away the last of the rubble and glass in front of their shops. Then a few old ladies stood under one awning shaking their heads, their hands laden with containers of food or gifts. 

Guess Kirishima hadn’t been wrong with this stupid idea. 

Then Bakugo realized some of those people were starting to look back at him, so he ducked his head further behind the fruit basket, grateful for his hoodie and sunglasses. 

But then suddenly he was there, standing in front of your ruined shop. His red eyes immediately flickered upward, but if there was a sign there before, it was gone now, burnt to ash. 

“What kinda shop did you say this was?” the blond asked under his breath as Kirishima paused beside him. 

“I’m… not sure,” the redhead said with a furrowed brow. “I don’t think she said on the phone. No time like the present to ask, though.” 

Before Bakugo could stop him, Kirishima shifted the bags in his arms, lifted one hand, and knocked on the charred metal frame of the front door. 

“Hello?” he called through the broken windows, followed by your name. “Anyone in there?” 

“Shit!” The squeaking voice was followed by a crashing sound somewhere in the shadows of the store. 

Bakugo didn’t speak a lot of English, but he did know curse words, and the sound of it made his lips twitch in amusement. 

“Are you okay?” Kirishima called out. “Can, uh, we come in?” 

“Yes, I’m fine!” the voice answered back in flustered Japanese. The words were fluent, though, with barely the hint of an accent. “And, um, I-I guess you can come in, but—” 

That was good enough for Bakugo. 

The blond shouldered past his partner, boots crunching over glass as he ducked into the darkened shop, and Kirishima sighed as he followed. 

The interior, if possible, looked worse than the outside. The room itself wasn’t very big, but it was a mess. Two metal rods had been embedded in the left and right walls at odd angles, obviously caused from the explosions, though Bakugo couldn’t tell what they used to be. Several pieces of blacked mannequins were scattered through the debris, and one wall was a charred mess of shelving and fabric, spots of color peeking through the black ash here and there. 

In the back, left corner were the remains of a tri-fold standing mirror, the ones where you could see yourself from different angles. Large shards of glass were missing, though, so the image of Bakugo and Kirishima standing backlit against the street was fractured. 

Last but not least, in the rear, right corner of the store was a counter that was half collapsed to the floor, behind which stood an empty doorframe that Bakugo assumed led to the back of the shop and upstairs. 

And it was from behind this broken counter that you popped up with a dustpan in one hand and a tiny, handheld broom in the other. 

The first thought Bakugo had was your face was rather plain… but in a somehow pleasing way. Like if his eyes had scanned over you in a crowd, something about the line of your jaw, the slope of your nose, the delicate quirk of your mouth would give him pause. 

His second thought was that his first one was stupid. You were just some extra, of course you would be plain and unmemorable. 

But his third thought was something about the color of your eyes was captivating, in a way that was damn fucking annoying. 

“Sorry, I was just… cleaning… up,” you said, slowly trailing off as your eyes met Bakugo’s. 

He saw the recognition flare in them immediately, followed by fear, and he couldn’t help the frown that twisted his face. 

Why were you afraid of him? 

“No, we’re sorry for barging in here like this,” Kirishima barreled on, oblivious to the stare off the other two occupants of the room were engaged in. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Oh! I’m being so rude. My name is Eijiro Kirishima, or you might know me as—” 

“Red Riot,” you breathed, finally tearing your eyes from Bakugo’s, and you flashed the redhead a half-smile that trembled along the edges. “We spoke on the phone.” 

“Yes.” Kirishima grinned, pointed teeth flashing in the dim light of the shop, before his gaze flickered over to the blond beside him. “And this is—” 

“Dynamight,” you finished once again, and you looked like you were trying desperately to maintain eye contact with the hardening hero, but then your eyes clicked back to Bakugo. You didn’t flash him a smile. “We’ve met.” 

“Oh, yeah, right,” Kiri chuckled awkwardly, and his arm jerked like he was going to rub the back of his neck, but the bags in his hands crinkled and stopped him. 

“What… do you have there?” you asked, frowning at the bags and the fruit basket the heroes were carrying. 

“Gifts!” the redhead declared as he hefted his arms up, and then he shuffled forward over charred fabric and glass and extended the bags to you. 

You blinked at him for a second, but you set the dustpan and handheld broom on the counter, where they promptly slid to the floor since the whole surface was slanted. You winced at the loud clatter and tried to cover it up by taking the bags from Kirishima, which crinkled loudly again as they transferred hands. 

Bakugo would be annoyed if he wasn’t more grateful that he could actually hear the innocuous little noise. 

“O-Oh, um, you shouldn’t have, really,” you started as you peeked into the bags, and then Bakugo swore he saw your eyebrow twitch once you saw what was inside. 

“It’s not much,” Kirishima said, and he was finally free to rub the back of his head and neck as his smile turned a little sheepish. “But, what with the state of your… apartment, we thought you might need some new clothes! And comfy clothes are the best after stressful days. These especially are super soft, we made sure of it. And, if you don’t like them, you could always sell them for a good chunk of change.” 

The redhead winked at you, not in an overly flirty manner, that was just how he was, but your cheeks flared as crimson as his hair, and your eyes dropped to the floor. 

Bakugo took the split instant to get a better look at you and noted you were wearing patched, faded jeans, solid boots, and a bleach-stained orange sweatshirt with some English writing he couldn’t read. Usually, he didn’t really see what other people wore because he couldn’t give less of a shit, but somehow he found your obvious cleaning clothes… endearing. The orange looked good on you, too. 

Fuck, maybe you didn’t heal him as well as he thought. He had to be hemorrhaging into his brain to be thinking this stupid shit. Or maybe it was a side effect of your quirk? 

He needed to get you alone and get answers. 

“Well… thank you, this was very thoughtf—oh, wow, that is soft,” you murmured as you partially drew a sweatshirt out of the bag. 

Bakugo instantly recognized the forest green and orange color scheme, and apparently so did you, because your face twitched, and you dropped the garment back into the bag and traded it for fuzzy socks with Red Riot’s signature gears stitched into them. 

“These will definitely come in handy, my feet are always cold,” you said with an awkward giggle. Then you cleared your throat to cover up the sound. “Thank you, um, Red Riot.” 

“You can call me Eijiro, or Kirishima, whatever you’re comfortable with,” the redhead said with another easy grin. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, after all. Oh! We also got you a fruit basket, and I think there might be a few other sweets tucked in there.” 

Kirishima nudged Bakugo forward, and your face rippled through a range of emotions, like your brain was taking a second to catch up to everything the pro hero just spewed. First, flustered embarrassment colored your cheeks, then confusion buckled your brow, and your eyes widened before they looked at the fruit basket Bakugo was extending at you. 

“Oh, you can just put it down… um…” you trailed off as you turned to the counter and remembered it was half destroyed. Then your eyes jumped around frantically for some kind of flat surface, but the ruined shop didn’t offer any solutions. 

“Told ya we shouldn’t of brought this shit,” Bakugo grunted, shooting a scowl at Kirishima. 

“Yeahhhhh, we probably could have just delivered it to your room at the agency, my bad,” the redhead laughed. “But don’t worry, we’ll carry it back for you, along with any of your other things.” 

“My… things?” you echoed, sounding out the words like a child, and a frown marred your face. “I-I think I must be misunderstanding you, I’m sorry, I’m American. But did you say my room at the agency? As in… your hero agency?” 

“You’re American?” Kirishima asked with wide red eyes. “I wouldn’t have even guessed! Your accent is almost perfect, I thought you were maybe just from like the countryside or something.” 

“I thought you said we were supposed to be nice to her,” Bakugo snorted at his partner like you weren’t in the room, and he saw you frown at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, shit, no, that wasn’t what I meant!” Japan’s Number Three Hero immediately began waving his hands in front of his face, his mouth moving twice as fast. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I really think your accent sounds nice! It’s very cute!” 

Now, not only did your cheeks flush again, but the red hue traveled down your throat and across your collarbones, peeking out the stretched collar of your orange sweatshirt. 

Bakugo found himself half distracted by the sight, but the other half was wondering why he suddenly felt irritation flare up in his gut. 

“Okay, you don’t have to take her out on a date now,” the blond snapped, shifting his burden of fruit and plastic. 

“I-I think we might have gotten off track,” you stuttered as you clutched the bag of Dynamight and Red Riot merch to your chest. “You said something about your agency.” 

“Yes, right.” Kirishima cleared his throat. “We would have mentioned this in our follow up email after you sent in your insurance info, but—” 

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry!” you cut him off with a grimace, and you actually dipped your head and shoulders into a bow. “I meant to send that yesterday, but my laptop is broken, and my cell service isn’t great—” 

“No, no, it’s fine!” the redhead interrupted this time. “You obviously have a lot on your plate. I just meant that this might seem kind of sudden, but—” 

Fucking hell, this was taking too long. 

“You’re staying at our agency until we can pay for the repairs to your apartment and shop,” Bakugo said bluntly. If he didn’t step in, the two of you were just going to stammer circles around each other all day. “Starting tonight. We have rooms with beds and shit, so pack whatever clothes or crap you need.” 

Your mouth fell open as you gaped at Bakugo. “I… what?” 

“You deaf or something?” The words rocketed from his mouth before he could stop them, before he could even think about what he was saying, and he saw the way the question struck you like a physical blow. You flinched, your cheeks paling, and he saw dawning, guilty horror glint at the back of your eyes. 

He’d been right. You did do something to his ears. 

“Bro, you were just talking about being nice.” Kirishima frowned at Bakugo before he turned back to you. “Ignore him. We’re really sorry about the inconvenience this whole… incident has caused for you, but we’ll take care of everything you need until your shop’s grand reopening, so you don’t have to worry about a thing, okay?” 

You continued to stare at the two heroes in shocked silence, your wide eyes clicking back and forth between the two of them as you clutched the bags to your chest like a lifeline. 

“That is… all so generous,” you finally breathed, your tone rising in pitch like you were growing increasingly flustered. “It’s, um, a lot to take in.” 

“Of course.” Kirishima nodded fervently. “What else can we do to help?” 

“Could you leave?” 

Bakugo blinked in surprise and then had to stifle his snort. 

“Oh, no, I’m sorry!” you quickly followed up when you saw the redhead’s falling expression. “I didn’t mean… I just meant, could I have some time to process this? Um, alone? L-Like Dynamight said, I need to pack a few things, a-and there are some people I need to speak to before, uh… well, is it okay if I tell someone where I’ll be? Like, at your agency?” 

“Yessss?” Kirishima said with a confused frown. “Why wouldn’t that be okay?” 

“O-Oh, I just don’t really know how the whole hero and media thing works here,” you quickly lied, and Bakugo clocked the way you averted your eyes, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed thickly. “I-I wasn’t going to post on social media or anything, I barely use that stuff anyway, but one of my customers, Mrs. Kojima, would be upset if I disappeared without saying anything.” 

“Aww, that’s sweet.” The redhead grinned before he glanced at the shadowed ruins around him. “What kind of shop is this by the way? I don’t think you mentioned.” 

“A-Alterations,” you said, ducking your face in embarrassment again. “My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress. I inherited this place from them.” 

“I thought you said you were American?” Kirishima asked, but not in an accusatory way. He was just too curious for his own good and didn’t possess much of a filter. 

Bakugo usually didn’t care for small talk, fucking waste of time if you asked him, but he found himself focusing intently on you, awaiting a response. 

“I am.” You nodded. “My parents were both born here, but they moved to the States after they married, and I was born there. After my grandparents passed, my dad was going to sell the shop, but I was looking for something… new, so I decided to move here instead about a year ago.” 

Bakugo pursed his lips at this new information. If you had a healing quirk, why were you patching up clothes in some little shop all the way across the world from your surviving family? Could it be because your quirk was dangerous? 

“Wow, that’s cool,” Kirishima said with an impressed expression that quickly turned sheepish. “Except about your grandparent’s passing. My condolences.” 

“Thank you,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips, but then you quickly shook your head. “I-I’m sorry, didn’t mean to give you my whole life story, I tend to talk when I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Red Riot laughed like he did when he was meeting shy little kids on the street, flashing his sharpened teeth jokingly and winking in an overexaggerated fashion. “I promise, we look scarier than we are.” 

“Speak for yourself, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo scoffed, which made you jump, like you’d forgotten he was there. 

And that rubbed him the wrong way for some reason. 

Kirishima merely smirked before he partially covered his mouth with his hand and lowered his voice into a stage whisper directed at you. “All bark, no bite, I’m telling you.” 

“Stop making me seem lame, you bastard!” the blond growled, but the effect was kind of ruined by the fruit basket crinkling in his hands again. 

This actually seemed to startle a giggle out of you, and the two heroes whipped around, one with a grin and the other a scowl. 

“See, you don’t need to be nervous,” Kirishima said before he slung an arm around Bakugo’s shoulders. “But we’ll get out of your hair for now so you can have some time to pack and everything. Don’t worry about picking up too much, though, we’ll have cleaning crews in here before we start the remodel, and we don’t want you to get hurt in here. If there’s stuff up in your apartment that you don’t want to bring with you to the agency but don’t want thrown out, make a list, and we’ll be sure to keep everything safe.” 

“O-Okay,” you said, still standing there with the hero merch clenched to your chest and a dumbstruck expression on your face. “T-Thank you again, Red--, erm, Kirishima.” 

“Of course!” He grinned. “I have patrol tonight, but we’ll send a car to pick you up—” 

“No,” Bakugo cut in as he locked eyes with you. “I’ll pick you up. What time?” 

The blond could see Kirishima shoot him a look in his peripherals—probably because they both had patrol tonight—but Bakugo ignored his partner, maintaining eye contact with you. 

You, meanwhile, squirmed under the explosive hero’s intense scrutiny, your face paling and flushing in turns. “I… no, you don’t have to do that, I can take the train—” 

“I insist,” he interrupted again, narrowing his eyes so you would realize he wasn’t going to back down. “Like Shitty Hair said, we caused this… inconvenience, so I’ll pick you up. What. Time?” 

You swallowed thickly, your throat audibly clicking. “S-Seven?” 

“I’ll be here at seven sharp,” Bakugo said. “And you better be out front or at least answer your phone this time.” 

You better not run, he didn’t say, but by the look on your face, you understood. 

“Seven sharp.” You nodded, biting your lip as a resigned expression settled over your features. “Got it.” 

“Great. See you then.” 

With that, Bakugo turned on heel and crunched his way out of your store, leaving Kirishima stuttering apologies in his wake. 

But that didn’t matter. 

All that mattered was, tonight, he’d finally get you alone and get to the bottom of your damn quirk.

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