#I think I’ll just reblog any game updates I make to keep y’all informed

[lord-explosion-baku]

Before You Ask...

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Story Status- These are the most frequent asks in my inbox. The “do you plan on continuing this fic?” “When will you update?” “How often do you update?”

📝For frequent updates

✅For complete

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❌For discontinued

THORNS-📝 I try to update every two weeks, although my busy schedule might not make this very consistent. I try not to be too strict with myself so I don’t beat myself up over not getting a chapter out in time, although I’ve been liberally very good about it so far.

Tempting Tempest-✅⁉️ I wrote the two parts I knew I was going to write. I might continue the stiry for option three when I have time

Our Love Is God-⁉️I’ll only be writing for this when I have the time. It’s not an obligation and only something I’ll turn to when I’m like “???huh. Got nothing better to do rn!”

RISING SUN- ⁉️ I know. I know I haven’t updated since 2019 and some of you guys really like this story. I like it, too, and I do plan on continuing it, but goodness gracious do I have to be in the right mindset to write this. Like, come on, it’s a fantasy fluff fic with a made up language, it’s not the easiest thing to write. I do have some plot ideas in mind as well, but I don’t have the whole story fleshed out. I will get to it though. Eventually.

Reread Me- ✅ basically this was a request I turned into a fic. The request was for “Yandere!Aizawa x School Nurse!reader, NSFW pls” and that’s what I did. I don’t plan on delving further into this plot. I surely could and will write more of yandere!Aizawa but this story is over, bro.

Like Ghosts In Snow- ✅ This is completed and I don’t plan on continuing it. I might do random off oneshots for the series, but that’ll be on my own accord.

Fate’s Kiss-⁉️

How Not To Marry a Demon Lord-⁉️

Red Scarf-✅ I do have a request for a continuation that I may get to, but for now I’m satisfied with saying that it’s completed.

You’re All Mine-✅ The story ended with the reader going back to Dabi y’all. No mas. It was literally the first thing I ever wrote and I’m happy with knowing that it’s over since it’s pretty much a train wreck lol.

A SWEET BOY-⁉️

DANCING’S NOT A CRIME (UNLESS YOU DO IT WITHOUT ME)-❌ I’m gonna be real, sport. This was a just-for-fun thing I started when I first got into writing. I didn’t expect people to read it, I didn’t expect it to get popular, I didn’t expect it to be anything. When I started it, I didn’t know how quirks worked, so I made the reader an overpowered Mary-Sue. I also had a bit of a direction for the fic at first but then I let my audience influence how things turned out. I started feeling very iffy about the fic and updates became a huge hassle. The last time I updated, even after it was difficult for me to get it out, people made comments about not liking how things were going. I felt under appreciated and this fic became a stab in my chest. Add that in with people complaining and asking so many times when the next update was going to be, I decided that I would be happier if this shit just stopped. Sorry guys. No mas.

THE FOREST- ✅

Yandere Neko!Shinsou- ✅⁉️ As far as I know, it’s done. I could probably write more, but let’s be real, I cursed it by using the term “tiny pants.” Also, no offense but being berated with “part 2? Pt. 2 pls,,,, part 3???” makes me not want to write anything

The Kiss of Death- ✅this was JUST a one shot. Please see rule #9

Rules For This Blog. The “Please Do Not’s”

These are not the Rules For Requests, but some of them are related.

Please do not berate or spam me with the same ask over and over again. I’ve had people cloud my inbox with multiples of “bloop” or “how many followers do you have?” and like??? If I hadn’t answered you the first couple times, I’m not going to answer you the fifth or sixth time. Please be chill. I announce my follower milestones when it’s relevant and your spam becomes my followers’ spam if I answer every nonsensical thing sent my way. I’m sorry if this seems mean.

Please try to keep asks BNHA related seeing as this is a BNHA blog. I’ll answer personal questions, sure, and I’ll partake in some asks games, however, if you want to strike up a conversation, my PMs are open. I’m not always the best at replying but I do try to get to them on my own time!

No transphobia, homophobia, ableism, racism, or religious call outs of any sort. I want this to be a safe space for all people. If I didn’t know something might be ableist or racist or anything of the sort, I would appreciate being informed about it, and regardless of the intent, I’ll have harmful slander removed for the blog.

Please do not ask me to reblog your posts. I’ve been taken advantage of in the past, and I don’t appreciate it.

Please keep overly sexual or sensitive content out of my ask box. I know I’ve written quite a bit of promiscuous and down right nasty shit, but when I do that, I can at least tag warnings and such for people who don’t want to see the big nasty. It’s only respectful to consider my boundaries, as well as the people who follow my blog’s boundaries. If there’s a not safe for work topic you wish to discuss, again, my PMs are open.

No discourse. No cartoon politics. Whether you are pro or anti characters or ships, whatever, those are not topics of discussion I wish to have in this blog.

Do not request when requests are not open??? I’m sorry, but it’s literally in my bio when requests are open. when requests are open, I put it in my bio as well as the “ask” option that requests are open?? Read people’s bios, dude!

I’m really sorry about this one, but no emergency comfort requests. I’ve gotten at least five and my heart goes out to you guys with problems and like,, I want to help but this is seriously stressful to me. I want to help you, I want you guys to be okay, but I can’t be responsible for that. Like, GOD, I want to help you but as soon as I get an emergency comfort ask I’m like?! Full panic mode. I think about writing something, anything, to make y’all feel okay, but then I overthink and I can’t get to it, and then I feel like I’ve failed you. That’s not fair to any of us.

“Part 2 pls.” Listen. LISTEN. OH MY GOD. there’s nothing that compares to working hard on a oneshot, and getting so excited to see someone comment or send in an anon and it’s literally just “part 2 pls”. God. It means a lot that you liked something enough to see more of it but fffff writers are working hard to get this shit out for you for free and “part 2 pls” should not be acceptable. I’m sorry. There are better ways of telling writers that you liked their work enough to see a continuation. Be considerate dude. Also, appreciate ambiguity a little more. Use your imagination. It’s not that hard.

If you do not agree with some of the unconventional things I write, don’t read it?? Get out?? Leave??? Nothing you say to me will sway me away from writing the shit that I want to write. I simply use the characters of BNHA as a medium for the stories I choose to write. They’re fictional, and I do not support a lot of the shit that goes down on my writing, not irl. There’s a difference between fantasy fiction and real life. If you knew who I was in real life, you’d know how angry I am at the disgusting trash in the world. That doesn’t affect my writing though. Writing is a coping mechanism for me. I do my best at tagging the horrible things I might get to in my fics/one shots, so if you’re reading whatever the fuck I’ve done with an intent in being angry??? Take a bath, maybe eat some bread, and think of another way to expend your energy, dawg. I’m going to ignore you otherwise.

[wittystiles]

The Bluff || Mitch Rapp || Part 15

Author: wittystiles

Word Counter: 2k

Warnings: Cursing, idk.

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader

Chapter Title: The Cleanup

Summary: Mitch cleans. Stan gives Irene an update.

A/N: ((THIS IS THE REAL ONE)) I didn’t write for this forever. And then I did. And I hated it. So I walked away, and then I came back and I finished it. This story is my nemesis but it’s for y’all, so I hope you all enjoy it. Please comment, reblog, like. Whatever. Feedback is crucial. I adore y’all.

(Y/N) reached across herself, feeling around for her phone on a nightstand she’d forgotten was no longer standing. The huff that left her was part defeat, part annoyance as she sat up, her head throbbing in it’s own loud protest. Her stomach gave a churn, threatening her with the proposal of vomit, and she fought her hardest to stifle that urge. She’d not consumed alcohol in so long, she’d nearly forgotten how unwell she felt after guzzling bottles of wine. Bitter red being the worst offender.

Opening her eyes she was met with dry soreness, and she shut them again, rubbing them tiredly with the sides of her fists. It took her a few long breaths before she could once more open her eyes, looking around at her devastated room. She plucked a tuft of comforter stuffing from her hair and watched for a moment as it fell to the bed and joined a mound that was already there. (Y/N) was struggling to force all of the things that she was feeling deep within herself, to a part of herself where things wouldn’t be found. Where she wouldn’t get to acknowledge the anger that was beginning to fester at her remembering the destruction of her apartment. It wasn’t like she was going to be able to stay there long, anyway, regardless of its devastation.

She admonished herself for not being wiser to the longevity of the ‘mission’ that Stan and Irene had forced upon her. She should have known she was never going to be free of her ‘Paris savior’. Throwing her legs off of the edge of the bed, (Y/N) willed herself to stand, head feeling a bit dizzy but manageable.

With her hand on the wall to brace herself, (Y/N) made it out of her bedroom and down the hallway to her living room. She took the scene before her in, mouth daring to drop open in amazement. “Mitch?” She muttered, seeing a figure laying on a pile of folded blankets, facing the wall. The entire living room was immaculately clean. No remnants of broken glass, wood, or couch innards splattered the floor. There were large black trash-bags stacked up against the wall near the front door, and every piece of ruined furniture was no longer in the room.

Her hand came up to cover her mouth, her feet carrying her from the living room to her kitchen. Everything was clean in there, as well. Her drawers had been returned to their places, the cabinets shut and some even put back onto their hinges. She was stunned. “Mitch,” she called again, this time louder and clearer. She heard a groan from behind her. He must be waking up.

“Mitch, did you do this?” She wondered, returning to the living room to crouch beside his sleeping form. She rest her hand on his hip for stability and he nearly jumped out of his skin. His torso sprang up and his hands flew behind him to keep himself upright, his chest rising and falling rapidly. (Y/N) retreated from him so fast, her balance got thrown, and she fell backwards, landing with a loud thud on her ass.

Moving with concern for (Y/N), Mitch found himself at her side in a heartbeat. He rest his hand gently against her shoulder blade, looking over her face quickly. “Are you all right?” He asked, moving to sit back against his ankles, taking his hand away from her shoulder. She nodded, looking a little startled but no worse for wear. He ran a hand through his tangled hair, regretting it at once.

“I cleaned,” he stated matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders. He settled back against his heels, deciding on just pushing his hair back and away from his face. He absently wished that he had a hair tie. Maybe he could handle the mess of hair that was on his head. “I was gonna do the bedroom but you were just - sleeping so soundly? I dunno, I couldn’t disturb you in order to clean. I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) was at a loss for words as she stared at him, eyes wide. “Are-are you apologizing for the fact that you cleaned? That’s, that’s insane. You literally turned this entire apartment right side up, Mitch. I walked out of my room and was flabbergasted over the fact that this place didn’t look like nineteen bulls trampled through it. I can only say the sincerest thank you, Mitch. Really.” She paused, “why did you sleep on the floor?”

“There wasn’t much room in your bed. I don’t know if you noticed this, but, your mattress was decimated. Irreparably, I’m afraid. There was only enough room for you. And barely, at that. You were curled up so tight around yourself it was like you were going to solidify and be stuck in an immovable (Y/N) ball.”

She stared blankly at him, “you’re not very clever first thing in the morning. Are you?”

“I spent the last twelve hours cleaning up your demolished apartment by myself. I think that I deserve a little credit when it comes to witty remarks.”

(Y/N) nodded, a smile forming on her lips. “Can I make you breakfast? As a thank you?”

“Your fridge is empty.”

She sighed, “the markets a five minute walk from here. I can go out, get some things. Make you a really hearty breakfast. All of the fixins! You could maybe shower, while I’m gone? You smell.”

“I do not,” he grumbled, trying to slyly smell himself without her noticing. It didn’t work.

“You’re right, you don’t,” she laughed. “Though a shower probably could only help you at this point. I’m sure you’re sore…”

Standing from the floor, Mitch shook his head. “I’m fine, but I will shower. At my own apartment. Don’t go to the store. Period. I’ll go out, get something for you to eat while I’m gone. And I will figure out this whole fucking situation.”

(Y/N) watched him with confusion, “what do you mean you’ll figure out this whole fucking situation?”

Mitch stretched his arms over his head, cracking his shoulders in the process. “It means I’m not done saving your ass.” He gave her a wink, walking out of her apartment without another word.

-

Stan sauntered into Irene’s office in something far below the considerably appropriate marker for ‘business’ or even ‘business casual’. His tucked in white crew neck had the beginning of holes around the collar from years of being pulled off over head. His blue jeans were faded on the thighs and knees, from years of sun exposure and wrestling around in the mud. He was clutching a blue and white paper cup filled with now lukewarm coffee, and looked three-days overdue for a shave.

“Go away, Stan,” Irene called out without looking up from her file. “I’m busy and I don’t have time to entertain you.”

Stan settled himself into the chair across the desk from Irene, resting the ankle of his left leg over the knee of his right. “I’m not here to be entertained,” he announced, bringing his coffee up to his mouth to take a few long swallows. He tossed the cup into the trash beside her desk, the lid popping off upon impact, falling to the floor ungracefully. He wondered how flimsy those cups really were as he leaned forward to pick the lid up, tossing it into the trash. “I’m here to update you on the Mitch case.”

“Don’t call it a case. It’s nowhere near official, Stan.” Irene finally turned her attention away from her computer, looking at him with boredom in her expression. “I know everything that’s happened with them.” She commented, sighing softly. “Also, in case you were wondering. I do have a telephone. You’re welcome to use it to get in contact with me, and avoid this hassle of coming all of the way down here just to inconvenience me.”

Stan’s eye roll was involuntary. “There’s been a new development in the situation.” He crossed his arms over his chest, sighing softly. “(Y/N) called me this afternoon, said something about how Mitch cleaned up her apartment.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, racking her brain to figure out why that mattered to her. “You dragged your sorry self down here, just to tell me that he /cleaned/?”

Stan glared, “if you’re going to give me attitude, Irene, I will just leave. You can have a fun time trying to get the information I was going to nicely give you out of Mitch. We both know how readily he tells you things.”

“I can call (Y/N).”

Stan chuckled, “you can’t. She’s scratched her most recent cell phone, and won’t have a new one for a while. You’re going to have to send someone to her to get her to talk to you, or have her dragged in here. And I really don’t think you want Mitch getting suspicious about her getting brought down to the CIA building. He’s always so flighty.” He shrugged, “then of course you can go to her. But, that’s an inconvenience that the director wouldn’t want to put upon herself now is it?”

Irene clenched her jaw, trying to keep herself steady and not show the clear annoyance to him. “You’ve made your point, Stanley. What is this groundbreaking information that you’ve got?”

“I never claimed it was groundbreaking.”

The two shared a moment of silence, Irene leaning back in her chair to get herself more comfortable. “Are you ever going to speak?”

“I was just waiting for you to apologize for being rude to me initially.”

“Well that’s gonna be a cold day in hell, Stan. You had might as well leave right now, if you’re really expecting me to apologize. Unlike you, I have work to do. I cannot sit here all day and play these juvenile games with you.”

“I’m not playing any games.”

“Okay, well. The door’s that way. I’m sure you’re capable of finding it.” She turned away from him, eyes training back to her computer screen, fingers poised over the keyboard to start writing.

“He cleaned her apartment, because the two were together the entire night.”

“I’m aware. Your plan of destroying her apartment worked smashingly. He rushed out of here and straight to her. Arrived to her apartment in record time, where he promptly removed the cameras we installed. The little bastard even found the two I didn’t show him in the video.”

Stan chuckled, “sounds about Mitch.”

“Doesn’t it always?”

“(Y/N) said he left for an hour earlier today. He brought her back food and then disappeared. She didn’t know where he went, and when she tried asking he shut her down with a ‘are you my babysitter’.”

“Fascinating,” she mused, continuing to keep her eyes on her computer. “Is this everything?”

“No,” he sighed. “According to her he told her that he isn’t, and this is a direct quote, ‘done saving her ass’.”

She raised her eyebrow a little, “what does that mean?”

“It means that he’s committing himself to her, or so it seems. Not in the romantic way, I’m guessing. But in the way that the two of them are linked longer than she anticipated she would be. Which is good for the two of us,” he sighed.

“Yes. I am aware. It’s good that the two of them aren’t breaking ties because it would have made every second of this little thing mute.” Irene shook her head. “Is there something you’re not getting at?”

Stan shook his head, pursing his lips out a little. He was having fun with the little game that they were playing. Irene, of course, wasn’t. However he always enjoyed getting underneath her skin. He especially enjoyed when she wasn’t showing her frustrations and annoyance for him. Her not looking at him was, to him, like the equivalent of a dog not looking at you when you yell at them for pissing on the carpet. It wasn’t that she was upset because she’d done something wrong, no. It was that she was upset that her life was saddled to Stan’s.

“Jesus Christ, just spit it out!” She nearly shouted, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Stan smirked, taking a moment before answering, “she’s moving in with him.”

~~

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