#the hero is just like ''baby this is a tuesday for me''

[glorious-trans-humanism]

CW: light kidnapping, hero got roughed up a bit, just a like soupçon of suggestiveness at the end. It's all very light.

The shame coursing through the Villain had left him speechless. His mind was chaos, turning over what to say to his beloved, but nothing felt adequate. He wished that Hero would say something, berate him, beg for answers. Instead, he was just hunched over, not facing Villain, silent. Villain, himself, had fallen to his haunches the moment he had been dumped in the cell, weak with guilt.

“Hero,” Villain started, his voice so quiet that he had to clear his throat to get it to an audible level. “Hero, I’m so sorry. Words do not even describe how sorry I am. I thought...”

It didn't really matter what Villain had thought. Supervillain had promised Hero's safety, should Villain work for him on a machine. But Villain should've known the worth of Supervillain's promises -- once he had completed his work, he and Hero had been captured, with the implication of silencing both.

He was never going to forget the look of fear cross Hero’s face as he was forcibly restrained by henchmen, forced to his knees as his arms were bound tightly. Nor would Villain ever stop thinking about the hurt in Hero's eyes when he turned back to face Villain, on his back and under the boot of Supervillain, helpless and deceived. More than anything, he’d never forget the sick, victorious laugh as Supervillain realized that Hero was ripe for the taking, another means to hold control over Villain.

Now they were staring down the barrel of uncertain but doubtless unpleasant ends, and Villain couldn't even hold Hero before things truly turned.

If his boyfriend even wanted to ever be held by Villain again.

If their relationship could ever survive this.

There was a burning tightness in his throat that he forced himself to ignore. He didn't deserve pity, not even self-pity.

“I should have told you,” Villain said, instead of all of that. “I’m so sorry. I thought if I kept it a secret, then Supervillain wouldn’t have done anything, but I shouldn't have worked for him and I should have told you.”

There was, finally, a sound from the other side of the room! Granted, it was a noncommittal hum, but it was something.

“If you need space, or...” Villain swallowed down his agony at the thought, pressing on, “If...you need a break, that’s entirely--”

On the other side of two sets of bars, the Hero's shoulders drooped and his head tipped back; an annoyed sigh rang out through the otherwise empty holding area.

“Please,” Hero groaned, playful in spite of their sorry circumstances, “baby, the theatrics. I’m pissed, but not leaving you levels of pissed.” He still hadn’t faced the villain, instead hunching back over his lap. His voice was serious when he said, “I do wish you didn’t underestimate me, though.”

Villain let his head hang down, another wave of guilt washing over him. “I know, I’m so --”

“‘Sorry’, yes, I got that,” Hero finished, not unkindly and certainly not impatiently. He finally turned to look back at Villain. His left eye was swollen and purpling, which made Villain wince, but his smirk was as gloriously triumphant as though he was untouched. He raised his hand, revealing a makeshift key out of a sturdy wire, and winked his uninjured eye. “You can make it up to me later.”

Villain’s eyes widened in awe. “How did you...?”

“Oh, honey, you should know this one by now,” Hero stood in a slightly wobbling movement, fumbling around the barred door to reach the keyhole. “Card-carrying Goonion member, and all. Rule number one of underpaid henches: they never check the boots.” He shrugged as he unlocked the door, crossing to the Villain’s cell and twisting the key into a new shape. “The rest was just some light divination.”

The door clicked and rattled open, and Hero's hand proffered itself in front of Villain. The scientist, struck speechless with emotion, grasped his boyfriend’s hand tenderly, eagerly allowing himself to be pulled into his arms.

“I love you,” Villain breathed, reverent, staring at Hero.

With an exhale, his boyfriend’s expression had softened from its smug triumph. “And I you,” he said, gently. He kissed Villain with the same forgiving softness as his voice. “Now, the sooner we get out of here, the sooner you can make this evening up to me. I had some fun shower plans from before we got captured.”

[little-pondhead]

Some fic because I love your au, Fenton is gender brainrot, and little baby dan cracks me up. Full disclosure, my only familiarity with DC is DP crossover fanfic, and a Batman movie I fell asleep during. (If I had a better grasp on the characters I would totally write more :(( i love interactions) also sorry for the weird spacing. Idk why tumblr did that

~~~~~~~~

There was an empty cardboard box on the table of the Justice League’s main conference room. Taped on the top flap, next to a doodle of Fenton’s logo, was a jump drive.

Heaving a sigh, Batman plugged it in and pulled up his screen on the projector. The drive, which was named “little baby dan’s evil playtime”, contained two files; WATCH_ME_FIRST.mp4 and its-a-secreeeet.pdf. He clicked on the video file, and immediately the projector filled with a blurry close-up of Fenton’s goggles.

After a moment of fiddling with the camera, Fenton stepped back, giving a cheery wave. His lab coat and goggles were a pastel pink, which was new. “Heeeeya, Bats! Whoever else is there! If you’re watching this, you probably weren’t there when I dropped the box off, aaand it’s probably empty.”

He clapped his hands together gleefully. “And Connie, if you’re there, this is payback for cussing around my daughter.” Batman was instantly relieved that Constantine wasn’t on base. Hopefully the situation wouldn’t require Constantine’s expertise. (Or any of the Justice League Dark. Fenton seemed determined to drive them all to an early grave with his casual refusal to acknowledge the supernatural air around him.)

“Now, as you’re all heroes, I’m sure you’re all familiar with the whole,” Fenton paused for a moment, as if searching for the proper words. “”You ate a burger on a Tuesday or something equally inane, and it kickstarted a series of events that led to you going insane and evil and murdering 95% of the Earth’s population and now you must fight your evil alternate self, because your time-controlling cryptid Peepaw said so,” shtick, so I’ll skip the backstory. Say hi to Dan!” Fenton grabbed the camera, and Batman quickly jotted down several notes about the concerning number of things the boy had just said.

The camera swiveled around to show Nightingale, holding a strange beast in a manner that reminded Batman of an “elongated cat meme” Nightwing had shown him when he was still a Robin. The creature bared a maw full of razor sharp fangs at the camera. Nightingale adjusted her grip to hold the creature’s paw and make it wave, which evoked a deep growl.

“Haha, he’d kill me if I did that. Dan likes Nightingale much more than he likes me.”

“Because the worst she has ever done is attempt to shoot me.”

The camera had moved, so Batman couldn’t visually confirm that the deep voice had come from the creature, but the voice didn’t match any of Fenton’s previously revealed companions. “Yeah yeah, her aim sucked back then.” Fenton gave the camera a toothy grin that was only slightly less unnerving than the creature’s. “Dan’s not technically me, he’s much more like Dani, actually, but the world would probably end again if we left him with his other... What did you call him?” Fenton glanced offscreen.

“Bane of my accursed existence.”

Fenton chucked. “The other half responsible for his existence.” Batman added more notes to his file. “So, yeah, Clocky left him with us for a bit to help along his rehab. But a certain psychologist-in-training I know says that repressing rage isn’t healthy, and even without a lot of his powers, he can wipe out most of a city in- what, an hour? We tested it. It was around an hour.”

Everyone present shared a look of deep concern. As if able to see their reaction, Fenton quickly held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t worry! Clocky reset it. Approximately zero people have died from Dan in this timeline.”

“Yet.” Came a furious rumble from off-screen.

“Yes, you’re very scary.” They heard Nightingale coo.

Fenton laughed. “Yeah, we need him- and all of you, -out of our hair for a bit while we concoct more evil plans, and you’re all the least likely to die to him, so you get to babysit! Thanks!”

He reached to shut off the camera before pausing and turning away. “Foley! Which of the furries is the one who really likes animals?”

“Man, do you realize how that sounds out of context?” Foley laughed. “I think Tim said it’s the little one. Damian?”

Fenton nodded and turned back to the camera. “Don’t let Damian try to adopt Dan. Or anyone. Dan will bite their hands off. I mean it!” To emphasize his point, he removed one of his hands.

Batman sighed and added “ability to remove limbs” to a list of Fenton’s powers.

“I’ll include a list of “tasks”” Fenton’s disembodied hand made finger quotes, “we gave Dan to keep him occupied. There’s some at the bottom for you guys. They’re mostly just blatant abuse of his powers for the sake of fun and science. I’d appreciate it if you’d let him mark things off the list and add notes on how it goes. Or you can do it. Or I can steal your cameras. Your choice.”

He thought for a second. “I think you’re supposed to leave, like, pizza money or something, but I don’t think you can get pizza delivered to space. Anyway, thanks for letting me blab your ears off while Dan’s probably committing war crimes for twelve minutes. For your sake, I hope he inherited my interest in space. Good luck! Thanks for babysitting!”

Waving with his still detached hand, Fenton ended the video. Batman closed it and opened the PDF as the few other members present murmured amongst themselves. Most of the pages were filled with a curling script Batman didn’t recognize. The fourth page had a huge, bolded header, reading JP TASKS.

The door opened and shut in half a second as the Flash burst in. “Superman!” The speedster wailed. “I can’t get this thing off of me!”

The Flash waved his arm around, sending small droplets of blood flying as he tried to dislodge the creature sinking his teeth into the speedster’s arm. Batman raised an eyebrow beneath his cowl as Superman quickly lent his super strength in attempt to pry the creature’s jaw open. Dan didn’t budge.

Well, he could certainly see the family resemblance been Fenton, Dani, and Dan. Shaking his head, he turned back to the list.

Task 1: Find Dan. He’s probably attacking someone.

He highlighted the text and crossed it out. This was going to be a long shift.

[Anon, this is me crying over the wonderful gift you have given me. You bastard.]

---

"Do you think Fenton's regeneration powers extend to his..." Green Lantern frowned, trying to remember the word the kid had used but coming up blank. "I dunno. But do you think if we cut off little Dan here, he'll heal back up with no problem?" He gestured helplessly to the scene in front of him. Flash was still screeching about the beast on his arm, and now Superman and Wonder Woman were trying to pry him off. Batman was standing to the side, silently bemoaning the lack of quiet. He just wanted one peaceful shift. Just one. Please.

"I'd like to see you try, hero. And I'm not little." Dan spoke, startling all of them. His grip on Flash's arm tightened, making the speedster squeal before releasing the man and spitting out a mouthful of his blood. Batman noticed that his mouth didn't move despite the clearly spoken words. In fact, when Dan closed his mouth, it was like he didn't have one at all.

"So you do speak!" Superman marveled.

"Of course I do. I am not unintelligent, unlike you lot."

Despite his pain, Flash still made sounds of protest that everyone promptly ignored.

Superman flushed. "I just wasn't sure. It was hard to tell in the video."

"Ah, yes. The video that the Fenton menace sent you. Was there a note for me in the flash drive?"

"Uh, no." In one of his less finer moments, Green Lantern stuttered over his words and moved in front of Batman, obviously lying. Dan merely growled and flew through both men, heading straight for the giant monitor. Batman barely suppressed a shiver. Density shifting? Might as well add it to the list. He could see Martian Manhunter, who was in the back of the room, tilt his head at the display.

Dan ignored the room as he used his entire body to manipulate the computer mouse and scrolled back up to the top of the page. Staring intently at the scribbles no one could make out, the heroes could do nothing but shoot each other nervous and confused glances. More than a few of them jumped when Dan chuckled deeply. Honestly, his tiny body was at complete odds with his baritone voice.

"Maybe rehab will be fun if he's letting me do this." Dan sneered, flashing their reflections a sharp fang. No one wanted to ask what exactly he was in rehab for. The little beast turned his gaze to Batman. "You are the one called Batman, who rules the cursed city, correct?" The dark hero nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. "Excellent. You will be my chaperone for now, just as Fenton decreed it. Good luck, mortal man. Pray, I do not destroy your home a second time."

Without any time to unpack that conversation, Dan promptly disappeared from view. Some blinking text caught his attention, and Batman scrolled back down to the English text, glancing at the next few items on the list.

Task 2: Do not let Dan read his portion of this letter until you have a way to track him. There is no containing him.

Task 3: Keep him with a chaperone at all times. (If you can)

Task 4: Do not let Dan back into Gotham unless you're fine with a sudden decrease in the clown population.

Task 5: Take him for a walk in Death Valley. He likes hunting lizards.

Task 6: Make sure he goes down for his 2pm nap every day.

Task 7: He'll ask for it, but do not give him any burgers for mealtime. It upsets his stomach.

Task 8: Dan gets ONE(1) sweet after dinner before brushing his teeth. Those green pop rocks Batman always carries will do fine; he likes those. :)

A sudden alarm blared from his wristwatch, making Batman tear his eyes away from the screen, indicating an emergency at Arkham. This time, Batman actually sighed out loud. There was more to the list, but right now, he really needed to find their new charge before he killed the Joker, from the sound of it.

[thebunnednun]

New profile pic!! Oh and updates 4/14/2024 (Master list too)

Finally, something that looks like me!

Oh, btw the names Angellica or Angie for short. I don't mind being called BUNNEDNUN either babes.

WE ASLO HAVE A COMMUNITY LINK NOW!!:

Now let's get down to business,

An updated schedule will be as follows:

Mundane Monday: The beginning of the week is always dreadful so let's make it fun with some crack fics. Memes, Memes, MEMES galore!

Tearful Tuesdays: Angst posts will be the main thing on here. I'm thinking of some hurt and comfort fics. I'm already working on a Buggy fic for this. I'm not opposed to happy endings but in general, think of an onion cutting itself for these. They don't all have to be romantic and I'm creating something for Trafalgar Law here.

Wonderful Wednesdays: I will update two of the current fan series on this day maybe three if I have the time. So far the list includes:

*Enchanted meeting (Buggy The Clown x Straw-hat reader)

*Shadows of the Blade (Dracule Mihawk x Assassin reader)

*Capturing hearts (Iñaki Godoy x Photographer reader)

*Please Don't Hate Me! (Juan Ruiz x Imperfect reader

*Whispers of the heart (Dracule Mihawk x Maid (Pirate Queen) reader)

*Love Sick (Buggy the Clown x Straw-hat reader)

*Bound by Justice (Sabo x Marine! Reader)

*Carnival Confessions (Portgas D. Ace x Straw-Hat! Reader)

*If you only knew how much I love you (Sabo x Straw-hat! Reader x Ace)

*Make you mine!~ (Trafalgar D. Law x Cheeky~ Crewmate! Reader)

*Throw Me Overboard! (Buggy the Clown x Fm! Reader)

*Gone Fishing! (Sabo x Sea creature Straw-Hat! Reader)

*Good neighbors (Farmer! Bakugou Katsuki x Gardener! Reader)

*Dancing Under the Stars (Red-Haired Shanks X Bar/ DanceClub Owner! Reader)

*In the Arms of a Stranger (Charlotte Katakuri x Bride! Reader)

*Unexpected Dinner Guests! (Koby x Straw-Hat! Reader)

*Tempted to touch! One piece Men x Fm! Reader (Multi fic)

*Shadows in the Night! (Trafalgar D. Water Law x Ethereal spirit! Reader)

*Sweet dreams!~ (Trafalgar D. Law x Hot Doctor Wife! Reader (Modern Au))

*Golden afternoon (Monkey D. Luffy x Crew mate! Reader) *LOYALTY (Katsuki Bakugou x Sugar Baby! Reader)

*You're my Coffee (Shouta Aizawa x Pro Hero/Teacher! Reader)

*Overworked (Katsuki Bakugou x Stressed! gf! Reader)

*Build a Boyfriend (Mirio Togata x Pastel Goth! Reader)

Sanji, Usopp, Nami, Ace, Law, Robin, Boa, Chopper, and Zoro will be loading soon. I have many, many, MANY, ideas but no time right now.

Thoughtful Thursdays: Just some random conversations and ideas thrown out there. I'll try to host polls so you guys can vote on what you want next. Basically a rest day for me though because there's just no way I could write everything in one shot. (/@ ~@)/~* I've tried and it ends with me updating around 3AM or sum.

Follower Fridays: Requests from followers are posted. If you have a story request or anything you want to ask go ahead and do so on this day. Just make sure you send them in early so I can get to it in time. If you send something the day of I might be able to make it happen.

Sexy Saturdays: Send me your best Saturday night requests: ie dancing, funny adventures, or crazy antis with the one-piece crew or another fandom. I'm very familiar with Naruto and MHA (and any other anime honestly I doubt there's anything you could request that I don't know.)

It's all about having fun and having those Saturday night vibes babe!~

Sweet Sundays: Romantic One-shot posts! Any character of age and as long as it's not a child. I would be open to doing a reader insert where they are a parent or parental figure though. I find them to be very endearing.

As always your requests are welcomed and comments are very much appreciated. Sorry again for being gone for so long. I want to pick up my serious especially and make the chapters juicy again.

I also have a spring tee shop for merch related to all the stories!!

Every little bit helps me to pay for my tuition! <33

Thank you guys again for your patience and understanding.<<333

Don't forget to check out my a03 account of the same name!!

My new goals are to keep up with the schedule and get 50 followers by the end of the month! I wanna keep growing our family. :3

Most of all, remember that you are safe here and loved.

Until next time my loves!~

[curtsycream]

I saw that u write for kiribakudeku x reader and I have a idea

Cg kiribakudeku x little reader in a young headspace where she uses paci and loves her paci bc it makes her happy so when she sees one of her cgs sad she crawls in their lap and put her paci on their mouth and when another cg ask why she does it and she is like "mwakes me happwy so daddy happwy" and there are like "it's very sweet of you but its ur paci and daddy dont uses pacis" 💕💕💕💗💗😻🥺💖

What Makes Them Happy

KiriBakuDeku x Little!Reader

Tried to be fair and focus more on Deku and Kiri since I know the last one was Baku centric. I’m trying to even out the dynamic since I’m working with three very different personalities. Hope you like it though <333

If there was one thing she kept closer than her boyfriends it was her pacifier. Anytime she get anxious, alone, or worried she would simply pace it in her mouth. Having it nearby always made her happy but what made her happier was sharing it with her caregivers.

Tuesdays were always slow due to Kirishima being free and not having hero work to do. It just so happened that today was a slow and sad day for Kirishima as he sat on their shared bed with his head in his hands. That was until she made her way into the room her pacifier hanging out of the side of her mouth as she grins.

Upon seeing Kirishima’s upset form she frowns making her way onto the bed and then into his lap. Even in her headspace she showed she cared as she pressed kisses to the backs of his hands.

Kirishima noticed her attempts as he removed his hands from his face with a half smile. That didn’t seem to appease her as she pressed her pacifier to his lips. “Gon be okay, promise,” she said.

Kirishima let out a laugh as he opens his mouth the speak just as she puts the pacifier in his mouth. His eyes bright with amusement as he removes it from his mouth, “thank you, Princess. But I’m fine I don’t need your paci..it’s for you.”

When he tries to give it back she shakes her head, “don’t be sad.”

His eyebrows furrowed as his look softened, “you’re too good for me.”

She shakes her head putting her pacifier in her own mouth.

“You can’t deny the truth, that’s not how it works,” he chuckled at her antics. Though he couldn’t be upset anymore as the attempt left him unable to think much about why he was upset to begin with.

Later that night when Izuku was giving her a bath she still had her pacifier in her mouth. Her attention on her bath toys when she heard him hiss in pain. Looking up she frowned noticing he slammed his finger in one of the sink drawers.

She watched his face morph into a look of pain as she took her pacifier out of her mouth. She held it out to him, “here!” She called out grabbing his attention as he smiled.

“I’m okay baby, I’m fine…I promise!”

His reassurance only made her shrug as she put it back into her mouth. Her attention back on her rubber duck as she glances at him from time to time. Izuku caught on to her look a she smiled, “why do you do that? Try and give us your paci?” He asked the question that had been on his mind for months now.

“Makes me happy…wanna make you happy too, daddy.”

“You’re so sweet pretty baby, but daddies don’t need pacis. Daddies have pretty babies like you for that.”

Deep down they all felt that way, no matter how sad or angry they were. She always made them happy, she’s what makes them happy.

[togrowoldinv]

Dinner and a Show

Firefighter!Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Natasha calls you to the firehouse and puts on a show for you

Warnings: Kissing, grinding, pole dancing, allusions to more

Note: Woohoo more firefighter Nat! This is a part of my Burning Red AU. Follow my library blog @togrowoldinvlibrary for fic updates!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

Natasha rests her cheek on your chest as you relax in bed together. Her soft red hair feels like heaven as you run your hand through it.

“Any plans for this weekend?” You break the comfortable silence the two of you were in.

She lifts her head and shifts to lean on her elbow and look down at you. Her hand comes to your cheek softly and her thumb rubs your cheek softly.

“I have to work,” she says with a small pout. You want to lean up and kiss it away. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you assure her. “You go be a hero and we can see each other on Monday or Tuesday?”

“Sounds good, sweetheart. I have a shift in,” she breaks to look at her watch, “about thirty minutes. Damn, I have to get going.”

“Please don’t go,” you playfully beg her with a pout of your own.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she says. “I promise.”

She leaves you with a kiss. You watch as her perfect body floats out of the room.

The day drags by slowly and by the next morning all you can think about is Natasha. And it appears she’s thinking about you too as your phone rings.

“Hey sweetheart,” her raspy voice comes through the phone.

“Hi Natasha. How’s work going?”

“It’s pretty slow. Most of the crew is out today working at an event, but I’m manning the station,” Natasha explains.

“I see.”

“I miss you,” she blurts out. It hasn’t bern that long since you got together, but missing each other comes so naturally.

“I miss you too,” you say. “What time do you get off tonight? I actually think I can’t wait until Monday to see you.”

You swear you can hear her thinking on the other end of the line.

“Why don’t you come by for dinner? I’ll make you something here and we can eat together,” Natasha suggests.

“Is that allowed?”

“There’s no rule against it. See you at 6?” She asks.

“Sounds perfect,” you agree.

Remembering your first time at the firehouse, you take your time to get ready to see Natasha. You go casual with the outfit, but under your clothes you wear red lingerie that you know she loves.

When you get to the firehouse, she meets you at the door. She hugs you tightly.

“You look great,” you tell her.

“Mm, so do you,” she compliments. “Come with me.”

The smirk on her face should’ve been indication that you’re here for much more than just dinner, but you are too distracted by her in her uniform to notice her motives.

She stops walking before you get to the kitchen.

“So, I was thinking maybe I’d give you dinner and a show,” Natasha says. It’s then you notice her hand on the firefighter’s pole.

“Oh-“

“If you want, of course.”

“I want,” you blurt out maybe a little too quickly. “I want a lot.”

“Perfect. Sit down, baby,” she instructs you. You sit in the chair that she conveniently had in the room.

You watch on as Nat slips off her jacket. She went with a tank top and you try to memorize the shape of her muscles. Nat walks towards you and straddles your lap. She hovers over you, but doesn’t dare to touch you where you want her most. You try move your hands to her arms, but she stops you. She pins them to your sides.

“Be a good girl and don’t touch me, okay? Not until I’m done at least. Then maybe I will you let touch me,” Nat commands. You nod. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Okay, yes.”

She leaves your lap after a deep kiss to your lips. You watch as she waltzes to the pole. You had no idea she could do this, but by the way she expertly moves around it, she’s done this before.

She keeps eye contact with you as she slides down the pole and then takes off her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra. The way her breasts look as she moves onto the pole again threatens to make you audibly moan.

Nat ditches her pants along the way too and she’s wearing lacy underwear.

“Natasha,” you whine her name as she finishes her dance and moves towards you.

“Would you like to fuck me?” She asks. You look at her with wide eyes. Your face is hot from the way she looks at you.

“Yes please,” you say.

She settles on your lap once again, but this time she lets you touch her. Your hands go to her breasts and she moans. Her head dips back in pleasure as you lean forward and take her nipple into your mouth.

“Fuck baby, yes,” Natasha says. “Keep going.”

You switch breasts and she grinds herself against your thigh. You wish you could feel her wetness against you.

Suddenly, there’s a siren blaring throughout the firehouse.

“Shit,” Natasha says, but she doesn’t stop her grinding.

“Natasha,” you mumble against her chest. “The alarm.”

“I know, I know,” she says with a sigh.

She stands up abruptly and throws her clothes back on. You pout as she walks to kiss you goodbye.

“Don’t worry, baby. We’ll finish this later. Keep that lingerie on, please?”

“How did you-“

“I know things,” she says with a smirk. “See you later, sweetheart.”

You stand up and Natasha kisses you goodbye. She tries to linger but the sirens are calling her name.

She hops in the truck and drives off into the road. You are awestruck at her heroics once again.

You’re not going to forget what you saw today for a long time.

And you can’t wait for Natasha to get home tonight.

[chronically-ghosted]

you got your claws in me honey, like a tiger in love

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: you arrive at your estranged uncle's door. what else is there to do but catch up over grilled cheese? well, if you have anything to say about it, you might end up doing a bit more.

warnings: dbf!dieter, grilled cheese as a way to guilt trip your dad's best friend/uncle into fucking you, drug use (weed), raising arizona that comes with its own warning, flirting with someone twice your age, no smut — that’s what part 2 is for, reminiscing, a cliffhanger? 👀

a/n: the original fic came out MONTHS before the mcu rumors, so either i have precognition, or the apocalypse is becoming predicable. happy valentine's day you filthy animals because nothing says romance like porking your dad's best friend

🤍AO3 Link

🤍Series Masterlist | Next

🤍Masterlist

From the voicemail of Mr. Paul Landeau, official Hollywood talent manager and agent to one Mr. Dieter Bravo . . .

Tuesday, 6:43PM

No, I’m not doing it. I’m not. 

There has to be something else out there. Look, I know Fire Monsters: A Cliff Beasts story didn’t do as well as we hoped, but Reddit says it could be a cult classic so why don’t you focus on making that happen, okay? Instead of giving me shit roles like this. I’m not doing it. 

– the sound of a door opening and the phone being shuffled – – a zipper rips –  – liquid pouring –

We fucking talked about this, man. I told you I needed something different, something new. Tiktok is just reels of me screaming and dying – it’s fucking bullshit – 

– more liquid –

I’m done playing the fucking bad guy. I’m not signing any more headless action figures for those little snot-nosed, little fuckers in line. I’m not asking to sign their moms’ tits, either – okay, maybe – but Jesus Christ, Paul, what you sent over is, like, the opposite of where I need to be. It’s for little teeny boppers with one or two B horror movies under their belt to finally break out into the mainstream – or where actors over forty go to cash in an easy paycheck. And yes, I fucking know we need something, but fuck – is this really all there is?

– liquid stops pouring – – zipper rips – – the sound of a toilet flushing –

Don’t fucking call me back, Paul, unless you’ve got something. Something real.

Tuesday, 8:23PM

OW! Motherf–

– a skillet clattering – 

Okay – fuck, that hurts – okay, Paul, what about this? It came to me in the bathroom. Remember Jack from the Christmas party at the studio’s place? So, he’s got those two Sundance films, right, but they’re in Spanish, so not appealing to an American audience. Nicki told me that he’s thinking about doing another project, one with a wider appeal, and I’m thinking I should totally give him a call. I think we could vibe. I really liked his stuff – reminded me of my old small town, fucking around with the neighbor kids, you know? Kinda hometown hero sort of thing. 

– sharp inhale then a cough – 

It’s not my usual thing, but I think we should give it a try. Gimme a call. 

Oh, do you know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich? Been craving one but I think I might burn down my house if I try again and UberEats doesn’t reach the good places further south. Oh, fuck, wait – 

Hey Google, how do you make a fucking excellent grilled cheese?

Tuesday, 9:21PM

No, fucking– 

Siri – how.do.you.treat.a.burn? 

Calling. . . Burger King . . .

No! Fuck!

Tuesday, 10:49PM

Paul-y! Baby! Paul-ito!

Don’t worry. I got an idea that’s going to make us a million dollars. 

A shop that makes only grilled cheese. But like – fancy grilled cheese. What do the kids fucking call it, ah – boogie – yeah, boogie grilled cheese. Like gouda and white cheddar, and butter churned by blind nuns or some shit. Tomato soups that have been blessed by the Dalai Lama. 

Big sign out front that says, Vegans Can Eat Shit. 

They’ll eat it up. 

Fuck yeah, they will. 

– silence for three minutes and sixteen seconds –

Fuck acting, man. Fuck this place. 

And fuck this fucking cheese that keeps burning – goddamn it!

Tuesday, 11:52PM

Paul, why don’t we hang out anymore?

When I got started, we hung out all the time, man. 

Hot dogs on the Santa Monica pier. Beer in the Pacific Ocean. 

You showed me all the cool spots that no one else in LA knew about. You got me my first bump and my first stripper. God, that was fucking wild, man, you remember? I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. Did I ever tell you that before? Coke probably didn’t help a kid from a small town in South Cali, but – fuck, it made me feel better. Like I could get my shit together if I really tried.  

What, are you too good for me now – is that it? Am I not good enough for you, huh? 

Look, I’ve got Raising Arizona on right now, so why don’t you come over with a six pack – 

Oh, shit, that’s right. You got a fucking family now. 

Not a good influence, ol’ Dee. 

Not a good –

 

Wednesday, 1:05AM

Fine, Paul. Fine. 

I’ll play Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four reboot. 

Dieter’s thumb brushes the red End Call button and tosses his phone onto the kitchen island with a growl. He can feel himself coming down from the bump earlier – a thing he absolutely did not want to happen – and he shoves his palms into his eye sockets. 

There is more coke upstairs, but that would require him to walk through his very long hallways to get there. Very long, and dark, and empty hallways. 

He should have asked Maria to stay once she was done with the laundry. He would have done it right too – big bowl of popcorn, fully dressed, with a sign around his neck that said, I promise I’m not trying to sleep with you. 

He is becoming increasingly aware of how many erratic voicemails he just left for his agent, aware that behavior like that was libel to get him a sit down in Paul’s office with all the blinds and windows closed, Paul’s narrow face serious and using Concerned Emotion #5, as he asks, “do we need to go back to rehab, Dieter?”

We. 

There once was a “we”, now there was just “he” – in a house with seven bedrooms and a pool that could fit a sixteen wheeler in it. 

And TWO kitchens – why the fuck did he think he needed two kitchens – 

Well, he knew he didn’t need two, but it would have been cool to show them off to someone – If there was anyone to show them off to . . .

Fuck this downer mood.

Dieter snatches up his phone again, and the movement brings up his latest apps. UberEats is the second one. He taps in a few keywords, blatantly ignoring his latest call list. 

Goddamn Burger King . . . 

The front doorbell rings. 

Dieter frowns, pulling the screen closer under his big nose. Now, he knows he is high and he knows he should be wearing his glasses when reading but there’s no fucking way . . .

He goes out of the kitchen, the room still smelling of burnt cheese with the cast iron skillet in the sink and a black husk sticking to its bottom. He goes left, then right, his robe tightly wrapped around him as if he is some huffy housewife, then down a hall and across the marble entrance way – fuming – why is this house so goddamn huge – who thought this was a good idea?

And so he wrenches open the front door – to a girl, not holding a Burger King bag. No, she’s got a roller suitcase behind her, bright blue, and she and the case are dripping wet. Like, just sprayed with a hose kind of wet and her big bottom lip is trembling. Behind her, the sky pukes buckets of rain, groaning with thunder. 

Now, he likes his call girls (he always thought it was classier to call them that) a little more . . . vampy than this, but hell, he had been turned on by much less than this— than her with her big eyes, fat droplets rolling off her lashes, flushed cheeks – and oh, shit, her shirt is totally see-through – is that purple, he feels the back of his mouth flush with spit – wow, is this Paul’s way of apology because – 

“Uncle Dee?” 

And he’s mentally shoving himself back into his pants because no one in years has called him that and that was a very different time in place, when he was a completely different person and if this girl is the person he thinks it is, then – Jesus Christ, he’s bound and gagged straight for hell – 

He squeaks out your name and you smile, sort of grimace, at him and wave. 

“Yep, it’s me. Been awhile, right?” You finally give into the mortification of your stupid plan and you scrunch up your face, your hand wrapped around your elbow. “Look, I’m so sorry, this is too weird. I don’t have your number, but I panicked when my flight got canceled and my phone’s dead and you’re the only person I know in LA and –,” 

“No, no – you’re fine – sorry–,” Dieter blinks before stepping back and letting you through. You sigh in relief and yank your baby blue suitcase over the threshold as you walk in, dripping water everywhere. “Sorry, it’s been a weird night and for, like, two seconds, I thought . . . nevermind . . .”

I thought you were a fucking ghost.

You bite the corner of your lip, glancing at him, knowing it was probably unwise to piss off your one chance at not sleeping on the ground tonight — or if what you were about to say would piss him off in the first place. 

“Yeah, well, it’s been eleven years since we last saw you, Uncle Dee.” 

Early on in his career, he wanted to build up rep as not only an actor but a real tough guy, so he asked if he could do some stunts for an old cop show. For all his bravado, he ended up getting a real round-house kick to the face and it sent him reeling.

This feels a little bit like that.

“No way, it can’t have been that long. Besides, I know I left my number with your dad or your grandma before I left and —,” 

His throat closes up when very old guilt washes over him. It’s intensified when you give him an uncomfortable look.

“So your dad didn’t give you my number then.”

It’s not a question. You shake your head. You don’t tell him that your dad tried to call years ago and got a busy tone for the first few, and then a few years after that, was brusquely informed the line had been disconnected. 

He chews on his lip. 

You try to smile at him again but then another shiver takes hold of you and Dieter grimaces. “Shit, sorry, one second. I think this closet down here has towels.” 

He all but sprint-walks down one of the many halls branching off from the entrance, the ends of his robes flapping. You hear the creak of doors, several, as he digs around in the walls. 

“Why do I have so many fucking linens?” You hear him grumble and you smile to yourself. You feel like you need to wring your hair out but wouldn’t dare move from the spot where he left you.

After a thump and more grumbling, he comes back, rubbing the back of his head, but holding out a giant lime green towel. In the light, you can see the dark circles under his eyes when you take the towel and immediately go to stop your hair from dripping on the marble.

His brain is waffling, ping ponging, between his memories and what is standing right in front of him. This? This is the little girl, not his literal blood relative, but she’s Enrico’s kid – Enrico, a slugger and one hell of a outfielder since he was eight years old, whose mom made enchiladas like nobody else in the goddamn world – Enrico, whose house became like a second home, Ricky's family a better family than his own – this is the same girl who hoarded Skittles like a fiend, the same one who he took to the pool on the weekends in the summer, and the zoo during Thanksgiving break? This little girl – 

– is the same girl who is all legs under damp denim, eyes that could make Cleopatra fly into a jealous rage, and a fucking rockstar smile? 

And, holy shit, those tits –  

Dude, you cannot be checking her out. Dig deep and fight your fucking caveman brain. You’ve fucked up a lot in your life and you cannot do that right now. You cannot do that to Enrico. 

You cannot do that to her.

You notice him grimace as he squints into the light of the chandelier above you both. “So, uh, not that I mind, but, uh, what are you doing here? I mean –,” 

You laugh and it seems to echo in the empty house. “No, that’s a fair question. I was on a flight back from looking at colleges out east and my flight got grounded in LAX because of the storm. I absolutely don’t have enough money to stay in a hotel or rent a car and drive back home, so I needed a place to crash and call my sister to send me some money. And my stupid driver didn’t want to get flagged for harassing a celebrity, so he dropped me off at the corner, hence . . .”

You wave at yourself and inside his slippers, his toes curl, respectfully not looking at your damp legs and a definitely purple bra visible through your shirt. 

Your mouth suddenly capsizes. “Shit, is that okay, if I stay here for a night? I didn’t even think - I - I’m not . . . interrupting anything, am I?” 

Dieter chuckles, your expression undeniably cute, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his robe. 

“Nah. Not unless you call making the worst grilled cheese imaginable a party.” 

At that moment, your stomach chooses to make the most aggressive growl in your entire life and you flush deeper than the cold outside. 

“Apparently someone thinks that’s a good idea,” you chuckle weakly, horrified that your body is actively trying to sabotage a normal conversation. 

Did it matter that you had posters of him in your bedroom when you were thirteen? That you went to midnight releases of every one of his movies? 

No. Not at all. 

“I got some food, mostly leftovers.” He worries at his lip as he realizes the only thing by way of something green in his fridge is the jar of olives he got for martinis. Even then, he has a sneaking suspicion he replaced the olive juice with vodka, but the memory of that night is entirely butchered. “But, uh, I’m sure we can find something.”

You smile at him. “Actually, grilled cheese sounds great.” 

“Only if you do it.” He smiles, honestly, when you laugh. “What? Don’t laugh — I’m serious. I can’t make a sandwich to save my fucking life.” 

“Pretty sure I can manage two slices of bread and cheese.” 

His eyebrows jump as his lips press themselves together and you watch the thumb-sized bare spot on his beard twitch.

“Yeah, that’s what you think and then your goddamn kitchen is on fire.” 

“Lemme change, do some rocket surgery and brain science, and then I’ll attempt to crack this grilled cheese thing.” 

“Okay, but remember we do have Chinese leftovers and I can definitely crush a microwave. This way.” 

You follow him through the halls, his shoulders loosening underneath the off-green fuzz, and you try and not to stare at the immaculately beautiful walls and expansive, clean floors, so your eyes wander, and then you’re trying not to stare at the immaculately beautiful man in front of you. 

You push away the thought that this house looks nothing like you’d expect someone like Dieter to have, as he leads you to the kitchen — all black and chrome and steel, like what a Norwegian serial killer would have — and nods to a door towards the opposite wall. He’s digging around for the last slices of white bread when he says,

“Bathroom’s down there. I’ll get it all ready, but I’m leaving it up to you. Can’t afford to lose another pan.” 

Your eyes finally drift down from the bare walls, unsure if you should be offended that nothing of the family back home is here, or accept that there was just nothing personal anywhere. You smile gently at him and nod in thanks. 

He watches you go, that bright blue suitcase flashing as loud as a tornado siren, and he shakes his head. God, he needs a drink but drinking also makes him horny and he needs every mental facility available to him if he wis going to make it through this night with his sanity still intact. 

Had it really been eleven years? He always meant to call up Enrico and the old neighborhood gang. He probably forgot about that last fight anyway – even if Dieter hadn’t – even if it wasn’t more than a decade ago. Mama Gonzales always said there’d be a place for him, even after his own father said acting was for maricos and drag queens. It always hurt more when the postcards from the Gonzales family stopped coming than when Mom stopped calling. And he always meant to send back a proper return address when he moved out of that crappy loft after his first real movie premiere but that was the 90s, and much of the 90s was spent between working shit jobs and drooling on the floors of rave warehouses. It wasn’t them specifically he didn’t want to see him like that, but anyone. Anyone who knew him before Dieter Bravo. 

Certainly not anyone who called him Uncle Dee —

Something flashes in the corner of his eye and he realizes he’s always fucking hated the fact that the a) the back of his house is just one big window and b) he never bothered to put in curtains. Because, the thing with windows is they reflect things — things like his pseudo-niece taking her top off in his guest bathroom. Reflected and in full color right across his kitchen island like the sexiest hologram that will haunt his fucking wet dreams until the day hell freezes over. 

Yep, that’s definitely your hips, your ribs, and okay—

Nope. Absolutely not. 

Dieter’s knees give out and he crouches (more like slumps) to the floor behind the island, his palms so far in his eye sockets he can only see stars.

Yeah, only stars. Focus on the stars, not the image of the curve of your gorgeous tits that’s running around his brain like a child with scissors and a Thanatos instinct off the fucking charts. 

Fuck, and he just wanted to get high and watch Nicholas Cage in a mullet. 

“Hey, I’m done. Dee, you still here?”

He stifles a groan and stands up. You smile at him, the wet jeans and agonizing white tank top gone, only to be replaced by a black Fleetwood Mac tshirt and — fuck, where are your pants?

You lower the handle to your suitcase and go to stow by the bathroom door. And that’s when he realizes you are actually wearing pants, black shorts that are practically hidden by the oversized t-shirt and are comically, hilariously, painfully small. He can’t actually see the curve of your ass as you walk around the side of the island but he is absolutely not going to let his gaze linger long enough to confirm. 

He clears his throat as you come to stand beside him. He gestures to the four pieces of white bread and a stack of Crafts American cheese. 

“H-h-have —,” he clears his throat again and his forebearers groan collectively in embarrassment. “Have at it.” 

You smile and tuck your hair over your ear before picking up the knife. 

“D’you have mayonnaise? Butter?”  

No amount of irredeemable hotness can distract him from that. “What? What do you need mayonnaise for? It’s grilled cheese.”

You cluck your tongue, an eyebrow raised. “Brain science and rocket surgery, remember? Don’t question the master.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he goes to his steel monolith of a fridge. 

“Jeez, sorry, I asked,” he grumbles playfully.

He comes back with an (thankfully) unexpired jar and tub of butter and you get to work. Silence stretches a bit too long, something Dieter has never been good with, especially with beautiful women. He loves running his mouth and sometimes he's found that the women liked it too. He resigns himself to sit across from you at the island, watching you spread mayonnaise on both sides of the bread. 

“So, uh, how are the folks? How’s your, uh, dad?”

You nod slowly and even though he hasn’t been around in eleven years to pick up on all your tells, he swears your hackles go up.

“Fine. All good. Dad’s still at the car repair shop — owns it now, actually. Makes decent money, I guess.” 

“You guess?” He hadn’t made it his life’s work to mimic the human condition to not recognize cagey language. 

You glance at him briefly before flipping over the last piece of bread and dropping a dollop of mayonnaise on top. 

“Yeah. I — uh, we haven’t — I actually haven’t talked to them in a while. Though if I had, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” You sneak another glance, this one ladened with a smile that had a secret curled up in its corners. “Serves me right, probably.”

“Yeah. Probably.” 

He can’t help but return the smile, one of a familiarity he hasn’t earned yet. You were smiling at him as if you two had years of secrets together, memories and inside jokes that were for the pair of you alone. For the life of him and all the water in his ridiculous pool, he couldn’t fathom why you were being so nice to him. Letting him off the hook. It had been eleven fucking years after all. There are a lot of things he takes guilt free from the world. Your fucking star-eyed smile is not one of them. 

So, he lets you off the hook. He doesn’t push it. If you don’t want to talk about your folks, he is happy to chatter aimlessly about something else. But, his brain winds up, what happened that caused you to fall out with your parents? Enrico, even back then, had been a hard ass, with you and your brothers. Always made sure to walk the straight and narrow. Detested drugs, always shined his shoes, thought tattoos were the devil, never kissed a girl on the first date — 

And here you are, making fucking mooneyes at his daughter. 

Well, one thing was for sure, he muses, something warm spreading in his gut, you are nothing like your daddy. 

The hiss of the bread hitting the hot butter in a pan (you didn’t even need to ask where another pan was, you just helped yourself to his cabinets and he couldn’t have been more proud) jerks him out of his daze and he realizes that annoying silence has set in again. 

“So, colleges, huh? Anything in particular spark interest?” 

You nod excitedly as he found a topic that made you glow. Clearly, no one had asked about your interests in a long time.

“Yeah, actually. Emerson in Boston was amazing. I loved the city, but not sure I’d survive the winter. Swarthmore sounds good, Amherst too, but again, cold.” You grin sheepishly and flip the sandwiches, pressing the spatula (he didn’t even know he owned one of those) into the bread, making the butter sizzle and the air fill with a smell that can only be described as mouth-watering. 

“It’ll be a nightmare, taking out loans for those places, but fuck, I think I’d be really happy there.” 

He leans against the counter, facing you with crossed arms. He smiles a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What, your folks wouldn’t pay for it? Or at least help out?”

Something sharp flashes in your eyes, like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator, before you shrug your shoulders flippantly. A well-worn deflection, he notes, right next to the place where he’s got all the places you mentioned are about as far away from California as possible. If you had mentioned somewhere in Europe, he wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“Nah. I wouldn’t let them. Don’t want them thinking they get input into my life because they hold the purse strings over my head.” You turn off the stove and he moves to get the plates out from the cabinets – something to contribute as you made him a better meal than he’s had in ages. 

“So, uh, we eat in there?” You glance down the hall to the eerily clean dining room, a place he’s pretty sure he’s never once set foot in after three years of living in this goddamn mansion. 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “C’mon, I already have a movie picked out.” 

You follow him, plates hot, down carpeted stairs to clearly the only room in the house that Dieter actually lives in. The lights down here are low, much more bearable than the white spotlights of the kitchen. Against one wall, there’s a fully stocked bar, with most of the alcohol halfway empty and costing a fortune. Across from the stairs is a massive record collection, going up to the ceiling, next to a gorgeous old record player — all wood and black vinyl — with big, plushy earphones curled up on a black leather recliner. 

But the star of the show is the wall-to-ceiling television, with a brown, mouse-soft leather sofa that wraps like a giddy, up-turned grin in front of it. 

And of course, in between the superstar television and the cozy couch, is a low glass table where he had snorted lines of coke more times he could count and where a virgin joint sits, unsmoked and tempting. 

Dieter flushes as though he’d been caught by his parents with his pants down around his ankles. 

“Fuck, sorry–,” he rushes over, the plate clattering with the glass, and he reaches for the joint, ready to squish it into his pocket when– 

You laugh. “Relax, Dee, I know what a joint is. In fact, we are very well acquainted.”

You fold yourself into the couch, legs crossed, grinning at him as you bite into your sandwich. 

He swallows, unclenching slightly as he sits down next to you. He watches you eat for a moment, trying to think of something cool to say.

“Sounds like I’ve missed my calling as the fun uncle, getting you high for the first time and all that.” 

You snort and swallow your mouthful. “Yeah, by like two fucking years.” 

“Oh, what a fucking lifetime. You poor thing,” he says, pouting dramatically and you giggle again, bumping into his shoulder. It sends his sanity knocking around in his brain. 

You don’t notice, though, your eyes falling to the joint in the small ceramic bowl. The smile slides from your face. 

“Well, you might have missed my first joint, but I’d be more than happy to take this one as my next.”

His eyebrows practically bounce off his forehead. “You’re serious?” 

Your eyes slide away from the joint to his, something distractingly dark hiding there. “I mean, if the parties on your Instagram are anything to go by . . . And, well, when in Rome . . .”

You trail off, smirking, gesturing around you as if you had any idea the levels of debauchery that were obtained in this very room. Come to think of it, he halfway considers picking you up off the couch and putting a towel down underneath your perfect ass. 

This is how it went sometimes, with the slower hook ups. No wet clothes, or grilled cheese, or bringing up family trauma — but initial touches, curling smiles, and then drugs. Always drugs. As if there needed to be another hand that tore off the cap of the pressurized, fizzy soda bottle. He’d play music then, for them, to show off his vinyl collection and have a plausible reason to rub his dick between their ass cheeks while dancing slowly to something croon-y from the seventies. 

Not that any of that would be happening with you. 

He wasn’t a complete monster after all. 

With a playful grin that he had mastered over many press junkets, he snatches up the joint and lighter, and presents both to you in the flat of his hand. 

“First hit goes to you, since you were so kind to make dinner for an old fuck like me.” 

You snort and put your plate onto the table, wiping your hands free of crumbs on your black shirt. 

“Such a gentleman.” 

With deft and practiced hands, you take the joint between your index finger and your thumb, and sparking the lighter, brought the flame to your lips. 

Just for one second, one goddamn second, he swears he saw The Look reflected in your eyes. He glances away, his cock fluttering awake like goddamn Lassy hearing the calls of another well-begotten child. He picks up his own plate.

“Hardly. It was all a ploy to get you to admit you follow me on Instagram.”

You burst out coughing, smoke chugging from your nose and mouth. “Dieter!”

He cackles, his tongue between his teeth, as you shove him away from you — do not think about her fingers clenched around your bicep —  try to sit up and inhale again. You hang your head and groan. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe I said that.” 

“Yeah, and for that, I get two puffs,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, the rest of it full of the most perfectly cooked grilled cheese sandwich he’d ever had. He finishes chewing and swallows. “Hand it over, princess.” 

You hand over the lighter and the joint, the paper slightly greasy from your fingers, leaning back dramatically into one of the many plushy cup holder seats spread out along the very long couch. 

He chuckles devilishly again, far too satisfied, as he lights up and leans back into the cushions. 

“And, as gesture of goodwill, I’ll admit that’s a good fucking grilled cheese.” 

Your eyes snap open and a wide grin splits your face. “Hell yes! Mayonnaise on both sides, butter on the side with cheese. Best family recipe. Mwah!”

“Fuck, even I know that’s too much cholesterol for me,” he grunts and digs into the cushions, feeling around for the remote. 

“Well, that’s not enough cholesterol for me,” you wink as you take the joint from the hand on his thigh, eyes daring you to do something about it. Nowhere near high enough to take the bait, he just narrows his eyes at you as he clicks the button and the entertainment system comes to life with a primordial hum. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, eyes wide, as the speakers roar and the lights dim further and the screen glows, “it’s like I’m in a fucking movie theater . . . in space.”

“It’s great, right?” Dieter moans like a loving father over his first child. This thing is his pride and joy, the only thing he could stomach in this goddamn house.

The DVD buffer for Raising Arizona begins and you squeal quietly, sliding onto your back, the joint dangling between your lips. 

“No fucking way, I love this movie.” 

Dieter stilled. “Really? You do?” 

The few times he felt nostalgic for his old life — his old, old life when he was still a kid from nowhere, a nobody, you couldn’t pick him out of a line up of his sweaty, grubby cousins when they were all cobbled together like crooked teeth in front of Abuela Josefina’s television that still had knobs and bunny ears to watch movie after movie of Nicholas Cage reruns. Even with knees in his back, elbows in his ears, Dieter could quote every single line, his heart swelling.

That’s gonna be me some day. 

“This movie is from, like, another century,” he mutters as he watches you settle in, something sickening like adoration clawing up in his chest. 

“Yeah and it’s great,” you say eagerly, ignoring the way he plucks the joint out of your fingers. “Put it on!” 

He resolutely ignores the pinch in his low stomach at your almost whine and presseS the play button with a little more force than necessary. Then, balancing the joint on the ceramic bowl, he sticks his fingers into his robe, pulls out his glasses, and puts them on without a second thought – just as he always did when watching movies. 

It is only when he realizes he doesn’t hear you breathing that he realizes what he has done. Slowly he pulls the square glasses off his face and looks at them, feeling as disgusted as the day his doctor put them in his hands. 

Near-sighted. Very common. Happens when people as they age.

“Got ‘em–,” his throat closes again, “got ‘em a few years ago. Only have to wear ‘em to see things up close and, uh . . . Well, I think they make me look old as shit.” 

He can’t quite look at you, unsure what he’ll see on your face and knowing for sure that he couldn’t stand it if it wasn’t the way you look at him before. If you just would tease him about it, then —

“No,” you say, your voice very soft and small. His heart nearly punches out his throat, his neck nearly snapping in half as his head whips up to look at you. You sit up on your elbows, the darkness of the room cushioning your soft cheeks and muting the glaze in your eyes as you watch him over the bend of your knees. 

“Nah,” you say, your nose scrunching, the weight of the high clearly settling into your skin, “they make you look . . . Uh, they’re cute.” 

Dieter sucks in the side of his cheek, nodding slowly and sliding the glasses back over his nose. Cute, he could work with that. 

“Jeez, would you start the movie already?” You poke his side with your toe. He doesn’t need to look at you to hear the faint blush in your voice. 

He turns the volume up and crosses his arms, smiling faintly. You’re warm next to him, he thinks vaguely, his own high finally starting to sink into his bones. 

Cute. Definitely not a word he’s going to obsess over. 

The movie goes on. 

Nicholas Cage is Nicholas Cage with a mullet.

Your laugh is the clattering of bells in his ears and he can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard his sides hurt. 

He’s coming up from bent over, knees almost to his chest, laughter nearly popping his ribs, when he realizes your feet are in his lap. The arches of your soles, the delicate bones of your ankles, the long smooth planes that run up to your gorgeous calves— 

They are there, in his lap, and you don’t seem to mind. Head turned towards the screen, face bright from laughing, your arm arched back over your head, pressing your chest up —  it’s like you meant for them to be there. 

It’s just one hand, right? Two at the most. Just putting his hands down where he had them a moment ago. Up and — down. 

You don't flinch. His palm is on the arched top of your foot, the other just above your other ankle. 

You do smile, but that might have been because of Nicholas Cage raging again. 

And then, during another bout of giggles, he clutches your shin bone, wraps his fingers around your heel, and laughs and laughs and laughs. 

You wipe the tears away from your eyes, the end credits rolling.

“Fuck, that’s a such a good movie.” 

He swallows, swiping quickly under his glasses before taking them off and chucking them onto the table in front. 

“You’re fucking right it is,” he says hoarsely, leaning forward and plucking up the last of the joint. He inhales, letting the smoke ease stifle the tears in the corner of his eyes, gulping down a breath before offering it to you.

You take it, distracted, eyes on the credits, the light from the screen glowing on your cheeks. 

He presses up under your ankle with his middle finger. “What? You knew what was gonna happen, you’d said you’d seen it before.”  

You nodded, still not looking at him. 

He goes for a more direct approach. He pinches your calf, and you scowl, the light back in your eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, a bit sharply. He’s not nearly done having fun with you, not nearly. You take another sip of smoke before setting the joint back on the table. 

You huff, settling onto your back, pinching at your nails. 

“Just . . . Nothing, it’s stupid.”

Dieter hums. He knows when to let him come to you. He taps the arch of your foot.

“How are you feeling?” His gaze nudges the joint on the table. 

You grin. “Really good. Tingly. Warm. Like everything else is a million miles away.” 

Just the two of us. 

“Enough to tell ol’ Uncle Dee what’s on your mind?”

You roll your eyes and sit up a bit, yanking a pillow behind you. 

“Just thinkin’ about the old days, I guess.” You glance up at him from under your eyes. “Not in a bad way. At all. I just . . .”

“What?” If you gave him hell for the last eleven years, then fuck it, he deserved it. He pulls at your ankle. “What?” 

With a big sigh, you lean back, something finally breaking and, with it, comes a great big smile. 

“Okay, remember when you’d put on those plays with the rest of us kids during those super lame family reunions o-o-or Christmas? Marissa would have everything written out, all the cousins cast and you’d beg her to let you play – fucking – Bear Number 5 or something ridiculous – and she’d fight you on it but she’d relent, always putting on a show of her own – as if a ten year old could be put out like that.” You giggled, biting on your thumb, a sparkling in your eyes that made something in his chest burn. 

Yes, he remembers the incredibly stupid fuzzy ears and the bear claw mittens. The fake roaring. TMZ would have a fucking stroke if those pictures of him, baby-faced, were to ever surface online. He smiles at you and basks in the warmth of those memories, his high making them brighter. 

“I think it would have crushed her little heart if you didn’t ask,” you said, heavy-lidded eyes on you again. “I know it broke her when you stopped showing up at all.” 

His heart actually pinches at that. He knows you’re not scolding him but fuck, maybe he’d feel better if you did. What a fucking idiot he was, for leaving all of that for empty mansions and meals from UberEats and all this fucking gunked up shit in his veins that made him feel older and older every year. Like he was chasing something that was never real in the first place. 

“Look, honey,” the pet name is out of his mouth before he can stop it. He’s twisting towards you, both hands under your calves now. “I should have called. Should have made sure that at least you knew where to find me, even if things between your dad and I were fucked.”

“Oh, God, Dee, no. I don’t blame you. I don’t even blame my dad, sometimes. You just were very different people. He’s fine living his life in the same small ass town in the middle of nowhere. But you weren’t. And, fuck . . . I’m not either.”

He frowns. You bite your lip and continue.

“You know, I thought about following you out to Hollywood. Because of those plays. I had the best fucking time doing them and Hollywood didn’t seem so scary . . . with Uncle Dee out here. But, uh, I dunno. I grew up, I guess. Figured I was better at telling stories than performing them. I just knew I didn’t want to end up like my dad. Dying where I lived. Unremembered.” 

His gut doubles in on itself. Please don’t say you gave up your dreams because I stopped calling. 

“Do you still think about acting?” He asks quietly, trying to fight the faint ringing in his ears. 

“Oh God, no,” you wave your hands, dusting away his near-panic that he’d somehow ruined your life. “I really do prefer writing stories, even if they exist only within the pages of a book. Or a really bad pamphlet, once or twice. I tried to continue the plays at home for a few years, after you left and Marissa took up cheerleading and thought she was too old to play with her little cousins anymore. But it just wasn’t the same without her. Or you.” 

He realizes all too late that he can feel your pulse under your ankle. Strong. Pounding. Pounding, hard. Like you’re nervous. So struck by the notion that he can feel something so personal of yours, the smoke trapped in his brain lifts only slightly when he catches your eyes looking somewhere you absolutely should not be. 

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck, he knows that look. You blink at him, then your gaze slowly slides down, down to his crotch, as smoothly you can beneath the weight of the smoke in your brain and he battles between the desire to throw your legs off him or pull you underneath him.

It’s The Look. 

Men, women, it didn’t matter. The look was the same.

When the possibility of sex first enters their mind, when that first bloom of lust rushes down their spine and the memory of the physical exertion of fucking – all the panting and the heavy breathing, aching muscles and sweat – comes back, as real as a song stuck in your head. When that spark of imagination threatens to sway from the hypothetical to the actual, it’s a look he knows so fucking well, he might as well be able to carve it from clay, blind-folded. 

And you’re giving it to him, right now. 

You haven’t really thought about seducing him yet, no, that part hasn’t crossed your mind yet. But you definitely are imagining what his cock would feel like inside you, and you and your imagination and your wide-eyed gaze at his lap all whole-heartedly agreed: that would be a great fucking thing. 

You, on your elbows, your heel dangerously close to his half-hard cock, the glaze in your eyes having something to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing, and your short breath having everything to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing.

He was quite sure you were completely unaware of the expression your face was making. Eyes hooded, mouth parted, breath short. Masking your emotions and filthy thoughts is a skill set mastered later in life and perhaps the last time you looked at someone like that, they simply bent you over the nearest surface and railed you till your knees buckled. 

What a fucking excellent idea, his libido trilled. Now get off the couch and do something about it. I’m foaming at the fucking mouth here, man. 

Dieter silences his inner horny monster, unintentionally squeezing his hand, the one that happens to be wrapped around your calf. 

The movement seems to break you out of your dizzying spiral and you blink up at him.

He swallows. With a half smirk on the edge of your lips that you try to not let him see, you take your feet out of his lap, then reach forward, your palm alarmingly high on his thigh as you take the joint from his fingers. Your eyes flash like warning signs.

DANGER. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. DANGER.

“So, you gonna give me a tour of this place or what?”

End of Part 1 | Next

[1d1195]

Neighbors II

Read the first part here: Neighbors I

(At least two more parts after this one, I think!)

Harry could feel his cheeks warming at her assessment because even though his mum and Gemma told him he was a lovely human being, they were his family. They adored him because he was lovely but they would have thought that anyway. There was no greater praise than hearing it from the mouth of a pure angel.

It was Friday. Which meant the three of them were supposed to be in her living room watching one of Rory’s movies and eating pizza. But instead, Harry was looking at the house across the road wishing he could see through the walls more than ever. Did she miss him? Did Rory ask about him? He had no business of being missed or asked about. But Harry was so invested in their lives. Rory was arguably his best friend. He told him just about everything and was happy to teach him all the things he needed to know to be a little man. And then her...

Well, Harry had never missed a woman before like this.

It was different though; he couldn’t just ask about her. She had a child and that was her priority—Harry knew that. But something was off, and he didn’t know what he did but all he wanted was to mend the issue.

So, he watched their house from his window hoping for an answer to float across the way.

Rory was watching the TV quietly nibbling at his pizza while she watched the sweet boy giggle at the funny parts even though it was unbearably quiet in comparison to when Harry was here for pizza on Fridays. She thought back to the time Rory invited Harry the first time.

“Mumma, can we have pizza with Harry?” Rory asked. It was a sudden question. The little one looking at Harry on his front porch reading a book and sipping some iced tea in the middle of the summer. She bit her lip. There hadn’t been a single day that week where she wasn’t asking Harry for something.

On Monday he hurried to her car when he saw her pull in from the grocery store while he was at the mailbox getting his mail. Tuesday morning brought in a rainstorm and dropped a sizeable branch in the middle of her yard that needed to be removed ASAP before the kids could play in the yard on Wednesday. It was the very next morning the sound of her scream sent Harry flying across the street knocking anxiously at her door wondering what was harming her. “I’m sorry, I know this is stupid, but there is a frog that snuck in the house.”

“Mommy doesn’t like frogs,” Rory giggled cutely from behind her leg and biting her lip impishly. The relief Harry felt that she and Rory were unharmed was immeasurable. Chuckling to himself (and to Rory) he coaxed the little creature out with the help of Rory while she stayed in a different room waiting for her nightmare to be over.

“My heroes,” she said kissing Rory on the cheek when he came running to tell her they thwarted the frog.

Harry wished she would kiss him on the cheek.

Of course, Harry took his duty seriously watching Rory that Thursday evening as well. Which meant by Friday, when Harry had a long week of working and doing whatever he did to help her out every single day this week, it seemed unfair of her to ask him to hang out again. Surely on a Friday night, in the middle of a beautiful summer, Harry would have better plans than hanging out with a four-year-old and his mom eating pizza.

“I don’t know, baby. I think Harry might need some space from us.”

“Harry said he loves playing with me,” Rory pouted.

She frowned. “Well of course he does, baby. But...Harry has other friends he might want to play with,” she told him. Rory was always a good listener. He did exactly as he was told from the moment he was born.

But this was the first time he ignored his mom in favor of asking for his neighbor.

“Harry!” He shouted loudly from the porch and took off from their little porch.

“Rory James,” she scolded. She remembered the first time she used Rory’s full name in front of Harry and how sad Rory looked. It was nothing to him now, the feisty little boy took it in stride and raced away from his mom.

Harry gave a wave at his name and Rory took off for the road before she could say otherwise. “Look both ways,” she called at the same time Harry did. It made her melt a little to know Harry cared about her son’s well-being as much as she did. (And Rory did look both ways, because he was a very good listener for a four-year-old.)

Harry hurried off his porch to meet Rory in the yard—she was still close behind but at a leisurely pace. Harry got the sense she didn’t want to be a bother (as if that was possible). He wondered what Rory was so up in arms about. He crouched in front of the breathless little one. He heaved his little lungs.

“Do you want to have pizza with us?” He asked excitedly. “Mommy said you need space from us,” he told him. “But I tolded her that you love playing with me.”

She sighed and smirked, slightly annoyed at her little boy for telling the whole truth. “Uh...” Harry chuckled. “Rory, I don’t—”

“You are always welcome over, Harry,” she said softly. “We are getting pizza if you want to come over. I just told Rory you might have plans already.”

If Harry did have plans, he would have cancelled them to hang out with his two neighbors; nothing sounded better than being with his beautiful neighbor and the adorable boy for the evening. “I do like pizza,” he winked at Rory.

“Can we finish our game?” He asked grabbing Harry by the hand and tugging him back toward his house. “Can we show Mumma?”

“Sure lad, we can show Mummy,” he smiled at the sweet girl. “Hi, beautiful,” he greeted finally.

She looked at Rory nervously and Harry swore her face warmed at his greeting. No one had ever greeted her like that in her life. It made her stomach flutter and she turned on her heel letting the boys follow behind her.

Harry missed having pizza on Fridays with them. Since she stopped talking to Harry the days felt endless. He couldn’t focus on anything. His clients probably noticed how differently he’d been acting since the onset of the silent treatment.

As important as it was to mend the relationship between himself and her, Harry really hoped Rory knew it had nothing to do with him and Harry wasn’t abandoning him. But for those two Thursdays that passed, it was breaking Harry’s heart to be without his little best friend.

*

“Mumma, can we have a fire?” Rory asked. “Maybe Harry has s’more stuff.”

She knew there would be no avoiding Harry if they had a fire out front. Sure, they could have it out back, but then it would be obvious from the smell and the smoke that she was hiding from Harry. “Not today, baby,” she said softly. “We’ve gotta go soon,” she reminded him.

Rory sighed heavily. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to have s’mores like that first day he learned about them back when he was too young to remember the day but knew what happened because there had been so many days he had s’mores after that first one.

Harry was finishing his run just before the sun fully set when he saw a flurry of bubbles floating through the air. At first, he thought he wasn’t getting enough oxygen to his brain due to his run and his vision was going right before the point of fainting. He slowed to a jog and turned his music down. As he rounded the corner of the street, he followed the trail of them to Rory and the pretty girl in their yard. “Rory, this is not something we can play around, do you understand?” She asked. He nodded obediently, sitting in his little lawn chair beside the small fire she had started making the entire neighborhood smell like a candle. It was so homey and lovely. Harry loved living across the street from them—loved being part of the neighborhood that had the beautiful girl and sweet boy.

“Can I blow bubbles still?” He asked.

“Yes, baby,” she smiled and tended to the little fire pit she had set up. Her eye caught Harry’s and she gave a small wave. Rory caught it and waved excitedly at him.

“Hi Harry! Come here!” He shouted, waving his hand over to him hurriedly. Harry sauntered over, admiring once more how she gave this sweet boy everything she possibly could and then some.

“Are y’having a s’more party?” Harry asked.

“S’more what?” Rory asked curiously. Harry laughed at his misworded question.

“You remember s’mores, Rory,” she giggled as she went over to her car and Harry knelt beside the little one while he blew bubbles. Harry knew she was only meters away at most from him, but Harry would jump into the fire for that little boy...and her. She pulled another chair from the boot of her car and Harry felt stupid not realizing she was being kind to give Harry a seat. He hurried quickly to take hold of the chair from her and brought it to Rory’s side while she closed her car back up. “We had them at Auntie’s cookout, with the marshmallows and chocolate. Auntie likes them burnt, remember?” She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“Oh!” He said suddenly then turned to Harry blowing more bubbles. “Mumma doesn’t like them burnt. She likes them golden brown.”

“My kinda marshmallow,” Harry winked at him.

“Can we have s’mores Mumma?” Rory asked.

She frowned briefly. “I don’t think we have the stuff for s’mores, baby, but we can go to the store tomorrow and—”

“I think I might have ‘em, hold on,” Harry said and darted across the street. Harry thought nothing of it but to her it meant the world.

“I like Harry,” Rory said to his mom blowing more bubbles.

“I do too,” she answered.

“Do you want to blow some bubbles?” Rory asked her so inquisitively it melted her whole body, and she didn’t know how to love anyone as much as she loved this adorable little boy.

“I’m okay right now,” she smiled at him.

But then Harry returned carrying s’mores sticks, a box of graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows and she thought she spontaneously grew a second heart just to fit Harry in the space of her chest that she would only ever have for Rory once he was born.

“Harry, do you want to blow some bubbles? Can you show Mumma the really big bubble?” Rory asked excitedly holding the wand out to him.

“Rory, baby, he brought over a treat for you, give him a moment, yeah?”

“Sorry,” he smiled excitedly.

Harry snorted with a grin. Handing the s’mores ingredients to her, he took the wand from Rory and looked at her as she opened up the graham cracker box. “S’my one party trick,” he told her.

“I see,” she smiled. “I’ve heard all about it.”

Harry took a deep breath and blew a sizeable bubble for sure; one that had Rory in awe once more. “Isn’t that cool Mumma?”

“Very cool. You’ll have to ask Harry to show you how to do it,” she winked at Harry.

“Mumma’s good at blowing too,” Rory nodded at Harry knowingly.

Harry had the biggest grin on his face as he pressed his hand over his mouth to keep it under wraps. “Jesus,” she muttered under her breath and pinched the bridge of her nose pausing her opening of the supplies. Harry snickered.

“Blowing bubbles is a good skill,” Harry said ignoring Rory’s unknown innuendo once more but couldn’t help but think about it anyway, he sent a wink in her direction, and she rolled her eyes. Kids say the darndest things and all that.

“How come you have s’mores supplies?” She asked curiously diverting drastically from Rory’s mishap.

“S’summer,” he shrugged. “Y’have t’be prepared for s’mores,” he said.

“A regular boy scout you are, Harry,” she smiled.

Harry wondered if she would even ask if she needed something now. Or if she had to be prepared for everything. He knew it was only two or so weeks and it wasn’t as if her house was going to suddenly catch fire. But after two years of seeing his neighbors just about every day, he wished he could just ask what went wrong and how he could fix it. All he wanted was to be there for the two of them.

But really, he wanted to be there for her. She was always there for everyone else. She didn’t have a choice and Harry knew it because of the fact she was a mom, a babysitter, a hard worker but most importantly herself. There wasn’t a world in which she wouldn’t give someone a piece of her if they asked politely.

With all the time Harry spent across the street he wanted nothing more than to be the person she was for everyone else. The one she could depend on for anything. It broke his heart to know she was trying to do it all on her own and gave up on Harry after so long. And really, he did know it wasn’t all that long of a time. But for a five-year-old (and Harry) it felt like a lifetime.

*

“Rory, Harry’s driveway and back,” she said.

Harry had truly gone above and beyond for them today. Rory’s bike had seen better days and she decided it was time Rory got a new one (especially with his new growth spurt). This one had its training wheels still intact and so not only did Harry go to the store to help him pick out a bike (and nearly tried paying for it when she wasn’t looking), but Harry also strapped it to her car safely, and found the tools to remove the training wheels and fix the seat. He didn’t even mind when Rory insisted he help despite it making it an unnecessarily challenging and lengthy process. Once the wheels were off though, there was no stopping Rory. It was agreed that as long as he had his helmet on Rory could ride the little path between their houses.

“Thank you,” she said so gratefully. She always sounded grateful, but it made Harry’s chest warm over. He didn’t need the heartfelt thank you, he would have done it anyway. Her kindness just made him happier.

“Of course, beautiful. Anything for you guys,” he smiled at her sweetly and reached out to give her arm a squeeze. It sent a tingling sensation all the way through her veins and Harry wondered if she ever felt electricity like the way he just felt it. “M’jus’ gonna put this away,” he said nodding toward her backyard. While putting the forgotten wheels and tools back in her shed, Rory came racing back nearly breathless.

“There’s people at your house!” Rory said excitedly. “They like my bike!”

Harry tilted his head curiously. He wasn’t expecting visitors, but he was glad they liked Rory’s bike, nonetheless. He snagged Rory off the ground and placed him on his hip. “Well, they must be good company. Let’s go see ‘em,” he grinned and Rory nodded.

Harry pushed the gate back to the front of the house open and he smiled. “Ah...” he hummed. “Well isn’t this a surprise,” he called. The three women turned to the sound of his voice and Anne and Gemma waved to the two boys.

“Who are they?” Rory asked.

“That’s my mum and sister,” he whispered to Rory, but he was sure they could hear.

“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t know you had a mom too,” he said.

“Sure do,” he smiled and set Rory back down on his own feet. The sweet girl was just ending her sentence that sounded like an introduction that melted into telling his family how much she loved having him as a neighbor. Harry could feel his cheeks warming at her assessment because even though his mum and Gemma told him he was a lovely human being, they were his family. They adored him because he was lovely but they would have thought that anyway. There was no greater praise than hearing it from the mouth of a pure angel.

“Is this Rory?” Anne asked.

“It certainly is,” she smiled.

“Well, hi Rory,” Gemma said crouching down in front of him. “Harry’s told us so much about you! Thanks for playing with him all the time!”

“Say hi,” she encouraged the little one. “That’s Harry’s sister. Like me and Auntie,” she winked at Rory when he shyly hid behind her leg. Rory knelt beside her leg as well.

“This is Gemma,” Harry said. “And my mum,” he gestured. She waved back.

“Mummy was just showing us your new bike,” Anne said.

Rory nodded. “I can ride it all by myself,” he said proudly.

“No way!” Gemma said in surprise. “You must be ten years old!”

He giggled and shook his head. “No m’five!” He said holding his hand up.

“FIVE?!” Gemma gasped dramatically. “Oh my goodness, you look so much older,” she nodded knowingly. The pride on Rory’s face continued.

“Do you want to show us how you ride?” Anne asked.

“Harry helped teached me,” he nodded and gathered the bike up to standing so he could show it off.

“Harry taught you,” she said sweetly nodding. “Harry does a lot of teaching around here,” her voice was full of admiration, but Harry was busy helping Rory in the middle of the road. He smiled back at all the ladies in his life.

“She’s stunning, Harry,” Gemma said to her brother while his mum stood by with the girl in the yard. Rory was zooming back and forth between the driveways while the siblings stood in the middle of the road. Harry felt a smug proudness and he smiled shyly, nodding at his sister’s words.

“She’s amazing, Gem,” he hummed quietly, the admiration was so thick in his voice and there wasn’t a reason he should be so enamored in that moment, but he was. Gemma smiled at her brother who only had eyes for the girl chatting with their mother.

“I really love that,” she said giving his arm a squeeze.

*

After Gemma and Anne left, Rory was quite tired from all the excitement of meeting new people. With a sweaty little helmet head, she turned the water on in the bathtub to a warm temperature. “Go pick out some jammies,” she said sitting on the tub edge.

Rory nodded and rubbed his fist against his eye getting tired by the moment. “Mumma? I like Harry,” he said from the hallway.

Smiling, she nodded. “I like him too,” she said softly.

“Is Harry going to be my dad? Will we move across the street?” He asked with a giant yawn.

The questions were so innocent. Harry had been in their lives for two years and a few months. Every day they saw him made her heart flutter as if it were that first day he pulled into his drive and came over to introduce himself to Rory. There were so many times he made her life feel so complete—helping Rory learn and being there for him when she couldn’t answer his questions made her long for something she didn’t think was possible after Rory was born.

How many nights had been spent praying for someone that would love her and Rory so much? How did she get so lucky to meet Harry? How many times had she thought about living with her neighbor since she met him?

But somehow it twisted and spiraled into awful thoughts when Rory asked it.

The questions and prayers she used to beg to be asked and answered devolved into horrible what-if questions that couldn’t leave her mind.

What if he finds someone else? Someone that doesn’t have a son... What if he gets a new job and leaves? What if he gets a girlfriend? What if we do date and then it changes everything? What if he doesn’t like me anymore?

Why would he want to be in a relationship with someone that has a son?

“Oh...oh Rory,” she whispered softly. “I...I don’t think,” she felt the pain of saying Harry wouldn’t be his dad in every part of her body. She could feel it stabbing like thousands of tiny needles on her tongue. It made her feel sick. “Harry isn’t...” she shook her head and sighed prepared to break Rory’s little heart. “Rory, I’m sorry, baby,” she started.

And her own.

[dsudis]

Talk Shop Tuesday: If you could immediately pluck one story/concept/idea from your brain and have it fully formed in front of you, exactly as you would want, what would that idea be? Can you describe it to us, along with any potential factors that are slowing you down/blocking you from creating it in the first place? Thanks! <3 -@fieldsofview

Oh, boy, that is a question!

My first thought is that I'd like to have When Two Become One (or, oh dear, Little and Broken, but Still Good) completed, just to not have the dangling WIP to worry about.

But really, honestly, if I was sitting here with the one-use-only magical wishing stone that would take a story from my brain and give me a ready-to-release perfect version of it? I would ask it to finish the historical-with-magic m/m romance that I started writing a bit over five years ago and had plotted five followups to.

It's such a great story! It has magical soulbonds that are made, not found! It has a whole system of gay marriage fitted into a historical setting in a way that I personally find satisfying and logical! It has the obstacle to marriage between our heroes being that they are too exactly well-matched for each other (and therefore it's painfully difficult to determine which of them ought to become a non-person and lose his independent inheritance and social status by becoming the dependent spouse of the other, because it's 1834 and somebody has to not be a whole legal person anymore after they get married, that's the rules).

It has COMPLEMENTARY MAGICAL ABILITIES REVEALING ROMANTIC COMPATIBILITY. It has YEARNING. It has a DUEL (well, almost) and a huge historic disaster that our heroes get swept up in, leading to SWOONING FROM MAGICAL EXHAUSTION. It has the baby sister who the hero wants to protect SOLVING PROBLEMS HERSELF, with the help of her trans girlfriend. (It has magical gender affirmation for trans people, because what kind of magical setting would it be if it didn't??) It has a HORRIBLE COUSIN WHO WILL INHERIT THE ESTATE who turns out in a subsequent book to be not really horrible at all so much as, you know, autistic and traumatized and dashed awkward in sensitive situations, and in need of just the right adorable twink to understand him and love him.

It unfortunately has a terminal lack of writing momentum due to me picking away at it through all the years when my writing had not come home from the wars, and so I just feel sort of exhausted every time I think about figuring out what the fuck happens in chapter five and how to put that into words and sentences and paragraphs, so I've stuck it in the drawer and moved on to things that I feel a bit less daunted by, although just this second I feel daunted by every activity more complicated than playing Cake Sort on my phone and watching a lot of Air Crash Investigations, because life is a lot right now.

But if I just had this novel straight from the wishing stone, I could read it, and I'm sure I would love the whole thing again and be ready to write the next five books, and also I could publish the dear thing and tell people it's a bit like a KJ Charles (with less murder) or Jordan L Hawk (with less eldritch horror), and it would probably sell pretty decently and I could be firmly on the way with my five year plan to be able to do more writing and less day-jobbing. And that would be awfully nice.

[minnesota-fats]

ANOTHER FIC CONCEPT I THOUGHT OF BUT WONT WRITE SO FEEL FREE TO WRITE IT IF YALL WANNA!!!

So like its kinda angsty but you know, what dc x dp fic isnt!?

So Danny is dating Dick Grayson (or any other bat of your choice—I picked Dick cuz this is the least shipped character with Danny and I want to be the change I want to see in the world!)

They are both 25 or something, living in Bludhaven

Danny knows Dick is Nightwing but doesn’t do the hero thing anymore so it doesn’t really bother him (much)

But every Tuesday Danny goes out for the day and comes back looking absolutely crushed.

Dick will ask him whats wrong only for Danny to brush him off.

Dick decides to tail Danny one Tuesday cuz he’s worried

He follows Danny all the way to Gotham and then to Arkham Asylum

Dick manages to get Barbra to hack into the cam system so he can spy on his BF without being caught

Turns out Danny is meeting his parents who are inmates at Arkham and the reason they are there is because they tried to kill Danny (thats what their file says according to Barbra and after doing research the Fenton’s are your classic mad scientists)

In the camera feed Dick can hear how Danny’s parents swear up and down that the man in front of them isn’t their son but rather a monster that took his place.

Danny will tell them about what is happening in his life before eventually he gives up and walks out of the room when they don’t listen to him.

Danny walks out of the building and is face to face with Dick who only looks at him with a sad expression.

Danny tries to brush it off only for dick to hug him and tell him its alright

Danny breaks down and tells Dick about his parents

How they hurt him to the point he nearly died

How he comes back every week in hope that they will finally see that he isn’t some monster but their son who still loves them despite what they did to him

Dick just holds him and listens

When Danny calms down he decides that the best corse of action is to take him to Wayne manor where Alfred the god of making people feel better is and maybe stay for dinner if Danny was up to it

Now an alternative/additional plot divice

Arkham break out

Jack and Maddie whip up ghost hunting equipment from anything and everything they find

They track down Danny just for the chance to PROVE he is a monster that took the place of their baby boy

Danny gets taken

Dick and the Batfam have to save him

And maybe Jazz is there and ready to kick ass for her baby brother!

The rest is up to you, just link me the fic if you write it!

[hey-hamlet]

Yaoyorozu Yakuza+Yakuzashi! (The one where Yamada is a Yakuza) FIVE IDEAS PLUS (from you) AND A QUESTION FROM ME!

Does 1-A just end up sorta adopted by the Yakuza in this one? I can imagine Yagi just sipping his coffee, keeping an eye on everything as he does his paperwork and then see two groups of OBVIOUS YAKUZA walk into the dorms with a bunch of stuff and just plop down with him like it’s a Tuesday, and he’s just “??????????” Until he puts two and two together.

The Yamada family was one of the Yaoyorozu's worse rivals in the early days, but they were also some of the first families to go to ground when heroes started sniffing around, and they decided it was better to work together than alone. They aren't super interconnected, but they have agreements in place to minimize conflicts.

The Yaoyorozu family always delt more in smuggling, forgeries and thefts, while the Yamada's were more about protection rings, extortion and have a lot of pretense in the police and government. They both have a few gambling set ups, but the Yaoyorozu's is closer to legal.

Yaomomo and Mic meet eyes in their first English lesson and Momo has to fight an embarrassed flush, like "Ah. He knows. This is mortifying." Mic is laughing a little, internally. He's spent so long being very good at keeping his lives separate that he thinks its adorable a baby young master is stuck in his class! Shes trying so hard! Go, Yaomomo! You can do it!

Neither of them notice Izuku's considering looks

Anyway, turns out Izuku with blackmail? Very scary. After the Stain incident he gets a second to put everything together and hes not happy with what he finds. Mic is all warm and fuzzy that Shouta has a student who likes him so much he'd threaten an important member of the family and a full pro hero. (Izuku doesn't threaten Yaomomo because 1, shes very sweet and 2, her family is much much less violent! The Yamada's,,,, not so much.) Izuku just wants his class to live to see graduation and if he has to give himself stress induced heart palpitations then by god he will. Yaomomo is wailing like "PLEASE DONT THREATEN THE TEACHER AND THE FIRST MAN I EVER SAW COMMIT A MURDER IM BEGGING YOU"

Anyway, Mic's family does run a bit of a protection detail around UA campus after the USJ, on Mic's request. Izuku eventually makes peace with the scary man with a large knife helping him carry groceries because hes in Aizawa's class and therefore under Mic's protection. He's not happy about it, but he can deal.

Anyway, 1A is blissfully unaware, Izuku is stressed and mad, Yaomomo is embarrassed because members of her family have joined in, and Aizawa just wants a break from having to remember his best friend is a criminal. All Might on god doesn't care as long as they don't hurt the students, but he was confused.

[crguang]

I like paying Genshin…🫣 but I suppose you and I can’t have all the same opinions. Speaking of which, I don’t understand why people like Natasha…I’m sorry in advance. I can understand liking most of the others, like I get the appeal but idk….can u explain? now that I’ve told you all my bad opinions…I still haven’t gotten all the messages from Kafka, very upset, I got yanqing from standard the same day AND HE KEEPS MESSAGING ME, I need him to stfu. I was rewatching kafkas story quest and umm, I haven’t looked at that photo in a bit….ngl I kinda want to rip open that slit in her shirt and—yk I need to sleep, ik when I start being less shy I need more sleep I haven’t sleep for like two days. also my friend just said that I probably don’t like nat bc she’s a doctor…my mommy issues strike again.

-🌠

i loved genshin i played it for over 3 years but by sumeru their characters stopped appealing to me, arlecchino saved me from boredom in fontaine and that archon quest was also really good but character wise she’s the only one i care about. with natlan and those white ass characters i just cant like logging in and seeing white people with latin indigenous/african inspired clothing, names and history pisses me off to no end, they lost me forever with that one bc yelan reran and i still didn’t log in consistently to get her cons… shes c3 forever now. i get mad seeing any natlan character atp like im so over this stupid game

not liking natasha is insane… if you like himeko theres no reason to not be as crazy about nat because they’re so similar personality wise and we actually know more about nat than we do about hsr himeko rn😭 i don’t see why you don’t see the appeal honestly, she’s a sweetheart who’s upheld an entire city basically on her own. not to diminish wildfire members but she literally created that too. only doctor in an impoverished and disorganized city, runs an orphanage, leader of the sole organization meant to keep the peace… she’s willingly taking on all of that responsibility because she can and wants to help. shes not even from the underworld, she was adopted by a couple in the overworld and did her studies there. not to mention that before she was a doctor in the underworld she went on expeditions to heal those fighting against/researching the fragmentum…she’s literally the most “morally good” aligned person ever. disliking her is kinda unimaginable to me bc all shes done is save people’s lives and be pretty. kafka’s nothing compared to my natty. i get it if she’s just not your kind of character but disliking her is insane to me when himeko is the same kind of kind-hearted, diplomatic, intelligent, courageous, ruthless-when-need-be person😭 natasha stepped up and saw people dying all around her for over a decade, she gave kids like Seele a future and a purpose in life and has spent every day fighting for them, she’s even condemned her own brother because the methods he was using for his research/goals were hurting others. hasnt talked to her parents in years and didnt know her dad had died because of it so she wasn’t allowed a moment to grieve like im sorry shes a hero of the people, no one has worked harder than she has— i’ll die defending natasha she’s incredibly admirable and inspiring to me. she thanks her patients for surviving gruesome surgeries, imagine the amount of people she’s lost because of the underworld’s lack of supplies yet she CARRIES ON! the strongest person ever. and she’s so gorgeous like that’s my baby fr. plus her voice is really nice. she’s the whole package, i take her so seriously if theres only one natasha fan in the galaxy its me!!! thee only healer for months before lynx came out, let’s all remember our roots (i wasn’t there but wtv) for a second. everyone’s used natty she’s an OG!

i thought kafka had only 2 messages and was getting moze/jiaoqiu’s for days then saw that anonymous “hi, nyx” and lost my mind at 6am on tuesday. hope u get them soon theyre so pathetic… she cares so bad. like soooo bad i cant believe she exposes herself like this do we think it’s because texting is easier or bc she’s intrinsically linked to the tb or both?… because those texts (+ the fact that it’s her reaching out) are just insane.

i love how yall never go all the way with thirsting when i literally write smut like i promise you can say you wanna fuck her 😭😭 everyone’s gonna agree. the things i’d do to her would have me in the hospital for dislocated joints like it’s okay theres no shame in being horny

and you definitely need to go to bed!!!!!!!! now!!!! try taking some melatonin/tea if you can or getting off your phone an hour before going to sleep, it might help a little. but you should be sleeping it’s dangerous to go too long without it, how are you even functioning right now

[lonelychicago]

temptation tuesday!

tagged by: @honestlydarkprincess @rogerzsteven @swiftiebuckleys @jobairdxx @ebdaydreamer @buddiearemydads @911onabc

sooo, like every week, i have so many ideas i wanna wrote and are tempting me away from my current wips.

established buddie with buck finding an engagement ring and putting it on and then the ring getting stuck. (maddie loves her brother but also she thinks this is karma, sweet amaziiing karma)

marriage of convenience: a baby gets dropped at the station and buck just can't let that baby go. he wants to foster and adopt but the social worker tells him he's not the best candidate (being single and with an unstable job) and so eddie has the genius idea to get married! so buck can adopt!! ofc!!

after i watched the last spiderman movie i really wanted to write something like that?? not about super heroes or anything but my idea was maybe eddie dies after the shooting, so buck finds a witch or something and makes a deal to save him but the catch is that everyone forgets about him?? like he never existed? kinda like what happens with peter at the end of the movie lmao. or alternatively “who are you” “so this is gonna sound really weird right now but i made a deal to save your life but at the cost of all of your memories of us together and i’m acting like i’m not bothered but i’m dying inside” au

actors au their fans have been shipping them forever even if they're from different shows until oh will you see that, they've casted as a couple!!! finally!!!

spies au undercover and having to pretend be on a relationship

buck suddenly loses his hearing (temporarily) after a call

reluctant eddie being part of the PTA and teacher buck orrr teachers au where their students ship them but they're secretly dating

tagging (no pressure): @cowboy-buddie @cowboy-buck @monsterrae1 @buddierights @alyxmastershipper @fatedbuddie @destielbuddiepipeline @souschefdiaz @comaboybuck @shortsighted-owl @spaceprincessem @elvensorceress @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @thosetwofirefighters @the-likesofus

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

DORO PESCH And ROB HALFORD Have Recorded A Cover Of 'Total Eclipse Of The Heart': 'It Sounds Really, Really Special'

During an appearance on yesterday's (Tuesday, September 12) episode of SiriusXM's "Trunk Nation With Eddie Trunk", German metal queen Doro Pesch revealed that her upcoming studio album, "Conqueress - Forever Strong And Proud", will include two separate duets with JUDAS PRIEST singer Rob Halford: the recently released cover of the PRIEST classic "Living After Midnight" and a version of the 1983 global smash hit "Total Eclipse Of The Heart", written by Jim Steinman and originally performed by the Welsh singer Bonnie Tyler.

"The record has 20 songs on it, and I think they all sound killer," Doro said (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET). "And it has three duets on it, and two duets with my favorite, with Rob Halford of JUDAS PRIEST, and I can't believe it. It's so awesome to me. I was a big, big PRIEST fan, and it was my very first big tour in 1986. And [Rob and I] met [again] last year in France at Hellfest, a great festival. And then we were talking, hanging out. And then we said, 'Hey, let's do something together.' So we did two duets. And the first one is 'Living After Midnight'. That was my choice, because I loved singing it. It was always a feel-good song. And then Rob Halford said, 'I have the song I always wanted to do with you. It's 'Total Eclipse Of The Heart'.' And that came out so great. When you hear it, you can tell Rob loves the song and I'm so happy. Even two duets, man. That's more than I can ask for. I'm a lucky baby, I tell you."

Asked if "Total Eclipse Of The Heart", will be a bonus track on the album, since it didn't appear in the LP's original track listing, Doro said: "It is on the record, but it just got finished a couple of weeks ago. Actually, I delivered the record and the vinyl is already done. And then I got an e-mail. Rob Halford said, 'Hey, what about the second song?' And I thought, 'Oh, man. That's too good to be true.' And then we did the second song. And it just got done a couple of weeks ago. We will do a video for that song, and it will come out — the video and the single will come out the day the record will be released, so on the 27th of October. But it came out so awesome. And oh, man, that was just the icing on the cake. I thought I was done with record. And [PRIEST producer] Andy Sneap, he worked on it, and my guys worked on it, and it was a great teamwork. And Rob Halford sounds so great on it. It's, like, wow. It's definitely one of my absolute favorite songs of this album, and it sounds really, really special. You have to check it out. But yeah, it's brand new — just got done; mastering just got done. And video we are doing in a few weeks."

Pressed by host Eddie Trunk whether her version of "Total Eclipse Of The Heart" is "heavy", Doro said: "Yes, yes, it is heavy, and it's, like, wow. It's very heavy, but it sounds great, I think, yeah. I think it's a killer version. I always get goosebumps when I hear it. And I think other people who heard it, they thought, 'Wow.'

"I think all my dreams came true working with all these great people, all my heroes, all people who inspired me so much," Doro added. "And [PRIEST] was my very first tour in Europe in '86 when metal was so huge. And it was such a great tour. So [Rob and I] finally did something together. And we always stayed friends. So I think that makes this album even more special to me, and I think many fans will love it."

"Conqueress - Forever Strong And Proud" is described in a press release as "the result of intensive hard work that took the incomparable singer and songwriter back to studios in Miami, New York and Hamburg, amongst others. The album presents Doro at the height of her creative powers."

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale Reviews: ML Season 5 episode 6 Determination

(Spoilers below)

And let me warn you... It is a LOT

As with all ML we get 6 before 5

THEY ARE WITH THE BUBBLES AND HAIR FLIP! Adrien is so in love!

“Why did she leave so quickly?” “She doesn’t do fencing with us.” Kagami I love you dearly

Good gravy the water color is pretty, and Adrien is simping so damn hard for it

Omg, was that a Marinette-ism? Adrien demonstrating PEAK simp behavior and I’m living for it

“You look at her like how I wished you had looked at me” DAMN! Kagami went for the throat with that one. She makes solid points

So cutting away to kitty section, Marinette made stickers cause they got a record label.

Did they mention Bob roth?

Adrien calls her, she flips a bit, but kitty section just look at her like it’s Tuesday

Points to Adrien for actually calling about it. Sure Kagami pushed him for it, but boy f***ing did it

Kitty section heard her mention Adrien mention feelings and they all crowd her. That’s hilarious

Kagami is like “not the Museum!” But he did it

Luka appears to be part of the cheer squad now. Which is what I expected at this point. Makes him more tolerable

But Marinette is not exactly thrilled

Wait! The statue scene!? Remembered positively? Someone summon @gentil-minou

So seems that Luka noticed something was up. Guess I can’t have nice things

So Marinette isn’t denying she loves Adrien but that s*** is complicated and that the statue scene is cringe. Which we relive again!

Well damn, Marinette is very much aware of her issue regarding romance. I swear it’s like something happened that gave her love trauma or something. Aside from chat blanc I mean.

Wait a minute, she is having Luka accompany her… wait a minute, is this Frozer 2.0?

ML really gave Marinette and Adrien emotional support Exes.

Well at least with context I don’t feel annoyance at the scene.

Kagami here finding it amusing that Adrien is a jelly bean

Luka really just said “cut the crap” to Marinette in the nicest way possible. I approve of this blue boy

And Marinette…

But Luka ain’t having it! Well damn. I guess I have to stan for now (you still on thin ice)

Luka was straight up about to leave. But she begs for help

Adrien asked if Kagami was staying. Kagami is like “Trust me bitch, you will need me.”

That Adrien Siri is weird. Like she talking to Adrien but then Siri Adrien

The museum curator called Veronique (like Veronica)

This episode really is if Frozer and puppeteer 2.0 had a baby but it was made with love despite the tension

Marinette and Adrien have VERY different memories of that scene

Adrien! MY GUY! MY DUDE! Fucking dropping that bomb with the softest smile

Even Luka and Kagami are like “wait what!?” Then just walk off while Marinette panics

Luka explains why Adrien and Marinette are having trouble communicating their feelings in a nice way

Kagami “They are idiots”

Adrien clarifying that he does understand it was awkward but he wasn’t embarassed

Boy was feeling this in SEASON 3! I f***ing knew it!

I see that Marinette is like:

She is panicking

Luka really out here being Marinette’s brain cell

Kagami “you jelly?”

Adrien “I don’t know? But I do wish that were me”

Okay so I see where the mayor is coming from, but he is kind of a dick about the statues

Veronique is correct in this

Oh the mayor is playing dirty, yep! That’s what I expected from a filthy politician

Adrien is trying, Lord knows he is trying

Adrien chuckling at her antics. And Luka and Kagami are representing use viewers

But now the blue bergade got a plan

Luka and Kagami Litterally used the trap from 3 episodes ago. I’m amazed

And cue monarch

The container spheres hover? It’s cool and I HATE IT

Well damn, monarch really be twisting these words and akumatizing people with clever arguements

So she is now immune to powers. Anyone realize we are getting a better look at the powers now than with the other heroes in season 4?

JUST WHEN IT WAS GETTING GOOD! A f***ing akuma shows up!

Marinette yeeted our so quickly she left the boy!

Manipula, sweetie. You are being manipulated

Also I like the name

Chat noir out here being ladybug motivation

Oooo! Each card has a piece of the akuma. Neat!

Villainous akuma “open the museum!”

Chloe (who has no powers) “No!”

Mayor. “Well you heard her…”

Damn, manipula playing hard ball

Cue montage, also they beat polymouse and trapped her like a rat

“You are in great shape chaton” ladybug please contain your thirst… I’m kidding KEEP GOING

Replica ladybug (summons massive weapon) ah as expected

Yo… did that clone just talk?! That’s some mind games level s***.

THE BUBBLES! Oh we be seeing a reversal of the square! Oh damn!!!

Lucky charm is a bowling ball

Casually points to mayor in corner

Chloe out here being salty despite being a hostage. Like seriously Chloe get over it

Chat noir managed to get over using cataclysm quick. Also bitch be a fucking G with that move. Your power doesn’t work on her!

Chat noir out here being motivational

Ladybug drops a chandelier on her head. Damn. Well this shows that the power only nulifies powers. So basically the secret to winning it “HITTING THEM REALLY HARD!”

She forgot minotaurox.

Ladybug was ready to our right confess, and chat noir is like “I know what you mean best buddy!”

Ladybug wanted him to stay. Ugh!!! My heart!

And the sad music! I can’t!

Adrien is looking for her. Baby boy

HE ADMITS IT!!!!

And Marinette admits to loving chat noir!

__________________________________________

Welp, as lovesquare trash, this episode was amazing

10/10

It had good stakes, excellent drama. And it made me enjoy every scene with the blue boy

I loved every minute of it.

I liked the fight, I enjoyed the hilarious antics. It was done right.

[beardedmrbean]

When Boubacar Touré and his flatmates heard a sudden, thundering crash beside their apartment, they thought it was an earthquake. But then they opened the windows of their kitchen, where they were cooking dinner, and one shouted: "A bus has fallen."

"We ran down to the spot where the bus was on fire and I heard a woman screaming, 'My baby, my baby,'" 27-year-old Boubacar, who is from The Gambia says, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

"I managed to pull her through the window and then pulled out her son, who was badly burnt but still alive."

The bus, carrying tourists back to a nearby campsite after a day in the historical centre of Venice, had been driving along a busy overpass when it suddenly careened off the side on Tuesday evening. It smashed through the barriers and plunged several metres towards a railway track where it burst into flames.

At least 21 people died. Of the 15 who are injured, most remain in intensive care. Some of the victims were children, including a baby.

Warning: This story contains descriptions of distressing scenes

Among the dead are nationals from seven countries, the Venice mayor's office says, including Ukraine, Germany, Romania and Portugal.

Boubacar describes how he grabbed the fire extinguisher from the bus to help quell the flames - but that wasn't enough.

"Passers-by were giving me other extinguishers but nothing helped, we had to wait for the firefighters", he recalls. "So I pulled others to safety, a woman and a man and a child. People were bleeding from their heads, there was so much blood."

His flatmate, Odion Eboigbe from Nigeria, was with him, pulling others through the wreckage of the mangled vehicle - an electric-powered bus whose batteries are thought to have caught fire.

"We were able to save many but unfortunately others died", he says.

"I wasn't scared, I didn't think of my own safety because I saw people with their heads split open. Today my colleagues asked me: 'what were you thinking when you went towards the flames,' and I told them I just had to save the women and children."

Once emergency workers arrived, they spent hours dousing the flames and helping the injured.

The fire was so intense that DNA samples will need to be used to identify some of the dead.

At the spot on the overpass where the bus took its final catastrophic turn, the guard-rails are smashed apart and fragments of glass lie on the tarmac. A passer-by has laid yellow flowers.

Authorities say there was no sign of a sudden braking by the bus. Indeed, CCTV from the moment before the crash shows the vehicle steadily climbing the overpass and then apparently slowing down before inexplicably toppling against the barriers and off to the side.

The driver, Alberto Rizzotto, had worked for the bus company for seven years. The most likely cause, say the authorities, is that he had a sudden medical problem that made him lose control. In his last Facebook post, he said he was "running a shuttle to Venice."

Relatives of the victims have started arriving in Venice from abroad. Among the injured are nationals of Ukraine, Germany, Croatia and Spain.

According to local media, they include two German brothers, aged 7 and 13, who lost both their parents. There were "entire families, grandparents, grandchildren, spouses" on board, said Chiara Berti from the Angelo di Mestre hospital.

The tragedy has already raised questions about the state of the barriers on the overpass, which were clearly rusting and aged.

Domenico Musicco, the head of an association for road accident victims, called it "a tragedy foretold".

"Italian road maintenance is poor. Too little is invested in road safety. It is estimated that 30% of accidents are down to that," he told the news agency AFP.

Venice has declared three days of mourning for a tragedy that has profoundly shaken this city.

Boubacar and Odion say they haven't slept since the crash.

When I put it to them that some would call them heroes, they shrug. "If saving people makes you a hero, then maybe", says Boubacar.

"But when somebody needs help because they're dying, you can't just walk away."

[mermaidsirennikita]

I am having withdrawl

Can you recommend any books that are warm and fuzzy like the christmas notch books with high heat?

I can't wait for the third book.

Oh yes!

Out on a Limb by Hannah Bonam-Carter is a great one. It's high heat in the very beginning (VERY hot) and then towards the end, because the couple meets at a Halloween party in the beginning, has a one night stand in her best friend's guest bedroom, and then has to deal with an oops baby. They're kind of a slow burn from there, but when it's happening... it's happening. And the tension is INSANE. Otherwise very warm and fuzzy.

Julie Soto writes high heat books with some angst but overall warm feelings, very emotional and like a good romcom movie. Forget Me Not is focused on a uptight wedding planner who ends up having to work with her ex situationship on an important wedding (he's a tattooed florist). She also wrote Not Another Love Song, which has a pair of classical musicians dueling for first chair (but he's oBSESSED with her).

Chef's Choice by TJ Alexander. This one has a woman agreeing to fake date a French heir to a massive fortune (in exchange for money) while he competes in an ancient family cooking competition. Yes. It's a slow burn, and the heat is more towards the end, but it's GOOD. Both leads are trans. Triple Sec has a good bit more heat (it's hoooot), and it's a healthy, surprisingly cozy poly romance in which a bartender begins dating a hot sparkly lawyer who practices ethical non-monogamy with her wife... Only to start having feelings for the brooding artist wife as well. F/F/NB.

If you're open to college sports romances (it actually transitions to the NFL in the second book), Kristen Callihan's Game On series gives me the warm fuzzies, and it's SUPER hot. Especially The Friend Zone, which is one of the only friends to lovers books that super works for me. That.... has a thing that we don't see enough of in m/f romance ;))))) a think that provokes the hero to beg she does it to him on birthdays, weekends, every Tuesday, etc etc. Just don't tell The Guys! The Hook Up and The Hot Shot are also really good.

Reckless by Stella Rhys is so under-appreciated. It's a little angsty at points, but it's so HOT and really has a great relationship between the hero and heroine. She's his assistant, but she's also like, his best friend and his work wife. Then she finds out her fiance is cheating when they're on a work trip, and he says something he shouldn't.... but he should... but the workplace violations lol... and we're off to the races from there.

The Prospects by KT Hoffman is a really fun m/m baseball romance with a trans hero (the first openly trans man in the Minor Leagues). He ends up having to play with a guy he was friends with when they were younger who just ditched him, and we quickly go from rivals to lovers to something more. A bit more of a slow burn again, but the heat is GOOD. Very warm and fuzzy.

Heated Rivalry by Rachel Reid and The Long Game, its direct sequel. My go-to comfort read, an m/m hockey romance that heats up in the very beginning and doesn't let up from there. SUPER hot. A forbidden, hidden affair. But also a ton of sweetness. A TON.

The Worst Guy by Kate Canterbary. A pair of surgeons who hate each other begin a no-strings, sex only situationship while they're in workplace mediation, lol. Refreshing too in that they're both in their late thirties/forties. Very sweet.

You, Again by Kate Goldbeck. A gender-flipped When Harry Met Sally, in which a stiff (haha) chef who just wants to settle down hates the stand-up comedian he meets when they're seeing the same girl (her way less seriously than him). They're enemies at first, then become friends over the years... and maybe more...

American Royalty by Tracey Livesay. Really fun—an uptight prince of England has to organize a charity concert and invites a famous rapper/upcoming mogul. But.... they really want each other.