#hey so if this flops i will actually be devastated

[oleafia-art]

all of the ire i’ve swallowed, all of the coals that still sit in my gut, i am always burning up

[sanguineterrain]

Hey, I love your writing, your Jason fics are always so tender and authentic

I was wondering if you would write something where Reader is pulled aside by someone and asked whether they're in danger (since Jason is pretty big and intimidating) and later they laugh it off because they find it absurd but it gets to Jason and perhaps brings some insecurities to the surface

this is actually devastating!!! thank you for requesting 🤌

jason todd x gn!reader. tw: wrongly assumed abuse and jason being gutted at the idea, hurt/comfort, reassurance, estab relationship.

****

"Chocolate is obviously superior."

Jason sighs, flopping against the diner booth dramatically. "What a shame to be so wrong. Vanilla stays on top."

"Vanilla is boring as hell, Jay," you say, throwing your napkin at him. He catches it. Of course. "On the milkshake hierarchy, vanilla is barely a step above whatever monstrosity a peppermint bark shake is."

"Buddy, I happen to like drinking toothpaste." He points a finger at you. "And that's my God-given right."

"It's an abomination is what it is." You take a long, pointed sip of your shake. "Mm, the taste of good choices."

Jason traps both of your legs between his under the table. You gasp and try to wiggle free, but his strength is merciless.

"If it's an abomination, why is it on the menu?" he asks, grinning as you squirm.

"Well, what else are they meant to serve you freaks?"

Jason gently tugs you forward by your legs. He leans over the table. You meet him halfway.

"This freak appreciates the thought," he says and kisses you.

He tastes like vanilla shake. It's not what you'd order, but you really don't mind kissing it off of Jason's mouth. Funny how that works.

He pulls away and releases your legs, then scoots out of the booth.

"Gonna take care of business. Don't drink my incredibly irresistible shake."

"I'll certainly try," you say, looking up at him with what are undoubtedly giant heart eyes.

Jason disappears to the restrooms. You drink your shake and focus on trying to craft the straw wrapper into a snake.

You're close to shaping it when a woman comes up to your table. You've never seen her in your life.

"Uh, hi," you say. "Can I help you?"

She glances around the diner before leaning down.

"Hey. Look, if you're... in need of someplace safe, there's a great shelter downtown."

Your brows rise. "I'm sorry?"

"I was in your shoes once too," she says, eyes wide. "You don't have to rely on a guy to get you on your feet. Especially someone like him."

You shake your head slowly. "I... what? I don't understand. The man I'm with, he's my boyfriend."

She looks skeptical. You turn to face her fully, because now you're properly bewildered.

"Uh, I appreciate that you're looking out for people, and I know stuff you're referring to is everywhere in Gotham. But I promise I'm okay."

"I know physical intimidation is scary—"

"Whoa." You hold up a hand. "Just because he's a big guy doesn't mean he's throwing me around. He's the gentlest man you'll ever meet. I love him and he loves me. No one is in danger."

The woman's mouth pinches. You don't even have it in you to be upset. You've never once felt afraid of Jason. But you forget how he looks to others, how he's twice or triple most people's size and covered in scars.

"Here's the number to the shelter," she says, slipping the paper under the salt shaker. "In case you change your mind."

She hurries out the door before you can respond. You stare at the card, then shrug. You suppose, if anything, you're happy there are still good Samaritans in Gotham.

Presently, Jason returns. He purposely makes his footsteps heard because of the countless times you've lectured him about scaring the shit out of you due to his habit of going stealth mode without realizing.

"Hello, dearest," he says. "I've returned from war."

"My hero. Did you wash your hands in battle?"

Jason slides into the booth and sticks his hand in your face. "Smell 'em and rejoice, baby."

You take his hand and give it a deep sniff. It indeed smells like soap. Not that you ever doubted your boyfriend's handwashing capabilities.

"Smells like... wrong opinions about milkshakes," you say, then kiss his palm.

He rolls his eyes. "I can see my absence has taught you nothing. Unfortunate."

"I'm stubborn. I'm sure you of all people can understand that," you say, smiling.

"Mm. Y'lucky you're cute."

Your food arrives, the waitress cheerily informing you that she hopes you enjoy your meal.

"I think she's the happiest person in Gotham," Jason says, shaking the ketchup bottle.

You take a fry from his plate. "Probably a Metropolis native."

"Y'know my fries are the exact same as yours, right?"

"Nope," you say. "Yours have special boyfriend cooties on them. Adds flavor."

"You're gross," Jason says, quite lovingly.

You make a heart with your hands. He returns it, then takes a bite of his burger.

You don't even register it when Jason grabs the salt shaker. You're zeroed in on your lunch and don't look up until he speaks.

"What's this?"

Jason's holding the shelter hotline card.

"Oh! Some lady came over and gave that to me."

"Gave it to you?"

You should clock Jason's tone and the way he's stopped eating completely. But the experience was so odd that you can't fathom Jason thinking it as anything but a mistake.

"Yeah. For some reason, she thought I was here drinking a milkshake with you against my will. Probably 'cause it's Gotham, and you're my BBB: big beefcake boyfriend. Little does she know, I'm the heavyweight boxing champion of Park Row."

You swirl your fries in Jason's ketchup. He doesn't even blink. Usually, he'd give you a raised eyebrow and pretend he's cross.

Jason's still staring at the card. You catch his legs with yours. He doesn't look up.

"Jay?" you ask, smile fading. You drop your legs. "Hey. Y'good?"

"Hm? Oh. Sorry, baby." He puts the card aside and smiles at you, quick and strained.

"Everything okay?" you ask.

"Yeah. Uh, fine."

"Jason." You lean over and grab his hand. "What's wrong?"

He swallows. You wait, the noise of the diner fading. All that matters is whatever's causing his absolutely heartbreaking expression.

"How could she think I'm hurting you?" Jason whispers, finally looking at you. "How could—I would never hurt you."

"Oh, Jay. Honey, that's why I hardly entertained her. It was so silly to think about. I was so puzzled at first that I couldn't even decipher what she meant."

"But what if... y'know, maybe she sensed something about me. Sensed violence. I get it. I'd–I'd be scared of me if I were a regular person."

"Jason, sweetie, no. No, no, no. I think that woman experienced some hard things in her life, and that caused her to see something that wasn't there. She had good intentions, but she was absolutely wrong. I know you have a past, but I've never felt unsafe with you. Never. I could never be afraid of you."

Jason gnaws on the inside of his cheek. You get up and slide in next to him, crowding him against the wall. You curl against his arm.

"You love me so well, I forget that most people see a monster when I walk down the street," he says.

You squeeze your eyes closed. Pins in your heart.

"You're not a monster, Jay. You're good. I know it. Your family knows it. You're a protector."

He takes a deep breath. "If–if you ever felt afraid of me, ever, and you wanted me to stay away, then you tell me so, and I'd leave you alone. No questions asked."

"Jason," you whisper. You wrap your arm around his neck and pull him close. The vinyl squeaks as you shift. "Jay, I love you. I don't want you to leave me alone."

"But if—"

"No. Please listen to me. I know you'd never hurt or frighten me. Sometimes, people are wrong. She was wrong about you. She was kind but wrong."

You sit like that for a bit, feeling each other breathe. Jason's hand grazes yours. You grab it, lacing your fingers together.

"I love you too," he says quietly. "Never felt anything but love for you."

You smile and steal another fry off his plate. He snorts.

"I know." You lean against his shoulder. "Never doubted it."

[joelalorian]

Petals of Affection - Part I

A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

I know enough about flowers to fill a thimble. Really, all I know is how to kill them, accidentally or otherwise. Everything to do with the flowers in this story is courtesy of Google, so please suspend disbelief at how some of these could exist in Wyoming, yada yada. I just picked ones that fit the narrative.

Word count: 4,284

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, humor, cursing, gratuitous use of poor floral descriptions, scheming, clueless reader, fluff, eventual smut, alcohol, food, coffee, terms of endearment. POV flops around like a fish outta water. Reader has no physical description aside from having hair that gets frizzy with humidity and often dirt-covered hands, because greenhouses, ya know? No use of y/n, none whatsoever.

Dividers courtesy of the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Gif chosen because of the wonderful floral wallpaper ;)

Hope you enjoy!

Part II | Part III | Masterlist

An oasis in a world rife with death and devastation, you clung to the life the reinforced walls of Jackson offered. After years of struggling to survive each new day, you felt like you could finally take a deep breath. Everyone was no nice and welcoming, some more than others, and you slipped right into the fabric of the small community.

Within a month of your arrival, Maria assigned you to the greenhouses, having picked up on your knowledge and love of plants – particularly flowers. You must have bored her to death one too many times regaling the language of flowers over a bottle or two of aged wine while seated together on her couch. The two of you became fast friends, the kind that felt like you’ve known each other forever. It was exactly what you needed, longed for even, after long bouts of solitude.

Being close to Maria meant you visited their house often. And equally often, you would find Joel Miller there, deep in conversation with his brother about one matter or another. His eyes always flashed when you entered the house, and he’d stop mid-sentence to greet you with an effortless, “Howdy darlin’” as you followed Maria to the kitchen.

Soon enough, the soft greetings turned into more substantial conversation as the four of you dined together or gathered at Maria and Tommy’s for game night, playing whatever new board game the men found while on patrol. Laughter and friendly arguments filled the air on those nights, making it easier than ever to forget about the carnage and desolation beyond the walls.

Tonight, the four of you played Scrabble – it took Tommy finding three sets of the game to get all the letter tiles required to actually play – and your belly hurt from how hard you laughed whenever Maria challenged Joel on a word. He was better at the game than you would have thought – his reserved nature and southern twang not giving away how well-read he was.

“Denied! Fartlek is not a word, Joel. There’s no way!” Maria insisted, not willing to give into Joel’s apparent triple word score on the word that would have him take the lead in total score.

“Is to a word,” Joel returned stubbornly, refusing to remove the letters from the board. “Look it up if ya don’t believe me. It’s in the fuckin’ Oxford dictionary.”

“Oh, it is, is it? Is it in the Cambridge one, too? What does it mean then?” Maria wasn’t backing down, ripping a battered dictionary right out of Tommy’s hands to see for herself.

“Hey! I was looking it up,” Tommy yelped, shooting a wink at you as you both watched the drama unfold.

Ignoring his brother, Joel rattled off something about the word being related to running. At least, that’s what you thought he said, you were too busy fighting back tears from laughing too hard. Sure enough, he was right.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Maria grumbled, flopping back into the couch cushions. “It’s a training technique for running. Screw you, Miller.”

Unsurprisingly, the game ended shortly thereafter with Joel the victor by a healthy margin. After helping to clean up, you offered appreciation and hugs to Maria and Tommy for a delightful evening. “Next time, let’s play something less…”

“Cerebral?” Maria supplied with a frown.

“Annoying?” Tommy interjected with a grin.

Joel stayed quiet, a half-smile gracing his lips as he waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Just something that doesn’t require a dictionary or cause so much arguing,” you laughed. Waving between Joel and Maria, you added, “You two can never agree on anything! See you all tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you home, darlin’,” Joel said, rushing to put his jacket and boots on and catch up with you. When you opened your mouth to let him know you’d be fine on your own, he added, “Gotta check in on Ellie anyway.”

Maria and Tommy shared a look as Joel opened the door to usher you through. You caught them and frowned, feeling like you weren’t in on a joke or something.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the last remnants of winter’s snowy wrath crunching beneath your boots the only sound. You looked up at the night sky as you walked, gasping at the flash of colors in the otherwise darkened sky. Joel stopped, following your gaze upwards as you both stood mouths agape.

“That’s the northern lights, right? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Mmhmm. Aurora borealis. Pretty amazin’.”

“Beautiful,” you sighed, breath a cloud billowing in the crisp air, eyes soaking in every bit of the cosmic phenomenon.

You didn’t realize it staring up at the sky as you were, but Joel’s umber eyes were fixed on you when he replied, “Sure is.”

You stayed like, shoulders gently bumping as you both enjoyed nature’s show, until the temperature dropped further and you shivered. An awed smile remained plastered on your face the rest of the walk to your house, one Joel would never forget.

The dichotomy of the humid, warm air within the greenhouses and the chilled breeze outside confused your body, but you loved it. Sure, the humidity did nothing good for your hair, leaving it a frizzy mass around your head sometimes, but the dewy feeling on your skin always reminded you of childhood summers spent at the beach.

Tending to the various fruit and vegetable plants all morning, in what you deemed Greenhouse 1, you saved your favorite duties – the ones associated with flowers – for the afternoon. While you enjoyed caring for all the plants, you loved tending to the flowers, humming as you pruned and replanted clippings, expanding your every growing collection. If the patrol teams kept bringing you seeds and specimen back, you’d need yet another greenhouse. The council would just love that.

The creak of the door to Greenhouse Two drew your attention shortly after you switched gears and you stood, brushing the dirt from your jeans before glancing up. Your face shifted into a soft smile at the sight of Joel standing hesitantly just inside the door.

“Hey Joel, what did you bring me today?” You knew he had patrol duty and likely found some interesting plant during his travels. “Better not be western baneberry again. You know how poisonous those berries are!”

Stepping forward, Joel chuckled as you teased him. “I know now! It was one time and you’ll never let me live it down, will ya?” Thrusting his hand toward you, he dropped a small pile of seeds onto your dirt-covered palm. “Not sure what these are, but we found down by the ol’ mill. Might be something cool.”

“Might be,” you hummed, poking the seeds a little. Hopefully the cold didn’t get to them. You grabbed the nearest pot, quickly filled it with soil and sprinkled the seeds in as you tilled the top few inches. “We’ll find out soon enough what kind of treasure these are.”

Leaning back against a messy tabletop, hands on hips, Joel watched you tend to the new addition before finding the perfect place for the pot, nestled on a table amongst other seedlings. “Do you –”

Joel’s mouth snapped shut as the greenhouse door banged open next to him, a boisterous voice carrying into the warm space before its body did.

“Tangerine! Check out what I found today,” Alex, another member of the patrol team, called as he strolled right past Joel without acknowledgement. Younger and not as broad as Joel, the man held a growing affection for you, which irked the older man.

“Alex,” you sighed playfully. He was cute in a youthful, untrained puppy kind of way and had an annoying habit of calling you nicknames that made no sense. “I told you to stop calling me that. We don’t even have tangerines here.”

Snickering under his breath, Joel observed the younger man falling all over himself to impress you. Why you indulged the idiot, he would never understand.

Alex waved you off. “You love it, and you know it. Lookit here,” he said, thrusting his hand toward you. Slight though he was, Alex had large hands, and in his right one were three clusters of small, bell-shaped blooms with a purple hue.

“Prairie bluebell! Where did you find these?” Your face lit up as you took the blooms in a gentle grasp, admiring them for a moment before setting to work on replanting.

Alex prattled on boastfully about finding them just off a rocky path down near the river while Joel focused on watching you work. When Alex finally paused for breath, you chimed in with some flower lore.

“Did you know that bluebells are often called fairy flowers? It is said that the bluebells are rung to summon fairies to a meeting. But, since fairies aren’t always good, the flowers could be enchanted leaving anyone who wanders into a ring of bluebells lost in fairy woods.”

Joel snorted at the idea of Alex becoming lost in fairy woods, never to be found again. If only they could be so lucky, he thought. He knew there was more you could share about the symbolism of the delicate flowers, but it would be lost on someone like Alex.

Rolling his eyes, Joel was about to take his leave when Alex blurted, “Would you join me for dinner tonight? I heard they just got in some fresh venison.”

Absorbed in your work, you hardly heard him, and Alex repeated himself, a hint of annoyance in his tone. Joel froze, holding his breath in anticipation of your answer. Please say no, he thought. You could do so much better than this moron.

Brow furrowed, you stared at Alex, considering your response. “Like a date?”

The younger man nodded eagerly, a broad smile spreading across his lips. You glanced at Joel, not certain what you were hoping to see, and found him staring back, stone faced, arms crossed in front of his chest tightly. Giving you nothing to work with, your shoulders slumped, resigned. “Sure, I guess.”

Not the most enthusiastic answer, but you couldn’t remember the last time you went on a date and Alex was the only one asking.

You didn’t even realize Joel moved until the door closed heavily behind his retreating form.

The breeze carried a sense of change as you strolled home from your shift in the greenhouse. The weather was finally warming, ever so slightly, as Mother Nature loosened her grip on winter, letting spring slowly creep in.

Mixed emotions tumbled through your mind as your feet carried you through the streets of Jackson by muscle memory alone. Alex asking you to dinner caught you off guard – you had a feeling he was interested, but he never made any sort of bold move. The fact he finally did while Joel was standing right there threw you off balance.

Did you even like this guy?

Sure, Alex was attractive, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. But his personality made him seem more like a golden retriever, goofy and too eager to impress, than someone you could fall for. It made you wonder if there was any substance lurking under the surface.

In the absence of any other offers, did it even matter?

No, you guessed it really didn’t.

These thoughts carried you right to your front steps and you stopped, taken by the presence of something unusual waiting in front of your door.

A solitary stalk with a gorgeous jasmine bloom, a slip of paper wrapped around the stem held in place by nondescript string.

Picking it up, you held the flower to your nose, breathing in the rich, sensual aroma. The scent brightened your mood, and you slipped the scrap of paper from beneath the string. You whispered the words printed in a block scrawl you didn’t recognize.

Joyful moments shared; the answer lies in the air.

What did it mean?

Glancing around, you searched the street and neighboring homes for a sign of who might have left the flower and note for you. The only people in sight were your elderly neighbors, married couples, and the kids from a few houses down. None of them would have left you such a gift.

Who in the world left this for you?

Would Alex do something romantic like this? You doubted it, but what else did you have to go on?

Once inside, you trimmed the stem and put the flower in a container on the counter, placing the scrap of paper in front of it.

You gazed at the flower, mulling over the riddle before you. The note indicated that you’ve shared moments with whomever left the flower. Jasmine itself symbolized love and romance. You made friends with a lot of people since you came to town – too many shared experiences and moments to choose from.

Twenty minutes and too much thinking in circles, you were no closer to understanding the clues and teetering on the verge of being late for your date. You needed more data before hazarding any reasonable guesses.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?” Tommy questioned. Sitting at the bar watching his brother pining over you was not his idea of a fun Friday night. “You should just bite the bullet and ask her out already.”

Joel shook his head. He had no explanation for why he hadn’t made a move yet. For months now, he knew he liked you as more than friends, pined over you in silence, yet he never took the next step. Joel Miller was not a coward, but his fear of losing one of the few friends he had left in the world had him frozen in place, afraid to make any moves. He couldn’t take that chance. Finally putting words to the feelings roiling inside him, he told his brother as much.

“I get it, brother. I do,” Tommy replied, thumping Joel on the back in commiseration. “But can you really say you’re ok watchin’ her go on dates with asshats like Alex? ‘Cause that’s gonna keep happenin’ unless you do something about it. And I don’t mean killin’ the dude.”

Joel shook his head. Hunched over the bar, shooting surreptitious glances your way, he had to admit Tommy was right. He could think of few things worse than watching you go on a date with someone other than him, especially with dipshits like that guy.

“I ain’t killin’ anyone, but I do have a plan. Already put it in motion, in fact.” Picking at a scratch in the bar, Joel shifted his gaze from you to Tommy. “I might need your help with some of it. Maria’s too.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me all about this grand plan then.”

Unsurprisingly, the date was a dud.

Alex had the personality of a goldfish rather than a golden retriever, and the two of you had nothing in common. He also interrupted you mid-sentence no less than three times – once could be considered a mistake, but three times was an unforgiveable offense as far as you were concerned. You stopped making an effort about halfway through dinner and wished for a hole to open up beneath your seat and swallow you whole.

Worst of all, he acted like an entitled dickhead when you refused dessert, thanked him for the date, and let him know there wouldn’t be a second one. He’s lucky you didn’t knee him in the nuts before walking away from the table.

How unfortunate that dating sucked nearly as much now as it did before the fucking apocalypse. It was unfair, really. At what point did being a woman stop sucking?

Lamenting your lack of success in the relationship department, you trudged home. You wondered what Joel was up to – you caught a glimpse of him at the bar with Tommy earlier and he didn’t look happy, but you didn’t see him when you left. Part of you longed to visit him, maybe have a drink and sit on his porch gazing at the stars together like you’ve done before. But it was already late, and you didn’t want to bother him. Hell, he could have a woman over already, which would be mortifying if you interrupted. The thought sank unpleasantly in your mind until you got to your house and pushed it away.

A little gift waited for you on the porch, just like earlier. An orchid this time. Symbol of love, thoughtfulness, and charm. Your index finger traced the delicate petals with the gentlest touch as a smile slowly crept its way across your lips.

Another note was attached, and you plucked it from beneath the same kind of string, eyes devouring the words.

Overwhelmed by your grace, the answer hides in this place.

The flower wasn’t completely cold, so it had to have been left recently. Brow furrowed; you glanced around but there was no one in sight. You wracked your brain trying to figure out the identity of your secret admirer, but you were at a loss. Prior to dinner, you briefly thought Alex was the culprit, but now it was obvious he didn’t have a romantic bone in his lanky body.

You heart knew who it longed for it to be, but you refused to consider it. He didn’t want you that way, of that you were certain.

Giving the orchid the same treatment as the jasmine earlier, you tucked the stem into the same container and placed it on the coffee table so you could admire the blossoms while you fell asleep on the couch. After all, why bother with a big bed without someone to share it with?

Saturdays were your day off, but the sun shining through the curtains you forgot to close the night before ruined your plans of sleeping in. Grumbling at the unnecessary brightness, you stumbled into the kitchen desperate for coffee. The coffee tin felt light in your hand when you reached for it and, sure enough, you saw nothing but a tiny amount of powdery remains of coffee beans at the bottom.

God dammit. Barely eight o’clock in the morning and this day already had two strikes against it. It wasn’t looking good so far.

Not caring that you still wore the clothes from your date the night before, you quickly brushed your teeth and finger-combed your hair into submission before leaving the house. Pausing at the door for a moment, you debated whose house to go to. Joel always had coffee – it was his drug of choice – but Maria and Tommy were closer.

Not awake enough for decision-making, you let your feet carry you in whichever direction they wanted… which was exactly three feet onto the porch before they stopped. Another flower with a note sat waiting for you.

Your mood brightened considerably at the sight of the double-flowered, funnel-shaped Eustoma, petals a pale purple. The rose-like flowers weren’t native to Wyoming, but you got lucky months ago when someone found a seed packet. You were shocked the seeds were still viable. Did someone pluck it from the greenhouse? You gave away a few cuttings not that long ago, but unless they were replanted, there’s no way they’d last this long. It had to be from the greenhouse. Where the hell else would they get one?

The addiction-like need for coffee temporarily forgotten, you rubbed the Eustoma gently against your nose, confirming the lack of scent when you breathed in and wondered what the little note would say this time.

Endless thoughts of you, the answer is in the view.

Stepping back into the house, you added the flower with the others, mulling over the symbolism of the Eustoma. Whoever left it must be trying to tell you that they appreciate and admire you. But when you add it with the others, what did it all mean?

As good as you were with flowers, you were awful at solving mysteries. A detective you were not. Besides, it was still too early for this kind of puzzle.

The desire for coffee returned and you left the flower quandary behind as you made your way to Joel’s.

Joel didn’t expect to see you today, his day looking up when he opened the door to find you on his doorstep. His heart immediately sank when he noticed you wearing the same clothes from the night before, hair mussed.

“Your date must have gone well,” he said, eyes roving over your clothing, knowing his tone was less friendly than you were used to from him. “What are you doin’ here this early?”

You were clearly thrown off kilter by his remark, frowning as he stepped back to let you in.

“Wha—” you started to question him but shook your head. “I just came to see if you had any spare coffee. I ran out without realizing it.”

“Didn’t have any to offer Alex this morning? That’s a damn shame.” Joel felt the heat of your confused gaze on his back as you followed him into the kitchen.

“What are you talking about?” You sighed, staring at him with furrowed brows.

Avoiding your searching gaze, Joel poured a cup of coffee, adding the perfect amount of sugar you liked, and glowered at the cup as he handed it over. “You’re wearing the same clothes as last night. I assume you did the walk of shame this morning only to find you didn’t have any coffee.”

“It’s too early for your judgmental shit, Joel. You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?” You turned to leave, mind trying to wrap itself around why this day was turning out so oddly. Mercury was in retrograde again, it had to be. You and Joel never spoke to each other like this. As you reached the door, not caring that you basically stole his coffee cup, you called over your shoulder, “And the date wasn’t even like that, for the record.”

“You’re welcome for the coffee,” Joel muttered as you let yourself out of his house.

“You didn’t have to be such a dick, you know.” Ellie appeared around the corner; arms crossed over her chest.

“I know. I couldn’t help it. The thought of her with that jackass just…” he sighed. “I got a little carried away, but it’s fine. The plan is still in play. Did you take care of what I asked you to?”

“You come up with some strange plans, old man. Yeah, I got it done.”

Fed up with the day and everyone in town before noon, you hid away in your house for the rest of the day. The interaction with Joel weighed on you the entire afternoon and well into the night. What was up with him? Were you being too sensitive, taking his comments personally?

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was jealous you went on a date with Alex.

Unsurprisingly, you slept poorly and woke up groggy and unfocused Sunday morning. It was going to be a long day in the greenhouse if you didn’t find some coffee to power you up. Getting ready earlier than normal, you planned to stop at Maria and Tommy’s to see if they had coffee – there was no way you were going back to Joel’s after yesterday.

Opening the door to another brisk, early spring morning, the glint of sunlight on the porch drew your eyes to yet another flower waiting for you. Four in a row now, how long would this carry on for?

One of your favorites, you picked up the stalk with six lavender blossoms, violet in hue, and breathed in the fresh, light scent, savoring the sweet undertones. Fingers caressed the downy leaves, making you feel calmer, mellower, which was exactly what you needed.

You kept sniffing the floral scent as you read the accompanying note, finding it fitting.

 Lost in your scent, the answer is present.

“Tell me you have a secret admirer!”

Startled, you gasped, gaze shooting to Maria as she approached your house, two mugs of coffee in hand. You face shifted into a smile at the sight.

“I’m… um, I guess. I’m not sure?” You shrugged accepting the mug Maria held out toward you. “Thanks for this, I ran out.”

“I heard,” she replied. “Joel’s on the hunt for more, don’t worry.”

“Of course he is,” you rolled your eyes.

“Soooo…” Maria gestured to the flowers and note in your hand, seeking an explanation. “I feel like there’s a story here.”

“There is, I just don’t know what it is yet,” you admitted. Inhaling the calming scent of the lavender once again, you added, “This is the fourth one I’ve received. Each one has its own riddle. Let me show you.”

Leading the way into your house – you still had an hour before your shift started – you showed Maria the flowers and each note that accompanied them. In small print, you added what each flower symbolized to the corresponding note and numbered them in the order you received them, hoping every little detail would help you sort out the puzzle.

Maria looked over everything, smiling softly at each note. “Whoever this mystery man is, he’s quite romantic.”

“Right?”

“What do today’s flowers mean?”

“In the context of the rest of the flowers so far, love and devotion,” you replied, heat warming your cheeks.

Maria whistled softly. “Someone is down bad for you, girl. Any ideas who it could be?”

Shrugging defeatedly, you admitted, “Not a clue. The one person I’d want it to be would never do something like this.”

Maria hid a smile behind her mug as she sipped her coffee. “How can you be sure?”

tbc

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 99 Zeppe-Let's Get Out of Here

Logico bbg what mindspace were you in when you made these titles

Murdle Advent Day 20

A-List Abalone has come to interrupt your peace with a loud song!

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

The pile of panicked citizens boards the zeppelin which leaves immediately. Everyone takes a moment to breathe. Logico looks out the window and watches the city burn, devastated at what their expedition came to. But not everything has a happy end.

Irratino checks into a private back room, where Uncle Midnight, Baron Maroon, Celadon, Raspberry, and Cloud are in a deep sleep. Finally, they’re recognizable - still very wounded, but slowly healing. The goat lord sits down and prays for them to get well soon. But one of the beds is empty-

LOGICO: IRRATINO, there’s a MURDER again and it’s the same person from last time. IRRATINO: What? LOGICO: I don’t know, just get over here… I’m so tired…

Irratino comes to Logico and runs into a terrible-looking Saffron.

SAFFRON: HIYEEEE! IRRATINO: [goat scream] SAFFRON: Oh my god, it feels like I haven’t seen you two in FOREVER, I don’t know WHAT happened back there ahahaha… How’ve you BEEN?? LOGICO: Oh good god Saffron, go back and get some rest.

Saff is still covered in deep cuts and disgusting lumps, and her eyes are pink.

SAFFRON: Oh pshh, don’t worry about it! Doctor orders are like those best-by dates, you don’t HAVE to follow ‘em they just WANT you to follow ‘em! HUG! LOGICO: No no no, do NOT touch me. Go to bed now!

Saffron groans and plops down on the seat next to Captain Slate, who was trying to sleep.

SLATE: Excuse me… SAFFRON: HIII Slatey!!  SLATE: Thank god I have my suit… SAFFRON: ReLAAAX, it’s not contagious! I think. Unless it gets in your bloodstream maybe? I dunno. 

She tries to squish Slate’s face but can’t through her helmet. Slate blinks in unamusement.

SAFFRON: Aghh, you’re just so CUTE I’m gonna throw up!! Wait. I think I’m actually gonna throw up.

She runs to the bathroom at top speed and makes an awful noise.

Sergeant Gunmetal is flirting with the real pilot of the zeppelin, the adorable robot.

GUNMETAL: It is amazing to be with someone of my kind… were you real once too? Did they take your organs too?

The robot doesn’t respond, because it is programmed to fly the blimp and nothing else.

Comrade Champagne is also there, sawing logs, gold spilling out of his open suitcase.

IRRATINO: Well, it’s nice that no one’s taking it. LOGICO: J- SAFFRON: GOLD? WHERE!

She runs back over and starts pickpocketing. Champ wakes up.

CHAMPAGNE: Hey hey hey hey! Get out of there!

Saffron looks up at him with her diseased eyes, and he bleats and smacks her out of impulse. Irratino flips through a travel guide, gets bored, and tosses it away, and it hits Gunmetal in the head.

GUNMETAL: HEY!!!  IRRATINO: Sorry! Sorry! GUNMETAL: You little…

He approaches Irratino, but is so, so slow. Too slow to be threatening. Meanwhile, Logico finds the murderer to be Captain Slate.

SLATE: No. LOGICO: Yes, look at the evidence! SLATE: [growl] I need air. Humans clog the air. I got rid of the human. And I wanted to get Gross Saffron to stop flirting with me. SAFFRON: [snort] It’s not flirting! …Is it? :0

Logico sighs and flops on the floor. Things were reverting back to their usual state, maybe with Gunmetal as another usual suspect to add to the pile, but the stable chaotic energy has returned. Logico closes his eye. It’s time to put Drakonia behind them.

The end!

Gotta admit, it was nice to write a silly episode after all the action

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[liseytopia]

hii, so uhmm... ik i have requested a lot already but i got a really cute idea !!

so this is for peni parker, masc!reader/gn!reader. and the idea is that when peni rebuilding her new robot after itsv, i told her i was going to help her, but really i do nothing the whole time.

and don't feel pressured to finish this right away, love you!!

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗲𝘆 !

-𝘅𝗼𝘅𝗼 𝗿𝗼𝘅 <𝟯

💌

───★

HEY ROXXX thats actually super cute istg, had a lot of fun writing this btw! keep the requests coming i don't mind them

pairing: peni parker x gn!reader (PLATONIC)

contents: pure fluff, annoyed peni and ignorant reader

warnings: cursing

───★

𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫.

- 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳

when peni's robot died, it made not only her devastated, but also you. you were close with peni since the two of you met and have been the inseparable friendship duo continuously after that. it broke your heart along with hers when her robot stopped functioning. you wanted to make it right by helping her build a new one, but there was one issue..

you had no engineering skills whatsoever. so when you offered to help peni, she was slightly confused, knowing you didn't know shit about mechanics. she let you help either way, of course. the both of you worked in one of the workshop rooms in hq.

you stood by the corner filing your nails as peni moved scraps of metal and toolboxes into the center of the room. "ahem!" peni's voice shocked you, causing you to jolt up and meet eyes with her. she crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at you. "what?" you asked, aware you aren't helping at all. "you gonna help me move all this or just stand there and worry about your pretty little nails?" you responded "i'll help, what do you want me to do?" knowing you weren't gonna help with what she asked you to.

"grab the welding mask for me," peni instructed as she flopped a piece of metal in front of her. "uhh.. what's a welding mask look like again?" you rotated your head to look around the room. "it's a big metal shield with a window where the eyes go that covers your face." "oh! found it." you ran across the room, grabbed a metal bowl, and handed it to peni. "..what the fuck is this" "a welding mask! right?" you seemed confused when she gave you a blank stare. "what" "BITCH THIS IS A FUCKING BOWL" you stepped out of the way when peni got up to grab the welding mask on a shelf next to the door. as she got to work you asked yourself how she could possibly know all about this mechanics stuff while applying chapstick. you eventually ended up on your phone, texting your friends and other people at spider society.

peni gave you a disappointing glare from across the room and after about five seconds of her looking you up and down and shaking her head, she asked you for the screwdriver. "one second peni," you say as you hold up a finger while finishing up your text before pressing send. "what was that again?" "get me the screwdriver, please." you walked over to the toolbox and reached out, getting grease on your hand in the process. "ewww!! hold on, i have to wash this off real quick." you rush over to the nearby sink while peni says "there's no way you suggested to help and thought you weren't going to get dirty at all." you reply "whatever!" and go back over to the tool box.

"hmm.. peni which drawer is it in again?" "just check all of them! i don't know." you open the first one.. measuring tapes. second one had screws and bolts in it. third one.. "aha! screwdriver!" you pull out a flathead screwdriver and hand it to her proudly. she hands it back to you and tells you "i need a phillips screwdriver. it's got a different looking head." "is the screwdriver's name philip or something? i'm confused why is this relevant" "just get it for me." you trace your steps back to the same toolbox drawer and pull out a hex-head screwdriver. you hold it up and look at her for approval, she shakes her head no, and you sigh. you think to yourself, how many fucking types of screwdrivers are there? you search the drawer once again and finally get out the right one and hand it to her.

you really don't help peni at all the whole rest of the time after that. regardless, whenever someone compliments the robot, you speak as if you were the one doing all the building work when really the whole time she was building while you attempted to navigate the workshop. either way you and peni are the iconic best friend duo and she loves you no matter if you can tell what a phillips screwdriver looks like or not. <3

───★

© liseytopia 2023 : do not copy, translate, or steal my work.

[rubberduckyrye]

Hey I noticed you seem to be on a Danganronpa kick so I just wanna mention a concept I’ve always wanted to see with Kokichi because I think it would be very interesting

Despair disease where kokichi can only lie. I’ve seen a few despair disease aus where kokichi can no longer lie but I don’t think I’ve seen one where he can only lie.

Kokichi only being able to tell lies is seemingly just how he always is and in a way he’s on his home turf. The rest of his class would likely still find him the same amount of nuisance as usual.

Yet, especially with the idea that kokichi flip flops between lies and truths to distort both further and further, the lack of being able to say any truth makes the thin line between his truth and lies more noticeable.

And it’d have a fun general ‘arc’ when despair disease starts progressing. At first he’d continue on as usual since he lies so often missing the truth is hard to notice.

as his sickness continues it likely the more perceptive of the class would notice that what Kokichi doesn’t say or even the opposite of what he says can be deduced as a truth. This would mean kokichi would have to use his lies to divert from the truth but it would be a delicate balance of making sure what he lies about is what he wants them to know. (Ie: if he doesn’t want people to know he hates the killing game he can’t just say “I love this killing game!”) He’d have to divert with insults for those who are more hot headed and may briefly forget that he’s lying or even “compliments”I think he’d call Kaito! “Not at all naive! You can stop the killing game with friendship! Never ever stupid!”

As his symptoms get worse his lies would become less well constructed but it is hard to appreciate the information since obviously he’d be pretty sick and delirious.

If it is in a killing game setting it’d also be a funny gag if some students assume kokichi is still sick even after discovering a body because he continues being obnoxious before he leaves to his own investigations.

Oh anon, you do not understand. My Danganronpa phase never ended. It's always been here, it just took a nap.

Anyway!

This is a really interesting and creative idea! I'd love to read a fic about it tbh, so many times I've seen people give Kokichi the Honesty disease and it's very sad.

(Okay but Kaito getting the Honesty/specifically the Emotional Honesty disease? Flawless. Love to see it.)

For me personally, I actually tend to give Kokichi the same disease I would give my OC, Jaden--the Obedience Disease. For Kokichi especially, I think to lose any and all control over yourself would be devastating. I think personally, the Despair disease should cause the most despair to the individual to have it--and what can be more despair inducing for a liar who's natural born talent leads him to being in control of every situation to suddenly be out of control of even his own body?

Also fun fact: Kurochi, Kokichi's elder twin brother in the AU I'm working on? His disease would be the Hateful Disease, I think that's what it was named? Anyway, he spouts horrible and vile things to people--the more he actually likes a person, the more vile he gets.

You can imagine then, the horrible combination Rochi's "Hateful Disease" makes with Kokichi's "Obedience Disease".

[happyk44]

"Papa." The whisper was loud and breathy, accompanied by a forceful shove against his shoulder. "Papaaaa."

"Rennie, leave him alone," another voice said as Renata tried to clambour onto Nico's back.

He cracked an eye open, catching sight of Jason hefting Renata into the air by her armpits. No, not Jason. Nico peered at the pulsing soul beneath the surface. Renata's was loud, determined, bright green and energetic. Not out of the ordinary for her. Meanwhile, Not Jason was electric blue today, twitchy around the edges. Somewhere in the back was Jason's trademark bright yellow, fuzzy and partly faded.

Nico hummed and rolled onto his back. His hand fell to his stomach. "Hey, T."

T huffed and hefted Renata over her shoulder. "Look what you've done," she chided, but her tone was too soft. Renata giggled. "You've woken him up, naughty girl."

Renata squirmed until T lowered her gently to the ground. She crawled onto the couch, little legs flailing. Her knees dug into his stomach painfully, but Nico grit his teeth and bore it, waiting until she had settled on top of him. Her smiles was near infectious. He pushed her hair out of her face.

"How was school, Rennie?"

She rolled her eyes in lieu of an actual answer. Instead she chose to flop forward on his chest. Her chin banged into his clavicle. She squirmed in place for a minute before finally settling. Beneath his skin, he could feel her picking away at his soul. He ran his hand through his hair.

"Dad's out with Uncle Carter," he said. She huffed. "What, me and Auntie T aren't good enough for you?"

"No," she huffed again. She lifted her face just a smidge. "Dad's better."

"Breaking my heart," Nico deadpanned. He squished her cheeks with one hand and tilted her to face T. "Look at Auntie T. You've devasted her."

T was putting on a good show of distress. Fake crying into her palms. Her shoulders shook. Gusts of wind tugged at her hair and clothes. She released her face, tilted her head back, and let out a loud wall that rattled Nico to his core.

Renata screwed her face up for a second. Then crumbled and shot off Nico's chest like a bullet. She threw herself at T, trying to climb up her legs and chest to comfort, but T just gently tossed her back to the couch, still feigning tears.

"I guess Grace was right," she moaned. "We should just go run into the woods, never to be seen again."

"No!" Renata protested. She flung herself back to T and childishly clung to her side. "I was lying! I was lying!"

T sniffled. "You were?"

Nico snorted as Renata nodded her head so fast it seemed she lacked the right bones. "Yes, yes. Love you all the same." She tugged desperately at T's skirt. "Promise."

T smiled sweetle and hefted her up by her armpits. Renata giggled , tucking her head under T's chin and letting herself get wrapped up tight.

"We love you too, sparkles," she said, kissing the top of Renata's head. She grinned at Nico. "You too, death breath."

"Yeah," Renata cheered. "Papa Death."

"I don't like that name," Nico muttered, but he opened his arms for T to drop Renata back onto his lap. She snuggled up into his chest. "So school sucked, huh?"

Renata shrugged and picked at the fraying holes in his shirt. "Was fine," she mumbled. She bit her lip. "Just wanna stay here."

He squeezed her cheek. "I know, fuzz ball."

She giggled at the nickname and burrowed in closer. Slowly her breathing began to fade out, settling soft and milky. Nico shifted, just a bit, to gather her up into his arms. She hummed under her breath, but didn't stir as he laid her down onto the couch, tucking the thin edges of his forgotten blanket around her.

Behind him, T's soul was going fuzzy. Inwards Jason's bright yellow was pushing outwards, surpassing T's electric blue until she was faint to Nico's senses, like the aftertaste of a peppermint mocha. Grace and JJ were too tucked back for him to notice. It seemed she was falling back with them. He pulled himself away from her, focusing on the frayed edges of Jason's soil as he tried to orient himself to the focus of the front. He toughened up, hardened, and then his breathing steadied.

He stepped close and wrapped his arms around Nico's waist. "Hey."

Nico patted his hand. "Hey. Everything okay?"

He hummed into Nico's neck. "Yeah. She just likes picking Ren up from school."

Nico squeezed Jason's hand. "Okay," he said softly. He glanced at the seahorse-themed clock on the wall and slowly peeled Jason's arms away. "Gonna start prepping dinner." He stepped forward, only to get yanked back into Jason's chest. He snorted and tilted his head up. "What's up, pup?"

Jason rolled his eyes before burying his face into Nico's neck. "Nothing." His voice was muffled into Nico's collarbone. Quietly he tilted his head to the side. His hair brushed against Nico's cheek. The two of them gazed down at a dozing Renata. Jason sighed, content. "Just happy."

[sundrownsthehouse]

Take This Pain And Give It A Name, Part Three

Posted to AO3

Prologue

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Summary: George breaks his shoulder. Matty looks after him. It gets complicated.

Warnings: Please see the AN at the end for trigger warnings (in the interest of avoiding spoilers). There's brief mentions of a couple topics that could be upsetting to some folks. Take care of yourselves!

Words: 5.1k

In his dream, they were kissing.

Soft, eager lips sought his own and claimed them, over and over and over again. He held the warm, solid weight of their body in his arms whilst wandering hands stroked his skin, lighting him up from within. He’d never wanted like this before— it was devastating. All consuming. He raked his fingers tenderly through soft curls, reveling in the texture, prompting familiar dark eyes to meet his own. They were hazy with longing.

“George…” Matty sighed reverently, saying his name like it meant something.

“Please, George…”

“G—”

“—eorge!”

George gasped and raised himself up onto his good arm, narrowly avoiding a collision with the low ceiling of his bunk. Blinking furiously to clear his blurry vision, he struggled to orient himself, searching for the source of the disturbance. Ross’s amused grin came into focus.

“The fuck was that for?” George protested weakly, squinting at the bright lights in the otherwise empty bunk hall. Ross laughed.

“Mate, I let you sleep as long as I could! We’re in Austin— been here for hours, actually,” he replied pointedly.

“Austin…?”

“Texas.”

George groaned: “I know where Austin is, Ross. Why does it matter?”

He sighed dramatically, flopping back against his pillow. His broken shoulder was already throbbing, a dull ache that demanded his attention, but all he could think about was the once vibrant dream, already beginning to fade into obscurity. No matter how hard he tried to cling to it, all that remained was an increasingly vague image and a strange sense of loss.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed. There was no reason for him to be awake right now. He hadn’t even bothered to set an alarm, since he sincerely doubted that Jamie would let him anywhere near the next show— not after the way he’d botched it so pathetically yesterday. And if he was being really honest, he wasn’t in a rush to face the cold light of day after what happened last night.

Ross simply beamed at George, oblivious to the depth of his dismay. “We’ve a hotel for the next two nights,” he explained with barely contained enthusiasm. “Grab your shit. Jamie left your keycard on the table.”

A hotel… 

Shit.

“A real bed, working aircon, actual privacy… God, I hope they have a pool,” Ross continued wistfully.

George slowly sat up on the side of the bed, minding his sore arm, and watched as Ross continued to pack clothes into his well-worn duffle bag.

“Where’s Matty?” he asked carefully.

Ross shrugged: “In your room, probably. He and Hann went up ages ago.”

George felt a pit form in his stomach. He wasn’t ready to process what happened between him and Matty last night. He needed time to think—

“C'mon man, they’ve gotta lock up. Hey, are you alright?” Ross asked, brow furrowed in concern.

George mumbled some vague reassurances as he got up, declining Ross’s offer of help. As he packed, he purposely pushed everything to do with last night to the back of his mind, directing his focus to the task before him. Even so, he couldn’t fully squash the pervasive sense of unease that lingered, warning him that something major had shifted.

He emerged from the tour bus later to find himself in car park across from some generic, mid-range hotel. It had only just gone noon, but the heat was stifling. Dressed in joggers and a zip-up hoodie (he still wasn’t confident he could get the sling on and off by himself), he leaned back against the bus and dropped his bag onto the hot pavement.

Ahead of him, Ross turned back with a quizzical look: “You coming?”

George held up a half-crumpled pack of cigarettes that definitely didn’t belong to him: “S'okay, I’ll catch up.”

“I could take your bag up,” Ross offered kindly. “You look a little—”

“Ross— honestly, I’m fine. I’ll be up in a few minutes,” George assured smoothly.

In reality, he was already exhausted, and in a disproportionate amount of pain for how little activity he’d done, but he’d be damned if he was going to admit as much. He sweat uncomfortably in the sun as he smoked, but at least he was alone. He needed this time and space to clear his head. There was so much he wasn’t ready to unpack about last night, but he couldn’t put it off much longer. For the first time ever, he found himself regretting the decision to room with Matty.

When they had first started to properly tour as a band, they could barely afford one hotel room on the road; the amount of times the four of them had squeezed into a double bed was truly ridiculous. They were at a point in their careers now that they could splurge on privacy, which Ross and Adam took full advantage of, but no matter what, he and Matty always seemed to end up together regardless. When Jamie booked this US tour, Matty told him point-blank not to bother with giving them separate rooms. At the time, that suited George just fine.

It was no secret that he tended to get the most homesick while on tour; the hectic pace, lack of structure, and instability wore him down. Sharing a space with Matty reminded him of home— a place in East London that they bought together a little over a year ago. The familiarity helped him feel more grounded. Meanwhile, Matty was the polar opposite. He enjoyed touring much more than the rest of them, and genuinely seemed to thrive in the chaos. He was at his best, creatively and personally, when he was kept busy. It was the comedown after a show that he struggled with; the duality between having the rapt attention of thousands, and then being completely and utterly alone. George’s company helped mediate that.

The others teased them for being codependent, and they weren’t exactly wrong; George had spent nearly every day of the past thirteen years with Matty. And yet the prospect of sharing this hotel room with him for the next two nights had his stomach twisting in knots.

He couldn’t pretend to fully understand what Matty had been thinking, offering… that. What he did know was that their friendship had always lacked certain boundaries. They told each other everything, and it was rare that they were ever apart. They were also quite tactile— more so than male friendship warranted by society’s standards, anyway. They’d never felt the need to shy away from physical affection.

As George sucked on the smoke, he thought about the way Matty would sometimes slip into his bed at home in the middle of the night— the routine of it all. Driven by nightmares or insomnia, he would creep in quietly and pull back the duvet with excessive care, as if he didn’t know that George was only pretending not to notice. George would yawn and stretch and, still feigning sleep, roll over to gently pull Matty in. Only then would Matty finally relax enough to drift off, his head burred in the warm space between George’s neck and shoulder, their legs entangled.

They’d never talked about it; they didn’t have to. There was so much between them that didn’t need to be spoken aloud to be understood. Offering comfort to Matty when he was going through it was instinctive for George.

In his own way, maybe Matty had been trying to do the same.

This is different though, George thought wearily as he crushed the end of his cigarette under his shoe. Though their relationship was intimate, intense even, it had never been sexual. He’d never wanted anything like that from Matty before.

But Matty was… fuck. He’d been almost desperate. The sound of his voice when he’d begged…

George’s eyes fluttered closed as his heart began to hammer in his chest. It wasn’t from the heat. Even now, the unbidden memory of Matty’s touch lit a powerful spark of arousal within him that left him dizzy and wanting.

If he was being really honest, he could maybe admit to a longstanding… curiosity about Matty. It’s not something he’d ever really acknowledged to himself consciously before. Surely, it was only natural— after all, George knew absolutely everything else about him, except what he was like in bed. It's not that they didn't talk about sex. Matty in particular had never been shy when it came to bragging about his exploits, so George knew that Matty had slept with both men and women, but knowing something and experiencing it first-hand were two very different things.

Last night, George caught a rare glimpse of a side of Matty that had never really been accessible to him before. He had no idea that Matty could be like that... Strangely exhilarated, he realized that he didn’t know who this person was at all— this part of Matty that was all tentative touches and burning desire and need— but he wanted to.

George paled.

He promptly shoved that thought as far away as possible, recalling the utter embarrassment on Matty’s face after they’d been interrupted.

It’s not like it meant anything.

Getting ahold of himself, George retrieved his bag and made his way toward the hotel lobby. The blast of cold air that hit him as he entered was a welcome shock to the system. Really, his best course of action would be to act normally; in the grand scheme of things, this wasn’t that big a deal. They could chalk it up to a substance-induced fumble, have a laugh, and move on. It might be a bit awkward at first, but things would go back to normal. And that’s what he wanted, right?

Of course, Adam and Ross would take the absolute piss if they ever found out. George cringed internally at the thought as he stepped onto the elevator. He found himself in front of room 2208 all too soon.

It’s fine, he told himself. Be chill— if I freak out, he’ll freak out.

George placed his hand on the door knob. With one last calming breath, he entered the room.

His attention was drawn immediately to the large balcony directly across from him, displaying an incredible view of the city skyline. The french doors were open, causing sheer white curtains to flutter in the breeze. He noticed the end of a cigarette smoldering in an ash tray perched on the railing. Sunlight drown the interior, illuminating the tidy, nondescript furnishings. George approached slowly, calling out for Matty as he did. He placed his bag on a wooden desk in the corner of the room next to a familiar Louis Vuitton keepall.

Matty wasn’t there.

George called his name again, and checked both the bathroom and the balcony, finding evidence of Matty’s presence, but nothing more. He pulled out his phone and texted Ross:

matt isn’t here do you know where he went?

He received a reply shortly:

idk but he checked in rlly early so maybe he’s out

He sent the same message to Adam, and then pulled up Matty in his contacts:

just got in where are you?

George sat heavily on the end of the plush, king sized bed. He looked blankly around the room, feeling a little dejected. He checked the screen impatiently. Minutes passed. There was no response. 

Eventually, he started to unpack for lack of anything better to do, hoping Matty would return soon. When he finished that, he casually flipped through the hotel’s brochure, noting the amenities. Room service, a spa, an outdoor pool— just about everything you could want on a much needed break from bus living. A dip in the hot tub might not be such a bad idea. He rubbed at a sore muscle in his neck. 

His phone buzzed. It was a message from Jamie in the band’s group chat.

Van leaves at 4:15 from the back of the lobby — seen by Matty, Ross

George studied the read receipts— Jamie had insisted on them for certain threads— and frowned. It wasn't like Matty to ignore him. He double checked his messages, but they were still unanswered. 

Feeling uneasy, George popped out of the room and made his way down the hall to Adam’s. He knocked, apprehensively shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He could hear muffled movement through the door: “Just a sec!” After long moment, Adam finally opened up. He looked a little weary. Behind him, George could see that the lights were out and the curtains to the balcony closed, shrouding the room in darkness. Guiltily, he also noticed that Adam was in pajamas.

“Sorry mate,” he said sheepishly. He should've known; one of the downsides to touring was the havoc it wreaked on their sleep schedules.

“No, no, it’s okay” Adam replied. He gave George a once over, searching his face with a wary expression. “Ah… how are you?”

“Good, yeah,” George deflected offhandedly. He knew that his friends meant well, but constantly having to placate their concern was getting old. “Listen, have you seen Matty? His stuff is in the room, but he’s not there.”

Adam scratched his head, glancing down in contemplation: “He checked in with me early this morning. Then went to your room, I’d assume. I think… he might have mentioned something about a radio interview today, or something like that...”

Oh. It wasn’t uncommon for Matty to have interviews and appearances apart from the rest of the band— it would explain his absence, and why he wasn’t texting back.

“He’ll probably come round soon.”

“Right,” George conceded, suddenly feeling a little foolish. Matty was probably just busy; it was nothing to get worked up about. “Sorry for waking you. Thanks.”

“‘Course. I’ll see you in a bit, then?”

“Yeah, see you,” George replied. Adam smiled and gently shut the door.

Stuck in a sort of limbo, and not knowing what else to do with himself, George decided to wander back down to the hotel lobby for lunch. The buffet at the restaurant wasn't anything fancy, but he perked up a little when he clocked the massive salad bar— it had been so long since he’d eaten real food. Just as he finished making up his plate, he heard a voice call out to him from across the room:

“George!”

He turned to see Jamie waving at him over his food from a nearby table. He put his laptop away as George sat down. “Is that really all you’re having?” he admonished. “The chicken is mint— I think there’s brisket up there as well.”

“Can’t cut it,” George reminded him, picking at the loose right sleeve of his hoodie.

Jamie's brow furrowed in confusion before he broke out in a chuckle: “Oh, right. I’m sorry, I know it’s not funny.”

“It’s a bit funny,” George granted with a wry smile.

“If you want something else to eat, I’ll help you,” Jamie insisted. “You need to keep your strength up.”

George snorted, amused: “Not gonna have you cutting up my food for me— I’m not that much of a diva.” Jamie grinned. “Nah, my appetite hasn’t totally come back yet,” George explained, digging in to his salad.

Jamie nodded: “I suppose that’s to be expected. And how’s the pain? You taking your meds?”

“Yeah,” George lied. “It’s better.” He knew he probably should, but he hadn’t taken any dilaudid since last night, despite the constant pain he’d been in since; he didn’t like the way the medication made him feel. Besides, he was gagging for a spliff, and he knew enough about narcotics to understand that it probably wasn’t a good idea to mix the two.

“I’m glad.” Jamie cleared his throat. “I hope you’ll understand, if I ask you to take tonight off,” he said delicately.

George’s heart sank. He kept his face carefully neutral as Jamie continued.

“Hear me out: tomorrow’s a day off, and we don’t get back on the bus until the night after that. If you’re still doing well by then, I’ll get you back in the booth for the Woodlands show.”

George sighed: “Yeah, alright.” He’d been expecting something like this, but it still stung.

As they ate, they chatted about the upcoming shows, their families, and the new material that he and Matty had been working on. It reminded him of Adam's comment about a radio appearance. He asked Jamie about it. 

“It’s just a local station looking to do a short interview ahead of tonight’s gig. Actually, he was supposed to meet me here,” Jamie remarked, checking the time. “We’re due to leave soon.”

George frowned: “It hasn’t happened yet?”

Jamie shook his head, gazing around the room and out into the lobby. “It’s not like him to be late,” he muttered.

George scrolled through his phone: still no response. Where had Matty been all day?

Jamie made a small sound of surprise, drawing George’s attention: “Oh— he’s just texted me. He’s waiting outside. Sorry George, I’m gonna have to run,” he said apologetically, standing to gather his things.

“I’ll see you off,” George suggested. “I nicked Matty’s fags earlier; he probably wants them back.” It wasn’t a total fib, but he needed an excuse to follow Jamie out. For whatever reason, it felt vitally important that he see Matty, talk to him, even just for a moment. At least then, he would be able to stop stressing about it. 

The pair walked out to the back lot, where a black Sprinter van sat idling. Jamie unintentionally ended up blocking the door, distracted as he engaged the driver in a conversation about the day’s schedule, so George approached the side of the vehicle, where he could just make out the silhouette of Matty’s mop through the van’s tinted window. He rapped on it with his knuckles.

Matty jumped, and met his gaze with wide eyes. George held up the pack of cigs, gesturing for him to roll the window down. Matty’s lips formed a thin line— he shook his head and turned away. George frowned, confused. He tapped on the glass again impatiently.

Matty wouldn’t even look at him.

Jamie called out from the front door: “Gotta go, George. Rest up, okay?”

George nodded, his eyes still trained on Matty’s profile. He stepped back a little as the van pulled away. With a growing sense of dread, he silently willed Matty to look at him, grasping at that telepathic connection they always seemed to have.

It was no use; Matty didn’t look back once.

***

Riddled with anxiety, the rest of the day dragged on far too slowly, with very little to keep George from second guessing all of his previous assumptions. He didn’t have much time with Adam and Ross before they had to head out, leaving him alone with his thoughts again. He couldn’t bear it. So, he ordered room service, went out to the balcony, and tried to enjoy his first spliff in days as he watched the sun set.

The initial head rush was followed by a deep, steady calm that slowed his mind and made the world go all soft and fuzzy around the edges. His whole body tingled pleasantly; the pain in his shoulder, neck, and back blessedly faded into the background for a while. He ended up crawling into bed, luxuriating in the high, and passed the time with some nature documentary that he found on the telly.

It was almost enough to distract him from thinking about it. Almost. 

Hours later, with his high fading, George found himself going over everything again in his head, all right where he left it. He didn’t understand. Sure, he’d expected some awkwardness, but he didn’t anticipate that Matty would go to such lengths to avoid him so thoroughly. The longer they went without talking, the stranger the whole situation felt. He wanted nothing more than for them to just get back to normal.

As the uneasiness returned, George briefly considered lighting up again, if only to take the edge off. From the corner of his eye, he noticed his phone turn on. He'd shot out a text to the group chat asking how the show had gone; Jamie was just getting back to him, stating that it was “good” and that they were all on their way back to the hotel. Finally. Any minute now, Matty would walk through that door, they would put all of this behind them, and then George would get some much needed sleep. 

Twenty long minutes later, he heard a knock at the door. To his surprise, it was Adam on the other side.

“Wanted to give you these,” he said with a soft smile, holding out a stack of hallmark cards. “Get well soon wishes from some fans in the front row.”

“Cheers,” George murmured as he accepted them. He actually felt rather touched; it was a sweet gesture.

Adam yawned powerfully and rubbed at his eyes: “Well, I’m knackered. I'll see you in the morning.” He started to make his way down the hall.

“Wait—” George called, “where’s Matty?” He glanced around the corridor, but it was empty.

Adam seemed to hesitate before answering: “Ah, I think he’s out back of the lobby, having a smoke.”

George blinked, taking the information in. Adam watched him cautiously.

Yeah, he was properly fucked off now.

“For fuck’s sake,” George bit, putting on his shoes.

“What?”

“He’s mugged me off all fucking day.”

Simmering with frustration, he passed Adam in the hall and called the elevator. He normally didn’t rise to anger very easily, but the combination of anxiety, pain, and exhaustion had worn at his willingness to tolerate Matty’s dismissive bullshit.

Adam watched him go uneasily. He opened his mouth, as if he had more to say, then closed it again. In the end, he simply murmured “goodnight.”

“‘Night,” George replied sullenly as the elevator doors closed.

The lobby was dark— still open, but essentially vacant. George strode outside. It was well past midnight; without the heat of the sun, the air had cooled off significantly. Initially, he didn’t see anyone around at all. Growing increasingly irritated, he marched over to the alleyway at side of the building.

A little ways down, a shadowed figure looked up at him and froze. Their gaze darted toward the other end of the alley, as if looking for an escape.

“Don’t,” George warned lowly, his voice stopping Matty in his tracks. Even as he drew close, Matty still wouldn’t face him. The silence was tense, only broken by the sound of a light wind rustling in the trees. George stared at the back of Matty’s head. Waiting. Fuming. Eventually, Matty flopped back against the wall, his profile still in shadow. He held out his hand to George, a lit joint dangling between his fingers.

“No, thanks.”

Matty hovered for a moment. He took one last long, hard drag off the spliff before crushing the remainder of it under his boot.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong with you?” George asked with an edge to his voice that he couldn’t be bothered to suppress. Matty hid his face, looking down the opposite end of the alley. “You’ve been avoiding me all day.” He hated the way the accusation sounded so pathetic to his own ears.

Matty sniffled wetly and wiped at his face. His hands were visibly trembling.

“Matt…” George protested, putting a hand on his shoulder to spin him around.

George wasn’t prepared for what he saw. Matty flinched from his touch— actually flinched— and choked out a heavy sob from deep within his chest. His face was mess; the dark eye makeup that he’d recently taken a liking to wearing on stage was smudged, and his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. He'd been crying. When he spoke, his voice was a broken rasp, strained with emotion.

“Just hit me, if it’ll… if you want to. I promise, I won’t tell anyone.” His face crumpled, black tears streaming down his cheeks.

Alarm bells went off in George’s head. “What the fuck are you on about?” he demanded, his heart in his throat.

Matty was sobbing so hard, he could barely speak, so uncharacteristically inarticulate.

“What I… I c-can’t… m'so s-s-sorry…”

His stuttering devolved into nonsensical noises of distress, growing more panicked by the second. His chest heaved; he was breathing too fast.

George sprang into action, his anger forgotten as he wrestled with the cold dread that flooded his system. “Matty, you need to breathe.” He reached out on pure instinct.

“Don’t!” Matty shouted weakly, pulling out of George’s reach with wide eyes. He began to cry again with renewed fervor.

“Okay,” George said in what he hoped was a gentle, soothing tone. He held his hand up disarmingly, as if he were trying to soothe a wild animal. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, but he willed himself to stay calm. “Okay. Let’s just talk, alright? Matthew, look at me, please,” he implored. Matty shuddered as their eyes met. “Deep breaths, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow… even slower… that’s it.”

Matty’s bawling gradually began to ease as his breathing came back under control, George coaching him through it, his voice grounding and soft. Calmer, yet still weepy, Matty pressed the palms of his hands into his face, as though he couldn’t help but try to hide.

George swallowed around the lump in his throat and mentally prepared himself for the worst.

“Tell me honestly— what did you take?” he whispered.

Matty looked up at him and shook his head, eyes wide: “Nothing—! I swear.”

They’d been here before. Matty dabbled in drugs more than George cared for, and honestly, it scared the shit out of him. After that last time, that close call, he’d promised he would stop…

“I need to know, Matty. I won’t be mad— but you have to tell me. I need to make sure you’re safe,” George pleaded. He felt nauseated as he wondered what kind of comedown they’d be facing tonight.

“I mean it, George, I’m not on anything. I’d tell you if I was,” Matty insisted. “I swear to you, that’s not what’s going on here.”

George shook his head, bewildered: “Then what’s got you so upset?” None of this was adding up.

Matty sniffled and looked up to the sky, biting his lips. It was a long moment before he finally faced George, his expression full of remorse, fresh tears in his eyes.

“What I did to you was wrong,” he whispered, “and I want you to know that I will never forgive myself.” He pulled at his hair, his voice cracking: “I’m so fucking sorry, George.”

George was stunned speechless. Oh, God. This was so much worse than he thought it would be.

“If Ross hadn’t knocked on the door… fuck!” Matty cried, holding his head in his hands.

What have we done?

George's mouth went dry. “It’s okay. We can forget about it. It’s not that big a deal,” he said feebly.

“‘Not that big a deal?!’” Matty cried. Now, he seemed almost furious. George was taken aback by the sudden outrage, scrambling to make sense of Matty's rapidly shifting emotions. He'd only ever been like this before when he was using. 

“What do you think happened last night?”

Matty’s face twisted in pain: “I fucking assaulted you, because I’m selfish piece of shit and all I was thinking about was myself. And I will never forgive myself George, never.”

George recoiled. “You didn’t assault me, Matty,” he scoffed, “how can you even think that?”

Matty shook his head and gestured wildly with his arms: “You were high on pills, fucking broken and in so much pain… your arms were… you couldn’t even push me away!” he lamented. “And I took advantage of you, like a sick fucking pervert—”

George grasped Matty’s arm, tightening his grip when he tried to pull away. Matty looked up at him with something like fear in his eyes.

“Stop! I’m not going to hurt you— Christ, I’d never hurt you, how can you…?” George trailed off, feeling horribly sad. “You didn’t do anything to me.” Then, quietly: “You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want you to do.”

Matty’s face fell: “I didn’t give you a chance to stop me. You were so out of it—”

“Fuck's sake, would you listen to me? I didn’t want you to stop!” 

Matty froze; George rarely ever raised his voice. The admission hung heavily between them.

George sighed heavily, searching his best friend’s face; Matty was no longer crying, but his makeup had stained his cheeks with the dark trails of so many tears shed. The whole situation was a total fucking mess.

“Listen— can we just, like, go upstairs? Start over in the morning?” George asked softly.

Matty sniffed and wiped at his face with his sleeves. He nodded.

“C'mere,” George murmured, pulling Matty into his chest. At first, Matty kept his arms at his sides, as if unsure of what to do with them. George dropped his face into Matty’s hair, fighting back his own emotion, and held him tight. He felt Matty slowly wrap his arms around his waist and press himself against his body. They clung to each other, seeking comfort in the closeness. After a long moment they broke apart, and without another word, walked back up to their room.

George felt like he was ready to drop— his very bones ached with exhaustion. Emotionally drained, he wasted no time stripping down to his briefs and crawling into bed. Matty stared at him awkwardly from the foot of it.

“I can sleep on the couch,” he murmured.

Something about that made George so fucking sad. Is this what it would be like between them now? All of that trust and intimacy gone, because of one mistake?

“Don’t be daft. C'mon.” George pulled the duvet back, eyes pleading.

Matty quietly undressed and slipped into bed beside him, lying still on his back. An ocean of space separated them.

George looked over and held out his left arm.

“It’s okay, if you don’t want to—”

Matty closed the gap, slotting himself to George’s side, his head resting on his chest in the warm space between his neck and shoulder. George pulled him close, breathing in his hair, legs tangling together.

AN: Warnings for mentions of past drug abuse. There is a discussion regarding sexual assault.

Phew! This chapter was a beast, but I'm pretty pleased with the way it turned out. Thank you so much for all of your patience and support! Let me know what you think- I'd love to hear from you if you've been enjoying this story. I pinky promise that the next chapter will be happier (and smutty)!

[jakeperalta]

1, 4, 31, 40 :D

What are your top 3 favorite sets you’ve made

i think three that i sort of challenged myself/went outside my comfort zone a bit with that turned out well are this fleabag set, this daisy jones & the six set and this rom com tropes set (the challenge for that one was getting through it without my laptop exploding 😬)

4. A set that flopped but deserved better

this rory + logan one was a flop which isn't like devastating because i never really expect those sets to be big, but i was happy with how it came out so breaking 100 notes would've been nice lol

31. Do you schedule/queue posts or do you post right after you’re done

unless it has to be posted on a specific date for an event I always just post whenever I finish it

40. Why do you make gifs

i like it as a way to engage with fandom like "hey look at this parallel" or "i think this song goes really well with these characters and i'm going to make this set to portray how i'm envisioning that in my head" and also i like how it's a way to be creative and create something that looks nice without any actual artistic ability!

questions for gifmakers!

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 285, Replies Part 1

1) “But alright alright, I know that there’s always a huge revelation or the title itself is a spoiler, I know how it works, it ain’t my first rodeo, so, where did we left last time? Oh Yeah, Bakugo taking steps on his redemption arc and Midoriya being fucking pissed. Yeah, that’s the gist of it, so let us jump in on Chapter 285!”- Hey, you know what the most popular form of redemption is?….dying through a heroic sacrifice to save the hero! It happened in Star Wars, and since Horikoshi’s a proven SW nerd….

2) “THAT CERTAINLY BODES WELL FOR THIS CHAPTER :)))) “- Well, they stopped Izuku from reaching the point of no return, but given who swapped out for Tomura as their main opponent, it might actually have been better to let him keep going, even with the sacrifice of his body….

3) “But even with that in mind, Midoriya seems to have been using a higher output of power and even so he hasn’t slink-ified his arms yet, so, it seems like we know what the chapter will be about.”- His arms are still pointing the right way, and he’s been training his body’s durability to better contain his full power. Sadly, AFO accelerated his plans so quickly there’s just not enough time to properly master his strength no matter how hard he focuses on it, so all Izuku can do is push himself to whatever limits he’s got and work with that, praying it’ll be enough….but it looks like that’s a vain hope regardless. Toura’s biggest advantage is no doubt his healing right now. No matter how hard Izuku beats him, the fact that Tomura can undo it means that he can always recover better than izuku, and nothing the heroes have hit him with has yet managed to psuh im beyond the point of no return. Unless somebody can figure out a way to make the damage permanently stick, conflict with Tomura is a steady losing one regardless of what advantages we have against him.

4) “huummmmmm… I know what it means when the arms looks like that, seems like we’re slowly getting to the point of no return for that limb.”- Not yet past the limit, but Izuku should prey that Eri’s managed to master her Rewind enough to get him back into fighting shape. At this point, he’ll have to cripple himself just to get AFO to back off from the fighting, let alone actually stopping him.

5) “You know Midoriya, I think it would be far safer and more devastating if you were using your legs to kick him around. Keep the arms intact to allow you to use blackwhip and kick him like the football”- On the other (non-broken) hand, Izuku still needs to walk and move under his own power. When the dust settles in the aftermath, Izuku needs his legs to be functioning more than he needs his arms, and whilst he is using all his limbs right now, he can more afford to go hog-wild with his upper set than his lower, because his Black Whip can, if needed, compensate for his arms, even if he can no longer throw a punch. If he’s gonna cripple himself stopping Tomura, then his arms are simply better to fully exhaust than his legs.

6) “Midoriya my boy I know you’re absolutely livid but jesus fuck that is a lot of punishment on your arms! I haven’t seen you throw a single kick so far even though that was supposed to be your thing, what happened? Did the rage clouded your mind, and you want to defeat him All Might-style?”- It might be a bit hard to tell, but Izuku actually is throwing kicks in there- just so fast it’s hard to see. The “st Louis” attack is one he used for his kick-based style, and his legs are constantly blurring throughout this barrage because he’s using all four limbs to batter Tomura’s shit in – if they weren’t in mid-air, he’d be an immobile target flopping about on the ground right now, but thanks to his current Quirk combination, he can fully burn through every limb he’s got until Tomura takes more damage than he can recover from – which also fuels the reasoning behind him going that far. Once Izuku stops, he won’t be able to fight at this 100% level anymore, and will be wide open, so it’s all or nothing right now.

7) “Okay so it is in fact working, even with the regeneration at a fraction of the expected it seems like Midoriya is managing to overpower it, but to be honest I don’t know if Midoriya’s body can keep it together long enough to finish Shigaraki. We’re on a point where it’s a race to see whose body’s blow up first.”- One boy’s racing towards self-destruction, the other’s trying to resist it, and it’s hard to tell whose physical conditioning will allow them to triumph – only that no other hero/villain could force the other to go this far to win. If nothing else, this fight cements that each other is the only counter to their immense full power.

8) “Midoriya please take a chill pill before you burst a vein on your brain”- Unfortunately, AFO’s here to throw a barrel of gasoline on the fire….

9) “I have a feeling this is gonna be a hell of a high-five they are about to inflict upon the world”- Izuku will throw hands until he literally only has stubs to thrash Tomura with.

10) “There must be a myriad of quirks that can be used to counter Midoriya’s onslaught, but can you manage to use them properly Shigaraki? This boy specializes in analyzing the situation and counteracting it immediately, and he just shut-off any sense of self-preservation, are you sure you have what it takes to stand up to him?”- Having so many powers you’ve only just wakened to and haven’t gotten a feel for is actually a massive disadvantage. It means you have too many options in a fight, whereas Izuku’s more limited number in comparison allows him to be quicker in action. Yes, Tomura may actually be stronger than Izuku in theory, but if he never gets a chance to use said strength, it’s meaningless.

11) “Also, yeah, Midoriya can’t, but does he care? And even if Shigaraki can regenerate, he himself already admitted that it is not managing to keep up, so he probably is gonna break down eventually. Both of them will in fact.”- The Hyper Regeneration is the key element here. With it, all Tomura needs is rest and the Quirk will eventually restore all the damage he’s taken like it never happened at all. In contrast, if Izuku gets too damaged, it means he can’t recover to the same extent, and with him accumulating injuries every time he’s gone overboard like this, it means if they both break down, Tomura’s the one who’ll come off better in the aftermath, so Izuku’s only real chance is to put everything he’s got into play, in hopes that Tomura get stuck with an injury he can’t recover from.

12) “Alright, so Shoto got promoted to lift operator, he’s gonna bring them closer to the two clashing titans so they don’t waste their precious firepower. Literally on Endeavor’s case. The roads have no idea what’s coming for them…”- Endeavour’s heat control and the ability to carbonise cells beyond Hyper Regeneration’s capacity to heal is their second-best option after OFA’s might- I believe that’s why parts of Tomura’s body are crumbling off after his barbequing – they’re too damaged to heal, so they’re being ejected from the main body for new tissue to replace them. Which means that the prominence burn was enough to almost kill Tomura….but sadly, pushing him to the brink of death just allowed his master the opportunity to step in and take the reins once his grip slipped.

13) “Rock please, you have no idea how many times they face death every week, trust me, they’ll be fine. The same can’t be said about endeavor, he’s about to go out with a boom, so to speak.”- Rock Lock being faced with the fact that he, the adult in this situation, can do nothing to protect them, despite the fact he logically should, because he’s ultimately just a side-character in this clash of titans. He wouldn’t have been even able to help with carbonising Tomura if he stepped in now. On the other hand, I like that the characters always acknowledge that these kids shouldn’t be doing this, fighting on the front lines, because whilst this is a war, it doesn’t need to be theirs. Unforcedly, whether he likes it or not, it’s always been Izuku’s war, his burden to bear alongside OFA, and his classmates are there to help him shoulder it however they can.

14) “WAIT BAKUGO, I THOUGHT THAT SHOTO WAS GONNA BRING YOU UP THERE AS WELL SO YOU DIDN’T WASTE YOUR SWEAT ARE YOU THAT IMPATIENT?!”- Might need a re-read. Bakugo says that he’s got the lifting covered, Shoto’s just there to help cool Endeavour down as much as he can so he can unleash a maximum Prominence Burn to his very limits.

15) “Look, by the time you guys get in there he’s gonna be a bit more than a piece of flesh barely holding on to itself, but still fighting. There’s no way to stop him now, even if Shigaraki is put down, he won’t stop.”- If he breaks off his limbs, he’s still got his teeth.

16) “Ooookay bakugo, this moment again… tell me, are you suspecting about something? Did you figure out on your own what is it that All Might was keeping from Midoriya? Have you found out how the not-Nana user meet their end?”- It’s not so much that Bakugo’s figured something out – in fact it’s the opposite. It’s what he doesn’t know about OFA, the unspoken mystery around the 4th and all the changes that have been occurring in the power that not even All Might is fully aware of or has any context for, and what the end result of these will be for Izuku – why him specifically, did it manifest? Will he be negatively affected by this transformation? Can he handle the full power, or will it be too much for his body, even after non-stop training? These and all the rest of the flashbacks tie into the underlying theme- Bakugo’s worried for Izuku, specifically because he knows him better than anybody else, and he knows he’s not worried for himself, no matter the damage he takes.

17) “I mean, yeah it is pretty much the same thing, we already talked about it before. They are the same, but they operate on opposite ends of the same scale, one grows by taking by force, the other grows by giving with consent. They are the same, but also, they are opposites.”- The opposite, but the same. In much the same way, for all the benefits that OFA gives Izuku, it brings him a lot of disadvantages- the self-damage to his body, the unknown changes taking place within it, how Izuku’s somehow in connection with actual ghosts of dead people, the fact that it makes him a massive target for Villains and specifically AFO – OFA has let Izuku do a lot of good, but it’s also been a curse to him as well, looking at all the negatives it’s brought into his life.

18) “Oh I remember this moment… Seems like you’re having some bad flashbacks right now Bakugo”- Worried for izuku’s wellbeing, because he’s seen him at his lowest, and knows he’s played a large part in that – guilt over how his insecurity lead to him bullying Izuku out of rejection for him, and how that fed into izuku’s low self-esteen which is playing a part in him brutally destroying himself at present right now, heedless of the self-damage.

19) “okay sorry I’m immediately distracted by the person back there on the right with eye-stalks. I want to know more about them, are they a slug? I want to see the Slugson (Slug person)”- But as much as the power has resulted in some negatives in Izuku’s life, it inspired him and Bakugo both, allowed All Might to show them what a real hero was like and gave them both a direction to channel their efforts into, gave Izuku hope of actually becoming a hero despite his powerlessness, even if it was originally created for a darker purpose of killing an evil madman, it’s become so much more than that. It’s been a blessing to Izuku in many ways as well, one that Bakugo is actually grateful for as much as he’s scared for Izuku’s wellbeing, because it allowed Izuku to confront him and Bakugo to acknowledge his own weakness that lead to their falling out. Good and bad things have both come from this power. @thelreads

[thesingingrevolution]

some of you people are just thinly veiled ww antis.

i cannot believe in this day and age after EVERYTHING we’ve been through, there’s any questions as to whether or not this is the move for him. not just for him, for everyone. building a solid solo career to guarantee a successful future regardless of what happens. in a perfect world everyone is treated fairly, whether it be getting enough work or enough rest. i believe we all have our grievances, and they, for the most part, valid.

this applies to everyone in nct, everyone in kpop, everyone who is a celebrity. you could extend this to regular people and say it’s a good idea to have a solid career regardless of what area you’re in. but in kpop specifically, the industry moves so fast. there are groups who are hugely successful that debuted less than 5 years ago being called flops because there’s newer shinier groups that everyone is obsessed with now. the 7 year curse is generous for many groups, since it’s so common for groups to lose members earlier, or the group to disband before then for whatever reason.

especially as a foreign idol. this is so important. i am overjoyed that yuta started doing the same. i think it’s brilliant to ensure individual fame and success while still having the security of a group. i pray nct doesn’t get smaller because they are my favorite group and i want to have them in my life always. i love them all and i want them to be happy and together. but due to circumstances that none of us can really control, there is a chance the group will get smaller. and in the case that certain people leave, i want them to be happy and successful no matter what they choose to do. i’ll be heartbroken and devastated but it’s the reality of loving anything, that you can get hurt. lol that got deep but in all seriousness, having any sort of emotional investment in anything, ESPECIALLY SOMETHING LIKE KPOP 😭 is bound to pose challenges.

i’ve realized that many permanent groups are just like temporary groups. permanent groups have the benefit of time, and more likely contract extensions, but ultimately, it’s all about making a name for yourself and guaranteeing a future career if/when the group is over.

i’m just laughing thinking about what it’s like if ww turned down opportunities in favor of…… whatever sm is (not) doing.

like imagine the editors of elle magazine are like yo bro, want to be on the cover?? and whoever organizes paris fashion week or valentino partners or whatever is like hey do u want to come to our exclusive event where you can get a lot of exposure?? some people really want ww to be like no thanks ☺️ im just gonna hang out here and wait for my company to remember my group exists even though my fans have been begging for the bare minimum since 2016 and i have never been properly cared for or utilized even though im popular talented charming and beautiful 😇

you don’t think i’d love to see him with them all the time???? every other hour i post about how much i miss NCT WINWIN. i miss him. i miss him so much. it’s not fun, it’s not easy. but he’s my fav, i want him to do well, i want to see him succeed, i want him to do what he needs to do. and yes i pray every night that he will be fully present for this nct 2023 thing.

…lastly. going back to the anti thing. so many beg and hope and pray for their fav to have solo activities. but when someone else does all the sudden he’s abandoning the group 🤨 ok.

“why isn’t winwin here” “wayv is basically 5 now” “nct is a part time job for him” if you paid attention to him and actually cared you would know he loves his group and his members and their music. he always promotes wayv when on solo schedules, talks about how grateful he is for weishennies/nctzens/yunqis, and has a wonderful relationship with the other guys. i’m sure he would be more present if sm didn’t plan things 2 hours before they happen.

have some cute pics of wayv in hong kong today 🥰💕

[local-redhead-bookworm]

Hey, I’m in a mood to ramble about Steve today. This gets pretty long though, so pull up a chair.

I could go on for hours about how the Duffers could not write a character arc if you put a gun to their heads, but they actually came pretty close with Steve. I also really like to look at what’s actually happening in the story versus how the narrative frames it, so we’re gonna talk about Steve.

So at the beginning, Steve is meant to be perceived as “Nancy’s jerk boyfriend” and that’s it. Honestly, I’m surprised he ever made it past that, given how the Duffers handled every other male character aside from Jonathan and now Argyle. Anyway, we’re meant to see him as an arrogant rich boy who’s a jerk to Jonathan in s1, and nothing else.

But let’s set the narrative lens aside for a second. He caught Jonathan trespassing on his family’s property, taking inappropriate photos of his girlfriend. Now I know this all gets addressed later, but in the moment, it’s really not a good look for Jonathan. I think breaking Jonathan’s camera was too far, but Steve’s anger is justified. The incident with the spray paint and him calling Jonathan a slur are absolutely not being excused here, I’m merely pointing out that his actions before that point were not exactly as the narrative frames them.

Then we have his famous match with the demogorgon, where Steve actually had come to apologize to Jonathan and instead got pulled into the Upside Down mess. He jumps right into his role as the protector, and he’s a much better person because of this.

Then in s2, Steve and Nancy have been dating for almost a year. He is an extremely devoted boyfriend, and he clearly adores Nancy, but it’s obvious that Nancy is still thinking about Jonathan. Even when she helps him out with academic stuff, she continues to fling his own poor grades and his shortcomings in his face. Then she dumps him, and he is absolutely devastated by it.

At this point, it’s worth mentioning that Steve’s parents are virtually never present. Granted, some of the parents in the show are fairly uninvolved, but Steve’s parents are just never there. Let’s re-evaluate Steve’s relationships in light of this. He’s popular but Tommy and Carol have dropped him by s2, so he doesn’t have many (if any) real friends. Take this with how attached he was to Nancy, and it paints a picture of simply a very lonely teenaged boy. She’s the first person who’s chosen to stick around him in a while for something other than his status. He was so deeply in love with her, and her decision to dump him is like a knife to the heart for him.

After his breakup with Nancy, he gets dragged into the Upside Down mess again by Dustin, who at this point he probably just knows as “Nancy’s little brother’s friend.” And he throws himself into helping and protecting because he feels useful and wanted here, with Dustin, who’s like a little brother to him. He gives Dustin relationship advice and while it’s not good, it does show us how deeply his breakup with Nancy hurt him. We see him talk to Nancy briefly, and we see how deeply her words about him being a “shitty boyfriend” hurt him. He’s convinced he was the problem, as if she wasn’t the one constantly brushing him off and casting longing looks at Jonathan.

In s3, things are better. He’s much happier, and he’s overjoyed to see Dustin. However, he failed to get accepted into any colleges, presumably because of his low grades and his flopped admission letters. He’s developed some feelings for Robin and he’s still very absorbed with trying to get a date, but given the ease with which he takes her rejection and her coming out to him, he’s in a much more stable place emotionally by the end of the season. He states that he is no longer in love with Nancy and considers her a friend.

It seemed like we were through with Steve being second fiddle and hung up on romance, because he had friends now. He had his little found family.

Then everything changed with the arrival of s4. It butchered Steve’s dynamic with Dustin by having Dustin constantly belittle his intelligence. When Steve says that Nancy nearly shot him, she says he nearly deserved it, when he was coming to apologize to Jonathan. Nancy continues to insinuate that he’s stupid, and he never acknowledges this. We hear about how much this lonesome only child wants a big family, only to have to listen to him admit that it always included her. As if she isn’t still in a relationship with Jonathan at this time, as if she hasn’t constantly insulted him and made him feel undeserving of her love. The season concludes their relationship with Nancy being back with Jonathan but not communicating their problems, while Steve looks on longingly from the sidelines.

We can have Steve being clueless and out of the loop without being treated like he’s stupid. We can have Steve find belonging in his close friendship with Robin, and the older brother role he plays in Dustin’s life. We can have Steve be happy without him needing to get back with his ex who do obviously damaged his self esteem. Steve’s arc and his worth as a character do not begin and end with romance, and I’m sick of seeing another character’s story be a way to say that romance is the only thing that matters.

[babygirlbenji]

I’ve Got You - Marcus Rashford

A/N: my first marcus imagine!!! i'm so sorry this is so late, and it gets so rushed towards the end. i really hope i've done this justice! i'm still getting to know marcus, so i hope this is okay 🥰

It had been a long time since Marcus had been able to go out and party with his friends. With international duty for the Euros and the devastating loss, swiftly followed by club duty only to be sidelined by his shoulder injury and pending surgery, Marcus wanted to let loose for a while and forget about his troubles.

‘Baby girl,’ his voice echoed throughout your shared flat, the last syllable elongated.

‘Yes, my love?’ You replied from the sofa, nose deep in one of your university textbooks. You third year of journalism was intense, but you still absolutely loved it. Your aspirations of being a news reporter for the Manchester Evening News were becoming more reachable with every term.

‘Have you seen my Balenciaga shirt? I swear I saw it in my wardrobe the other day.’ A snort left your lips.

‘You mean your floordrobe? I washed it, I put a load of whites in the other day. Should be either hanging up on the clothes line or folded in one of your drawers.’ Silence followed as Marcus searched for the elusive shirt, before he appeared in the hallway, dressed in black skinny jeans, the shirt he’d been looking for and his usual white Air Forces gifted to him by Nike a couple weeks previously. ‘You look like you’re going somewhere,’ you remarked. Marcus nodded, typing quickly on his phone before coming to sit next to you on the sofa.

‘Jesse, Jadon, Luke and I are going out for the evening, might be a late one. Fancy coming along?’ He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear as you contemplated the offer.

‘I’d love to, but studying calls. I’ve got a presentation soon, so I need to prepare for it.’ His shoulders slouched. He loved partying, but nights out with you were always the best. You were responsible, but also knew how to have a good time. Knowing all the good clubs from your time at the University of Manchester was a huge plus.

You and Marcus had actually met at one of the clubs. It was your first year of university, and you were new to the area having moved up from the south to start your university career. Marcus had come to your rescue after seeing you being chatted up by a guy who wasn’t taking no for an answer. Having pretended to be your boyfriend to get the guy away from you, Marcus realised that he wanted to get to know you better. He asked for your number in a moment of brazen confidence, and had asked you out the day after when you’d both sobered up. You weren’t usually the type to pick up a guy while on a night out, but the stars aligned on that night, and you hadn’t looked back since.

Your thoughts were brought back to the current moment. Marcus was at the counter, looking for his keys, wallet, mask and ID.

‘Sure you don’t wanna come, love?’ He asked, bending down behind the sofa and wrapping you in his arms.

‘My heart says no but my head says yes.’ The two of you shared a laugh at your conflicting answer.

‘Alright, babe, my Uber will be here in a few minutes, I’ll see you later this evening, yeah?’ You turned your head to kiss his cheek, and he gently held your face to kiss your lips goodbye.

‘Be safe, text me if you want me to pick you up, yeah?’ You called after his retreating back as he hurried towards the door.

‘Will do, bubba, love you!’

‘Love you too, have fun!’ The door opened, and he left, the sound of a car door opening and closing following a short while later.

Facing a quiet evening ahead, you switched on Netflix and put on the new series of Unsolved Mysteries, which had been on your watch list ever since it was released the week before. Not bothering to cook, you ordered a pizza, and feasted by yourself as you filled your head with statistics, facts and opinions about the history of the BBC.

Your phone blared loudly beside you, your ringtone of September by Earth, Wind and Fire catching you unawares. Groaning and realising you must have fallen asleep on the sofa, you groggily picked it up, noting that the time was just past 2:30am.

‘Hello?’ you grumbled. A barrage of loud music, even louder voices and a car engine hit your ears, making you rub your forehead at the change of volume.

‘Y/N, it’s Jess, we’re about 5 minutes away, Rashy got himself really drunk,’ Jesse’s voice was slightly muffled, and you assumed that you were on speaker as he tried to wrestle his taller teammate into his seatbelt or something.

‘Okay, I’ll get stuff ready, see you soon.’ He thanked you and hung up, leaving you to hurry around to get a pair of joggers and a clean shirt from Marcus’s wardrobe, followed by a glass of water and made sure that there was a packet of painkiller ready for the morning when Marcus would no doubt have a pounding headache.

The buzzer to the apartment sounded, and you answered to allow Jesse and Jadon up, knowing that Marcus was too gone to know where his keys were. Shortly after, the doorbell rang and you hurried over to answer it.

‘Hey guys, thank you for bringing him home,’ you whispered, trying not to wake up your neighbours.

'Oh look, it's my babyyyy!' Marcus yelled loudly when he saw you. Even in his intoxicated state, and even with your hair in a messy bun, no makeup and bleary eyes from sleep, you were still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

'Shhh, Rash, neighbours,' Jadon winced.

'I need everyone to know that I was literally jumped by some random girl at the bar, but I pushed her away from me and was like "bore off, I have a girlfriend! And she's the love of my life! And I don't want anyone else!"' You didn't know whether to be thoroughly embarrassed, thoroughly amused or thoroughly endeared, so you just thanked the boys for bringing him home.

‘Safe trip home, guys.’ They closed the door behind you and you heard them head back downstairs. You put your arm around Marcus's shoulders and helped him inside.

The next step of the process was getting Marcus out of his party clothes. ‘Rashy, baby, I need you to help me get you undressed and into bed, okay?’ He grumbled to himself as he tried to get his arms and legs out of their respective holes of his shirt and jeans. It surprised you how an agile footballer could be so uncoordinated when inebriated.

‘Help,’ he mumbled. You were distinctly reminded of your six-year-old cousin you sometimes babysat, but decided not to say anything; you didn’t want to upset your boyfriend.

‘Alright, baby, arms up!’ He obeyed and lifted his arms up in the air, allowing you to finally take his shirt off. Tossing it into the laundry bin, you cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead. ‘I’ve got you, darling. There we go.’ His jeans came off soon after, leaving Marcus in his boxers, looking thoroughly exhausted.

‘Want cuddles,’ he slurred. You giggled.

‘Drink some water for me first?’ After some deliberation, you reached an agreement, and he drank a glass of water. ‘Okay baby, you feeling okay?’ To answer your question, Marcus flopped onto the sofa, completely passed out. ‘Guess we’re sleeping here tonight,’ you snorted to yourself, quickly fetching a blanket and a few extra pillows. Gently lifting his head up, you placed them under him, making sure he was lying so that he wouldn’t strain his neck or hurt his shoulder more. You carefully climbed in next to him, acting as the big spoon, and pulled him close to you.

‘Thank you, Y/N,’ a small voice whispered, still slightly slurred, but this time you assumed it was caused more by exhaustion than alcohol.

‘Always, darling.’

Needless to say, training for Marcus the next morning proved quite a challenge.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Wrong Super Soldier | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: (Soulmate AU) You see color when you meet your soulmate. 

A/N: my for you page on tiktok has been filled with these kinds of POVs and it’s inspired me to write a story of my own. I did write this quickly during one of my study breaks, so if there are any mistakes, i apologize! 

Hope you guys like this! xx 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

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“Aren’t you even a little bit worried?” You ask Steve as you sit down next to him on the couch. 

“That we can’t see color yet?” He asks, wrapping his arms around your shoulder, “No, I’m not.” 

You sigh, “We’ve been dating over a year.. and now.” You motion to the table in front of you, “We’re getting married. Both of us still can’t see color.” The table was filled with various books about planning a wedding and your wedding binder was next to them. You and Steve met through Nat after she set the two of you up. However, even after a year, you two couldn’t see color which meant you two hadn’t met your soulmates yet. 

“Look, I love you and you love me. I don’t see anything wrong with that. For all we know, our soulmate could be a really good friend the two of us haven’t met yet.” He kisses your temple, “Stop worrying, let’s get this wedding planned, yeah? I’m ready to make you my wife.” 

You nod, but deep down it does bother you that you haven’t seen color yet. You did love Steve, with all your heart, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t wonder who your soulmate was. 

~ 

“This is the only guest list you have?” You frown at the few people on it. 

“Everyone I know is dead.” He says giving your cheek a kiss and sitting down next to you. “I’m going to talk to Bucky later but I didn’t put him on the list because I’m not sure if he’d show.” 

You add his few names to your list, “He’s still in Wakanda, right?” 

“Yeah. Last time I talked to him, he said he was doing well, but I didn’t know if coming here for the wedding would be too much for him. So, I want to talk to him about it first. I wouldn’t want to overwhelm him.” 

“You’re such a good friend,” You rub your hand along his shoulder, “I do hope he comes.” You smile, “I want to meet this famous Bucky Barnes you’re always talking about!” 

He chuckles and nods, “I hope so too. Did Nat help you pick out the colors for the flowers?”

You groan, “Yes she did. I hate not being able to see color. It really sucks when you’re planning a wedding.” 

“Well, we will just make sure to take lots of pictures so we can see the colors later.” 

~ 

After Steve spoke to Bucky, he agreed he would be there for the wedding. It wasn’t every day that your best friend gets married and he wasn’t going to miss out on it. He also wanted to meet the girl Steve couldn’t shut up about. 

So you were now standing nervously beside Nat in you and Steve’s apartment. The wedding is only two days away and Steve agreed a small get together would be great for Bucky to see everyone without being overwhelmed at the wedding so you cooked, actually who am I kidding, Tony catered the food in.  

“I’m kinda nervous.” You tell Nat. 

She laughs, “Really? I had no idea by how much you’d been fidgeting next to me.” 

“I can’t help it. This is Bucky, Steve’s best friend. I’ve never met him. What if he doesn’t like me and tells Steve not to marry me?” 

She rubs your shoulder in comfort, “He’s a good guy and wouldn’t do something like that. He’s going to love you.” 

You check the time on your watch, “Where are they? They should have been here by now..” 

“Y/n. Calm down.” She motions to the island, “Sit down, take you a quick drink to calm the nerves.” 

You do as she says and sip on the drink when you hear the door open, “We’re here!” 

Steve walks through the door, Bucky close behind, “Sorry we had to stop at Jess’s in Brooklyn.” Steve chuckles. 

“I was craving a piece of their double chocolate cake.” Another voice, you assumed was Bucky. 

“Hey Bucky.” Nat greets with him with a hug. 

“where’s my favorite girl?” Steve asks, “There she is!” 

“Right here.” You step off the stool and when you look up, you see him when he releases Nat from the hug. The breath gets caught in your throat when your eyes meet his. 

Blue. His eyes are so blue. 

Brown. His hair.. it’s brown. Dark brown. 

Red. His shirt is a dark red. 

“Oh my god.” You breath out. 

His face mimics the shock on yours; your eyes.. they were y/e/c. And your hair was y/h/c. The walls of the apartment were a light grey. Nat’s hair was red. Steve was blonde. The books on the shelves were maroon, white, black, dark blue. So many colors. 

Steve doesn’t realize anything has happened and comes to you, “Buck, this is her.” He has a large grin on his face as he puts his hand on your lower back and guides you to Bucky. 

“y/n, this is Bucky.” 

Bucky holds his hand out to you, “James Bucky Barnes... Steve was right, you’re gorgeous.” 

"I told you, Buck those pictures didn’t do her justice.” Steve says. 

“Y/n, are you alright?” Nat asks from your side. She’d noticed the look right away. It was the same look she had on her face when she met her soulmate and could see all the colors around her. 

Your eyes drag to hers, “I-I..” 

“How about we go into the kitchen?” Nat announces to everyone, “Tony ordered plenty of food for all of us.” 

Everyone agrees and heads toward the kitchen, leaving you, Steve, Nat & Bucky standing there. 

“You okay?” Steve asks you, gently grabbing your arm.  

“I think she may be starstruck by my handsomeness, punk.” Bucky teases, patting Steve on the shoulder. 

Steve chuckles, “Yeah I’m sure that was it Buck.”

 “Come on, I’m starving.” Bucky could see you were trying to process what just happened. You silently thanked him for leaving with Steve so you could process what just happened. 

Once Bucky and Steve entered the kitchen, Nat grabbed you by the arms, “You met him didn’t you? Your soulmate? I can’t believe it!” 

You nod, still a little in shock, “Your hair; it’s red.” 

She waves you off, “yeah yeah it’s red. No big deal. Are you going to tell Steve that his best friend is your soulmate?” 

“Oh god, Nat. Steve.” Your eyes go wide, “This would devastate him!” 

“Okay it’s okay. Just because he’s your soulmate, doesn’t mean you have to or will fall in love with him. You love Steve still?” 

“Yes of course.” 

“Then there is nothing wrong. Now, lets go in there and get you another drink. You can process all this later. You can see colors now!” She leads you into the kitchen and you immediately went to Steve’s side, not meeting Bucky’s eyes. 

You were getting married to Steve in only two days. You’d met your soulmate, could finally see color but it wasn’t Steve. It was his best friend. Suddenly, the wedding didn’t seem like a good idea anymore. 

~ 

“So, you’re her, huh?” 

Bucky’s voice pulled you from your trance. You’d stepped outside on the balcony for some fresh air, hoping to slip away unnoticed but you were obviously wrong. 

“And you’re him.” You take a shaky deep breath and face him, your eyes going to his. They were just so blue. So beautiful. 

“I would have never expected my soulmate to be my best friend’s girl.” Bucky says, taking the empty spot next to you. 

His smell was invigorating; it wasn’t anything like Steve, who brought you calmness, made you feel safe. Bucky’s was something different, it felt like adventure and full of life. It made you feel excited. 

“Yeah I didn’t expect my soulmate to be my future husband’s best friend.” You watch as his muscles flex as he leans against the railing. His metal arm peaked out from the long sleeve. 

“We don’t have to tell Steve.” He says, “You two can get married, live a long happy life together and he’d never know.” 

“He’d eventually know, Bucky.” You sigh, “I can’t keep that kind of secret from him. It doesn’t start our marriage off on the right foot if I start it off by lying to him.” 

“Just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean we have to act on it.” He pushes himself off the railing and faces you, “Plenty of people have soulmates who are only meant to be friends. Maybe that’s what this is?” 

“Yeah maybe so.” 

Deep down the two of you know that it isn’t true, but you’d never admit it. There was a shift after your eyes met, a longing for each other that you two didn’t know you had. Yeah you might have loved Steve, but at this moment, you could love Bucky as well. 

You two could feel yourselves drifting toward each other even if you tried to stay away. The universe was determined to bring the two of you together. 

The two of you stared at each other for the longest and it made you wonder if he was going to kiss you there for a moment. He cleared his throat interrupting the short moment, “I’m going to head back inside.” 

“I’ll be in in a second.” 

“Don’t stay out here too long.. it’s cold.” And suddenly he was worrying for you in a way a lover worries for their significant other. 

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” You force yourself to turn away from him and look out at the city skyline, wondering how the hell was this going to work. 

Part two might be in the works if there are enough requests for it and this fic doesn’t flop! 

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[amor-immortalem]

You’re Important to Me

Warnings: thoughts and ideations of the un-aliving variety

Genre: Angst but it gets a lil fluffy at the end

Pairing: Mammon x oc

Summary: The way the witches and his brothers treat him leaves Mammon feeling replaceable and unimportant. His human takes it upon herself to try and make him feel better after finding out something heartbreaking.

A/N: since I hit 150 followers either last night or the day before, I figured I would do something a little different for tonight’s post and give y’all a little 2 part fic instead of art. I haven’t written in a long time and this is not proofread so please excuse any typos. I’m a little rusty.

Part 2| Part 3| Part 4

———————————————————————-

Another day full of studying for upcoming exams at RAD completed and Arella couldn’t be more greatful to finally shut her texts books. Sure, she technically didn’t have to meet the same standards as her demon classmates this time around, but if only one thing could be said about Arella, it was that she was a perfectionist at heart. She’d put in the hard work to get the best possible score- seeing the look of surprise on Satan’s face as she scored better than him would be worth it too, as much as a pipe dream that that would be.

With a soft yawn, Arella pushed away from her desk before grabbing a nightshirt she had stolen borrowed from her boyfriend and stumbled to her bathroom for a quick shower. As she brushed her teeth, she could feel a presence enter her room- well more like she could hear him. Mammon was never all that quiet or stealthy to begin with as much as he’d like to claim otherwise.

Peeking out from the small ensuite, she saw the demon sprawled out on her bed, his face buried in her pillows. Something didn’t feel right. Deciding the shower could wait, Arella made her way across the room to where the bed was located.

“Hey,” She started, gently placing a hand on his back to let him know she was there, “I thought you said you’d be out late with the Witches. Did something happen?”

“Not really….” Mammon starts, his voice muffled by the pillows before he turned to face her. “They got all they could get out of me so they jus’ let me go and I wasn’t havin’ a good time anyway so I jus’ came home….”

Arella frowned at his tone. He sounded upset, depressed almost.

“An’ then the moment I walk in the door, Lucifer’s on my ass ‘bout some stupid fuckin’ bill that came in…. So I got to sit there ‘n listen to him go on an’ on about how I’m such a fuck up and what worthless scum I am, not to mention the rest of my brothers took the first chance they could to hop on the bandwagon and I’m….. I’m just so tired.” At this, Mammon flops over onto his back, throwing an arm over his face.

“Mammon…” Her voice is soft, full of concern as tries unsuccessfully to pull his arm away so she could look him in the eyes.

“Arella, Am I important….?” Mammon asks as he tries -but fails- to hide the way his voice cracks. “Would everyone just be happier if I was….. gone?”

Its that question that shatters her heart to tiny fragments.

“Wha- Of course you are, Love. Why would you say that? I know your brothers take things too far sometimes but they’d be devastated if something happened to you. I would be heartbroken if anything happened to you. We all love you so much, Honey….”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Mammon barked out a laugh that sounded bitter. “Not with the way they rag on me like they do…. Actually, they’d probly be jumpin’ for joy if I were to off myself- don’t know why I ain’t done it already….”

“Mammon, don’t talk like that. You’re scaring me.”

“Its true though. If I take myself out, then they won’t ever have to deal with the consequences when I fuck up. Won’t have to worry ‘bout me stealin’ their shit to get my hands on some extra grimm.

“Stop it right now, please.”

“It’s not like they’d miss me much anyway. You probly would but let’s face it, ya could do so much better than me anyway... Ya know, I got this pills that I swiped the other day, plannin’ ta sell ‘em an’ all but I think-“

“Mammon, stop!” Arella pressed her hands over his mouth to keep him from finishing his sentence “Please. No more….. No…. More.”

She collapsed down to his chest as violent sobs erupted from her. She had lost someone to suicide before, she couldn’t and wouldn’t go through that again- especially not with the person who was most important to her.

“I’m here for you. I will always be here fir you.,” Arella tightened her hold on the demon beneath her, her body still shuddering with each breath she took in a miserable attempt to compose herself. “So please. Please just don’t do it.”

At her tears, the demon could only react with silence. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when letting his feelings out but it wasn’t a reaction like this.

Maybe part of him was hoping for her to agree with him and let her words feed into his terrible mood, or maybe part of him wanted Arella to scold him for daring to even think about taking his own life but there wasn’t any part of him that wanted her to react with sobs and wails, with her begging him not to go through with it.

Slowly, Mammon brought his arms to wrap around her, holding her tight against his chest. They were quiet for a long while as they just held each other.

“I’m….. I’m sorry….” Mammon was the first to speak, to break the silence that had suddenly become suffocating. “I don’t know what I was talking about….”

Arella didn’t reply right away, choosing instead to hold him just a little tighter a bit long.

“Do you feel better now that you’ve talked about what’s going through your mind?” She lifted her head from its place on his chest to look him in the eyes for the first time that night.

She smiled softly as he nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re so important both to your brothers and to me. There’s no one like you in the all of the three realms. If you weren’t here our lives would be so much darker and so much more boring, do you know that?”

“Yeah, I doubt that.”

“No it’s true,” Arella hums, as she pushes his hair back and places a peck to his forehead. “You want to know something else?”

“What?” Mammon arches a brow, “if it’s something cheesy, I’m leaving.”

Arella laughs at that. “I love you more than anything in this life or the next, and, no, you’re staying in here where I can see you.”

“What? C’mon, babe, I won’t do anything stupid, so don’t worry ‘bout me. And the last thing I need is Lucifer gettin’ at me because I spent the night in here when I shoulda been in my room.”

“Then I won’t give you a choice.” She starts matter of factly, “I’m invoking our pact. You’re sleeping in my room tonight where I can keep you close and pamper you all night. Also you’re going to tell me where you’ve hidden those pills you were talking about earlier and if their in one of your safes, you’re going to tell me the combination to it.”

“Arella, I-“ he groaned starting to complain

“No. This is important, Baby. I’m doing this because I care. Not to mention if Lucifer were to somehow find you in possession of those pills….. his rage would be so great that not even I would be able to stand between you two.”

Another moment of silence happened between them as Arella’s orders went into effect. Mammon let out a soft, discontented growl before finally breaking the silence.

“Fiiiiine. They’re in the safe that’s hidden in my pool table. The combination it 0127. Happy?”

“Very.” She replies cheerily. “Now, you’d better get comfortable, sir, because I’m going to remind The Great Mammon just how amazing, how wonderful , how special, and how loved he is.”

“Whatever, you dork, jus’ get off a me so I can move to a better spot.” He huffed as he shifted around under her, trying to hide the faint blush was already threatening to make itself at home of his cheeks.

———————————————————————-

Masterlist 2

[pedros-mustache]

thihihi thots time - Colleagues to Sexy-Time-Partners - Asking Javi if you can stay at his apartment for the night, because your new neighbours are having extremely loud and obnoxious sexy times - Javi jokingly saying "we can do better than them" - and then it's actually happening

i adjusted your thot just a lil for the sake of the ~trope~ i hope you don’t mind!

“is it like this every night?”

you flick an invisible piece of lint out from under your nail, nodding in time with the persistent thump, thump, thump of your neighbor’s headboard against your living room wall. “yeah... pretty much.”

javi takes a drag of his cigarette and pushes the manilla folder filled with work away. he tilts his head, glancing sidelong at you. “we could do better than them.”

when your children ask you years later how you ended up with their father, you lie. you tell them javi asked you on a date after working together, side by side, practically arm in arm, for two years. you tell them he took you to a crummy dive bar and held your hand beneath the table. 

while that does eventually happen, it doesn’t come for a long time—the sweetness, the tender edge to his gruff exterior. 

but you can’t very well tell your children you ended up with their father during some weird sort of fuck contest between yourself and your neighbors.

no—that your kids can never know.

still, javi makes good on his promise that night. he can do better. he does do better.

he pulls you apart and puts you back together on your living room floor, the room bathed in a muted orange light from the streetlamp outside. he’s not gentle, but he’s not rough. he’s somewhere between. he grips your hips and grinds himself into your core before your pants are even unbuttoned. he fists his hand in your hair and whispers filthy things into your skin that has your eyes rolling back in your head. he makes you come with his fingers and then with his tongue, and you’re sweating, absolutely drenched in slick and perspiration. 

the neighbors can surely hear you as you whine and keen and beg javi for more without so much as a prompting. you hope they can hear you.

when he finally shoves his cock in your weeping core, you’re close to crying. you run your hands down the sides of his face, writhing beneath him as he thrusts, slow and steady and devastating. the carpet beneath your back burns, but, god, it’s so worth it.

you forget—forget about your neighbors as he splits you apart. his mouth hovers over yours, his breath mingled with your panting, your gasping. he tastes like cigarettes and cheap coffee, and you know you shouldn’t like it, but you do. 

“javi,” you gasp. “javi, ‘m gonna—” your breath hitches in your throat, but javi understands. of course he does.

he slides a hand between your sweaty bodies and finds your clit, toying with it gently as he picks up his pace. “you gonna cum, querida? huh? gonna come all over my cock?”

unable to speak, you nod, your eyes shut tight. 

you come with a crash, and javi is close behind, his face buried in your neck when he releases into the condom. after a moment, he removes himself and flops to his back beside you.

it’s quiet until you hear a pounding on the wall.

“hey! nobody wants to hear you fuckin’ in there!”

it’s your neighbor.

you turn your head and see javi already smiling at you. he laughs; you laugh too. 

it’s the beginning of everything.