#which was cool to find out back when i was looking all this up the first time and again just now

[billysgirllol]

“i’d ask ‘em to play games with me, because i think that’d be a fun way to engage. make sure we have a party.” lucy gray grins, thinking she’s got it ALL figured out. “billy bonney, how am i supposed to be takin’ this conversation seriously without laughing,” as she’s already doing in between her words, “when you say fart filled sleepin’ bag.” another laugh, head tilting back as it does when she’s just filled with too much giddiness. “but yeah…” actually, that’ll DO it, reminded of pat’s vile trick today. “that makes me feel weird, knowin’ now how innocent he played it off too— it’s really like he can convince you he wasn’t doing it, billy,” her voice takes on a serious tone now, a hint of fear even curling around the soft way she speaks. “and it’s overall gross thinkin’ on it.” he was putting his hands on her body intentionally. makes her heart drop in her stomach but then anger settles in it, a fire starts to grow then revenge rears it’s head— what could she do? mind gets to pondering furiously. a snake, she bets. she bets she could find a harmless one and stick it DOWN his fart filled sleeping bag early in the morning… she ain’t one to just let things go after an injustice has been served. “wish we had the camper all to ourselves.” lucy gray frowns, wishing none of the smelly guys were there and they could have the rv or a rv all to their selves. “i’d love that a million times over, you could be him, but— you also can’t. cause then i’d be mad, if i can’t be your ariel.” doe eyes roll at just thinking of some girl other than her acting along aside HER prince eric. “best night?” brows lift, eyes softening in surprise, heart doing more flips as their eyes meet.

“yeah,” her eyes drop back to his shoulders, the cool metal of her B necklace laying back against her chest when she raises up a little making her realize it’s there, wishing she could do all kinds of crazy things to his shoulders, “those are some good lookin’ shoulders.” she blurts, then laughs to herself because she’s embarrassed. cheeks becoming inflamed at even THINKING of said crazy things… which causes her to scrub his head faster when alerted to how heated her down below feels, swirling all around until every inch of his head has been covered. what a crime, to continually fantasize about your best guy friend. she silently scolds herself because WHY does she always end up doing that? but then again… dreamy eyes drifting to the starry sky, right hand scrubbing his hair at a slower pace now, left hand touching the necklace on her chest, how can she refrain? when he irritates her and makes her mad, but he also makes her mad… he’s the love of her life since he saved her on his fence, every time he looks at her with his sweet and beautiful eyes, when his hand randomly comes up and strokes her cheek, when he’s a taylor swift song and she’s wearing his initial around her neck, when he’s crazily protective of her, all of that makes her insanely in love with him and she can’t help it just travels in between her legs. it’s so romantic, the way emotions and feelings are crafted to fuel a desire to make love to someone. if this isn’t all just a heat of a moment thing, a plan that her body is just trying to trick her just to reproduce, and she still wakes up tomorrow wanting to trust in him again because right now she trusts in neither— one day she is gonna marry him and drag him back to a moonlit lake, but actually act on kissing him.

“mhm, sure will. i think a late night talk show would be fun.” lucy gray responds, feeling like a hairstylist having chitchat with her client. “they are, they definitely are, i agree. a group of girls is vastly different than a group of guys. which is funny, how that all came to be.” she muses, laughing that billy notices it too. girls feel safer and more peaceful and better smelling to be around and then guys are less inviting feeling, smell bad and can’t really have an overall pleasant time because there’s too much testosterone and always someone is either flirting or being a dog in some other kind of way. “course i like them a lot, i love them. and remember? little ole me always said you were a prince, because of your curls. first thing i noticed about you.” she reminisces, retelling her favorite story for the hundredth time to him. but she doesn’t mind, she loves any chance getting to tell it over again. “why? you havin’ fun?” playing innocent, shyly dipping down some more when he turns around. her heart exploding like fireworks when his affectionate hand reaches up to stroke her cheek, it’s so darling and so sweet. nothin’ is more swoon inducing than that. it’s like he’s trying to make her fall into his arms and start attacking him in kisses… well, he’s certainly not makin’ it easy for her. a laugh sounds from her at him saying he’s getting BAPTIZED, lucy gray plugging his ears for him when he goes under before letting go once he comes back up. “alright, great job.” she grabs her shampoo next, loading her palm with some blend of coconut and vanilla organic curly hair oriented shampoo then taking both palms and spreading it over his locks. fingers scrubbing deep into his roots, moving from the top of his head to the sides.

[chromehoney]

AT THE SAME DAMN TIME, chap one, chap two, chap three, chap four.

synopsis; After a messy, short-lived situationship with Stack—reckless, flirtatious, and all the wrong kinds of possessive—you swear you’re done with hood boys who can’t keep up. But when you drop something off at his mother’s store and find both Stack and his older twin brother Smoke inside, something shifts.

Two weeks passed.

Fast, but heavy.

You hadn’t seen Stack since the pool party—not in person, not online, not even on accident. Word in the group chats was that he was “back on” with Mary, whatever that meant. You didn’t care enough to ask. Not officially. But every time you slid through Ms. Moore’s shop lately, it was Smoke sitting by the register, not Stack.

And Smoke?

He’d been showing you attention like he had time to make up for. Late-night texts turned into all-day conversations. Good morning messages that sounded deeper than friendly. You found yourself laughing at your phone more than you meant to. Thinking about his hands when they brushed yours. Replaying that poolside kiss in the back of your head like a favorite song.

He didn’t move fast. But he moved with intention. Which is why it felt so weird when, today, you pulled open the beauty shop door and saw Stack behind the counter. Not Smoke. Not Ms. Moore. Him. His eyes snapped up before the bell even finished jingling.

He froze.

You stopped mid-step, but it was too late to turn around now.

He looked the same—white tee, black jeans, chain glinting under the soft yellow lights. Only difference was… his energy. He looked at you like you weren’t supposed to be there. Like you’d messed something up just by walking in.

“Oh,” you said dryly. “Didn’t know you were here.”

“Clearly,” he muttered, eyes narrowing.

You walked past him anyway, hips swaying more than usual out of spite, and headed straight to the haircare aisle just as Ms. Moore came out from the back. “My favorite girl!” she smiled, arms open. “What you doin’ back again, baby?” “Needed more of that aloe oil,” you said, hugging her. “My scalp been actin’ up.”

She nodded knowingly and handed you a jar without hesitation. You two talked for a few minutes—hair textures, protective styles, whether or not you should try copper highlights this summer. The whole time, you could feel Stack’s gaze on you from behind. He wasn’t even subtle. His jaw was tight. His hands flexed against the counter like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it without cussing.

Eventually, Ms. Moore was called to the back by a client, promising she’d be back in five. You were halfway to the register when Stack finally moved.You didn’t hear his steps—you just felt him near.“So,” he started, low and rough behind you. “What’s up with you and Smoke?” You blinked. Turned halfway. “What you mean?” “I mean,” he stepped closer, “he been smilin’ lately. Textin’ all the damn time. That ain’t like him.” You crossed your arms. “You keepin’ tabs on your brother’s moods now?”

“Nah, I keep tabs on you.” That made your brow arch. You scoffed. “Go be with Mary. Mind her business instead.”He kissed his teeth hard. His hand reached out, fingers brushing your waist, warm and too familiar.

“Cut that shit out wit’ me.”

You frowned. “What—?”

“Cut that shit out,” he repeated, stepping closer, voice lower, darker. “You tryna act like I ain’t ever mean nothin’. Like you ain’t still think about me. Like you cool just givin’ that mouth to my brother.” You froze. His grip on your waist wasn’t tight—but it was there. And it was him. All over again. That same heat. That same pressure. That same familiar pull.

“Stack—”

“You think you gon’ play me to the side and play house wit’ Smoke? That what you think this is?” His voice was so close to your ear now. You could smell the mint on his breath. Could feel the jealousy sitting behind his teeth. “Touch me again and I’ma scream,” you said, soft but sharp.

He let go. But his eyes didn’t back off.

“You just gon’ throw all that away, huh?” he muttered. “For him?” You straightened your top and stepped away. “You already threw it away. I’m just finally done holdin’ it.” Stack didn’t respond. Just watched you with that same bitter grimace as you walked to the counter and rang yourself up. Ms. Moore returned just in time to hand you a sample bag and a smile.

“See you next week, baby.”

“Yup,” you said, eyes pointedly avoiding Stack’s. “Hopefully Smoke’ll be back by then.” And then you walked out. Not flinching. Not looking back. Even if your stomach was doing flips.

who yall think she gone end up wit? and don’t mind how short this shit is, i just wanted to put something out before the fourth of july andddd before my birthday since it is next week! and i ain’t gone be thinking bout writing while i do my birthday festivities! as always ignore errors.

@cursed-carmine for the dividers!

taglist for this series! @thickianaaaa @gwenda-fav @spicypiscesssss @d1gitalb4rbie @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @queenofklonnie22 @gunznroses4life @mjustag1rl @maniifesto @nikkitheunpredict @yana3sworld @katezy2x @kqmbr1a @5starsirl @bl3ssyn

[rafescherie]

OMG IM OBSESSED WITH YOUR NEW POST

Pls can you write something about being at a party with bsf!s1!rafe and him constantly staring and getting jealous of any other guy. I love your writing sm 💖

✮⋆˙ jealous s1!rafe can't seem to control the possessive feelings he has for his bestfriend!reader.

warnings — none, really! possessive and jealous bsf!s1!rafe. mentions of drinking.

cherie’s note — ilysm thank you for the request! so sorry it took me so long — been super swamped with irl stuff as of late. i hope you enjoy, cutie!

you didn't even like the guy that much.

he was cute enough, sure — tall, clean smile, backwards cap in that frat-boy kind of way — the kind of guy who had probably excelled in lacrosse in high school and still bragged about his winning goal. but he was charming in that performative, bro-ish way, leaning just a little too close when he talked, fingers brushing your wrist when he handed you his drink so you could "smell how strong it was."

you laughed at something he said — something that definitely wasn't that funny — and the sound came out louder than it should have, especially over the blaring music, and the thumping against the floor boards. a little forced, a little flirty. he grinned like he'd won something, stepping in close enough that his arm grazed your waist, thumb brushing the exposed skin near your hip as if it were casual.

you didn't notice it right away — but rafe did.

he saw everything from where he stood across the room, absentmindedly listening to topper and kelce argue over which preppy boat was superior, solo cup hanging loose in his hand. the flash of your smile. the way your body tipped toward the guy, even if it was just from the loud music, struggling to hear each other properly. the hand on your waist.

yeah — that was it.

he took one, final slow slip from his cup, jaw flexing, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek as that familiar burn settled deep within his chest.

muttering something under his breath, he excused himself from conversation with his best friends.

and then, he was moving.

the small, forced grin on your face faltered the minute you noticed rafe standing behind the boy, one hand on his shoulder as he effortlessly spun him around where he stood.

"yeah — nah. she's good," rafe said casually, stealing a lazy sip from his cup in that arrogant way you'd grown to recognize. his eyes flickered to the guy once, slow and dismissive. "find someone else to bother."

the guy gave a half-laugh, confused, but didn't push it. just held up his hands in surrender, and backed off.

you blinked up at rafe, startled, heart still skipping from how fast it all happened.

he didn't even look at you — not at first. he stood where the boy had been just seconds ago, taller, broader, his body cutting off the space around you like a wall. the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smoke of marijuana, and something faintly sharp — whatever cheap liquor had been in his cup — surrounded you now. familiar.

he took another sip, lips curling around the rim in that unbothered, cocky way he always did when he was pissed but pretending not to be.

"we're leaving," he said finally, voice low and flat.

your brows pinched. "what? why?" you shifted your weight, suddenly uncomfortable with his possessive tone.

"'cause i said so."

you scoffed, "you can't just— rafe, i was talking—"

"yeah?" his brow ticked, voice all lazy venom. "looked like he was doing more than talking."

you swallowed — hard, dryly.

"don't argue," he spoke smoothly, not even lookin at you. his hand was already sliding around your wrist, firm and final. "let's go."

he didn't let go of your wrist until the cool-night breeze bit against your skin.

and when the front door slammed shut behind you, you weren't sure if you were more angry with him... or at yourself for always going. always listening.

[yourmamakira]

Beachside fun

Jj maybanks x fem Kook! Reader

You, a kook princess, finding yourself pressed against the imfafous Pogue, Jj maybank. Sneaking away from your boyfriend had never been so easy, and as it turns out, ‘sex on the beach’ is based on a true story... YOURS!

Car sex, P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) simultaneous degrading & praising, 18+, trashy smut!

Regardless if you grew up together, met 5 minutes or 10 months ago,

Kooks always turnout to be real assholes.

But for some reason, there’s one Kook that jj maybank—the man himself— can’t seem to shy away from.

And that was you.

And can anyone really blame him? I mean The way you came dressed to the bonfire tonight, with your little yellow bikini top with the frills on it. You knew what you were doing.

The way everytime your lame boyfriend would make a dumb joke you would fake laugh then look in his direction.

every step you took, you’re stealing a glance at him, hoping he would be looking back at you.

And to your luck, he was every time.

And at the moment, he couldn’t stop staring at you,

With your leg over his shoulder as he fucked you dirty and hard in the back of your baby blue jeep wrangler.

Tinted windows fogged up from the condensation, and sticky bodies close together as the car rocked back and forth from each thrust he gave you,

You’re pretty Kook mouth hung wide open as he hit every corner of your leaking cunt.

“Fuck, your so spoiled, huh?” He grunted as he brought your lips closer to his, “spoiled brat, needed some good cock so bad.”

From his standing up position—admittedly just a tad bit uncomfortable— but it made him no difference as he slammed into you again,

“Just a nasty little thing, your boyfriend couldn’t take care of you so I had to, you just can’t get enough dick, huh?”

Your face screwed right as you bit back a series of loud screams from the pure pleasure this Pogue was giving you.

The way he was speaking, you were going to need to get some more of it after you cut ties with your boyfriend.

As a reward of course.

After your fourth orgasm your arms were getting tired of holding yourself upright, the blonde seeing you nearly slump into the seat, quickly stopped,

You whined at the loss of movement, wondering why he stopped, Jj chuckled as he swiftly flipped you over on your back flat against the cool seats,

He hovered over you to give you a smooth and lust fulled kiss on the lips.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m not stopping anytime soon.” Hungry. He needed just as more as you did,

He grabbed your legs, bringing you closer to his hips, and smirked as he watched you squirm for a little bit of contact,

“Say it.” He said darkly, looking down on you like a cat would a mouse

You opened your eyes and looked up at him through your long eyelashes,

“Please..” you begged, you needed it, you craved it.

“Say. It. Princess.” He demanded once more, smirk wide and devilish, he loved watching you need it just as much as he does.

So you mustered up your little courage and spoke in the sweetest voice Jj has ever heard,

“Please, Jay, keep fuckin’ me good.”

And that was all he needed to hear before he grabbed your legs, and without warning—sliding his hardened cock into your glistening heat through your folds that were drenched for him, and when he was so deep you could almost feel him in your stomach, he once again started fucking you like a mad man.

This time you couldn’t help it, you were sure if anyone walked by they wouldn’t think twice about what was going on. You moaned loudly, making the blonde only fuck faster, at an almost inhuman pace.

One after another, the thrusts never got slower,

“M..mm m’gonna cum Jay,” you spoke as your body bounced vigorously, tits going every which was as another moan ripped through your lips.

“M-me too.” He grunted as he threw his head back, snapping his hips up to yours, the slaps in the car were loud and violent, but ot felt like heaven to you

And your orgasm was approaching fast, you almost couldn’t hold it,

Until he hit that right spot for the both of you, both your gates breaking

He gave one last final thrust as the both of you gave out and came in unison, his hot load shooting into your stomach, and yours making your eyes roll back, and your legs to twitch, came crashing down leaking all over his cock and down your legs, dripping on your black leather seats.

The both of you huffed and puffed, out of breath like you ran the marathon.

Hair a mess, any makeup you had on before was long gone.

Jj pulled out, leaning down to kiss your sweaty forehead, then your nose, then your lips, bringing your hands up to kiss your wrists then your palms then each of your knuckles.

None of which your fucked out brain could return of course.

The blonde picked up a beach towel from the front, he wiped off your oozing core then his.

He helped you slip on your swimming bottoms then your shorts and giving you his hoodie, he pulled his trunks and his shirt back on. then the both of you crawled to the front seat, relishing in the hell of a night you just had.

And as you were about to doze off, Jj suddenly spoke.

“So…you're on the pill right?” He asked with a sheepish smile.

You just slowly looked at him and nodded your head as he threw his back on the head rest with a grin.

You were fucked literally and figuratively…

Damn. What were you going to tell your boyfriend again…?

[callme-holly]

More FREAKY darry stuff, I beg😔😔😔💔💔💔🤫🤫🤫

𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 - 𝐃.𝐂

in which darry is sick of reader's teasing and decides to do something about it

WARNINGS: pure smut. oral (male!recieving). manhandling. degradation. MINORS DNI ! ||۶ৎ y'all are being blessed with all this freaky shit xx

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

The house was blessedly empty for the first time in days, the quiet welcome as peace settled throughout the rooms like a blanket. The August heat has finally cooled into something a bit more bearable, but that wasn’t what had Darry’s forehead slick with sweat and him constantly on edge.

You were the problem that caused that—you’d been teasing him all day with little things that could be passed off as casual gestures if it weren’t for the fact he knew you: wearing his shirt with no bra underneath, wearing those tight little shorts that left nothing to the imagination to the store, and bending down in front of him on numerous occasions, hips swaying enough to catch attention. 

And now, he’d had enough. He’d tried to be patient—really he had—but the second you walked into the kitchen with that smug little grin, like you knew you had won, something inside of him snapped.

He stalked towards you, grabbing your wrist sharply and manhandling you up against the wall, not caring for the little squeak of surprise that left you.

“Darry—” 

“You take me for some kind of idiot, darlin’?” He hissed, face dangerously close to yours, pupils blown wide with lust. 

You shake your head quickly, all traces of cockiness replaced with something else.

Submission.

“No? You been actin’ up all day, baby. Thought I wouldn’t do anythin’ about it, huh?” His words are sharp and cutting, and there’s no remorse behind them. You’ve worked him up to this point, and now you’ll bring him back down. 

“I knew you’d do somethin’ about it…” You whisper, biting your lip as you look up through your lashes, catching the way his eyes narrow.

“Mouthy little thing today.” He tuts, and you drop your head in shame, heat rising to your cheeks. 

“Nuh-uh. Keep your eyes on me.” His fingers find their way to your jaw, tipping your face back up just enough for your eyes to meet his, his thumb pressing against your lips. You accept it gratefully, licking at the pad and sucking greedily, earning a small chuckle. 

“So greedy...” 

He lets you continue for a few seconds, watching your focus like a dog would watch a bone, drooling and desperate. Spit forms in the corner of your lips and he flicks it away quickly, pulling his thumb from your mouth and giving you a disapproving look when you whine. 

“Don’t do that, baby.” He huffs, pushing lightly on your shoulders, all but forcing you down to your knees. “Such a messy girl. Ain’t even stuffed your mouth and you're already droolin’ everywhere like a damn animal.” 

Your hands come up to paw at his jeans, fingers fumbling uselessly with his belt, the buckle suddenly far too complicated for you to figure out in your lustful state. “Darry…” You whine eventually, peering up at him with big, pleading eyes.

He chuckles. “What?” 

“Can’t do it…” The admission only makes the embarrassment worse, and you swallow heavily, hands falling limply to your sides as if they weighed a tonne. 

Darry seems to get the hint, however, and frees himself with such ease that it makes you look stupid. Pathetic. 

“Open up, sweetheart…” he coos, cock heavy in his hand, already hard and leaking. He brings it to your lips, and you part them obediently, tongue flicking out to lick his head. “That’s it… Such a good girl.” 

His hand finds your hair, fingers tangling in the strands, tugging with such tenderness that it makes you melt, taking him deeper.

Praise falls from his tongue like a mantra, his breaths heavy and laboured, hips occasionally rocking in sync with your sucks. It’s messy and sloppy, and every wet sound you make only solidifies just how filthy this is. You’re sucking his cock in the middle of the kitchen.

Anyone could walk in. Anyone. 

Your jaw aches, drool dribbling down your chin, soaking the collar of your shirt. And yet you don’t seem to care—you’re far too focused on Darry’s groans, hands tightening in your hair as he hits the back of your throat.

You gag and splutter, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“Shit—look at you, sweetheart. Takin’ it so well.” 

You whine around him, cheeks hollowing and tongue working, driving him closer to the edge. He’s close. You can feel it in the way his muscles tighten, the way he twitches in your mouth, his breaths growing sharper.

“Gonna come,” he growls, forcing your head all the way down, holding you there until you gag. “You want that? Want me to make a mess of that smart mouth?” 

You nod the best you can, and that’s all it takes.

Darry lets out a low, guttural groan, pulling out of your mouth quickly, his hand working his length in fast, desperate strokes. You watch through tear-soaked lashes, tongue out and glistening with spit, like you’re begging for it.

"Stay jus' like that," he pants. "Wanna see that pretty face where I cover it..."

And you do. You hold perfectly still as thick ropes of cum paint your cheeks, your lips, and your chin. He slaps the head of his cock against your tongue and you swallow, not wanting to waste anything.

"Fuck," he breathes, hand cupping your jaw gently, thumb wiping away the mess he'd just made. "You look so good like this."

You blink up at him, dazed and aching, completely blinded by submission as he leans down and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"You wanna act like a tease, darlin'" he whispers, "Then you better expect to deal with what you begged for." 

||۶ৎ darry masterlist

||۶ৎ tag list. @mrsdillonx , @goingdelux18 , @princesshailierawr , @r0seb100d , @groovydonutpost, @rizzraa , @sheepandlams , @marinefreaakk , @sugarrootwrites , @marilyn-girly , @itonlyhastobetruetoday , @dairyfairyy , @williamafton26 , @mystiqueonfleek007 , @atpeacee , @theoneandonly-vrg , @hge-cok , @warped-rabbithole , @muu-5uvii , @fatalloveanddevotion , @marianaissocool , @jamesdeanbby , @alula394 , @goldennviolet , @i3beingcuntyyyy

[murderbot-moodboard]

Ah, Murderbot Episode 9, a premium quality episode. 💜 I'm pretty busy this week, so fair warning, tonight you're going to get a limited number of thoughts in whatever order they come out of my head.

- I love that they kept the part where Murderbot saves Mensah from the beacon launch, because it's a poignant moment by nature, and the whole way it was portrayed in the episode made it even more poignant. Like, fuck, if I were a touch more emotional right now and hadn't somewhat expected that outcome, it's likely I would've teared up.

- I love everyone in this episode. Murderbot and PresAux that is (although GrayCris was very good at being bad).

- Mensah was so cool coming in to save the day at the last minute, standing by her principles and doing the hard thing even if she didn't know if it would work out. The fact that she came back specifically to save Murderbot!

- It's a nice detail that Murderbot didn't know how to say goodbye to PresAux when it was being taken away with GrayCris. It cares about them, but it's still not at a point where it can articulate that very well to other people.

- Gurathin definitely seemed to move into the category of "frenemy/ally" in this episode. He recognized that Murderbot was one step ahead of them the whole time but was able to figure out what it was doing fairly quickly, probably, as he said, since he'd been in its head. And I suspect the fact that Murderbot was willing to sacrifice its own life so that PresAux would be safe, and that it protected Mensah's life at the end, will have finally convinced him that Murderbot is on their side.

- Pin-Lee was also badass this episode, and they and Gurathin made a good team (unrelated to the fact that apparently both of them find Mensah hot, lol). Also Pin-Lee's complaint that Gurathin didn't need to say every thought that comes into his head out loud — I have literally said that to people almost word for word (and thought it silently even more times), lol. They're also going to have to deal with the fact of killing someone this episode, which was actually highly realistic, as it's difficult to hit people in the head hard enough to knock them out but still avoid killing or permanently injuring them.

- Ratthi, Bharadwaj, and Arada had less to do but were still fun to watch while they were doing it. I like that they teamed up in their decision to trust Murderbot and accept the consequences of that decision.

- Murderbot's internal monologue was very funny throughout the whole episode. Also the fact that it said "We can talk about this!"

- I never in a million years predicted that Murderbot would use the severed SecUnit head. The McGuffin that we didn't know was a McGuffin (which might actually contradict the definition of a McGuffin — I'm a little vague on the nuances of the term. I do know what an anagram is though). 😉

All in all, this episode met and exceeded my expectations, and I'm very much looking forward to the finale next week!

[xoxolaw]

+ 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗥 𝗗𝗜𝗔𝗥𝗬

in which a quiet visit to her room turns into something else entirely. Hyun-tak finds her diary, and with it, the truth he never saw coming.

+ 𝗚𝗢 𝗛𝗬𝗨𝗡-𝗧𝗔𝗞 𝗫 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

CH 4 , CH 5 , CH 6

✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

January 1st, 2025

Dear Diary,

Baku confessed to me today.

It still feels strange to write that down. Like my pen might hesitate if I press too hard, or the words will vanish if I look at them too long.

I don’t really know what to feel about it.

Baku and Hyun-tak… they’re close. Really close. So close that Hyun-tak literally renamed himself. "Gotak." That nickname stuck harder than I expected — like it belonged to both of them, stitched together by jokes and sparring matches and the way they always, always have each other's backs.

Sometimes, I think Baku's the best thing that ever happened to Hyun-tak. He brought him out of his shell a little.

He gave him a brother. A safe space. A balance.

And honestly?

Baku’s always treated me nicely too.

Like I wasn’t just Hyun-tak’s “shadow” or “tagalong” — but like someone worth talking to. Like I mattered on my own. I was never left out. I never had to be loud to be noticed when Baku was around.

So I didn’t expect the confession.

Not from him.

He smiled that crooked smile of his — the kind that makes everything feel like a dare — and said:

“I think you’re really pretty. And cool. Wanna go out with me?”

Just like that.

Like he was asking me to come watch him play basketball or walk to the arcade.

Like my answer wouldn't break anything. I didn’t know what to say. Well — that’s a lie. I did know. I was going to say no.

Not because Baku isn’t kind. Or warm. Or someone I care about.

But because...

I already gave my heart to someone else.

Years ago.

But before I could answer, he just laughed and added, “You don’t have to say anything now. If you show up at the basketball court at 6 PM tonight, that means yes. If you don’t… well, then I get my answer.”

God, he really is dumb sometimes.

Sweet, but dumb.

It’s 8 PM now.

I didn’t go.

And I know — I know — he won’t take it too badly.

That’s not who he is. He’ll probably joke about it tomorrow. Ruffle my hair and say something like, “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

And maybe I’ll laugh.

And maybe I won’t know what to say then either.

But right now — I’m alone in my room, staring at my ceiling, wondering if I made something awkward between two of the most important people in my life.

But you know what I keep thinking about?

How easy it was for Baku.

How fearless. How brave.

He likes someone, so he says it.

Simple. Direct. With that crooked grin like the whole world could break and he’d still be okay.

I envy that.

So much.

Because I’ve never been able to do that.

I can’t even imagine it — standing in front of Hyun-tak, looking him in the eye and saying, “I like you.”

What if I did?

What if I told him everything?

That all these years — the laughs, the fights, the quiet walks home, the summer nights, the way my heart stumbles every time he looks at me just a second too long — meant something more. Everything, actually.

What if I told him that sometimes I lie awake and wonder what his heartbeat sounds like up close?

What if I told him that the way he says my name has started to mean more to me than any poem I’ve ever read?

What if I said it — really said it — and he didn’t feel the same?

Would he laugh? Would he pity me? Would we stop being “us”? I don’t think I could survive that.

I’d rather have him as my best friend forever than risk losing him for even a second.

Even if it means never hearing him say he feels the same.

Even if it means watching him fall for someone else someday.

Even if it breaks my heart, one silent page at a time.

Because loving Hyun-tak…

It’s not like a spark or fire or rush of adrenaline.

It’s like a river.

Slow. Gentle. Deep.

I don’t even remember when it started — only that it never stopped.

But maybe that’s my problem.

I let it keep flowing.

And now it’s so big, I don’t know how to dam it without drowning.

Baku was brave.

And I… am not.

So I’ll stay here — behind my diary pages, behind quiet glances and untold truths — and love him safely, silently.

Like always.

— Y/N

(17 and too afraid to lose her favorite person)

✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

A smile crept on his face. He was relieved that she rejected Baku. His fingers gently traced the edges of the diary as he kept re-reading the lines where she expressed her feelings unfiltered.

The words blurred slightly. His eyes didn’t sting, but they burned — like they’d just seen something too intimate, too honest, something he wasn’t supposed to find.

His hands were still. He could feel his heart. Physically. Loud and uneven and too fast. It pounded in his ears, down his throat, through his chest.

A low ache bloomed there — behind his ribs, in the spaces where her words settled and curled up like they belonged there.

“I already gave my heart to someone else. Years ago. Quietly. Fully.”

The weight of that line hit like a punch. Not all at once — but slowly. Like he was falling into it.

She was talking about him. Him. He had to reread it. Twice. Three times. It didn’t make sense. Couldn’t make sense. Because… how? How had he not seen it? How could someone pour themselves out like this — years of love, of hope, of quiet breaking — and he’d just… not noticed?

His hand moved to the middle of the page, fingertips pressing gently over her words. As if he could touch the shape of her heart through her ink.

“I’d rather have him as my best friend forever than risk losing him for even a second.”

He sucked in a breath. His mouth was dry. His throat too tight. And for the first time in a very long time — he felt afraid. Not of the words. But of what they made him feel.

Because suddenly, everything — every moment, every memory — came rushing back like a river too strong to hold back.

Her laugh echoing behind him as she chased him down the street. The way she pouted when he teased her for being short, then stood on tiptoe just to flick his forehead.

The way she looked at him during his matches — fists clenched, face burning with pride, screaming his name louder than anyone else.

The way she once clung to his arm when thunder cracked, whispering she wasn’t scared of storms, just “surprised.”

And her smile — the one she gave him when he handed her his jacket in the rain without a word.

God.

Had he really never realized?

He clenched his jaw. A slow heat crept up the back of his neck. His ears — red. His chest ached. Not in the painful way. Not exactly.

In the new way.

Like something just bloomed there. And it was wild. And tender. And unfamiliar.

Was this love?

Was this what it felt like?

And had it been there all along? Buried under years of routine and jokes and quiet, half-noticed glances? Tucked into her smiles, the way she always waited for him, the way his day never started unless he heard her voice?

But suddenly he realised something. "She's with Baku, alone right now??" He mumbled while sitting straight up.

He didn't know why. But after reading that diary entry, he didn't want her to be him. It was dumb of him to wish this. But it wasn't something he could control, his heart just felt that way.

But then his eyes wandered back to her diary. Even if her writing style has changed drastically over the years...

There was one thing that hadn't changed.

The way she always wrote Hyun-Tak with a blue pen and for some reason it had her voice in it.

+ 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘 + 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

ISTG I LOVE WRITING HYUN-TAK

+ 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

@keizvn @soobinbunnie5 @chaywkk @l5byrinth @inom17 @randomheyl @coffee-ii @mizxuqii @dna-black-and-blue @kyungjunnies @maxinehufflepuffprincess @deboizzzstay @coolasiangal123 @intoanothermind @satoru2716 @chenlegendj @changbinkisser @xh01bri @jww-sjzyeirie @thebatapex @itzcandy @ryeounistic @ruruyinn @ashayein @bblgeum @tojirin @lov3lylyn @urmazah

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Oooo imagine Y/n is Bob’s younger sister who’s in her early twenties (Lewis Pullman is 32, so I guess assuming Bob is the same age I guess). Imagine her powers are more soft and gentle, being connected to nature like plants and animals and she can also turn invisible. Bob probably feels really protective of his younger sister, especially with what their childhood was like, and she has supported him through all his tough times. So when Valentina sends everyone to kill each other and they first meet Bob, they also meet Y/n too. John probably makes a comment to Y/n and they’d definitely see a bit of Void come out when Bob says “Don’t talk to my baby sister like that”. Yelena is probably so sweet and so good and understanding with Y/n, just like she was with Bob. Anyways, while they’re all trying to escape from Valentina, while Bob jumps out of the car to help, he leaves his sister in the car because he doesn’t want anything to happen to her, he wants her to escape with the rest of them. She’d be sobbing as her brother sacrifices himself, Yelena and Ava have to hold her back so she doesn’t jump out of the car herself🥺 And when Valentina’s men attack them when they’re in Alexei’s limo, she’d be completely terrified but Yelena, Ava, and even John would protect her (he’d have a growing soft spot for her). And then Bucky takes out all the bad guys and flips the limo over, and ties up all of them, while the rest of them are relatively chill, as this isn’t the first time they’ve been in a situation like this, Y/n is hyperventilating and terrified. Yelena would be like, “Bucky can you just untie her please, look at her, she’s terrified” And Bucky, feeling terrible, would definitely untie her immediately and comfort her. And when Mel calls Bucky about Bob, Y/n would immediately perk up hearing that and beg to know if her brother is okay🥺 When they confront Valentina, Y/n would go with them and Valentina would make some comment about how she’s been looking for her because she knew she was the only other person to survive the experiments, but Y/n would refuse to join her, standing next to Bucky (he makes her feel safe and he’d definitely be blocking her from Val). When her brother comes out she’d try to talk sense into him but it wouldn’t work, but he would refuse to hurt Y/n at all, instead moving her out of the way while he fights with the Thunderbolts, and Yelena would grab her hand and lead her to run to the elevator when they all flee. Y/n would help the Thunderbolts in the void and would help her brother 🥺 And imagine when all of them live together at the tower, she gets really close to Bucky and they both fall in love with each other 💜

Y/N would be freaking out in the vault cause she thinks that her and Bob are going to die in there, but Bob, being the amazing older brother he is, calms her down🩵 after Bob and Y/N introduce themselves to Yelena, Ava, and John in the vault, John would probably say that Y/N is hot or something like that and that would set Bob off. Y/N would scream when she sees her brother getting shot at and then she’d think that she’s alone, but Yelena, Ava, and John tell her that she has them and Alexei would tell her that she has him too when they’re all in the limo🥺 Bucky would hold her and say sweet things to try to get her to calm down, which works🥺 Bucky would probably hold Y/N back from attempting to punch Valentina. Y/N wouldn’t want to leave Bob behind when Yelena grabs her hand and they all get out of there🥺 I can imagine Y/N going into the void with Yelena and they find Bob in the attic and she sees a horrible childhood memory she endured with Bob and he hugs her to make her feel better🥺🩵 ooo what if Y/N has her own corner of the tower like Bob does in the post credits scene?🥰 that would be cool! Bob would tell Bucky that he trusts him and he thinks he a cool guy to date his little sister🥰

[prettyiwa]

(Previous) Relationship: Sakura Haruka x Florist!Reader Content Tags: Fluff, Pink appreciation post, Light flirting, Hanami, Not-Quite-Date, Unexpected cherry tree lecture, Talks about hanakotoba, Sakura is afraid to reveal the existence of his romance sensor, References to ch. 63-66/s2 ep9 Summary: When Sakura comes to you in the middle of your day and asks if you want to go hanami, how can you possibly say no? (There are perks to being your own boss in between holidays). Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: The unexpected sakura rabbithole I found myself in for this chapter was. I don't know why it was unexpected. But I feel that I wildly underrepresented the sakura variety available in Japan. There's so many and they're all so cool! You should look them up!! Otherwise, a fun tidbit is that, so far, Sakura has been very careful to avoid romantic topics, encounters, or anything in the presence of the Florist because he doesn't want them finding out about his romance sensor (nor does he want people (Suo in particular) commenting on it in front of them). So Florist simply thinks that he's reactive/poor at hiding his feelings (it's endearing, alright), which is true, but it means they have no idea why he blushes so much around them. Tagging @owoasis & @kweenkatsuki-fics 💜

Pink.

It wasn’t until eleven months ago that you really started enjoying the color. As a florist, you certainly had an appreciation for it—the mauve of certain snapdragons, a rose’s blush, the magenta of your favorite orchids—but it was never your favorite. Even as the beginning of you favorite season had everything turning inordinately pink, it had never received more attention from you than any other color.

But this year, as you stand amongst a sea of blooming sakura that gives even the atmosphere a light blush, you think it’s the most beautiful color of all.

Another gust of wind blows through, losing momentum shortly after hitting the trees, though it’s enough to shake loose the delicate blossoms that are the star of the day. The air is punctured by pink and white, swirling together and around people as they pass through the park. Reaching your hand out, you feel as they dance across your skin, escaping before you manage to catch any.

A chuckle carries on the breeze, pulling your attention behind you. As you turn, you’re graced with a soft smile before it’s replaced by a lovely rouge and a slight pout.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Sakura asks, ducking his head incrementally.

Unable to contain it, you crack a smile, wide and encouraging as you wait for him to catch up. “You, obviously.” His blush deepens, spreading, and you love the color even more. “You’ve got some petals in your hair.”

His eyes flick up, though he’ll only be able to see a couple of petals, and you’re tempted to reach up and brush them off for him, the subtle itch in your palm seemingly urging you forward. Instead, you close your fist, bringing it to rest above your heart as he shakes out his hair.

“So, uh… Are you having fun?” There are still a few petals now buried beneath the first layer of hair, but you’ll leave them be. He walks forward, keeping you going down the path.

“I am.” It’s been a number of years since you’ve been able to enjoy the sakura in full (since before you left for university, honestly), much less with a friend. But your enjoyment of the day would’ve been guaranteed with your company alone. “Are you? We can do something else if you want. It is your birthday.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he knocks loose one of the remaining petals. “This is fine. ‘M havin’ fun.” The words sound like a reluctant truth, but you know he means them.

The wind kicks up, warmer this time, the flowers highlighting its movement as it circles on the ground to your left. He pauses, mesmerized by the hanafubuki, and you circle around, stopping in front of him. Immediately, his eyes flicker to you, considering you from his peripheral before you both turn to watch the dancing flowers.

After a beat, you ask, “The guys have something planned for tonight, don’t they?”

It takes a moment for him to process your question, the susurration of the trees offering a distracting melody. When he turns to you, his eyes focus, becoming unclouded. “Huh? Oh. Yeah, we were gonna gather at Pothos then head to Hiragahara for drinks.”

“That sounds like fun,” you lilt, imagining Kotoha’s face at hosting the group. Will she be joining them later? “What time should you be heading over, then?” It’s barely past two, but you hadn’t anticipated Sakura wanting to do hanami today, meaning his gift still sits at home.

A child’s sharp giggle pierces the air as she waddles forward, hands outstretched toward the sky. She draws your attention, along with the parents that follow behind. When you look back to Sakura, you find him similarly watching, leaving you to appreciate his lighter profile, white hair swaying with the wind.

“Not for another couple hours,” he answers, still watching the family.

Thats… not very descriptive.

“Do you mind swinging by my place before you take off?” It’s out of the way, Pothos sitting between the park and your home. If anything, it’d probably be easier for him to come over on his way home, but you don’t know what the guys have planned in Hiragahara.

Swinging his head in your direction again, you catch the wrinkle between his eyebrows before it disappears. “What for?”

“Oh, nothing much.” Turning on your heel, you walk ahead, sure he’s following. “I just made you something. I know you don’t like it when I spend money on you—” his scoff interrupts you, bringing a smile to your lips as you duck your head and turn before continuing, “—which kinda limits what I can do for your birthday. I didn’t want to get you more flowers—”

“Knock that off.” Looking over your shoulder, he’s fixing you with that look he’s been giving you lately whenever you turn the slightest bit disparaging. “I like your f-flowers.”

It’s been a year of him accepting your flowers and every now and then you assume an inability to tell you no. It shouldn’t come as a surprise—Sakura is so authentically himself that if ever he finds himself in situations, it’s of his own doing—and yet…

“Yeah?”

“Y-Yeah.” His nose turns pink before the rest of his face follows and he scratches his cheek. “I mean… They’re nice. And you like ‘em which makes them… I dunno. Kinda cool?” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, like he didn’t just silence your minute insecurity with a handful of words.

Your heart kicks up, pattering in your chest and warmth blooms across your face. “Would you believe me if I said that was probably the sweetest and best thing you’ve ever said to me?”

“It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything!” There’s a hitch in his voice, slight panic in his heterochromatic eyes before he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“To me it is. I’m glad you like my flowers. It means the world to me.”

Like a bashful teenager, he grunts before turning his face away, chewing the inside of his cheek as red spreads across his face. Sparing him, you continue forward.

“Anyway, instead of buying you something or giving you more flowers, I made you a treat. Though… I guess if you’re going to Pothos, it’d ruin your appetite, huh?” Learning he enjoys sweeter treats, you made him something you picked up during your time in America, wanting to give him something unique to you. It’s a bit selfish and silly, but it’s not hurting anyone.

“Could always swing by after.” His voice is closer than you expected, leaning in as he comes to join you at your side. When you glance over, you spot the telltale signs of his excitement—the sparkle in his eyes, the singular focus.

“You could, yeah.” Does he mean to keep himself from drinking? If not, you hope it’s Nirei who accompanies him to your place tonight. “Are you planning on drinking with them this time? Or will you be playing babysitter?”

“I ain’t playin’ babysitter,” he says with a huff. “That’ll probably be Hiragi.”

“Hiragi?”

“Yeah, one of the Four Kings I was tellin’ you about.”

That was months ago when he was sitting with you on the engawa with your amado open. He was tipsy, drinking beer with you and the others as they exchanged stories of the history of Bofurin and its evolution. You hadn’t expected the impromptu lecture, nor Nirei’s exuberance.

“Right! Wow. So is tonight a Bofurin reunion, or is it a smaller gathering?”

“They always turn it into a big thing. Bigger than it needs to be.” Despite the way he grumps, his ears give away his excitement.

Your lips pull into a smile. “I’m glad.”

He freezes beside you, eyes darting to yours before dropping to your grin. “Hah? Why’re you glad?”

“What, I can’t be glad my favorite person in Makochi has so many people who want to celebrate his birthday?” You press your fingers to your chest in faux offense, laughing at his exasperated exhale.

“Shaddup. Don’t say that; I’m not your favorite. That’s probably Kotoha or Suo or someone.”

A sensation like ice water pours through your chest, dripping between your ribs as it extinguishes your warmth. “Rude.” Sakura flinches at your tone, his quick dismissal earning him a rare rebuke. Rather than continue chastising him for it, you continue as though the interruption never occurred. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Which one?” he asks, voice subdued.

“You’ll be drinking tonight?”

“I dunno. Maybe.” His eyes keep flicking to you, and you nearly feel bad for your reproval.

“You had a good time with me.” Maybe if you direct him toward happier memories, he’ll come back to himself.

“That was different.” Was it?

With a deep breath, you lean into the topic. “Are you afraid they’ll find out you’re a lightweight?”

It does the trick, the edge of melancholy tainting his expression making way for the same flare of vexation that Suo pulls from him. His shoulders rise and his voice grows loud, attracting some attention. “I’m not a lightweight!”

“It’s okay because I am, too.” Your laugh seems to lift the mood, his shoulders slow to relax.

When he doesn’t respond, you don’t feel the need to push the conversation, figuring he won’t give you an answer. It doesn’t matter if he does; he said he’d show up tonight, so he will. Whether that’s with a chaperone or two makes no difference. Instead, you take to walking toward the trees, hoping to find flowers and branches you can use in seasonal arrangements.

He trails behind, only half-watching the way you interact with the world, and it isn’t until you return to him with a couple of blossoms that he says, “I had fun drinking with you.” It’s a low confession, as most of his sincere sentiments are.

“Yeah, but I’m not going to be there tonight.” You keep your eyes down as you take his hand and place the Somei Yoshino blossoms in his awaiting palm.

“You could be. If— if you want to.”

When you look up, you realize he’s holding his breath. That lovely blush dusts his cheeks when you smile. “Would you like me to?”

Even without knowing the rest of the Bofurin guys, you’re aware of the commotion it would likely cause—your interactions with Suo, Nirei, Kotoha, and Umemiya have communicated enough. Beyond holding each other in high esteem, they all seem to have a soft spot for Sakura. Getting to know him over the last year, you doubt he does this often, invite another friend to a get together, especially one celebrating him. The thought fills you with as much warmth as it does dread.

He seems dissatisfied with your non-answer, his lips turning into a tight line as he watches you. Shifting his attention to the dainty flowers in his palm, he says, “It wouldn’t… be the worst thing.”

“Are you incapable of saying, ‘Yes, I’d have fun if you were there?’”

The light blush sparks, turning from a small ember into a dancing flame, turning the rest of his face red, but he meets your gaze. “I’d… have fun if… you were there.”

“What was that? I can’t hear you.”

“I said,” he starts, leaning in with half a scowl as his volume increases, “I’d have fun if you were there.” When you smile, eyes flitting across his face, he clicks his tongue.

It’s easy to appease his irritation, to bring a hint of a smile back to his face. “Alright. I’ll come along.”

Sure enough, the crease between his brows disappears and his eyes soften as his lips relax. Realizing your proximity, he pulls back, clearing his throat. Glancing around, he tries to find something to distract him, eyes bouncing from tree to tree before turning to the flowers in his hand.

“So… what are these?” Raising your brows, you glance between the sakura and him. He catches your question before you can ask it, sighing as he does with Suo. “You know what I mean! Aren’t these— Don’t you— Fuck. Don’t look at me like I’m crazy! Aren’t there different sakura? You’d know, right?”

You laugh, turning around to let him calm down in peace. “There are. There’s actually a lot of different cherry trees in Japan. The blossoms I gave you are Somei Yoshino. They’re some of my favorite.”

He comes to your side again, falling in step as you lead him toward some of the other varieties down the way. Glancing over, you see him lift the tiny branch, examining the cluster of flowers that will never fruit.

“What makes ‘em different?”

“That’s… Hm.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, it’s just… There’s a number of ways to distinguish the blossoms. There’s the petals—Somei Yoshino blossoms only have five petals, then there are Ichiyos with about twenty petals. Yaezakura encompasses the blossoms with more than five petals, but you can get technical with that. Then you have different coloration. I’ve seen some trees change color as the blossoms mature. I’ve also seen yellow blossoms, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen Ukon trees.”

A fleeting thought stops you before you launch into bloom times, glancing over at Sakura to find him looking a little lost. His eyes are wide, lips parted, mind trying to play catch up. Shaking his head, he ends up laughing to himself.

“I… dunno why I wasn’t expecting a flower lesson.” Your laughter dances with his, filling the air before another burst of wind blows through, rustling the trees. “Maybe I shoulda asked… Do you have any favorites?”

“You mean besides the Somei Yoshino?” He nods, turning his attention to the sakura once more. “Mm… I guess I’ve grown fond of the Ichiyos lately. And I’ve always enjoyed the shidarezakura.”

After briefly looking around, he asks, “Are there any around here?”

From what you remember, there are a couple of trees gathered near the center of the park, not too far from where you are currently. “Yeah, we can head there if you want to see them.”

“Why those specific sakura?”

“Aside from their beauty, I suppose it’s because I’m taken by their meanings.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know if you’re familiar with hanakotoba,” you start, though you’re at least eighty percent sure of his answer, secretly pleased when he shakes his head, “but most flowers have symbolic meanings that can be used to communicate. Somei Yoshino are used to communicate exceptional beauty. Shidarezakura on the other hand highlight elegant and deception. Most yaezakura can be used to represent someone who’s educated or refined.”

If you had to put a reason to your growing appreciation of those trees, you could probably trace it to the growing presence of Sakura, Suo, and Nirei in your life.

He’s quiet, slipping deeper in thought, and you wonder whether he realizes that each flower you’ve given him has carried meaning beyond its ephemeral beauty, each flower deliberate. He’s undoubtedly aware of the way you choose each gift with care, but there’s reason beyond that.

The weeping trees come into sight and you’re about to point them out when he finds his voice.

“My first year at Furin, Tsubaki—uh, one of the other Kings—had me and the others come to this old guy’s house. Ito. His wife had died not too long before and he and her helped Tsubaki, so Tsubaki wanted to help him, too. He had this garden… kinda like yours, but without all the flowers. He only had one plant with flowers.”

“Oh?” It’s a very deliberate choice on both your parts—a flowering garden versus a nonflowering garden. Adding a plant of the opposite kind can make or break the flow, so it’s an interesting choice.

“Yeah. Turns out that he and his wife had an arranged marriage or somethin’ and he got it in his head that she didn’t… love him,” he says, almost as if he’s struggling with the memory. He hesitates and you don’t push him, continuing to lead him to the crowd at the base of the trees. “Suo… figured out that Ito had pissed her off cause he got insecure. And it turned out he didn’t even find out she was mad at him until we got there cause she used hanakotoba.”

Laughing, you try to picture the couple, even if you have no basis for the image. Ito… Off the top of your head, you can’t remember whether you’ve had a customer by that name, but you’ll keep an eye out if he ever comes by.

“Do you happen to remember what the flower was?”

“I think… It was a dog… something. It was a tree.”

“Oh, dogwood?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“That makes sense.” Am I indifferent to you? Not many flowers have direct messages like that. “It’s also sweet, in a way.”

“Sweet?” He’s louder than he intends, turning to look at you like you have two heads.

“Yeah. It directly addresses his insult, but it’s also a promise from her. Their love will endure. Honestly… it’s probably something I’d do.”

The crowd shuffles, moving to the next tree down the path, creating an opening for you and Sakura. Despite the way your attention draws to the petaled, drooping branches, Sakura seems glued to you.

“Why communicate like that? Why not be upfront?”

His question demands your full attention, and you give it, finding him intent, studying you like he’s asking something else entirely. It makes you feel woefully exposed, bared to him in a way you didn’t quite expect, an uncomfortable sensation crawling down your arms, settling in your hands.

“There’s lots of different ways to communicate. This is just one of them. But you can’t tell me that communicating via flowers is that surprising for someone like me.” He deserves an answer that doesn’t leave you feeling like Suo, even though his edges dull with the answer you do give. “There’s beauty and romance in the subtle, in things that don’t last forever. But… it’s also a way to protect the heart, I suppose.”

“How’d you figure?”

“If, say, someone was afraid of confessing their love but they still wanted to express it, they might give flowers. They’re safe if they say nothing else when they give the flowers to someone unfamiliar with hanakotoba, but sometimes the flowers speak on their own regardless.”

How many degrees of separation can you apply when you’re talking about yourself? When you are currently doing the same thing? But… you also don’t want to push your feelings onto him. You are happy to have him at your side as a friend. If that ever changes, if that decision comes to change your relationship—in whatever form that takes—you want it to be his decision. For now, you’ll let your flowers do the talking.

“Y’know,” he says, looking up at the tree, the wind carrying one of its drooping branches closer, “Tsubaki would probably like it. Hanakotoba, I mean. All that stuff you were sayin’ about it being romantic.”

“Yeah? Is he particularly romantic?”

Sakura jolts as if experiencing an electrical shock, his muscles going stiff as his skin flushes and he avoids your gaze. “You could say that.”

“Another floral name, too. What, was Furin just collecting teenagers with nature names?” Sakura snickers at your glee. “I think I’d like to meet this Tsubaki.”

“On the basis of his name?” he teases you.

A breeze blows from the south and the shidarezakura loses hundreds of petals. His eyes flicker to the top of your head and you figure it’s your turn to have petals in your hair.

As you start to pick them out, feeling for them one by one, you give him a fake pout. “Maybe. Maybe he sounds like someone who’ll tell me old stories about what you were like before I arrived.”

“Don’t you get enough of that from Suo and Nirei?”

You hum, tapping your chin and tilting your head before shooting him a sly smile. “No, I don’t think so.”

His sigh is lost on the next gust of wind, and this time he’s the one to lead you back toward the other trees. You follow in silence, wondering if you’ll end up meeting Tsubaki at Pothos tonight. Before you can get too lost in thought, Sakura jogs forward, picking something up at the base of one of the trees. He comes forward, staring at your hands until you offer one, palm up. The corner of his lips twitches and he places a bunching of Somei Yoshino blossoms in your hand.

When you look up, you’re met with—

Pink.

Flower Glossary:

Somei Yoshino Sakura: Chaste, Exceptionally Beautiful

Yaezakura: Educated, Refined

Shidarezakura: Elegant, Deceptive

(header credit)

Hanakotoba Masterlist | Wind Breaker Masterlist | Next ❧

[ichxgo]

His brows pull together. “Don’t people have anything better to do?” Apparently not. They'd likely gotten all of it—from multiple angles, no less—considering he and Shiro hadn’t exactly been discreet. His gaze drifts back to him, sharp and hungry despite everything. He’s half a second from demanding to see the footage, but getting worked up in this state will only end in frustration. Still, the memory creeps in, Shiro’s hands, rough and wanting, those deep kisses while they rutted like they were trying to crawl inside each other. He’ll find the videos later. But Shiro’s smirking, so Ichigo smirks back, slower, tired. “Regretting your career path?”

He nods to the rest. None of it’s his call, and he’s trying not to overstep.

“You know I don’t want your money, I never did. Unless you need a merc.” And even then, he wouldn’t charge him. Obviously. He eyes Shiro, amused. “Surprised you don’t already have some around here. Where’d the machine gun come from anyway? When are you gonna show me the rest of your stash?”

“No.” Yes. But no. He gets caught up in those suggestions for a moment. Picturing it without meaning to. “Hot,” he says, unapologetic. But then he makes a face. “Yeah. And I’m sure she would. Or not. Maybe that’s her exact type of fun. The same way you’d have fun getting a mostly straight guy in bed.” 

He tilts his head. These days his training and situational awareness is more automatic, mostly thoughtless, and constantly updating. Threats, layout, exits, people, cameras, and a touch of preemptive planning which isn’t natural and had to be drilled into him hard. “That’s because you get off on people falling over themselves to impress you.” Even though, on some level, he’s also sure Shiro disdains that level of obsequiousness. But mapping out those dealers is a bit different than drinks. And he thinks that must be the addict in him. 

He marks that hesitation, even as he wishes he hadn’t noticed it at all. But then Shiro steps close, holds out his hand, and the noise in Ichigo’s head cuts out. He fits his fingers into Shiro’s easily. They’re cool against his skin, grounding. For a second, he just watches them. Can’t look away.

Then his eyes lift to meet Shiro’s, and something stupid tries to climb out his mouth. He starts toward the room instead, fingers twitching lightly as his gaze flicks to them again.

"Yeah. A few videos." He smirks, amused in spite of the inconvenience of it. "They got all our good angles. It's a fun watch." He most definitely has one or two saved on his phone now.

He knows Ichigo wants an answer now, or as soon as possible. He knows it must be irritating to have to wait to ask again. Ichigo keeps bringing it up. He knows. He gets it. And he doesn't want to give the impression that he's on the fence. "I like him, but he's second choice hands down." He just really needs to be sure that Ichigo's sure.

Ichigo says that with such confidence that Shiro absolutely believes him. In this moment, he is exactly what Ichigo wants. But he was what Ichigo wanted before, maybe all along, and he still left him. He still let his brain do the talking and left Shiro alone with nothing but heartache and the career move that Ichigo caused. Still. He snorts a quiet laugh, watching that tapping motion. "Figures. I got all this money to throw into something like that, and you want it as plain as possible." It's something he'll keep in mind though. "Maybe I should go the oposite. Get you some diamond encrusted brass knuckles or something."

That is quite the reaction. It makes him sure he needs to meet this person. "What'd you say her name was? Yoruichi?" But then he makes a face. "Turn me? Turn me into what? A vampire? An assassin? A werewolf?" He knows what Ichigo's getting at. "A vampire, werewolf assassin? Because she'd have to be a god to turn me straight and if she has that power, she could do way cooler things than fuck with my sexual preference."

It's not at all surprising that the idea of being catalogued doesn't sit well with Ichigo but Shiro trusts he wont do anything rash about it. He shrugs. "Habit. Don't you walk into a room and assess possible threats even when you're not there for violence? Same way I walk into a bar and clock everyone I think I could buy from or convince to buy me a drink, even though I can get whatever I want and I could buy the whole bar." His brows furrow. Parting Ichigo out would have been such a fucking waste, even from a strictly business standpoint, but the idea still makes him want to rip someones throat out with his teeth.

He nods. It would be a lie if he tried to say he wasn't curious about this Yoruichi lady. If Ichigo is actually asleep when she calls, he's going to invite her over for drinks on Ichigo's behalf. For a second he considers telling Ichigo he knows where to find the bedroom, but he's not actually feeling that petty right now. Besides, if the way Ichigo struggled down the stairs is anything to go by, Ichigo might not make it down the hallway.

He straightens from his seat, leaving his glass and the bottle behind, and starts in the direction of the bedroom, pausing at Ichigo's side to offer him a hand.

[veephoenix]

zutto — chapter twenty-three | wc: 2.6k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: lia's first gallery exhibition!

Reading time: 10mins aprox.

Tags and trigger warnings: references to lia's past, a lil bit of anxiety, sexual references (oral sex), noah tells a tiny lie (he's carrying sth heavy in his pocket and lia can't find out about it yet), fluff

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

Lia checked the clock on the wall again, her fingers absently scratching at the skin around her nails as the minutes crawled by. Noah was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. It was barely a blip, but her nerves didn’t care. The doors to the gallery would open in just under half an hour, and she wanted him there.

Behind her, Folio, mid-chew with a falafel crammed in his mouth, tried to ease her nerves.

“He’ll be here. He’s probably stuck answering the same question about the album title for the fiftieth time. You know how those label interviews go.”

Lia shot him a sharp look, but her irritation quickly gave way to preoccupation.

“I know he’ll come,” she said. “He texted earlier. But he was supposed to be here already and…” Her eyes flicked toward the catering table where Folio hovered. “Can you not eat everything? There won’t be anything left for the guests if you keep at it.”

“I had one falafel and a lasagna bite,” he said defensively. “Frame me.”

“I will. Stop eating. I’m starting to panic.”

“Look,” he said, nodding toward the gallery entrance.

Her heart leapt, but it wasn’t Noah at the door. It was Emery and Jolly, arriving hand in hand, all smiles and casual cool.

Where was he?

Noah had been booked for two back-to-back interviews at Sumerian Records that afternoon, which was part of the media cycle the label had lined up in preparation for the band’s album drop and upcoming tour. As the frontman, he usually got the lion’s share of press attention, and that included those repetitive, time-consuming interviews that tended to have him always running late thanks to overbooked schedules and sudden PR pivots.

Originally, when they got to know that those interviews were scheduled for the same day as Lia’s opening, it hadn’t been a problem. Lia told him to go. It was important—for him and for the band—and the gallery was already in good hands. She’d come in early to oversee final setup, check on the catering, and coordinate with the gallery’s director, Margot, who was currently making her rounds in stilettos and a sleek blazer, greeting early staff and adjusting little things. A receptionist sat near the front desk, fielding calls that had nothing to do with Lia’s exhibition and taking notes with a stylus on a digital pad.

It was ready. The pieces were mounted, the lighting adjusted… Still, it didn’t stop the way her stomach tightened. Noah had promised he’d make it on time, and that he’d make it up to her later that night.

She’d believed him.

She opened the door for Jolly and Emery, greeting them both with a hug and a smile. Emery immediately launched into compliments, eyes sweeping the gallery’s interior.

“Everything looks incredible, Lia. Seriously, congratulations. It’s so well put together.”

“Thanks, Em.”

Jolly scanned the space quickly and noted the obvious absence. He didn’t say anything right away, but the stiffness in Lia’s posture made it obvious. Without a word, he moved behind her and placed both hands on her shoulders, gently massaging as he nudged her further into the gallery, his eyes flickering curiously to the nearest pieces. 

“Relax,” he murmured. “He’s going to be here in a minute.”

“What if something happened to him?” Lia muttered, not quite managing to hide the anxiety in her voice.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?” Folio chimed in from a few feet away.

When she turned to look at him, she caught him with yet another lasagna bite in hand.

“Nick,” she said, voice sharp, “you’re going to pay for that.”

“Can I just purchase the drawing of the winged skeleton instead?” he offered with a shrug.

She rolled her eyes and was about to pinch his arm when the door behind her flew open.

Noah stepped in, his eyes finding hers immediately. He crossed the space in quick strides, brushing past staff without breaking pace.

“I’m sorry, Lia,” he said breathlessly.

In a heartbeat, she was in his arms, the rest of the room falling away.

“I didn’t expect traffic to be this bad. I got held up at the label.” 

That wasn’t entirely true.

The interviews at Sumerian had ended earlier than expected, and he’d had more than enough time to get here. But he’d spent the last hour tucked away at Cartier, picking up a small velvet box, a custom order he’d placed weeks ago. The weight of it pressed discreetly against the inside of his pants pocket. He risked it by keeping it with him because leaving it in the car was way more dangerous, and the thing had costed him a ton of money. He just hoped Lia wouldn’t get one of her impulsive ideas about undressing him the second they got back to her apartment.

“It’s okay,” Lia said, beaming now. “You’re here.”

“I am.” He stepped back and took her hand. “Let me look at you.”

He lifted her hand and gave it a twirl, making her spin slowly in place.

Lia wore a fitted, charcoal-gray plaid mini dress with long, slightly puffed sleeves and a sharp square neckline that framed her collarbones and shoulders, making her look elegant but not too serious. The dress hugged her waist before flaring into a soft A-line that ended mid-thigh. She paired it with knee-high black boots. She looked incredible.

Noah, in turn, was wearing a loose black T-shirt tucked neatly into black slacks that gave him a clean silhouette, accented by a black belt. Around his neck, he had his usual silver chain catching subtle glints of light. A matching silver bracelet circled his wrist. He looked… terribly good, in Lia’s opinion. Confident, slightly tired, a little late, but exactly right.

“You look unbelievable,” he said, still holding her hand.

“Thank you. It was your choice, after all”, she said, her smile breaking wide.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek, his hand brushing the small of her back and resting there like he never wanted to move it. 

The gallery doors opened to the public a few minutes later, and soon the space was alive with motion and chitchat. Many of Lia’s friends—who also happened to be friends and colleagues of Bad Omens, artists, techs, and crew members who had toured together—had shown up in full force. Those who weren’t out on the road or tied up with conflicting schedules made a point to be there, to support her. It was something that came naturally in their circle: artists showing up for other artists, no matter the medium.

As the evening progressed and more familiar and unfamiliar faces filtered through the room, Lia found herself overwhelmed, not precisely in a negative way. She received complements and questions of all kinds about her work. Some were somewhat personal, others more technical. A few inquired about her influences, about the cultural fragments some pieces displayed. She didn’t always have the answers. 

Every so often, amid conversation, Lia’s eyes would meet Noah’s across the room. Even while talking to someone else, he always seemed halfway tuned to her. There was a quiet kind of awe in the way he looked at her, a stillness that cut through the noise of the room. It steadied her in ways he probably didn’t even realize.

This was her first time exhibiting anything publicly (besides the stuff she created for Bad Omens), and despite having sketchbooks stacked high at home with a variety of themes on paper that were more personal and intimate, the ones on the walls tonight were still hers. She had been drawing since she was a child, and she’d never really imagined that her work would be hanging in a space like this. This show was a glimpse of her story. Of herself—if only a part. 

And people had shown up, interested in it, curious about it, and about her, as if she was special. 

She slipped into the rhythm of the event eventually, her initial nerves softening into presence. The conversations drifted from her artwork beyond more mundane stories. Ideas and deals were exchanged in front of her framed pieces. Some friends who hadn’t seen each other in months were reunited that night. There was laughter and hugs. 

At the bottom of it all, her art was the reason why they were all gathered there, and that made her really happy. 

It was everything she could’ve hoped for—except for the fact that she completely forgot to eat.

Everyone else was enjoying the catering she had carefully coordinated, eating from the little trays of appetizers placed on a couple of tables (fortunately, nobody noticed the missing lasagna bites). There was alcohol, but Lia paid no mind to it. She was so distracted by the whirlwind of faces and voices that she hadn’t touched a single thing since the food Noah had sent to the gallery earlier that afternoon. 

When Noah grabbed her arm and pulled her aside, the sun was already low in the sky outside, casting amber streaks across the floor with the rays that made it through the windows. Inside the gallery, the lights made the artwork feel somewhat magical. Lia was still looking at some of the pictures as Noah dragged them to a quieter corner, where one of her smaller pieces hung: a dreamlike depiction of a room overflowing with flowers, a little girl sitting cross-legged in the center, cradling something in her small hands.

Lia fixed her eyes on Noah and thought he was about to scold her for not eating. But he didn’t. He just took her hand in his, looked her straight in the eyes, and smiled.

“What?” she asked softly when he didn’t say anything.

“I’m proud of you.”

Her smile widened. She placed a hand on his chest and leaned into him a little. “You told me that this morning. When your face was between my legs.”

“I don’t think you heard me properly, my mouth was rather occupied then. But I’ll tell you as many times as I think it’s required,” he said, voice low, smile unfading. “I’m proud of you. This is incredible, Lia. This is what you were always meant to do.”

“They seem to like them, huh?” she said, glancing around the room. People were chatting, some about the art, others just catching up after long stretches apart. Some stood silently, contemplating the pieces with focused brows. Others just looked moved, uncertain. 

“They do. At the very least, they’re curious. And that’s what matters. Art isn’t meant to be beautiful. Some of these are,” he nodded at the piece beside him “but others are interesting. Some are weird and others dark as hell. A few are... too explicit and borderline illegal.”

“Those are the best,” she joked in a hushed voice. “And they’re kept at home.”

He made a face that made her laugh, and it was only then she realized he still hadn’t let go of her hand.

“I’m proud of you,” he said again, squeezing. “But I think little-you would be even prouder.”

Her smile faded into something wistful. That phrase alone conjured up a thousand afternoons in her mother’s crumbling house. The silence. The smell of dust and old flowers. Drawing alone at the kitchen table, her only company the scratch of pencil on paper and the little world she was building on the page.

“She would,” she whispered. “She is.”

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment. The noise of the room felt far away.

“I should’ve brought you flowers,” Noah said suddenly, motioning with his chin toward a nearby table where several bouquets and a few thoughtful gifts had been placed by friends. “Didn’t even cross my mind. Fuck.”

“Hey, no,” she said quickly, sliding her hand up his chest to cup his cheek. “That’s okay. You get me new plants almost every week. And you’re here. That’s what matters to me.”

“Well,” he said, his voice turning just a shade more serious, “I might not have flowers. But… I do have something else for you.”

Her brow lifted, curious. She tilted her head, her hand dropping back to his chest. “Oh?”

“I want to ask you something.”

The way he said it tightened something in her stomach.

“Ask,” she said, gently. Slowly. 

He took a breath, steadying himself. 

Lia noticed he was suddenly… nervous? Was that it?

“Are you interested in purchasing any of my pieces, Mister Sebastian?” she asked with a grin, an intent to soothe that tension she felt radiating from him.

He scoffed.

“I would buy all of them. But that wouldn’t be fair to how talented you really are, and they need to see that talent. But yeah, I would, just so you know.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Okay, so ask me the real thing.” Her fingers grasped the fabric of his black t-shirt, bracing herself unconsciously. 

Noah straightened his shoulders, the way he always did right before he said something that mattered.

“Considering all the work we’ve done with the band this past month, and how good we’re doing with the new album… And after talking to Sumerian today… They’re loosening the leash. We actually don’t have to grind that hard for the next couple of months.” He paused, glancing around them, then back at her. “And considering this… all of this,” he gestured around the gallery, “how good it’s going for you. And how you’re not that overloaded with work now that everything’s sorted—”

“Noah,” Lia said, eyes narrowing with interest.

“I thought maybe this would be the right time,” he said. “To find a place. To move in together. We could start looking next week. Take our time. Maybe be moved in by next month.”

He stared at her, chin slightly dipped, his eyes searching hers.

“You’re serious?” Lia asked, a disbelieving smile spreading across her face.

“Of course I am.”

She burst into laughter, soft and overwhelmed. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as if to hold the emotion in, but two seconds later, she was launching herself into his arms, tiptoeing to wrap her arms around his neck. Noah caught her, hugging her back with that quiet strength she’d always relied on. Their laughter mingled, unfiltered.

She was so happy.

The kind of happy that made her heart squeeze and her breath catch. The kind of happy that felt surreal. 

As the hug deepened, Lia realized that the younger version of herself—the little girl who had grown up too fast in an unloved house—would’ve never believed this moment was real. Back then, love had felt fictional. Safety was a fantasy. And happiness… happiness like this had felt like a dream for someone else.

Now it was hers.

Tears welled in her eyes, but before they could spill over, a voice called her name, grounding her back to the room.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said Margot, the gallery director. She had a clipboard tucked under her arm. “But there are a couple of guests interested in purchasing some of your pieces, Lia Would you mind speaking with them for a moment?”

Lia blinked. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. 

She glanced at Noah beside her, who still had one arm resting around her hip. His face mirrored hers: eyes wide, then a slow smile that took over, like he was watching his favorite scene in a movie.

“Of course not,” Lia replied quickly, her voice breathless with disbelief.

Margot gave her a grateful nod and stepped away to guide her towards the interested patrons. Noah leaned in, pressing the softest kiss to her temple before giving her a gentle push on the small of her back.

She started moving, but glanced back at him one more time. He was standing with his hands in his pockets now, his posture relaxed but proud.

And the look on his face…

It wasn’t just happiness. It was awe. It was pride.

It was that’s my girl written in every line of him.

I'm feeling so proud of her—of them— i might cry 🥹

— previous chapter | chapter twenty-four

Taglist:

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @digitaldesiresx | @bluestdai | @lacy1986

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken | @jilliemiw86 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

@chey-h | @ferduttini | @dominuslunae | @todressabladeupinred | @tf-is-aesthetic | @pastelsswirlvangogh

[existence-is-a-pain87]

A Toxic Time

Yandere!Block Tales x Monster?Reader

Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors, violence, stalking; swearing

Note: The reason I've been only doing this stuff is solely because I wanna write yandere Griefer. Also I'm considering making a Self-Aware Block Tales thingy at some point idk.

--☆☆☆☆☆--

Terry teleporting in front of you, still wearing that damn wizard hat, gave you a heart attack.

You literally just walked a little bit outside of the grounds of Blackrock Castle, Ice Dagger still in your hands, before that little penguin just fucking showed up.

"Yooooo," He said, as if you didn't just leap back far enough you nearly went back into the grounds of Blackrock Castle, "This hat is sick. Where was this when I was at Blox Mart??? Top-shelf tuna... you'll be mine..."

"...you killed a man." Is all you managed to say, "And stole his hat."

"Yeah? And???" Terry rolls his eyes at your horrified expression. "He was a jerk and had it coming. Don't worry."

"...you scare me."

"Cool, cool." Terry waves a flipper dismissively, "Yo bruh whatup?"

"...you killing someone." You tell him.

"Yeah, I got it..." Terry grumbles before noticing what you're holding. "What you got ther- oh. Oh, you actually got the Ice Dagger. Cool. Anyways, aren't you supposed to be back at HQ by now?"

"I'm just heading there-" You say, "Wait, Shedletsky's out of the hospital?"

"Uh... yeah?" Terry stares at you like you're insane, "He phoned me up already asking for you. Something about not having your number? Eh, idk. Yeah tho, we're basically homies already. Anyway, you should probably get over there."

"On my way!" You say, resuming walking.

"Bruh don't just walk the entire way back." Terry tells you, hopping in front of you. "Why would you when you can just Fast Travel?"

"...you act like I can teleport..." You murmur, before pausing, "Oh! Haha, I'm not a human!"

And with a laugh, you tap into your super speed ability (because it's basically what it is) and zoom off.

You don't even notice Terry's response, you're just gone.

Anyways, not like you'd be super happy if you did see his response...

--☆☆☆--

You slow down when you get to Roblox HQ, and you realize you didn't disguise yourself as you walk through the door.

Fuck, you left your disguise at Blackrock Castle...

...you'll get it later, you'll be fine. Just... meet Shedletsky and hope he doesn't mind how you look..? Anyways, he already kinda saw you undisguised before... maybe he wouldn't mind..?

Uhh...

You know, get him a get well soon gift!

...

It takes less than ten minutes to get a bucket of fried chicken from a nearby fried chicken place (you think you heard rumors about Shedletsky really liking the place? You can't recall).

You walk into the basement at the receptionist's instructions, and walk past the casually floating people as you hear Shedletsky's voice.

"Hello? Is that who I think it is?" There's a pause, before, "Ah! [Name]! I've been expecting you! To to the room ahead of you, right of the elevator, we have much to discuss!"

You hesitate for a moment, taking a breath to steady yourself as you go past. The floating people only smile at you, which is a bit comforting in a way...

"Did you find it? Did you find... t h e i c e d a g g e r ?" You hear him ask.

You did, actually.

It should be yours. You don't need to give it back.

Hey, voices? Shut up.

Anyways, you adjust your grip on the bucket of chicken, before-

"OH MY GOD, ARE YOU OKAY?!" You blurt out at the sight of Shedletsky in a full body cast and in a wheelchair. You are genuinely horrified.

"Haha, I'm fine, thanks to you!" He tells you, "Thanks for calling that ambulance, by the way. I heard your struggles with your phone too. Something about "stupid claws"?"

He laughs a bit, amused.

"Uh- yeah..." You say, shuffling slightly as your tail wraps around your legs to make you seem smaller. "H- how did two children beat you up this much?"

"Oh, they weren't responsible for this." He tells you, "The people who took Builderman were."

"Oh." Is all you manage to respond with.

"...uh, here-!" You blurt out suddenly, offering him the fried chicken bucket. Shedletsky's already bright expression seems to brighten more.

"Aw, thank you!" He says, "Just put it on that desk."

You do just that.

You're too nice, people are going to take advantage of you.

You ignore the voice as you turn back and show him the Ice Dagger. "And I got the Ice Dagger, sir."

"Now now, there's no need to be so formal." He laughs a bit, "Here, let me show you how Sword Energy works."

"...aren't you in a wheelchair?"

"Like I'm letting that stop me!" He says, bemused. "Don't you worry your pretty little head, I'm gonna be fine."

...you just notice how he's looking at you. He's staring at you like you're the most wonderful thing he's ever seen.

You just clear your throat and nod, and let him teach you how to use the Ice Dagger. Though... aren't you going to give it to him? Why's he teaching you it's use?

"You actually found it, though!" He says, thrilled. "And mastering Sword Energy already too? Incredible!"

"It's not that special..." You murmur, embarrassed.

"Trust me, it is." He tell you, giving you a warm smile. "Once piece closer to finding him, huh?"

"Yeah!" You say, hoping Builderman is okay.

"..." Shedletsky falls silent, "...actually, could I ask a favor from you?"

"Huh?" You ask, confused.

See? He's gonna take advantage of you. You can't trust him.

Oh, won't this voice just shut up?

"I... uh... don't think I'll be able to collect the other swords myself." He admits, "...not in this state, at least. But... you..."

His expression is almost loving in a way... you're unused to expressions like that.

"You've done so much already. For the people of Roadtown and the people of Blackrock." He grins, "I've already heard how the ice up in the mountains is letting up and how the King seems happier. You have quite the positive impact."

"Really?" You ask, stunned. You barely talked to anyone and had no clue any of this was happening.

"I truly believe that." He tells you, "As such, I'm going to trust you to hold onto it. The Ice Dagger must be used responsibly... but I know you can protect it better than I can."

You hold the cold blade close to you as he continues. "Usually I wouldn't push someone to utilize this power... but with no sign of him in sight..."

Shedletsky falls silent, his smile gone.

"...I promise I'll protect the Ice Dagger." You tell him, trying to comfort him.

"Thank you." He tells you, before smiling again. "In the town Turitopulis near the Rugged Rainforest... the mayor protects the Venomshank for us! Him and I used to meet regularly, but he's been busy... I hope he's doing okay... do you mind visiting for me? Find the Venomshank! See how Mayor Thaniyel is holding up."

"Of course, sir!" You say with a nod, sheathing the Ice Dagger.

"No need to call me 'sir'," Shedletsky tells you, "Make your way to the Airport in West Bizville. There you should be able to get a flight to Plainstown! I wish the best for you, stay safe, and good luck!"

"Got it!" You say, waving goodbye as you leave.

...wait why was he looking at you all lovey-dovey? Isn't he married?

--☆☆☆--

As you walked through Bizville this time, you tried to interact with more people. Sure, a good amount of them would find an excuse to walk away or just tell you off, some of them were surprisingly fine with you being the way you are.

It felt nice having people be at least polite. Even if many looked at you in pity or concern. You just tried to hide the extra arms so people would freak out a bit less.

Thankfully, nothing came up on your way to the airport. Outside of you having to use your Shrink ability to get through a fence, but at least there was a button that opened the fence so traveling to the airport now would be much easier.

That button also happened to open an airplane hanger, and Terry was just.. there. With a plane.

You approached, and he jumped in surprise at the sight of you.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING???" He questioned, rage-filled words flying out of his mouth.

He waddled closer, sticking his flippers out at you. "What is this???? Resorting to burglary now, are you??"

"Eh?!" You squeaked out, "N- no sir! I was just- I was sent here by Shedletsky!"

"Huh?? He did?" Terry crosses his flippers, "Did he tell you to steal my plane too??"

"...does it look like I can fly a plane?" You ask him.

He pauses. "No."

"So like... I'm not here to steal it." You explain, words tumbling out of your mouth, "I just need someone to take me to Plainstown."

"...and you want me to do that?" Terry asks, raising an eyebrow.

"...yes." You respond, "Please."

"...you ask too much." Terry says with a scoff, "You're lucky I don't kick you around town for that."

"...so you're not going to-"

"Lemme finish!" Terry orders you, "Well, guess what bucko? Today's your lucky day. I used to be a professional pilot!"

...yeah, we don't trust that.

"Honestly, I agree with you..." You quietly murmur.

"What was that?" Terry asks you, and you quickly stutter out a "nothing!" With a skeptical look you way, he lets it go and continues.

"My brother Jerry calls me 'The Blue Eagle'." He pauses, "We're not eagles, but... you don't really care, do you?"

"No, no! Keep explaining!" You blurt out, "Maybe you can just... explain as we fly?"

He sighs. "Whatever, bruh. Let's go."

And you follow him into the plane, politely listening as he goes on some rant that devolves into him complaining about ostriches for some reason. You're only half paying attention.

You're too busy trying to ignore the whispers of the Ice Dagger, and how they warn you of danger...

--☆☆☆--

You creep out of the plane after Terry, blinking as everything is... really yellow here. The sun hangs kinda low in the sky, and you know it's gonna be dark soon enough.

Oh well, Turitopulis is supposed to be pretty close. You can make it there before dark and maybe rent a room at an inn. Can't be too hard.

Then again, you are kinda broke...

"It's your stop, lizard. Welcome to Plainstown," Terry tells you, "Time to pay up. Tips are appreciated."

"...I kinda... can't..?" You admit nervously.

Terry gives you a flabbergasted look. "DUDE."

"Uh- just ask Shedletsky for the cash!" You yelp out, "He's the one who basically sent me to you!"

"...ugh, fine." Terry says, rolling his eyes, "Just go do your stupid quest thing."

You quickly walk away, approaching the main body of the Plainstown airport as you ready yourself for the hell that is additional screening and metal detectors. Because the Almighty- uh- god- only knows how those things always go off whenever you go through them.

"The wilderness is calling to me!" A girl standing outside the door of the airport declares, and she notices you. She smiles brightly at the sight of you, "My, you're something I've never seen before!"

"Uh- yeah..." You admit, ears twitching. "I'm [Name]."

This is... new. Really new. She's staring at you like you're... interesting? Pretty, even? A complete stranger not staring at you like you're a monster? Huh...

Don't trust-

SHUT. UP.

"Name's Kyoko!" She tells you, sticking out a hand you hesitantly shake. Her grip is really firm though- jeez-

"I'm on my way to another adventure!" She eagerly explains, "You look like you're up for adventure, care to join?"

"S- sorry! I'm kinda on an important quest already..." You admit, "I wish I could..."

Honestly, this woman's brazen behavior awes and scares you simultaneously.

"Awww... that's okay!" She says, a little sheepish now, "Good luck with whatever you're hunting for, I'm rooting for you!"

You go into the airport and deal with you continuing to set of the metal detectors with your body and having to deal with additional screening, you finally make it out and get through Plainstown.

Walking through the plains was surprisingly easy and peaceful, with you not having to deal with any weird people. Well, human people. Just had to unfurl the bulb on your tail and use that ae your own personal bug zapper.

Though you had to go through an ant hill, where you made sure to keep yourself in your shrunk form at all times at the ants' request (you refurled your tail when you were in there to not accidentally harm any of the surprisingly nice ants in there).

You also helped out a talking rock to look up into the sky again and stare at crystals, and they helped you get out of the ant tunnel on the other side, which got you right out into a jungle.

From there, getting to Turitopulis was an easy walk, with your tail zapping any mosquitoes.

And the moment you stepped foot into the town, Kyoko waved at you and walked over.

"Hey! [Name]!" She said, "I can't believe you're here too! Welcome to Turitopulis!"

"Hi, Kyoko!" You said, stunned to see this woman again. "Th- thank you! Nice to see you..."

"Indeed it is!" She says chipperly, "I'm so excited to adventure out into the Rugged Rainforest... I heard the wildlife is super active at this time of day!"

"That's nice." You say, unsure of how to interact with someone like this.

"Oh, another thing! I-"

"SOMEONE!!! HELP!!!" An older man's voice screams out.

A shattering rings through the village as people panic, several running past you to hide. Even Kyoko cowers behind a fence at the sound.

You glance over at her, before racing to the sound. It's not just them that hid. The entire village is hiding in various places as you scamper through.

Finally though, you find a gorilla holding an old man upside down. There's even a walking cane on the ground.

An old man being bullied? Not on your watch!

You pull out your ball and toss it at the gorilla, ready to fight this thing.

Though a man your age comes out of nowhere and defects it with a crowbar. He laughs, completely red eyes narrowed as he grins smugly at you, showing off sharp red teeth with longer canines.

"L0L. U TH0UGHT." He says, snickering as his crowbar rests on his shoulder.

Huh? He talks in leetspeak? That's... uh... nice.

He's a bit taller than you, but not by too much. And if you count your horns, you're taller than him. He has gray skin that matches the old man's, and long and scruffy hair, that looks like it hasn't been brushed in days, that reaches his shoulders in length. He's got a baseball cap on, red and black in color, with a logo you don't recognize, and he's got on some sorta puffy yellow-green and black jacket, plus a black shirt and pants.

You tilt your head as he continues.

"D0N'T TRY 4NY M0RE FUNNY BUS1NESS, PUNK!" He tells you, as the old man keeps struggling as he's held up in the air, upside-down, by his foot. "1'LL BRE4K Y0' KNEECAPS!!"

"But I like my kneecaps..." You reply, ears drooping.

"S0 NO MOR3 FUNNY BUSIN3SS." He replies, twirling the crowbar. "TH4T SW0RD'S M1NE!!! AND HE'S G0NNA LEAD ME TO 1T! CYA, PUNK."

Wait, he's kidnapping an old man for the Venomshank? An old man you're fairly sure is Mayor Thaniyel?

Oh that is worse than old man bullying! It's old man kidnapping! Absolutely not!

Then you remember you basically have superspeed.

In a blink, you're over there and yoinking the old man away from the gorilla. You hold him over you head as you grin at the now stunned crowbar-wielding-guy. You also used your other pair of arms to grab the man's cane and some car keys.

"LOL, you thought!" You tell him, before zooming away sniggering.

"H3Y!!!!!" The crowbar-wielding-guy yells after you, "G3T BACK HER3, PUNK!!!"

You do not go back there, in fact, you zoom across town and adjust your hold on the old man so it's more bridal style than over your head.

"Are you okay?" You ask him, as he looks dazed.

"My head hurts..." He admits, "But thank you for interfering."

He looks over at you, staring directly at your horns. "...you have... lovely horns..?"

You smile at his uncertain words. "Thank you, sir! But what was that about?"

"I don't know..." The man frowns, "My son, Brad... he doesn't usually act like that. Not even close!"

"He's after the Venomshank, right?" You ask, curious.

"How do you know that?"

"Context clues and I've been sent here myself after it." You nervously say with a giggle, "Uh- you're Mayor Thaniyel, right?"

"Ah- yes." He says as you put him down, handing him back his car keys and cane. "Thank you, dear. So, you've been sent for the Venomshank?"

"Yes! Shedletsky did!" You say with a nod.

"I see..." He hums, "I believe you. John did call and tell me about this beautiful monster person who would be on their way to collect the Venomshank on his behalf. And I take that is you."

"Mhm!" You admit, blushing slightly at being referred to as 'beautiful'. "Uh... I'm guessing you're needed to get it? The Venomshank, I mean?"

"Yes..." He nods, looking shaken from being just sorta manhandled by a gorilla and then you.

"...so your own son is trying to kidnap you with a gorilla for a sword..." You murmur, thinking. "Well, I promise you I'll do everything I can to help keep you safe, Mayor!"

"Ah! Thank you!" He says, surprised.

"WHER3 4RE YOU, PUNK?!?!" Brad's voice tears through the air, making you and the Mayor flinch.

"...is that Jeep I saw yours?" You ask him.

"Yes, why?"

"We're gonna be taking that and going to wherever the Venomshank is, sir." You tell him, picking him up again, "Something, something, I'd rather not have broken kneecaps."

"Wha- WOAH-!" The Mayor yelps as you zoom over to the Jeep, plopping him down in the driver's side as you clamber onto the passenger's side and buckle yourself in.

He coughs, a bit dazed. "My, you are quick."

"I know." You say with a giggle.

"TH3RE Y0U AR3!!" You flinch and look over to see a very pissed off Brad storming over. "1'M GONN4 K1LL YOU, YA PUNK!!"

"Oh shit-" You yelp and bat slightly at Mayor Thaniyel with a hand. "Drive- DRIVE!"

"One moment-" He says, fumbling slightly as he starts up the car.

"DRIVE YOU SEXY OLD MAN, DRIVE!!!" You screech out, your mind flatlining on 'compliments make people wanna do things', your tail flicking over to press down on the gas for him.

You both lurch at the sudden speed, but the Mayor quickly regains his composure and keeps control over the vehicle as you both speed off, and Brad's yells and curses fade away as you two speed through the jungle.

You pull your tail away from the pedals to allow the Mayor to have more control over the car as you pull your knees to your chest, shaking slightly.

"...why is your son terrifying?" You ask, eyes wide as you stare blankly ahead.

"My boy isn't usually like that..." Mayor Thaniyel sighs, shaking his head, "What happened to my sweet baby?"

"..." You don't respond, since you don't know.

For several minutes, it's complete silence outside of the sounds of the car driving on the dirt road and the sounds of the tropical rainforest.

"Aren't you hot in your hoodie?" He suddenly asks you, "If that's what it is..."

"...I'm a bit toasty, yes..." You admit, "And it is a hoodie, I just adjusted it for my..."

"...extra arms?" He finishes for you as you trail off. "I see... feel welcome to take it off if you get to hot, dear. I'm not going to judge you for not being human."

"Really?" You ask him. He just glances over you and grins, showing he has the same red teeth and longer canines that Brad has. And you notice he has the same red eyes.

You hesitantly smile back, looking back at the road. He too returns his attention to the road.

"...wait aren't you wearing a green sweater vest?" You ask him, and he laughs and tells you there's a difference between what you and he wear.

Now there isn't much of a silence, more so just small talk between you two. My, he's very nice.

As you drive, you lose track of time. Though, eventually you see a large brown figure on the road.

"...stop the car." You say suddenly.

"Huh?" Mayor Thaniyel glances over at you, confused.

"STOP THE CAR!!" You repeat, your tail going over and slamming on the brake. The car skids to a stop, mere centimeters away from hitting what you only can guess is freaking Bigfoot.

They stare at you in stunned shock, and you and Mayor Thaniyel stare back.

"...please get off the road." You ask them, and they hesitantly go. "...thank you. Thaniyel, please step on the gas."

"...I-"

"Please just... step on the gas. And we all pretend we didn't just nearly hit this poor guy with a car."

"...okay."

And off you two go again, Bigfoot just watching you two.

That was... an experience...

--☆☆☆--

Eventually, though, the jungle gets too dense, and you and Mayor Thaniyel are forced to walk. You'd superspeed, but... you don't know where you're going. And when you don't know where you're going and you speed around, you get super lost. Like, lost to the point you once went to what you can only describe as the Backrooms.

Never again.

Though, you're concerned for this old man who uses a cane to walk.

"Are you gonna be fine?" You ask him, eyes squinted in worry at the sight of him adjusting his grip on his cane.

"Dear, I live here." He tells you with a kind smile, "I'm going to be able to get around easily. If I need anything, though, I promise to tell you."

"...okay..." You say, and you watch him go get a large bag from the trunk of the car, "What's that?"

"Sleeping supplies," He tells you, "The jungle is dense and it'll take some time to get to our destination. I pack for emergencies, and we're definitely going to need to sleep at night."

"Ah, okay," You say, not complaining. "You take the more comfy sleeping bag, though. I'm used to sleeping in less than comfortable spaces. I'll be okay."

He gives you a look, but doesn't protest.

He just leads you through the jungle, and points out trees you can smack and get things like coconuts from. It was then he learned you, a, love coconut and, b, eat a ton of food.

He legitimately saw you eat five coconuts as you walked, and how you just... bit through the shells. Your tail even wagged like you were some kinda dog.

The sight made him chuckle and he mentioned how cute you were. You blushed in response.

And eventually, you two got to a river.

"...how are we supposed to cross this?" You ask, confused by how there are no stones or anything to skip across.

"Oh dear, I fear we may need to find another route." Thaniyel said with a frown, "Don't worry, I know how to-"

"ST0P RUNN1NG, PUNK!!" Brad orders as he drops down from... who knows where, the gorilla close behind him.

"...how did you get here?" You ask him, tail wrapping around the Mayor's waist so he can't just be yoinked away from you.

"I STOL3 A C4R." He replies, twirling his crowbar menacingly.

"...Brad, you can't do that." You say as Thaniyel erupts in a, "YOU WHAT!?!"

"SHUT UP." Brad warns you, glowering at you both. "B0TH OF Y0U. 1DI0TS. I'M G3TTING TH4T SW0RD, AND Y0U WON'T ST0P M3."

"...dude, you tried to kidnap your dad." You tell him, expression blanking. "I'm a hundred percent stopping you."

"Brad, please-" Mayor Thaniyel says, looking desperate, "Don't do this..."

"D0 TH1S? OH, I'M D0ING TH1S." He retorts, tightening his grip on the crowbar. "I'M T1RED OF Y0UR BULLSH1T. BOTH 0F Y0U." He points the crowbar at the Mayor. "Y0U H4D YOUR CHANCE, 4ND YOU W4STED 1T."

"Please... I'm sorry..." He pleads, as Brad grits his teeth.

"1T'S TOO LATE." He says, approaching slowly, "Y0U'VE PUSH3D ME AR0UND MY WH0LE L1F3. AND N0W, NOW TH4T HE H4S G1VEN IT T0 ME..."

You look over at Mayor Thaniyel, silently questioning the kind of family drama you got into.

"N0W, N0W YOU C0WER BEFOR3 ME?!" Brad asks, and you scowl and take a step forward, pulling your claymore into your hands defensively.

Brad scowls at you. "Y 0 U. THE M 0 N S T 3 R ' S PLAY1NG HERO."

"...haha."

"HAHA!!"

"H4H4H4H4H4H4H4!!!!"

He almost bends over he's laughing so hard, but you don't waiver. You just steady yourself.

"L0L, U THOUGHT." He tells you, wiping a non-existent tear from his eyes. "IM4GINE THINK1NG YOU'R3 A HER0 WHEN YOU'RE JUST A FR3AK!"

"Brad-" Thaniyel says, sounding a little frustrated.

"SHUT UP!!!" Brad orders his father, scoffing as he looks at you. "C0ME G3T SOME, MONST3R-PUNK."

Then you notice the gorilla about to grab Mayor Thaniyel. You yank the older man out of the way, and dart over to kick the thing in the stomach, being careful not to scratch it with your claws as you back up, guarding Thaniyel.

Brad just rolls his eyes and stops at the ground, and you jump back in surprise as rocks just seem to erupt from the ground.

"...can he just like... do that?" You ask, concerned.

"No." Thaniyel immediately answers.

"...oh." You say, releasing the Mayor from your tail as you motion him back and use your dynamite on the rock.

It explodes with little resistance, but a very angry Komodo Dragon climbs out from a hole in the rocks, angrily roaring as it charges.

You just sorta bitch-slap it with your tail. Don't worry, you're careful not to have your spike out so you don't hurt it too much. But the slap has to sting.

Mayor Thaniyel watches as you just sorta, nudge the Komodo Dragon aside when it charges again and tries to tail smack you.

Then you just kinda flip it over and it squirms for a moment, before-

"Good Heavens!" It says, having a surprisingly... British woman-esc voice. "I've been thoroughly stomped despite you not doing much..."

"...sorry!" You squeak out, "I panicked..."

Thaniyel quickly hobbles over, "Are you alright, [Name]? Did Komodo Dragon hurt you much?"

"Oh my! Thaniyel, is that you?" The Komodo Dragon seems to smile.

"You two know eachother?" You ask, confused.

"Of course we know eachother, you large oaf!" The Komodo Dragon scoffs, "How dastardly! Strollin' by a lady's gaff only to botch my front porch?! Been tryin' to get out for weeks!! Real cheesed off I am!! At least you have the decency to bring my dear friend..."

"No, no! [Name] here just cleared up the debris!" Thaniyel quickly explains, "They're completely innocent."

"Well! Call me chuffed!" She says with a smile, "What a mega sweet one you are! And a friend of Thaniyel's? Pardon my codswallop! I've been mitted for days... Couldn't feed my babies!"

"I apologize for not noticing you were trapped in your own home sooner, Komodo Dragon," Thaniyel says, "Otherwise I would've swung by to clear up this mess."

"Oh, thank you dearly, Thaniyel!" The Komodo Dragon says, "And my, they even know how to use that dynamite proper! You must really know your onions, lad!"

You just... hesitantly nod, very confused. You don't speak British...

"Well, pardon! How could I be so unladylike!" The Komodo Dragon turns around, beckoning you with her tail, "I've got a lil' somethin' for you, dearie!"

She crawls in, and you glance at Thaniyel.

"I suppose you have a Shrink card?" He asks you. You nod.

"Would you like to learn how to use it on multiple people at once?" You nod again.

And then he teaches you, you try it out on you two, and in you both go.

...those are some huge eggs you have no idea how came out of that Komodo Dragon unless she's also able to shrink and stuff.

You head over as the Komodo Dragon hands you these things called Rocket Boots, and you sag slightly because god forbid you wear shoes again. Thaniyel seems to recognize this and then you three work together to customize the boots to comfortably fit on you feet.

You three even share some tea and you compliment the Komodo Dragon's children, which makes her pleased.

By the time it's all over and you're heading out, you're being invited back over again for another visit sometime. You agree, and before you know it, Thaniyel and you are walking out into a rainforest illuminated by the moon.

"...We were in there much longer than I expected us to be." You admit, surprised.

"We were," Thaniyel says with a chuckle, "My, you are quite the kind one, dear. I'm lucky to have met you, even if I wish it was under... better circumstances."

"...thank you." You reply, embarrassed.

"My, you're partner must be quite the lucky one." He muses.

"Ah? I'm single..." You admit.

"You are? My, I would've thought someone as lovely as you may have gotten a partner."

"I'm not that lucky..."

"Well, I hope that changes soon." He says.

You nod, but feel a bit confused at the look he gives you. You can't read it, though. It's almost... wistful, in a way.

You pause at the sight of flipper marks in the ground, but shrug it off as you and Thaniyel go off to find a good spot to camp.

You asked him why you couldn't just camp here, but Thaniyel told you it'd be impolite to sleep uninvited on someone else's property.

You just helped Thaniyel cross the river with your new boots and you two keep going until you come across a giant mango tree you two decide to set up camp other.

You think you saw Bigfoot up there, but they didn't bother you so you didn't bother them.

It was then you learned you had no idea how to camp.

"It's like you've never done this before." Thaniyel says with a chuckle as you try and fail to set-up a tent for the fourteenth time.

"I mean... it is." You confess, ears drooping.

Immediately, he pauses. "...oh, I- I see."

You just let him take over setting up the tent, and eventually you and he just sit under the night sky, him hovering close.

"You are quite warm." He notes, eyes glittering as he stares at you.

"Side effect of my abilties," You explain, "I'm like a little heater. It can get... uncomfortable though."

You pull off your hoodie, glad you have a shirt on underneath. Of course, you had to spend hours adjusting this shirt so you could wear it without your back spikes damaging the clothing, but it was worth it.

"...your spikes are lovely." Thaniyel quickly tells you, and you smile slightly at him.

Silence falls between you two, and wrap your tail around your legs.

"...what did Brad mean by you 'pushing him around'?" You ask, and pause as the Mayor averts his eyes, "If- if ya wanna explain."

"..." Thaniyel lets out a low sigh, "...as I'm the current guardian of the Venomshank, it means Brad is next in line to be the guardian. But... that damned sword..."

"It's cursed," He finishes after a long moment, "It's a cursed thing, and I'll be damned if anyone uses it to hurt others. If I could, I wouldn't even be leading you to it. But I have to since Shedletsky needs it. I want Brad far away from it for his own safety, but... it seems he believes he's ready for it, at the very least."

You hesitate, unsure of what to reply with. "...did you ever tell him of the dangers the Venomshank has..? Like, what it could do?"

Thaniyel hesitates. "...no."

"So you only told him to stay away?" You ask, raising an eyebrow, "...I mean, it makes sense why he thinks he deserves the sword now. You never explained to him the dangers, and he's reacting like he should have it now."

The Mayor avoids looking at you in the eye, and you sigh as you look up at the stars.

"...people are rash. They see something, don't listen or consider other possibilities outside of what jumps into their head." You say, "For most people when they see me, I'm a monster. And for your son, Brad, he probably saw the sword, thinks he deserves it, and refuses to consider other possibilities because no one has sat him down and explained anything."

"...you're quite emotionally intelligent." Thaniyel tells you, smiling faintly at you. "Thank you for helping to open my eyes, dear. You're... quite the wonderful person."

"...of course," You say with a smile, trying to ignore the second statement, "It's the least I could do."

Another silence falls between you two.

"...where's Brad's mother in all of this?" You ask, confused, "Shouldn't she... like... be a part of this?"

You freeze as Thaniyel flinches, grimacing. "She... isn't involved."

"...I'm so sorry." You say suddenly, "I didn't mean-"

"No, no. It's fine," The Mayor says, trying to ease you, "You had no idea. It's okay. Don't worry."

"..." You just grimace, internally cursing yourself for being an idiot.

Thaniyel also remains silent, before quietly sighing. "Don't blame yourself for things you didn't know, dear. You're much better you think of yourself."

"...okay..." Is all you respond with, taking in a deep breath. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being so... kind to me."

--☆☆☆--

Unfortunately, your light sleep curse-of-sorts doesn't let up. You get merely an hour of slumber before the sounds of the rainforest wake you up, and you decide to just sit outside the tent and keep watch.

And, merely twenty minutes after you creep out, Brad shows up. This time, he's alone, no gorilla being nearby.

His eyes widen at the sight of you, and he scowls. "Y 0 U."

"I could say the same thing," You muse, standing up. You don't pull out your claymore. You just stare down the man who acts like a teenager playing COD.

"G3T OUT OF MY W4Y." He orders you, pissed off, "I NE3D HIM TO PULL TH4T SW0RD FOR M3. ST4Y OUTT4 TH1S, M0NSTER-PUNK."

"I'd rather not," You reply, "I'd rather not have you get hurt thanks to the Venomshank."

"HURT? H4! LIKE 1'D G3T HURT BY A SW0RD." Brad scoffs, "I'M N0T STUP1D. I C4N HANDL3 A SW0RD."

"Brad-"

"DON'T C4LL ME TH4T!!" He orders you suddenly, "I'M GRI3FER. NOT FUCK1NG BR4D."

"...honestly if I was named Brad, I'd be evil too..." You whisper under your breath, before speaking up. "Okay... Griefer, take a breath. There's a reason your father tries to keep you away from the Venomshank."

"LIK3 TH4T MATT3RS." Griefer tells you, ticked off, "I D3SERV3 THAT SW0RD. YOU HAV3 N0 RE4SON TO B3 LED TO 1T LIKE A L0ST D0G."

"...actually I was literally sent here to get it..." You reply, scratching the back of your head.

"AND MY D4D IS JUST FIN3 WITH T4KING Y0U TO 1T?" He scoffs, "TH3 ONLY REAS0N HE'D D0 TH4T IS 1F SH3DLETSKY S3NT Y0U, AND HE'S BEEN T4KEN CAR3 OF."

"...what do you mean?" You ask, confused.

"MY TWO MERC3NAR1ES + THE1R B0SS JUMPED HIM!" Griefer says, sniggering, "ONLY H3 AND MY D4D CAN PULL TH4T SW0RD, AND W1TH HIM G0NE, I'M SETTL1NG F0R MY OWN F4THER TO PULL TH4T SW0RD!!"

"...you know Shedletsky is fine, right?" You ask, ears twitching. "Just saw him earlier today. Got him a bucket of fried chicken. How is he so cheerful despite being in a full body cast? I have no clue."

"..." Griefer shakes slightly, "H E ' S A L I V E ?"

"...hahah..."

"H4H4H4!!!"

"H4H4H4H4H4H4H4HH4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4HH4H4H4!!!!!!"

You flinch at Griefer's hysterical laughter, and as he suddenly stops and glowers at you.

"L1AR." He tells you, seething, "D1E."

--☆☆☆--

You managed to put a stop to Griefer's fight as you pinned him down, a foot pressed firm on his chest as the guy wheezes, and you swear he lets out a snake-like hiss.

"...you done?" You ask him, stabbing your claymore into the ground as Griefer wheezes a bit. You tap one of your claws on his chest, and he's just... too winded to really fight back or try to flip you off him.

"CHE4TER..." He hisses at you, glowering at you as he pants. "YOU'R3 TOO QU1CK FOR Y0UR 0WN GOOD..."

"...uh... okay?" You reply, confused. "But like... dude... you need to learn when to give up... I'm not gonna just let you... kidnap your father for a stupid sword."

At your words, Griefer tries to grab you ankle and flip you off him. It backfires and just makes it so you're laying on top of him.

You immediately sit up, your knees on the ground as you still sort of pin down Griefer and his eyes widen in surprise, but then they narrow again.

"D4MMIT..." He scowls, "IT'S N0T A "STUP1D SW0RD", IT'S MY D4MN RIGHT AS TH3 N3XT GUARDIAN!!"

"Shhh... you're gonna wake up your father." You tell him, covering his mouth with a hand as you give him a pointed look. "Let the poor guy sleep. I think he's lost hair by worrying over you. At the very least, let him have a break."

Griefer only glares at you as you continue. "What's wrong with you? You try to hurt Shedletsky, who did nothing to you, try to kidnap your own father, and try to harm me. Do you know how lucky you are?"

"Look, I don't know much-" You say, not removing your hand from over his mouth- "But I know your father cares about you and wants your safety. Someday you'll be the guardian of the Venomshank, but if your own father sounds terrified at the mere idea of the sword, don't you think he has a reason to keep it away from you?"

You frown, shaking your head. "Dammit, you don't care about my words, do you? Wait- are you licking my hand?!"

You pull your hand away from his mouth, wiping off your now slick palm on your shirt with a grimace. Griefer lunges, but you wrap your tail around his neck and yank him away from you, sighing.

"Griefer..." You say as he struggles against you, "Is it wrong I almost wish I was you?"

That makes him pause. "WH4T?"

"Like- you have so much!" You say, rubbing your forehead, "You have a loving father, genuine friends, and a home. I'm- I'm a monster with no parents, friends I have to struggle to keep or even get, and I'm stuck in the past. I don't know if I'll even get home."

You try not to cry, try not to let everything weigh down on you, try not to crumble.

And god, you hear the voices of the Ice Dagger again for the first time in hours.

Stop being weak.

He's going to use you.

You're going to be in more danger.

"Why do you get so much stuff and just... don't care?" You ask, "I usually am living in an apartment that's only one room with a bathroom. I sleep on a couch. I barely have a job. But you... you have so much and you want more? What makes you need this sword so much? You're gonna get it at some point, why now?"

Griefer stares at you as you take a breath. You shake slightly, and Griefer scowls.

"YOU'RE A CRYB4BY." He tells you, before hesitating, "...BUT... UH..."

Silence falls between you two, and you take a breath and release Griefer from your tail's grip.

"...I'm sorry." You say, "It's just... I've been kinda stressed. And haven't been taking time to really process the fact I'm stuck in the past. And... god, a lot of stuff."

Weakling.

Seriously? Why are you being emotionally vulnerable with him?

You can do so much better.

"...you're so lucky, and I don't understand why you don't see that..." You say with a sigh, rubbing your forehead.

"YOU KN0W NOTH1NG." Griefer tells you, before hesitating. "...BUT... D4MN. YOUR LIF3 SUCKS."

"..." You sit there, a little sad as you don't look at him.

"..." Griefer also stays quiet, before tapping his crowbar. "YOU R3ALLY H4VE NO PAR3NTS?"

"No..." You reply, "Back when I was a really young kid, I probably had some. I think I did at least... but not anymore. The closest thing I had were the scientists who'd poke and prod and study me, but those really weren't parents."

"..." Griefer just stares at you, and you rub the back of your head.

"Look, I... I just want you to leave your dad alone for the night. Let him sleep." You say, "I know you aren't happy with me just... getting the Venomshank, but it's for Builderman's safety. I promise I'll give it back, and you'll get it someday. I promise."

Griefer just stays silent, but nods slightly. You smile and thank him, before leaving and going back into the tent.

Griefer just rubs his face, hoping you didn't notice his blush in the dark. God... you're a crybaby, but you're weirdly fine. Dammit.

You pay no mind, just flopping down on your sleeping bag as a- thankfully still asleep- Thaniyel mumbles about being cold in his sleep.

"You're cold?" You quietly ask him, and he mumbles a sleepy sorta 'yes' in response. You chuckle slightly as you try to fall asleep, but are startled as Thaniyel- still asleep- suddenly curls over and grabs onto you, snuggling close.

He's really cold, like a snake or lizard that's been away from any heat source for a long period of time, but he seems desperate to cling to your warm body.

You don't fuss, you just sigh and decide to let this poor exhausted old man be warm, even if it means cuddling you.

You just close your eyes and try to sleep.

You aren't even awake when someone uses their knowledge of the jungle to make sure you don't wake up for a little while.

--☆☆☆--

Your head pounds when you finally wake up, and you pause when you realize how high the sun is in the sky. You sit up, and realize Thaniyel is gone, with the clear signs of a struggle remaining.

Immediately, you're out of the tent and looking around, eyes wide. Written in the ground is the words '1 let him sleep, bab3'.

Babe? Who the fuck is calling you 'babe'?

Wait a minute...

...

Oh shit.

You try to recall how Thaniyel told you the Venomshank is nearby and how it's at the top of a tree (that Griefer apparently also made to be his hangout spot or something? You don't know). Immediately, you go.

It doesn't take long to get to the tree or get past the puzzle to get in, and the tree people inside are very nice, but comment on Griefer and Thaniyel. One even mentioned how Griefer seemed weirdly excited for someone- someone you guessed was you- to come play hero or something.

You had a bad feeling. A really bad feeling.

Finally, though, you got to the top of the tree and entered his crib. Griefer stands at the center of the room, just behind a green sword- the Venomshank- lodged in the stone, with his father's hands tied to the blade.

"TH1S IS YOUR L4ST CH4NCE," Griefer warns his father, "PULL. THE. SW0RD."

"I... I don't..." His father weakly says, shaking slightly.

"GIVE. IN." Griefer repeats, and you hear the whispers of the Venomshank.

Pull me out.

Let me free.

"SHEDLETSKY'S ALRE4DY BEEN DE4LT W1TH," Griefer says, lying through his teeth, "NOW Y0U'RE ALLLLLL AL0NE."

"Brad..." Thaniyel pleads, desperation seeping into his voice, "Please don't do this..."

Then he notices you.

"Oh my goodness!! [Name], you need to get out of here!" He tells you, panicking.

Griefer slowly looks over, and the feral grin that creeps onto his face scares you slightly.

"THER3 YOU 4RE..." He says, sounding uncomfortably gleeful now, like any hatred for you just... died, "I W4S WOND3RING WHEN THE H3RO WAS G0NNA SHOW UP. I'VE BEEN WA1TING FOR Y0U, B4BE... SO HAV3 THEY. YOU. AR3. M1NE."

He yoinks his father up, Thaniyel being essentially forced to pull the sword out. Griefer pulls it out of his hands, tossing his father aside as he relishes in holding the blade.

Yesss! Freedom!

"YES... Y E S . . . THE VOICES..." Griefer lets out a feral little giggle, relishing in this, "I CAN HEAR TH3M AGA1N..."

Who's that cutie standing like a hero right there?

They're kinda cute...

I can see why you like them...

"THANIYEL!" Is all you can focus on, and you immediately rush over to check on him. This results in you wincing and screeching as a crowbar hits you, slicing you clean across the arm.

"NO! ST0P FOCUS1NG ON HIM!!" Griefer orders you, enraged, "ST4Y 4WAY FROM MY D4D!! Y0U. BELONG. TO. M3!!"

Maybe they love your father...

What? Okay wait-

I think they do...

Okay you don't like old men and women that much-

How could they love your own father and not you? You saw them cuddling...

Okay wait it wasn't that freaky-

Griefer is fully listening to the voices, the Venomshank being held tightly in his hand so hard his fingers are white.

Slice them up. Let us strike them, and they won't ever leave you...

"..." Griefer stares you down, seething, "...I'M T1RED OF Y0U ACTING LIK3 THIS. I'M GOING T0 SLICE. YOU. UP. CYA, B4BE."

--☆☆☆--

You fought him desperately. You had no clue what the Venomshank would do to you if it's blade pierced your skin, but you figured from Thaniyel's fear and the voice's whispers, it couldn't be good.

You both panted as a result, you having just sliced him across the chest with your claymore. Thaniyel spent the entire time trying to struggle out of his binds, and Griefer shook from his injuries.

At the very least, you didn't electrocute him.

"...IT'S..." He wheezes, hand pressed into the ground as you stayed upright. "...IT'S ALL JUST A S1CK PR4NK, ISN'T 1T?"

You hesitate as he continues.

"THE VOICES... THEY KN3W THE ENT1RE TIME THIS WOULD HAPP3N..." He pants, "THE1R GARB4GE L1ES ABOUT THE FUTURE WERE R3AL. ABOUT Y O U. TH3Y SET ME UP... JUST TO WATCH ME BURN..."

"h4h."

"H4h4h4!!!"

"H4H4H4H4H4H4H4HH4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4!!!!"

He grits his teeth as he stands up, hysterical laughter dying on his tongue, staggering slightly.

"N O . . . I D 0 N ' T C A R E A N Y M O R E." His eyes stare directly into yours, and he grins, "S C R 3 W T H E P L A N. S C R 3 W T H E P R 0 P H 3 C Y."

"A L L I W 4 N T . . ."

"I S Y O U."

Then Griefer tosses away his crowbar, raises the Venomshank, and plunges it into his own thigh.

"BRAD!!!! NO!!!!!!" Thaniyel cries out, horrified.

Griefer laughs, collapsing to the ground, as you helplessly watch plant life erupt from Griefer's wounds, ensnaring and reshaping his body until you're left facing a giant plant monster.

It roars, almost laughing, waving what you think are arms, and charges.

It catches you off guard, and you're knocked back by the attack. All of its vine-like, spider-like feet dig into the ground, several of them pinning down your limbs as it chomps down on your right arm.

You screech as its teeth pierce through your scales and flesh, and it lets out an almost pleased snarl.

Your second pair of arms claws at its bony and plant-rich torso, and it hisses and draws back. Your tail unfurls and stabs into it, but it's not too phased by the electricity coursing through it beyond the Venomshank falling out of its body and clattering to the ground.

You scream in pain as one of its legs stabs into your thigh, and you desperately try pulling away as it seems to try and grab the Venomshank, seemingly intent on using it on you.

You slice at its head and manage to avoid its next stab, this time with the Venomshank, and pull away.

You can't handle this on your own... you need help...

And then you remember a certain someone's gift to you.

You pull out the King's call card, slamming it into the ground as it glows. In a gust of cold, he steps forth, holding his scepter as he stands regally before you.

With a single scan of the room, he takes in your cowering form, Thaniyel still tied up, and Griefer- now more like a Bubonic Plant if anything- snarling at the sight of the new figure.

"..." The King stares down at you from the corner of his eye. "Do not fear, little bird. This shall not be in vain. No more harm shall befall you as long as I am here."

He slams his scepter into the ground, and you manage to rise, using the Ice Dagger to heal yourself, feeling like now you have a chance to win this without killing the Bubonic Plant, hoping this is somehow reversible.

Please, let this be reversible...

--☆☆☆--

With the King's help, the Bubonic Plant finally collapses to the ground, and you stand on shaking legs as your black blood oozes from your wounds. The moment you free Thaniyel from his binds, he rushes to check on his son.

"I can't believe it..." He murmurs, as the King helps support your body so you don't collapse. "I... I can't believe..."

Your wounds practically burn as you lean on the king, the cold temperature of his body a welcome feeling as it helps numb the pain.

"Shedletsky warned me about Builderman, but..." Thaniyel tears up a bit, hugging his son's monsterous form close. "I never thought they'd go after my own child. My little boy."

The King averts his gaze, focusing on making sure you're alright. You don't look away, you can't-

"He's still breathing..." Thaniyel says, and his relief eases you knowing Griefer is still alive, "I'll call up the doctors in Turitopulis. I know this is reversible, but..."

Thaniyel pauses, glancing over at you and the King.

"Thank you." He says, tearing up, "Thank you so much."

You nod, and then try to gently push the King out of here. This isn't your place to be right now.

"Wait..." Thaniyel says, mostly to you, but hesitates, recognizing and understanding your intentions. "...take this cursed thing. Take it far away. Where nobody can get hurt again. Please."

You nod, taking the Venomshank and putting it away with the Ice Dagger, ignoring both of the whispers they give you.

You usher the King out, going with him before Thaniyel can say anything else.

"I love you..." You hear him murmur, and you aren't sure who it's directed at. Though, it must be for his son, yes? It has to be...

...right?

...

You aren't sure as you collapse unconsious from the wounds you sustained and the blood loss you faced.

All you know is that you are never forgetting the horrors you faced today.

[this-is-a-name-dont-worry]

I was so ready to draw the Spamtenna fankid in an AU where she hatched during the time between the divorce and our arrival (she's a young adult and she's so happy she finally can show to an audience all the ads she's been workin on!), but then I remembered I don't have my stylus so can't draw her....

Accidentally wrote all about her, so infos under cut

Anyway, her name's Poppy, she's an Addison with unusual traits due to Tenna, and her dad promised her a timeslot for her to do any show she wants! So she made an ad slot. Each ad is short, kinda nonsensical or a parody. She likes to use other Darkners in them, and even was able to make one with Rouxl. At the first break she can be found working on more ads, trying out different jingles out loud. During the rpg second round, after encountering the love island, she comes down with a rope from the ceiling after Tenna is all "wasn't that cool? haha..". She says he's right, it's cool, and uses that to introduce an ad for some romantic product

Tenna asks her what she's doing, and she explains that she's trying a new kind of ad that can pop in front of the viewer at any moment! (she calls them Poppyns). See, people don't want to watch ads, and she noticed the moment the ad slot is announced, viewership reaches a new low! So she tries new ways to get her ads noticed and watched. She thinks maybe they should make the ad slots unfixed amounts of time, so people will keep watching just in case it's a short ad slot because they don't want to accidentally miss the next part of their show.

Tenna is not happy, but before he and Poppy can argue, he's all "come on, not in front of an audience! We'll talk about it later, alright Poppy?" and Poppy leaves.

At the break, you can surprise from a cracked door a conversation between Poppy and Tenna, where it's made clear that Tenna wants Poppy to do anything but ads for her show. Poppy reminds him she's an Addison, dad, ads are kinda their thing! Tenna insists she learned so many skills, she could do any of those instead! She tells him she uses those skills, the piano on her ad wasn't playback you know! It's even an original composition! Tenna kind of beats around the bush to not really answer to that, and ends up telling Poppy it's better if they cancel her slot until she finds something that isn't ads. She can do so much more than just that!

Poppy is pissed and leaves without a word, which brings Tenna to immediately call for her in a "are you gone? please don't leave me" tone. Poppy gets out the room, sees you've been listening, seems conflicted on you having seen that, then leaves. If you have the Dealmakers, you feel like they're vibrating. This exchange is the first time it's said that Poppy is Tenna's daughter!Though you could guess by how Tenna gushes about her in some dialogues.

I think you can find her at another point, and it's where she tells you how she's been working so hard and for so long on those ads, so she's really happy to finally have the occasion to show them! She says she's not too satisfied with the one with the weird blue guy though, but that's what you get for making something in such a short amount of time.

During the phase where you're running away from Tenna and trying to reach the fountain, in the room with all the screens, when you go to the secret room where in the normal game there is the blue wardrobe, here it's a whole bedroom, and Poppy is there. She's upset, and when Susie tries to get you to back away, Poppy tells you to wait, then that her dad is looking for you, right ? ("Wait so when you say 'dad' you really mean..?") So, if she captures you, maybe she can get him to let her do her thing! A battle starts.

Poppy makes a Poppyn!

Check: A strange Addison, who just wants to be seen

Her fight would use some Tenna inspired attacks but rethemed around ads; every so often, she'll do like Tenna with the mini games, and will pull you into one of the ads she played during the chapter. You have to dodge what's causing problems, and reach the product she sells to fix it. When you've played through all the ads, Poppy will get frustrated and angry at herself for not even being able to capture you. Then, "I really didn't want to use that attack... but I have to!". What follows is a pipis attack that's pretty difficult. After that attack she's tired and can be spared (if you decide to keep going anyway, she'll send the same very simple pipi attack, like just throwing it across the screen once).

She feels like a disappointment and a failure, talk how her dad always insists she can do more than just ads, but he refuses to accept that she wants to do just that. And that's when, if you have the Dealmakers, Spamton finally shows up.

I have NO IDEA what kind of conversation they have, but it's strangely emotional, while at the same time pretty weird.

Poppy tells you to be careful, but also not too mean to Tenna, he's really not a bad guy, just... desperate. Maybe she gives you something to help in the fight.

If you've done her fight, maybe it increases Tenna's chances of survival? Like, I want to keep the idea that the game really wants that TV fucking dead, but it feels unfair for an optional boss fight to be a key element in saving him.

Also Poppy gets to live in Castle Town if you did her fight. She's disappointed to learn pop up ads have already been a thing for a long time now. Maybe she can ask to hang out with your Dealmakers if you're wearing them and there's no Tenna, and she and Spamton have a chat until you do a fight OR go back to the Light World. Also I think she gets treated as every TV World's Darkners' little princess

I almost forgot to talk about her speech! She has a normal speech pattern, but all swears are censored with their [[kid friendly versions]]. In her ads, she will sometimes use one of Tenna's *~fun~* words. During her fight, as she grows more stressed, she uses [[ad stuff]] as replacement for some words, which always makes her panic a bit. Also I think after her fight she deserves to let out a huge uncensored FUCK in *~fun~* font

[cozmowrites]

America's Birthday (2025)

American! Reader

=====

"Wait, wait, wait," Bakugou muttered, his brow twitching as he watched you draw stars and stripes on the whiteboard of the shared dorm lounge. "You're tellin' me the point of this holiday is just... blowin' crap up and grillin' meat?"

You turned to him with a grin, hands on your hips. "That's one way to put it. But yeah, kinda! It's Independence Day. America's birthday! Fireworks, sparklers, barbecue, friends... it's a whole vibe, Bakugou."

He scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "That's just another Tuesday for me."

You laughed and tossed him a little American flag toothpick, which he caught without looking. "C'mon, you can't tell me the idea of a whole night dedicated to fireworks doesn't appeal to you even a little."

"I am fireworks, dumbass."

You rolled your eyes fondly. "Okay, yeah, Mr. Walking Explosion, I know. But I'm talking about the aesthetic kind. You know, colors, sparkles, shapes. Like sparklers! I wanna get sparklers and set 'em off on the roof tomorrow night!"

He groaned. "Why would you waste money on weak-ass fire sticks when I could just make explosions that actually look good?"

"Because it's tradition!" you insisted, jabbing a finger at him. "And because they're pretty!"

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, clearly about to argue again, but the look on your face made him pause. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about it, how animated your hands got... he clicked his tongue and looked away.

"Tch. Whatever. Not like I care."

+++

By the time tomorrow rolled around, you were practically bouncing. You'd managed to snag some sparklers from a local shop that catered to foreigners and convinced a few classmates to grill some food on the dorm terrace. But Bakugou? He hadn't said a word all day about the holiday.

Not that you were surprised. He wasn't exactly the sentimental type. Still, you saved a box of sparklers just for the two of you, so you could show him what it was really like.

As the sun dipped behind the skyline and the heat of the day finally cooled, you climbed up to the roof with your box tucked under your arm, excited to make this feel a little like home. The first sparkler fizzled out before it even lit.

You frowned and tried another. It sparked for a second... then died. Again.

Again.

Again.

You tried to laugh it off, but your chest started to feel tight. It was stupid, but all you'd wanted was a sliver of something familiar and warm. Something that reminded you of summers back home.

Instead, you were sitting alone on the roof with a box of defective sparklers and a well of tears pricking behind your eyes.

"Dumb fireworks," you muttered, blinking hard. "Stupid imported crap..."

"Oi."

You turned your head, sniffling. Bakugou stood a few feet away, his hands shoved in his pockets, his usual scowl softened just slightly.

"I figured I'd find you sulkin' up here."

"I'm not sulking," you muttered, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "It's just... the sparklers didn't work, and it was dumb to get so excited about them, and—"

He sat beside you with a grunt, close but not touching. "It's not dumb."

You blinked at him. "...Did you just say something nice?"

He looked like he regretted it instantly. "Shut up."

You let out a shaky laugh. "Sorry. Just didn't expect you to show up."

Bakugou didn't answer right away. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out something small, looked like a wire fuse coiled around some sort of metal casing.

"Okay, look," he grumbled, avoiding eye contact. "I figured those bargain-bin sparklers might crap out. So... I made somethin'. Don't make a big deal outta it."

You tilted your head. "You made something?"

Before you could ask more, he hovered his hand over the little device in his palm, and it sparked to life. Soft, crackling light burst upward, like a miniature fountain of warm golden fireworks. Then another burst came, trailing shimmering embers that floated in the air like fireflies.

Your breath caught. It wasn't loud or violent like his usual explosions. It was... gentle. Beautiful. Like magic trapped in a bottle.

He kept his palm steady, eyes narrowed in concentration. "They're small, 'cause I had to tweak the ignition to lower the blast pressure. But they won't burn you. See?" He rotated his hand slightly so one of the trails brushed against your arm... warm and harmless.

You stared at it, wide-eyed. "Bakugou... this is amazing."

He huffed. "Yeah, well. Told you I am fireworks."

The corners of your lips twitched upward. "You made these... for me?"

"Tch. Don't flatter yourself," he muttered, but his ears turned a little red. "You were bitchin' about wanting sparklers. Thought I'd shut you up before you cried about it."

You laughed and the tension melted off your shoulders. "Well... it worked. I'm not crying anymore."

"Good." He paused, then added, almost too quiet to hear, "Didn't like seein' you upset."

Your heart skipped.

You looked at him again, the glow of his homemade sparklers painting his face in soft light. He wasn't looking at you, just watching the lights flicker and fade in his palm. But there was something vulnerable in his expression, something you'd never seen before.

"Bakugou..." you said gently, "You're kind of a softie under all that angry yelling, aren't you?"

He groaned and snapped his fingers to cut off the sparks. "And now I regret everything."

You laughed again and leaned your head on his shoulder, just for a second. "Thanks, Katsuki. Really."

He stiffened slightly, but didn't move away.

"...Yeah. Whatever. Happy Birthday, America."

+++

masterlist ⟢

more bakugou ⟢

requests ツ

[hey-iam-fire-ghost-but-i-write]

tragically earthbounded

Lord Morpheus x Fem!OC (Ophelia) 001: wings -> CHAPTER INDEX

not my gift, credits to the owner.

English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes but be nice about it!

Summary: Finding yourself in this new human form, you start wondering what's your new place in the Dreaming.

Warnings: not really.

Word count: 1.8K

-

The throne room wasn’t any more inspiring of a sight than the rest of the Castle.

Morpheus was there, sitting on the lower steps of the stairs to his High Chair as you walked around the debris, calibrating your new legs and feet. Finding your new balance in your new found but old form.

“Feet are exhausting” you declare plainly, arms wagging as you take one foot off of a fallen column and try to take another step forward.

“And it appears decorum is lacking” Lucienne looks at you pointy.

“I do this all the time” you defend yourself, not even spearing a look to your dearest friend.

“When you had wings,” and when you almost misstep, more urgent “You’ll—”

“Ophelia” Morpheus calls, and you straighten up suddenly. Your name sounds tired and drained of any amusement in his tongue.

You huff out as you jump off the column you were testing your footing on, and turn to him with a tentative smile and a tilt of your head. Cheeky. Walking towards his sitting figure, “I will behave” you try, reaching to sit down on the step his own feet were resting.

Resting from his attempt to use his magic.

Not what I used to be his voice resounds in your head, and you feel the need to sigh as your chin falls on the heels of your new hands and his coat spreads around your own feet. Warm and vibrating, all enclosing you. Engulfing you in his warmth as if he was the one surrounding you.

He’s weak, downhearted and betrayed— his tools stripped from him by the pretender Rodrick Burgess, and later by his descendant.

“They are exhausting” you defend yourself after a while.

You hear him sigh in impatience behind you.

That took less time than you expected.

Another silence lingers, asphyxiating and utterly helpless. Lucienne looks at her Lord with worry as he thinks over and over.

Just minutes ago, Morpheus almost passes out by the enormous effort of trying to use his powers… and almost lashes out at you both when suggested rest. You knew your master, his incredibly hard but cool head. 

Even in desperation, he remained stoic and unbending.

Which was almost terrifying when you remember how you found him back in that basement.

“There’s only one sure way for me to find my tools” his voice comes out hard and firm “I must summon the Three-in-one”

You almost feel a chill run down your spine, and Lucienne protests “Surely it hasn’t come to that”

“The fates see past, present and future” Morpheus reminds her “and they know all”

“Riddlers” you remind him too “And bad ones at that,” you turn to look at him “do you remember the last time we saw them? They tried to buy me off of you” you purse your lips, offended.

There’s a wicked grin in Morpheus’ face at the reminder.

“Perhaps,” Lucienne calls back at both of you “just this once—”

His eyes, still on you, lose any sign of amusement “I won’t call on my siblings” he stands up, taking a few steps up the stairs. 

“Destiny would most certainly know where your tools are—” Lucienne objects.

And you continue, twisting at the waist to look up at him “And Desire most likely will know which direction to point to” you almost scoff, sarcasm in your voice which makes Lucienne give you a warning look.

“My siblings have their own realms to tend to, as I have mine—” if Morpheus was offended by your comment, he didn't show “we do not interfere in each other’s affairs”

You need to stop yourself from scoffing again.

“Watch yourself” Lucienne warns you lightly, walking closer to the stair as she directs her eyes to Morpheus again “Perhaps if they hear what’s come to happen to you, My Lord—”

“I’m quite sure they know what happened to me” he turns to you both again, and you need to look away from the anguish in his eyes “And yet, none of them came to my aid”

It’s raw, and exasperating. And you need a second for it to stop pulling at your heartstrings. The vulnerability in him was simply and utterly uncharacteristic, and it makes you a bit dizzy when you try to focus on it.

Such a pillar. Such a splendid example of self-sufficient anthropomorphous entity reduced to a defiled man behind glass in need of aid. 

It broke your heart all over again. 

Another silence, and then— “The Fates cost a bloody fortune” Lucienne relents. 

“A cost I won’t be able to pay, as if I’m even able to summon them” Morpheus sighs.

“Perhaps they’ll want me still,” you turn to him, a small amused smile as you jest. 

And his eyes land on you. 

And there’s certainty in them.

“I was merely jesting, Lord King” you let out, fast and alarmed at the possibility of him trying to sell you off to the Fates.

He looks at Lucienne now, “Is there anything of mine that remains in The Dreaming?” he asks, your comment sparking a plan within him, as he walks down the steps and you crane your neck back to look at him.

The librarian’s eyes land on you.

“Something that I created” Morpheus clarifies.

“You created all of this,” she points out, you need to stop craning your head back— deciding necks were exhausting too. Not flexible at all.

“No” he shakes his head “Something that remains intact.”

Wings rings in your head, a bit dizzy still from looking back at him.

And it’s almost as if Lucienne heard you when she turns to you once again, hesitancy in her eyes.

-

If you could’ve flown to him, you would’ve done it— you would’ve reached for him faster.

And you would’ve spent more time with him. 

Borrowed time, but more time at last.

Gregory was playing with his ball when you find him after leaving Morpheus and Lucienne talking Cain and Abel through their plan.

Horrendous plan.

Heartbreaking plan.

He looks helplessly distracted, rather entertained when left alone— which makes your hart ache even more.

Morpheus' creation, the king's nightmare and yet it was your wings the ones that inspired his.

“Hello, friend” you croak out, taking another step closer “Does my new face seem friendly enough?” you chuckle softly, eyes watery.

It only takes him a few seconds, looking at you with low ears in alert and weariness.

And then a fuzzy bubble grows into your mind when he lets you know that yes, in fact, he saw his friend in your face.

Chuckling, you step closer to him still, hands on his nose and up to his ear “Oh, Gregory” you lament, cold stone under your touch “They’ve cut my wings”

And yet, he lets you know what he thinks of your new form.

Dazzling.

The gargoyle was your friend in more ways that you could count, always soaring through the sky with you in such a majestic flight— his words of amazement and encouragement ringing in your head. Sweetness poured out of him, and fear not anymore.

Worthy of being Morpheus'. The both of you.

You give him another sad smile, “He’s gonna ask for something, my friend” you almost cry out, whispering “If we go now, if we fly away from this garden gray—”

“Ophelia” you freeze at the calling of Morpheus behind you.

And Gregory grows quiet.

“He’s not nightmare anymore,” you let out, without turning to see him “he’s my friend”

“It is not your decision” 

Your forehead falls against the hard stone that was Gregory’s neck.

And only when the gargoyle nudges your cheek with his peak, you step away.

“My Lord, please” Cain walks up.

“He’s one of us now” Abel steps besides his brother.

“It's not fair” 

“No” Morpheus rasps out “It is not”

You turn away towards the trees when you feel the King relent, Cain stomping away. 

Abel, on the other hand, is far more softer than his brother. 

“You’ve been a very good boy” you hear him whisper. 

And then, it’s Gregory who steps closer to Morpheus.

Lucienne’s hands are on yours, and you need to look away.

For Gregory becomes sand in a matter of seconds.

“Come,” he rasps to both of you, not being able to meet neither of your set of eyes “we’ve got work to do”

-

Below the dock, the waters are dark and unforgiving. Dreams and nightmares all the same navigate them, and so did Morpheus. Power was electrifying, and if you looked too close you were sure you were gonna dive in— for the dreaming waters were too inviting.

And often, uncharted.

He went out to seek what he needed for the fates in them, as you were left behind with Lucienne and your grief.

Your friend, such a dear good friend, at the moment craning the best way to approach the subject.

The best way to hold you safely in the warm palm of her hand.

Dear Lucienne.

“He’ll certainly be missed” the librarian tried, and you look towards the stars.

“We should’ve insisted on calling upon Destiny” you sigh, still downhearted.

“Gregory made his choice,” Lucienne nods “as you did yours” she reminds you.

It gives you a moment of pause, then— “We never spoke a word. Never needed to” you whisper, looking back at her.

And as you’re wallowing in these words, a white hand comes out of the water and grabs your knee. 

Yelping, you recognize Morpheus coming out of the water. 

Lucienne and you help him upwards.

“I’ve got what I was looking for”

He’s sitting beside you, panting and exhausted. Soaking wet, he looks up at you for a second, holding up an egg the size of his hand.

“You didn’t give it to them?” you ask, curious, sliding closer on your knees to his figure as you accept what he's handing you— a bit surprised the fates didn't take it from him.

“It was not meant for them” he rasps out. As you examine the egg, his eyes linger in your face now that's closeness allows him to— face softening before he can catch himself. And when you look up, “I’ve got a job for you, little bird” he nods, standing up.

Looking down at it, you understood.

“This one’ll begin as a dream” he declares, walking away to the end of the dock.

Cain and Abel would have a new friend.

“May I ask where you’re off to, sire?” You hear Lucienne ask, and you look up from the egg towards Morpheus.

“London” he rasps.

“Did you not just spend the last one hundred years there?” And before Lucienne could correct herself, Morpheus turns around with a warning look “Sorry”she puts her hands up in surrender, “Why London?”

“My sand was sold there” Morpheus reveals, eyes landing on you as you stand up hugging the warmth of the egg “Once I’ve got them, I’ll seek my helm—” then, he turns to the waters “in hell”

“Lovely” you let out, walking towards them until you were standing right besides Lucienne.

“Oh, dear” she sighs, then she looks at you for a moment, and you shrug softly as you wander away once again “Would you at least grant me a favor, before you go?” Lucienne asks Morpheus “Take a raven with you”

Oh, lovely you hear in your head, crouching down to leave the egg on the edge of the dock and look into the water.

Trying to ignore the feeling of dread creeping inside of you, giving your back to both of them.

“I do not need a minder” Morpheus declares “I’m Dream of the Endless—”

“And Dream of the Endless always has a raven with him”

“I’ve got a raven” he interrupts, harsh and unbending, making you feel a bit desperate under his defense “She’ll remain here”

You hug your legs and sigh helplessly, caressing the egg with one finger.

Morpheus too, walks to the end of the dock. And you find yourself staring hard at the waters, just to not look at him.

And then, they part right in front of your eyes— a stairway to London bursting through.

Before stepping on it, Morpheus crouches down besides you which makes this all the worse.

“No more ravens” he whispers to you, reassuring a soft and needy part within yourself. As if he knew, as if he meant it. Leaving you feeling shameful and weak “You are the last” and when you turn to him, you notice he's got a piece of your hair between his fingers.

Later, when Morpheus’ gone off to get his sand and you’re walking away from Abel’s graveyard after hiding the egg in the dirt you ask yourself the one question you’ve been trying to ignore.

“What am I made for?”

[shieldofiron]

Vibe Check Ch 22

A Long Day's Journey Into Fight (Part 1)

Also on Ao3 here and tumblr here

Note: This fic is moving from M to E rating

“Everyone, let’s hear it for your hostess snack cake, as we like to call him: our party chair, Steve Harrington,” Argyle takes the microphone almost as soon as Steve lets go, gesturing to him and nudging him towards the cheering crowd. “Ain’t he cute?”

“Very cute,” Eden deadpans into the mic, sending a little prickle up Billy’s spine when she makes eye contact with him.

Billy grabs at Steve, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders as a few people reach out to pat Steve on the back.

“You got this just to show off,” Billy whisper-yells in Steve’s ear, eyeing the rented karaoke machine as the attendant sets up the next song.

Steve rears back a little, cheeks pink. “No, fuck off, loser.”

But he leans infinitesimally into Billy’s touch, turning so he can see Argyle shimmy to the opening strains of Brandy and Monica’s “The Boy is Mine.”

“We should do one.” Billy says.

He’s been trying to get Steve alone all night but Steve is a ball of anxious energy, flitting from one room to the next, like he has to babysit every little thing.

Eden and Argyle mesh their voices perfectly, shuffling closer on the old shag carpeted platform where the TV normally sits.

Steve flinches slightly, keeping his eyes on Eden and whistling when she nails the first little vocal run. He doesn’t answer but at least he doesn’t move away. He stays with Billy, letting the press of the small crowd ebb them a little closer.

Tonight’s the night. Billy’s decided, been thinking about it for days. They’re going to revel in the start of semester activities, try whatever high octane punch Patrick and Chrissy have rigged up in the kitchen, maybe take a crack at karaoke and see if it loosens Steve up a bit.

And then Billy’s going to find a way to sneak off, get Steve all to himself and then….

That’s about as far as he’s gotten, but he’s sure that he’ll come up with something in the moment.

Because he’s pretty sure, like 98% sure, that Steve wants him back. He may not love Billy in quite the same way, but Billy thinks that Steve feels something after that weird moment playing Mortal Kombat. The kiss, all the things that had happened between them, had hit him then, like a smack in the face.

If he could just figure out a way to ask without asking. He’d tried a dozen ways of asking in his head, but he’s still not sure how to do it without giving himself away.

Because Steve will just look at him, his brown eyes so sad lately, and it feels like he’s adding yet another thing to Steve’s plate.

But Carver seemed so adamant, Munson too, when Billy got up the courage to ask.

“You all aren’t fucking? Seriously? But you’re so… and he’s so…” Munson had been flabbergasted.

Billy tucked Steve even closer into his side and quietly agreed. Steve was so. So kind, so good, so fucking right for Billy.

Which is why it’s extra important to get it right. He only has one shot.

“Stevie, wanna-” Billy swallows, “get a drink and head to the basement?”

“Yeah, probably, I should check how they’re doing down there. We gotta keep an eye out for the pledges, you know they’re lightweights.” Steve looks down at the ground.

Billy snorts. “No way, Henderson seems so cool and collected.”

Steve shoves at him weakly. “Lay off my little brother. At least Henderson isn’t dating my sister.”

“Step-sister,” Billy rolls his eyes.

“Oh yeah, that makes it not weird.” Steve shakes his head and turns back to Argyle and Eden, grinning and hooting when they get closer to each other in mock anger.

“But it does though,” Billy leans in closer, brushes his nose against Steve’s ear. “You wouldn’t get it, King Steve.”

Steve shrugs, “guess not, because if I saw Sinclair taking my sister upstairs….”

“What? What the fuck-” Billy whips his head towards the stairs as if he can even see it from there, the empty solo cup in his hand crumpling in his grip.

Steve cackles, shuffling away a little and rubbing the back of his neck. “Gotcha!”

Billy rolls his eyes. “Very funny. Want a drink, King Steve?”

Steve bobs his head a little, his eyes going sad and soft again. “‘Kay. Oh, I saw Munson and C-Carver trying to get a pool game going. Think we can take them?”

“Hell yeah, man!” Billy grins. Pool is at least in its own room in the basement, so it was one step closer to getting Steve alone.

Plus he could definitely tell Munson and Carver to get lost and they’d go. They were experiencing a sort of nauseating honeymoon phase that he was almost upset with himself for bringing on. He’d been wondering at night if Carver was laying it on extra thick for his benefit.

But apparently they planned to formally come out as a couple at the next house meeting, so Billy had resigned himself to doubling up on earplugs and headphones for a little bit.

Steve claps for Argyle and Eden and then fully wriggles out of Billy’s grip to head back towards the kitchen.

The house is utterly packed, and the kitchen is the powerhouse of the cell, so it takes them quite a bit to make their way there.

Where Patrick and Chrissy are holding court with several of the basketball team, circled around the main kitchen island, which is littered with bottles and cups.

Pat raises his glass when they approach, “Hey! Missed you guys! What’d you get up to while we were gone?”

“Not that much.” Steve replies smoothly.

“Please tell me there were at least some hot chicks around campus, man. Otherwise staying over break is just sad.” Andy, one of the basketball guys who isn’t in a frat leans closer to Steve as he says it.

Steve shrugs, flashing a slightly annoyed look Andy’s way. “We had fun. Went out a few times.”

Billy leans into Steve’s side. “What’d you do over break, Andy?”

He snags a few beers from an ice bucket while the guy yammers on about his hometown.

“Oh, that’s right!” Steve smacks his forehead.

“Oh my god, yeah,” Billy smacks his too, shaking his head.

“We forgot we don’t give a shit.” Steve smirks, opening his bottle on the side of the table.

Andy sneers. “Tools.”

“Takes one to know one, Andy,” Billy shrugs.

They turn away together just as Chrissy starts talking about her course load, ignoring Andy entirely.

“What an asshole,” Steve mutters as they muscle through the crowd.

“Yeah, seriously. Probably spent the whole break mesmerized by his high school basketball trophies.” Billy shakes his head.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Cali State champs.” Steve’s whisper is close enough to have Billy shivering, pushed into his skin by the crowds. It recalled those moments in the mornings when they lay in bed together, unwilling to speak too loudly and break the morning’s spell.

The thought has his chest filling with butterflies. He feels like he did when they first met, when anything had him looking for signs that Steve could possibly return his feelings. Before he’d given in, and committed to trying to be okay as friends.

But now Steve had kissed him. Steve had danced with him and cried with him and changed so much this year, maybe they could change too.

And so for the first time in a long time Billy felt hopeful. And it was throwing him off his game.

He busies himself fumbling with his beer, opening it with his belt buckle after fucking with it for a moment.

He has to press closer to Steve to avoid losing him in the crowd, giving in to the urge to lean into Steve’s back, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders in a way he’s hoping still comes off as friendly.

He has no idea if Steve would want them to be public. They hadn’t really discussed if Steve was wanting to come out or not. But after seeing Carver and Munson’s dance of confused feelings, Billy would do anything Steve wanted. As long as they were on the same page. If Billy has a chance, he’s not gonna let coming out get in their way, even if it makes him sweat.

Steve is more than worth it.

“Great job, party chair,” Billy growls in Steve’s ear.

Steve tips his chin sarcastically toward Sinclair and Billy’s sister who are cozied up on the stairs talking. “Great job, rush chair.” There’s an edge to Steve’s voice that’s hard to read, but it sends frissions of nerves through Billy’s stomach.

Billy shoots Max a look and she gives him the finger without ever looking away from Sinclair.

“She talks a big game, but she totally came here because I did,” Billy sidesteps the implication in Steve’s tone. It’s not like he set them up. Max is gutted that she’s interested in a frat boy at all, let alone one who plays basketball.

The basement still stinks, but the group dancing to Megan Thee Stallion doesn’t seem to mind so much. They trip down the stairs together because Billy’s unwilling to let Steve go.

“Fuckin’ asshole,” Steve mumbles.

Billy can only cackle, inwardly scrambling to rethink his plan. Steve seems weird, and maybe it’s too loud down here. Maybe he should wait until they’re upstairs alone. Or tomorrow morning.

He watches Steve take a long drink off his beer, his long neck dipping as he swallows. Steve turns a little, and it’s hard to see because the basement is mostly dark. But Billy could swear their eyes meet. He can feel it, an electric line running from Steve’s eyes, and hitting every vein in Billy’s body on the way to his heart. The warm, sweet shampoo smell of Steven Alessandro Harrington swirls around him and presses the world back.

Steve turns away quickly, and the line severs, leaving Billy to cling tighter as Steve leads them around the stairs and towards the pool table.

Carver and Munson already have a game set up with a couple of girls that Billy vaguely recognizes from some other party. One of the girls is leaning into Munson’s space, but he only has eyes for Carver bending over the pool table.

Billy can only hope that means they might take their nocturnal activities to the basement tonight. If things go well, he would prefer not having to talk to Steve over the sounds of Carver getting detailed like a car. And that goes double if he’s nursing a broken heart.

“We’ll play winners,” Billy offers casually when they come in, letting Steve lead him to the broken down couch at the back of the room. They flop into it, nearly on top of each other, before Steve straightens up and shoves Billy away, his cheeks pink. He darts his eyes over to Carver and Munson and then stares into his beer.

The girl leaning into Munson scowls, rolling her dark lined eyes. “We could still win.”

Munson gives her a sly look. “Wanna bet on it?”

Billy rolls his eyes at Steve. “We ought to put out a campus PSA about playing games with the two of them.”

“Seriously,” Steve smirks, clinking glasses with Billy and darting his eyes over to Carver. “They’re sharks, girls.”

“What does that mean?” The other girl asks. She has an actual air of innocence around her that instantly makes Billy frown a little. She looks more like she should be in the library than at a frat party.

“Winners find a way to win,” Carver says, laser focused on lining up his shot. “We find a way.”

“Yeah we do.” Munson says, smacking Carver’s ass lightly and earning an indignant squawk.

“You guys are cute.” The girl by Munson says. She’s short, with long messy black hair and rich brown skin, dressed head to toe in black. It takes a second to click, but he recognizes her, from one of Munson’s productions. She’d transformed on stage, her hair pulled back from her face, and she’d melted into her role as Juliet, so much that Billy didn’t recognize her now.

And she’s looking right through the fourth wall at him. And Steve.

“Us?” Steve lets out this weird mean laugh. “No way, we’re just friends.”

Billy deflates a little inside, but he tries to rally. It’s an offhanded comment, one they’ve made many times before.

The girl shrugs. “If you say so.”

“Kali, can you hand me my big stick.” The innocent girl asks.

Kali sighs. “It’s a cue, Jane.”

“My big cue then?” The girl, Jane, asks expectantly.

Kali hands it over and Jane lines herself up quickly and splits, sinking two balls neatly in opposite corners.

“You were saying, about sharks?” Kali says it with a grin.

Billy whistles. “Damn, Carver, you may have met your match.”

“Save the shit talking for when you’re playing, Billy.” Carver grumbles.

He and Munson start to quietly bicker about some dumb thing, the amount of chalk Munson is using on his cue or something. It’s their general tactic whenever it looks like they might lose.

And even though Billy’s stomach is sinking for a moment he and Steve are ignored, like he wanted. He wills the rest of the party to just fade away.

Because it’s awkward. It’s been so awkward between them lately. And maybe this is a bad idea, maybe…

He looks at Steve. Steve looks at him. Steve glances down at his lips. That eclectic line opens up again, setting Billy on fire. This could be real. It could be. He believes again.

“You know… we are.” Billy says.

“What?” Steve looks more pissed off than anything.

It takes Billy a moment for his brain to catch up with what the fuck his mouth even meant by that.

Billy looks at his feet, scuffing the toe of his sneakers against a crack in the concrete floor.

“We could be… uh… cute together.” Billy says, and instantly cringes. His brain keeps trying to think of a way to bail, but his stupid mouth keeps talking. “I mean, you did kiss me. Not that that has to mean anything if you’re not interested. At all, like… that’s cool-”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Steve’s voice is laced with more poison than the jungle juice upstairs.

Billy hazards a glance and his whole heart lurches at Steve’s expression. He looks angry, but also disappointed somehow. Like he’s disgusted in Billy for even thinking such a thing. He glances over at Carver and Munson, shaking his head, and Billy lets his eyes drop.

“I meant… it’s not a big deal, I was just seeing-”

“What?” Steve’s voice is low and sharp, and it lances through the music and makes the rest of the world fuzzy. Leaves Billy all alone. “Like I could be your dirty little secret?”

And that fucking hurts, because Billy told him that in confidence, told him why he couldn’t come out.

“What?” Billy says weakly. The room feels like it’s spinning, like he’s been hit on the pool table, like he’s spinning down into the hole.

“Maybe that’s how you and…” Steve stops himself, and his hands twitch at the corner of Billy’s eye. “I’ll n-never do that with you, Billy. I want someone who’s just for me… God, you just don’t get it, do you?”

Billy gets it. Someone who’s… better. Not scared. Not alone, or fucked up, rotten inside. Steve deserves that, and Billy hates himself for ever believing he didn’t.

Billy can’t look up from that crack on the floor, can’t tear his eyes away. He’s staring so hard it burns.

How could he have gotten this so wrong, so fucked that Steve is angry with him. He’d psyched himself up for days that a no wouldn’t be so bad. It would be awkward, but they could still be friends, surely?

He looks back up and Steve is looking away, his expression blank.

“Yeah. I get it. I understand, Stevie. I’m sorry.” All of the noise in Billy’s head begins to crowd in, and he can feel, just barely, the cool glass in his hand. “I need another.”

He feels himself get up from the couch and leave, but it feels like it's happening to someone else, someone in a galaxy far, far away.

He can’t bear to go to his room, surrounded by everything that reminds him of Steve, but he makes his way upstairs on autopilot and closes the door on the first bedroom that’s unlocked. He locks it, sinking to the floor in the dark. It still feels like it’s happening to someone else; like the short breaths and sinking feeling without him are him putting on a performance of being upset. That it isn’t real.

After all, didn’t he know that Steve didn't feel the same way? He knew this whole time, so why is he reacting this way?

But as the tears start to fall uncontrollably, he feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s a comforting hand, and that’s what makes him really fall apart. He’s such an idiot, thinking deep down that it was ever possible. And now that that last shred of hope has been ripped away, he has nothing left.

Someone flips on the light, but he can barely see through the tears, and there’s another hand on his shoulder and another hovering by his face.

“Billy? You ok?” The sound is coming from too far away, it seems impossible to reach.

He swipes at his face, blinking at Heather’s big brown eyes. Oh. Big brown eyes.

“Steve.” He says. Wails, really, but he’s acting tough about it.

“What? What happened? Is he hurt? I knew this house was a death trap, there’s no way it’s meant to hold this many people.” Robin comes into view, shaking Billy’s shoulder kind of hard. “What happened?”

“Babe, chill. One freaker-outer at a time,” Heather says.

That slams Billy back into his body in an instant. “Were you two hooking up?”

Heather turns pink and her eyes narrow in annoyance. “Stay on topic please. What happened to Steve?”

“He hates me.” Billy really doesn’t wail. It’s a very manly tone of voice, very in command.

“I mean, he’s not your biggest fan right now, but hate feels like a strong word.” Robin says it matter of factly, flopping to the floor in front of him. Billy notes with not very much interest that her shirt is inside out and Heather’s missing one hoop earring. Great. Everyone’s getting together with their big gay crush but him. Perfect.

His chest tightens even more, and it feels like the air in his lungs is too heavy and leaden to be used for words, but he does his best.

“He’s mad at me? What did I do? I hadn’t even asked him yet before the party,” Billy whispers.

“Asked him what?” Robin ignores his questions, because of course she does.

“Asked him to fuckin’ be with me,” Billy sucks in a breath, anger coming hot and deep. Of course Robin knows what he doesn’t and of course Steve won’t tell him he’s mad. He never tells Billy anything anymore. “But now I guess he’s mad at me for something I don’t even fuckin’ know about.

“You asked him to be with you when you have a boyfriend? Gross!” Robin cries.

Heather smacks his shoulder. “Billy, what the hell?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, what the fuck are you talking about?” Billy gapes at Robin.

“Fine, not boyfriend ‘guy you’re talking to,’ whatever. Steve wouldn’t be ok with that, he deserves more than that,” Robin scowls at him.

“I’m not talking to anyone? I’ve been in love with Steve practically since we met. I don’t even fucking know what you’re talking about.” Billy hisses.

Robin does her best impression of a goldfish.

“Oh, Billy. I’m sorry.” Heather rubs his shoulder and he shrugs her off, miffed. “I knew you wanted him.”

“Yeah, you and everyone apparently.” Billy leans too far back, smacking his head against the door so hard he winces.

The room is quiet for a long moment, and Billy can’t even muster up the energy to feel guilty for his outburst. He just feels tired and wrung out, and he’s pretty sure this is Argyle’s room so he could probably just sleep on the bed, and Eden and Argyle would just get in with him.

“He said you were kissing Carver in the library.” Robin mutters quietly. “And you know, you wanted to break up him and his boyfriend so… he thought you… did that?”

Billy closes his eyes and lets the tears fall. “I actually got him back with his boyfriend.”

“So you didn’t kiss Jason?” Robin ventures.

“No. Ew.  Does he just think I’m a cheater or some shit? He really does hate me.” Billy closes his eyes.

“No! He doesn’t! He just-” Robin’s sentence withers on the vine.

“Ok, clearly something got misunderstood,” Heather says cautiously.

“You really asked him out?” Robin asks.

“Yeah. I did. But he barely let me try, because I guess he thinks I would ask him to do that in front of the boyfriend I don’t even have-” Billy cuts himself off when Robin smacks his shoulder.

“Snap out of it.” She orders.

He swings his head down lazily and looks at her. “Please tell me you washed your hands before this.”

“We didn’t get that far before we were rudely interrupted. But listen, we need to find Steve like right now.” Robin says urgently.

“What’s the point?” Billy rubs his eyes roughly, realizing he must have dropped his beer at some point because his hands are empty, and he could really use another drink.

“Well the point is… I don’t want to blow up his spot, but Steve cried in my bed for two days because he thought you were getting with Jason Carver-”

“But that doesn’t make any sense-” Billy protests.

“Ok, so explain that to Steve, because he thinks his friend who he is in love with- I hope you’re listening to that- was tonguing down with someone else.” Robin takes both his shoulders and shakes. “We need to find him before-”

“He runs away.” Billy finishes the sentence with her, and rises to his feet. “Shit.”

“Ok, why would he run away? I’m lost.” Heather stands with him, frowning.

“Because he’s freaking out!” Robin and Billy say again simultaneously.

“Ok, don’t like when you do that. But I’m really glad you’ll finally be with Steve.” Heather rolls his eyes. “You too really deserve each other, he’s probably crying on the floor to your sister and Lucas.”

Not even a comment about his sister can stop Billy’s heart from swelling with hope so fast it physically hurts. “Ok… ok. You’re serious, right?”

“Cross my heart, swear on Heather.” Robin raises a hand to her chest. “He’s been trying to get over you all year. And then under you. And then over you. He thought he had no shot.”

That hurts. Because no one has a chance but Steve, and he hates that even for a second Steve felt a fraction of what he felt a minute ago.

There’s a little anger missed in there too, about the confusion. But that’s something he can work out with Steve, later. Ideally in bed.

“Fuck, we gotta get to him.” Billy sucks in a breath and opens the door.

“So this is a we thing?” Heather says, and glances at Robin who’s standing. “Oh, it’s a we thing. Ok.”

Billy doesn’t take any more time to turn back, because he’s already wasted too long. He rushes down the steps, asking Sinclair on the way if he’s seen Steve. He can hear Robin calling upstairs and checking rooms, which was probably smarter than his tactic of pushing into a giant crowd.

He checks the kitchen, but he doesn’t see Steve anywhere. Actually, a lot of the brothers are missing, and he can only hope those aren’t related.

He’s checking the karaoke room when Robin appears at his elbow and tugs him towards the stairs to the basement.

“Heather found him, hurry,” She pulls him so hard he almost falls into a group of women taking jello shots.

He follows, his head swimming from the emotional whiplash and the weed lacing the air.

It takes them a minute to make their way down to the basement because for some reason every asshole is standing right outside the basement completely still talking.

But as they shove their way down, he starts to see why.

It’s Steve, being held back by Argyle and Byers while the two girls they met earlier and Steve’s ex Nancy Wheeler of all people, are holding back Munson and Carver.

“You’re crazy, man,” Carver is holding what looks like a busted nose, while he shoves against that Kali girl. To her credit, she doesn’t seem to be having trouble.

“Fuck you,” Steve spits.

“Well, at least he didn’t run away,” Heather says helpfully.