#if pacing is either too slow or too abrupt it’s literally fine

[poorlittleyaoyao]

I need someone to look me in the eye and tell me to lower my standards vis à vis writing quality. Please. I am begging.

[mailboxmerchant]

BAD DAY

tldr:naib is mfin horny after a match wit u bae n ur both in love with esch other and equally needy but dont knoe‼️

character: Naib Subedar - mercenary

fandom: identity V

warnings: SEX!!! who could have guessed, also rough/dom naib, swearing, power bottom(lmao)/fem reader, perhaps some masochistic type a stuff but not crazy, less goooooooo

(this is like. just horny. no thoughts. only horny)

As sweat beaded down his forehead, you watched Naib angrily smash the keys of a decoding machine. Something was up, but your teammate just never seemed to let on when something had gone wrong. This match was going fine, you had three more ciphers to go, and everyone was still up and going, only two of your teammates being injured. The hunter was struggling to find any of you, and with each of you teamed up with another to decode, you were all feeling confident in a victory to the survivors. So why was Naib so stressed?

“Hey, Naib?”

 “What, y/n?” 

His tone was sharp, and he snapped back instantly. Someone was clearly cranky. What did you even do?

“Are you...feeling okay? You seem...tense.” You kept your tone neutral, preventing there to be any negativity for him to react to. Before he snapped back, he missed a calibration and alerted the hunter of our position. Still not talking, Naib wrapped a braced arm around your waist and made a dive into a pile of cardboard boxes and other various recyclables. “Shut it, y/n. Hunter’s comin’.” 

You went quiet, but still, his commanding attitude could be done without.  You squirmed in Naib’s grip, at which he grunted, and tightened his hold on you. 

He was started to really make you worry. Naib was usually a calm, collected rescuer, who often would be more reassuring when you were being hunted. You promised you’d figure all this out, just maybe after the match ended. 

The danger passed, quite literally, as Hell Ember jaunted around the trash pile you were hiding in. Naib’s grip got even tighter around you as the hunter loomed closer.  “N-Naib, I can’t-” Naib didn’t seem to give a damn for what you had to say as he slapped a hand over your mouth. “I said, quiet.” His tone was worsening, he was really pissed, huh?

You couldn’t deny yourself though, hearing him sound so stern and having him grab at you so suddenly really threw you off. Your ever-so-secret crush on Naib was keeping you from feeling angry about any of this, in fact, you were almost happy to be so close, even if he was being rude. 

Finally though, you decided that you needed to get back to the matter at hand. Leo was gone, and Naib had to let go of you sometime. You made more of an effort to move, and Naib finally dropped you. Quickly, you jumped back on the machine as the Merc slowly crept from the box pile to return to his typing position. “You know, you could have been caught if it weren’t for me.” He sputtered, quieter than before. “Th-thank you...? God, Naib, what’s your issue today?” You spoke more questioningly than upset, hoping he wouldn’t hear the annoyed undertone in your speech. “It’s nothing you’d understand.” 

Alright, you were giving up for the remainder of decoding time.

Silently, you both finished the machine, and you made a break for the opposite direction of Naib. You figured you could have some alone time to just decode, calm down, and prep for the ending leap where you’d have to play a guessing game for which gate Hell Ember would be waiting for you at. 

Taking a break from running, your steps grew light as you began to pace yourself. “y/n!” As you looked through the fog, you discovered that Edgar was awaiting you with a half done machine. “Edgar! You’re here!” You made a quick greeting to the painter before getting back to business. Small talk wasn’t necessary between the two of you, as the ability to decode calmly was leaving both of your skillsets as your heartbeats became slowly more audible. 

“Come on, y/n, we can finish this, just don’t look away from the calibrations. Stay focused.” Edgar gave you a light tap of the palm to your head as he smacked the sides of the cipher. Your pace increased, as did Edgar’s as you had merely a percentage left. Someone else’s machine popped off, and yours a second later. 

Determined and brave, you made off like a bullet towards the southward exit gate. Sneaking around a broken pillar, you sighed at the sight of a clear gate.  Edgar clearly didn’t share the idea that this was the correct gate, so you could only hope he was hiding and waiting it out to escape. Actually, it seemed like everyone picked the wrong-

*SLAM*

A large hand suddenly slapped down on the decoding pad next to yours, frightening the hell out of you. You prepared to meet your doom when you turned around, but instead met a glaring Naib. “N-Naib! Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” “Where’d you run off to earlier!? We were supposed to be decoding together.” 

His tone from earlier was still present, so....clearly he was still peeved about something you did. “W-well I just thought-” “You thought nothin’, y/n. Just keep decoding.” Your crush wasn’t protecting him any more. Letting out an anxious and angry grunt, you turned back around to the coding pad, slamming the rubbery keys down as you decoded. 

So that’s how it was, then, huh? Fine.

“Naib, you’re a real asshole.” You huffed as you finished the gate, and stormed out, not evening looking back to see if he OR Hell Ember were following. 

Once back in the manor, you rushed back to your room, the embarrassment and guilt from your actions following you quickly after. 

Keeping up the angry façade, you slammed your door behind you before running to flop on your bed. Holding your pillow close to your face, you yelled into it, hoping it was enough to choke the sound. 

“Damn it, Naib...”  You closed your eyes, hoping to wake up with a renewed confidence that way you wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of your words.

The sound of three loud, harsh knocks on your door awoke you from your rage nap. 

“OPEN UP! COME ON, I ALREADY KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, Y/N!!”

Naib? Again? Now what...

You begrudgingly sauntered to your door, cracking it open to peek out. Only, Naib pushed right through your defenses, pushing both you and the door back. “Hey!”

Naib was more forceful than before, walking quickly in your direction, and even quicker, cornering you against your bed. You fell onto your behind as Naib gave you a harsh push. “What is all this?! You’ve been acting weird since we started decoding together in that match, and you’re totally out of line! I didn’t even...do anything...” Your words lost their force as you trailed your eyes downward. So that’s why he was all pent up.

An obvious tent in Naib’s pants was what your eyes met with, and even though your cheeks began to blush furiously, you averted your gaze and tried to pretend that you saw nothing. “J-just get out of my room.” You grumbled, no longer able to keep eye contact. 

“I just came to talk, y/n, don’t throw me out.” Naib shifted his body, effectively pinning you to the plush mattress, a hand on either side of your head. You ‘hmphed’, and curtly turned your face away from him. 

“D-don’t act all pissy,” he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him, “you’re making it so much worse!” Your eyes still just couldn’t meet his, the heat between the both of you running down between your legs.  Sliding a knee between your thighs, Naib leaned down to speak gruffly into your ear. 

“This is all your fault, you know.” 

“N-Naib! I-” but your words were quickly vanquished by a pair of warm, slightly chapped lips slamming down on your own. A slight graze of his teeth on your bottom lip gave you more excitement than you’d ever felt in any match, and you immediately parted your lips to feel Naib’s wet tongue slick into your mouth. 

You let out a quiet noise, enough for him to notice. After what felt like an eternity (seconds) of making out, Naib pulled away to hold your face in one hand, squishing your cheeks harshly between his fingers. “So...that’s how you feel, huh?” 

You were flustered, but it wasn’t going to take away what your nap earned you. “You were being so awful in that match, but I still...love you, Naib. I didn’t know when or where to tell you, but if you’re gonna do it first, then by all means...” You gestured to Naib with a smirk. 

Hungrily, Naib practically shredded your clothes off, each of his hands attaching themselves to your chest as he kneaded your soft breasts between his fingers. Your quiet pants were driving him absolutely insane. He loved every little exhale that escaped your mouth, settling to nip and suck at your neck, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Telling you how much he needed this, how long he was waiting for this, how he wanted you.

An abrupt end to the sensations in your chest were replaced by a hand sliding underneath each of your thighs. Lifting them up to his shoulders, Naib quickly unfastened his belt, a look of giddiness flashing across his smug face. 

Diving his head down to meet his forehead to yours, Naib snatched your panties off in seconds, aligning himself painfully slow. As he slid his length slowly into your entrance, you dug your fingers into his hair, which was messily tied into his usual ponytail. Hissing at the feeling of you tugging his hair, Naib pushed all the way inside of you, earning a mewl of both pain and pleasure from you. 

"Ah, but wait..."

You winced as Naib suddenly pulled his length out of your entrance, the emptiness being too much to bear. "I'm an asshole, aren't I?"

He was going to make you eat your words.

Almost literally.

"Get up." His harsh tone was back, but it only served to make you feel hotter than before. Giving a shy nod, you got to your knees as Naib stood at the edge of the bed.

Nervously eying him, you gaped at his length, wishing you didn't say those words before so he could drive you insane with pleasure with it.

Stupid y/n...

"Well?" Tired of waiting, Naib took his hand to the back of your head, pushing you closer to his body, your head colliding with his chest. The sudden wholesome warmth was quickly replaced as he pushed you downwards near his manhood.

You began to comply as you opened your mouth, feeling as he gave a slow first grind into your throat. You choked immediately, but didn't pull away. Not yet.

Breathing quickly through your nose, you began to suck aggressively with no warning, pulling a gasp from the previously snarky Merc.

"Ga-hah! y-y/n...." Pulling off with a 'pop', you went back down to give small kitten licks to the tip of his cock, earning little shifts of position and pants from Naib.

"Stop....stop teasin' me...." was all he could huff out. You slid the entirety of his length in and out for a quick throat fuck a few times, feeling the tears prick at your eyes. In your own way, you were making him pay for being so snide earlier.  “Screw you, y/n. Have it your way.”

Your torture paid off! 

Naib firmly pushed you back down on your stomach, grasping your hips and pulling you close to his own hips. Letting out a satisfied hum, you felt as Naib quickly align himself with your entrance once more.

Giving you no time to readjust again, he fully sheathed himself inside of you, your insides stretching once again to fit him inside. “Hah....shit, Naib.....” You cursed, grasping tightly onto Naib as he pushed you both down, beginning to thrust wildly in and out of you. Every pounding slammed harder against the entrance of your womb, the suction of your warm, wet insides also providing intense pleasure for Naib. 

“Oh fuck, y/n, you’re...so tight...” Naib panted loudly into your ear. Neither of you were even remotely worried about the other manor residents hearing either of your moans racketing off the walls of the creaky residence.

“G-god...I c-can’t...hold on...” You whimpered pathetically as your dug your fingers into Naib’s scalp a second time. As your begging for more became louder, you felt the knot in your stomach grow larger, tighter, and more overwhelming than you’d ever felt before. You could feel Naib’s hard and precise thrusts growing sloppy, and you knew you were both getting close to climax.

  “y/n....y/n....I’m gonna...” Before his sentence could even be finished, Naib’s thick cock twitched harshly inside you as you felt his hot seed pour into you. The spreading warmth was enough to send you over the edge, your juice quickly spilling out to mix with his own. 

Slowly pulling out, your precious mercenary promptly collapsed on top of you, his head coincidentally landing in between your tits. You sighed hazily, riding off your previous high as you wrapped your arms around his head, and slowly letting your eyes close in exhaustion.

a/n: so sorry if theres any typos/grammar-spellin mistakes. i rushed the end bc i had this cued for FOREVER, enjoy babes <3 

[weasleypogues]

fight club (p.h.)

request: hii can i request smth angsty with pope ? maybe it could end well for both the reader and him but overall it’s just filled with angst and slow burn and tension ? ty xx

ofc lovieee!!! loving this pope recognition finally!! :)

this will be a two part becuause this was longer than i expected!!! part 2 here!!!

masterlist.

you literally felt like you could not sit still. anger was pulsating through your veins as you paced back and forth on the porch of the chateau. you also felt the piercing eyes of pope follow you back and forth as you struggled to form a cohesive sentence.

“it’s just- ugh! she can’t get away with this! she thinks because she’s a kook that i’ll be begging for her forigveness and shit like i’m a starving peasant just to save my reputation! i’m a fucking pogue, i don’t have a reputation to uphold!” you spat as your hands clenched together so hard you swear you were going to accidentally draw blood from your palms.

vanessa was a kook that you never had problems with when you were kids because you two had a friendship that was secretive and playful because of opposing groups. it wasn’t until middle school was when she ditched you, similar to kie and sarah’s relationship. thankfully for them, they sorted it out. however, vanessa was bitter and bitchy every chance she could get. 

“yes (y/n)! keep it fiesty! i wanna see you win a good cat fight.” jj egged you on.

“you’re gonna make yourself go crazy if you don’t just sit down.” pope spoke in a sterner tone than you would have expected. but as the rage filled you from vanessa, pope’s tone was not helping. you felt a tinge of hurt in your chest as he expressed his clear stress and annoyance with you. but you weren’t going to let it go that easily; not in this state.

“i’m fine just the way i am, thanks.” you responded just as passive-aggressively as he did. you literally had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes so you wouldn’t egg this on, because the last thing you needed was for pope of all people to be on your bad side. 

you heard him scoff from behind you and his footsteps faded away. you spun around so quickly, maybe even too quickly to play it cool, to just see a flash of him as he turned the corner. your eyes flashed to john b, kie, and jj who had expressions that were just as shocked as your own.

“what’s his problem?” you asked, expecting an answer real quick before you had to go investigate it yourself. your teeth grinded against each other and you felt your face and ears go hot. 

“he probably just doesn’t think this is worth it (y/n/n).” kiara stated, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt and giving you a look that said don’t let it get to you. kiara shared a quick glance with john b and jj, which definitely did not go unnoticed by you.

“w-what was that? that little look you three shared?” you asked pointing your finger at them interchangeably and confused but angrily eager to find out. you raised your eyebrows, expecting another speedy answer as you finally turned towards jj who held his hands up in defense and bit his tongue. 

“cut pope some slack. you’ve been looking for trouble lately (y/n), it’s been keeping him on edge each time.” john b responded and slapped his hands on this thighs before getting up off the couch. you felt your cheeks get a little hot and your jaw drop slightly.

pope was trying to be protective of you. this was not a secret that you and pope were always flirty with each other but neither of you ever acted on it. both keeping the same sad mindset, if they wanted to, they would. everytime you talked about this with kiara and sarah at a girls’ night, they playfully judged you for thinking like that and tried to encourage you to just go for it. 

you took a deep inhale and relaxed your shoulders and face, feeling the tension ease up on your body. “she’s asking for it...look i don’t want to make pope upset or anything but vanessa can’t keep pulling this shit. she’s asking for her teeth to get knocked in.” you huffed out as you grabbed your backpack and phone to hop on your bike and head home. 

--

your grabbed your phone and backpack as you headed back outside to your bike. you didn’t even bother to text the rest of the group about catching a ride to tonights kegger because you were just a little fired up from earlier. they were your friends and if this were any other case, they would be backing you up. why is this time any different?

you’re recalling yourself getting ready. stud earrings because she can grab hold of hoops. your hair in two braids because there was less surface area for her to snatch onto. sneakers to make a run for it in case shit gets bad. 

what the rest of them don’t understand is that not only was vanessa mean, spoiled, and made your existence on the obx difficult, was that you had a bumpy past with her. more than just losing a friend. she made up a rumor based on fake ideas that she overheard her parents talking about. when she would run into you on the street with her other kook friends at the ripe age of 13, she would be a bystander as they spat insults your way. that always caused a strain in your friendship. 

until one day, she started the picking on first. she judged you on your family’s financial situation and said quote-by-quote “i heard her mom cheats on her dad with all of her little pogue friend’s dads. who knows, they could actually be related and we wouldn’t know. she’s a whore and i’m sure she’ll end up just like her.” tears still brim your eyes at that memory. you wouldn’t dare tell the rest of the pogues, whether it was out of embarassment or fear. it was best for them and their own minds that it was never brought up again. since then, it seems like constant torture from her. 

you pulled up on the beach and hopped off your bike as your tires were definitely not made for the sand. you laid it on a tree and made a b-line to the keg that john b was basically guarding. “thought we’d hear from you.” you heard kiara state as she sat on the sand and glanced up at you, squinting her eyes to keep the remaining sun from basically burning them.

“yeah well, just got a lot on my mind.” you responded. you didn’t want to be so abrupt with them but your blood was basically boiling with the idea of vanessa. john b stared between you and kiara and handed you a full red solo cup which you gladly took, taking a gulp.

“soooo...” jj started, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “cat fight tonight?” you felt a chuckle rise out of you as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“if you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll get front row.” you joked, sending a smirk jj’s way and taking another gulp. you felt a presence behind you and turned to be faced with pope. his facial expression had clearly changed from what you saw from him last time. he looked almost guilty and concerned rather than aggravated. 

“come to snap at me again?” you said, turning towards the horizon on the water. looking into his eyes right now was difficult. maybe because it was the idea that you knew some part of you wanted to snap at him for him snapping at you earlier but you couldn’t make another enemy. not tonight. 

“about that...can i actually talk to you for a minute?” pope muttered, instincitvely cracking his knuckles, clearly scared to tread on water. you felt your shoulders relax and your facial muscles follow suit. placing your drink and backpack on the ground you followed a few paces behind him, closer to the sand where the tide was rolling in. although he didn’t stop, he wanted this to be a walk and talk situation. 

you strolled beside him, both of your hands slightly brushing against each other every now and then. while neither of you took initiative to grab the others’ hand, neither of you pulled your hands out of that pathway either. that connection and touch felt nice. it was reassuring that his snappiness, along with your own, was out of love and protection of each other. 

“you won’t be happy with what i’m about to say...” pope started, basically holding his breath.

“so why say it, pope? i know it sounds bad to say outloud but, why not just let me fight her? she has made my existence so unbearably difficult on this island and has slandered my name and countless others of those i love too much and for too long. i’m sick of being a pushover and letting her get away with it because of mommy and daddy’s money. im done!” you blurted out, letting more info out than you expected. “why does it bother you so much? if this was topper and john b going at it, or rafe and jj? which keep in mind, both have actually happened, i’m sure you would be more hesitant to stop them.”

your strolling came to a sudden halt as pope took a step directly in front of you, face to face. he looked longingly into your eyes, somewhat darting back and forth between your own eyes to search for an answer to his questions or even an answer to yours. 

“(y/n)! i can’t see you get hurt. i know how badly you want to do this and how much it means to you but in the end, what is it going to get you? an even worse reputation among kooks, bloody nose, and a black eye? is it worth it?” pope rambled drasticaly. 

“it is worth it! and i’m so thankful that you care about me and my well being and everything in between but this is something that i have to do. once and for all. i’m not putting myself and everyone i love through this torture anymore. and if that means beating the shit out of her and getting a bloody lip and battered up on the way, than so be it!” you responded, using your hands quite animatedly throughout the performance. the waves seemed like the loudest thing on earth as you awaited an answer from pope. he looked defeated and anxious, knowing that there was no getting through to you for this. 

“i-” pope started before cutting himself off, looking deafeated yet again. he ran his hands over his face in frustration and as he let his eyes shine over the tips of his fingers, they locked with yours. you felt stuck in place and in a trance for a split second before you felt a pair of hands on your waist and soon enough, you were lip locked with pope. 

instantly you pulled away, your heart feeling full and your legs feeling limp. your hands made their way to his jawline, slightly caressing his cheeks and neck as you pulled him back into the kiss, elongating it. 

he pulled away, shocked yet proud with himself. you could not help the small smile that made it’s way onto your face as your cheeks felt hot immediately. “i can’t believe i’m saying this but...fuck it. beat the shit out of vanessa.” 

the small smile grew as a laugh escaped your lips. you were quick to grab his hand as you both made your way back towards the kegger that was becoming a little more dense as the minutes passed. sarah, kiara, jj, and john b’s eyes were quick to fall on your interlocked hands with pope. both of you kept quiet, playing it nonchalantly. but you couldn’t help but notice pope’s look to john b and jj, all with smirks lined up on their faces.

part two out later!! :) 

[onyourzeus]

• certainty | kyh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: certainty pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you genre: FLUFF words: 2.6k

author’s note: requested by @strxwberrifields :’) thank you so much for fueling the idea for this prompt. i think i strayed away a little, though, i’m sorry! i hope it is still enjoyable. also, youngk’s cover of when you love someone was playing while i wrote this, it helped set the mood a ton. (listen to it, you won’t regret it)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

there’s something about being in love 

that you can’t put into definitive words 

it’s so sickeningly cliche, you know that

there’s nothing more annoying than hearing 

someone gush about their significant other 

over and over and over— we get it! you’re in a relationship and it’s great and just

don’t rub it in, please 

kidding aside

—you don’t think your relationship with younghyun is like that 

if anything, you feel somewhat lacking in telling him how much you love the guy

dating a pretty famous bassist, idol, vocalist, business admin major—

scratch that. dating someone like younghyun is already out of the ordinary for you 

and so you can’t help but feel… insecure, at times

or feeling left out from his idol circle and the fact that 

you can never bring yourself to fully immerse in it like he does

you don’t blame him!! you never blame younghyun for who he is 

it’s just a bizarre concept to find yourself even crossing paths with the now love of your life

for almost a year, might you add

the thought still sends goosebumps all over your skin

and a silly smile that gets you weird looks when you’re in public 

man, if they knew who that smile was about

who your heart is for

they’d be jealous, duh

or judge you because— 

you? with a guy like him? scoffs 

you should get out of your head sometimes, it’s healthy (try it, please) 

you’re good to younghyun, right? you think you are

a guy like him is smart enough to know what’s good for him… right? 

STOP IT STOP you have a mission to do today

and that’s to bring the very same guy—  

(plaguing your mind and disrupting the rhythm of your heartbeat every waking second)

—his lunch today

it’s just him in the studio; him and his bandmates have been doing their own thing for a few months now

which is a refreshing change of pace for everyone, you heard  

but work is still work; and younghyun is recording yet another single to upload sometime soon

you’re excited, and jealous of how his mind works 24/7

but with that much thinking and execution comes a lot of hunger; and younghyun is not immune to not having an appetite

man’s stomach is the blackhole, anything that goes in there is nowhere to be found

(as if it never came in the first place)

you text him you’re by the entrance, and there’s a lot of typos

“hrre> i hv lunch. its heavy”

you know he won’t respond because there is no second wasted recording; you still do it, anyway 

just in case

you’re greeted by a few people working in the bldg, some of them recognize you already which you’re still shy about 

finally, you enter his studio, careful not to topple over the take out stuff you have in the bag

as expected, younghyun is inside the soundproof room where the ~*~magic~*~ happens, eyes closed and headphones on

immediately, your heart soars at the sight of him. it’s not a new thing for you to see him in his workspace

but it’s always a new feeling to watch how he lets the music flow in his presence

he can’t hear you but you’re careful in taking out bowls of ramen, broth, rice, and other side dishes on the coffee table. he’ll probably be done in a few minutes—

door opening louder than you anticipated

“you’re here!! and there’s FOOD,” younghyun exclaims, the headphones slung around his neck with the cord hanging in midair

you’re shook at his speed, but then again the one thing he loves the most is right in front of him

yep: food 

you laugh, greet him with a kiss on the cheek (that warms your own face up, you’ll never get used to doing that) and let him know about his probably expensive headphones just dangling around

“eh who cares,” younghyun casually shrugs but you keep reprimanding him with an expectant look 

“fine fine, i’ll put them down safely”

“good, have you eaten today?” 

“yep but that was like an hour ago” 

that’s younghyun for you, and you expected it. so you tell him to dig in

“it’s from the ramen place we tried a month ago, thought you’d want some soup since it’s getting colder”

his eyes light up like a kid opening his birthday present which he already knew what would be inside

“this is amazing, babe, thanks!” he reciprocates your kiss on the lips this time: short but sweet 

you squeal, and temporarily feel calm and collected about his “approval” 

you sit next to him, just watching him attack the noodles first, then slurping the broth with utmost grace (spoiler alert: he is chowing down like it’s his last meal)

and yet you’re falling so deeply in love again as you try to picture the image of him happily eating in your mind, framing it and keeping it stored there safely

“you’re not eating?” he asks in between bites of kaarage and takoyaki. it was practically a meal for three

you shake your head. “i ate before coming here” which wasn’t a lie, and he’d know if it was since he’d hear your stomach grumble 

but that takoyaki sure looks tasty… 

“wh—” younghyun shoves one right inside your mouth, chuckling as he watches you struggle to chew it so suddenly 

“you know you wanted some,” he teases. pouting, you finish the takoyaki before trying to defend yourself

but younghyun had something else up his sleeve; or rather he grabs a tissue and dabs it on the side of your cheek

“someone was hungry,” he sing-songs, slanted eyes glinting with amusement

“you have the nerve to say that considering you finished a full course meal!” you sneer at him, feeling his gentleness as he wipes your cheek clean

you keep bantering back and forth like that; it’s natural, it’s what you like about your relationship

he finishes and it hasn’t even been an hour since you got here. someone can study this man’s digestive system and find new wonders of the human body in him 

buuuut you kinda wanna keep younghyun to yourself for now— as much as you can, really, seeing as he’s an idol… 

“that was sooo good,” he sighs, leaning back against the couch with one hand around your shoulders

you rest your head against his, cradling up to his warmth

he’s so cuddly when he’s just finished eating

not to mention

“zzz”

“younghyun, you have a song to record!” you shake him awake, and he’s not kidding either

the man just falls asleep! 

“mm five minutes…” he dozes off, hugging you even closer to him. both arms around your frame this time

now that you’re face to face, you can clearly see the exhaustion smearing his perfect features

without make up on, his eyelids are veiny, there’s a shadow underneath them and his face just physically looks dull 

the more he eases into you, the heavier his body feels sinking into the couch

and your heart sinks with it

younghyun works so incredibly hard— literally every single day, there is no stopping him from creating and doing and sometimes

you just want to tell him to slow down, pause for a moment

it makes your chest tighten, to think that younghyun thinks time is moving so fast for him

that he needs to accomplish so much before time runs out

you lift your hand up and card your fingers through his hair (he had it dyed black recently, and you’re all for it) 

he hums in satisfaction and nuzzles his head against you even further

then, you move your hand over to his cheeks, tracing its height and going over the tip of his nose

boop

and steal kiss 

he can really fall asleep like this, right next to you

you might doze off with him too 

but, just like younghyun, true to his word— 

he’s awake and back into recording mode less than ten minutes later

he stretches like a cat, and leaves you bewildered at the amount of energy he’s recharged himself with in such little time

“you give me energy, what can i say?”

“shut up” 

he tries to clean up the empty bowls and used utensils, but you shoo the musician away

“go. work, i’ll handle this” he knows he can’t argue with you on that

it makes you feel useful to him, somehow, just doing these little things to accommodate for his lifestyle

you wonder if it’s enough

you spend the rest of the afternoon in the studio. while he records and edits and goes back to recording, you brought your laptop to do some work remotely

he lets you hear some of the recorded lines he’s done, and you nod your head all the time and say they sound perfect, they sound like him

he doesn’t really like that

“there’s bound to be something that’s missing. what else would you have liked to hear from this verse?”

he looks so serious, brows knitted, lips curled forward whenever he listens to himself in the audio

you feel bad; you don’t know much about music mixing and all that— plus you’re not lying when you say you like what you hear

but maybe in this area, there’s not much you can contribute in his life 

and these are the moments when you think you fail as an equal partner

younghyun realizes the abrupt quiet in the air as you make yourself feel smaller than you do

“just a little more and i’ll be done for the day,” he tells you, patting your head reassuringly

you give him a meek nod, not meeting his eyes, and go back to some work

at least, you try. for distraction

he sounds disappointed— maybe you need to learn how to analyze beats and harmonies and such next time? 

before you know it, younghyun finishes up and saves his progress

you’ve also fallen asleep a little there while sitting down on the floor, and your head on top of your laptop 

“babe?” 

when you wake up, the take-out bags are nowhere to be seen and your laptop is inside your messenger bag

“can i hang out at your place tonight?” younghyun asks, and you try to regain your senses

“yeah, yeah of course,” you say absent-mindedly, concerned thoughts swirling your consciousness

younghyun doesn’t bring a lot when he goes to the studio, he leaves the instruments in the room and only carries his phone and USB on him

upon exiting the place, he grabs hold of your bag and slings it on his arm

on the other, he invites your hand in his

you don’t say anything, still feel guilty for the incident a while ago, but accept his intertwining fingers

he squeezes yours tight, and gives you a slow, reassuring kiss on the cheek 

“i’m sorry if i pressured you back there,” he apologizes firmly, looking at you straight in the eye

it’s a little intimidating, if you’re being honest 

because when younghyun owns up to something— or even when he’s just determined about his words

he wants you to look at him, and see the truth in what he’s telling you

in retrospect, that’s how you fell in love

as that’s how younghyun confessed his own feelings

but now, he’s saying sorry for something you should be sorry for

before you even feel the tears well up, he has his hands cup your face, rubbing alongside your temples 

the air is still outside, and there’s a faint noise of people chattering, walking, and existing in the world

but what you see is younghyun, and the way he presents you all of who he is at the moment

“it’s not you,” you start off the cliche, so you stop yourself

“i just feel like i don’t do anything…”

“anything?”

“in this relationship… that’s beneficial to you…” finally, words that explain some of your true, insecure feelings

you shut your eyes as tight as you can as to avoid confronting younghyun’s gaze 

he’s quiet

probably mad

possibly about to break up with you

realizing that you’re right

instead, a slight pain on your forehead and you mutter a surprised, “ow.”

“that’s what you get,” younghyun says, seriously but his eyes show that of worry

you pout, and he tries to resist but he can’t so he kisses you

“for thinking the opposite of who you are to me,” he continues, letting go of your face and sliding his fingers in between the crevices of yours once more 

you leave it like that, feeling just a tad bit calmer than before

but younghyun keeps looking at you, poking at your side which causes you to be ticklish

and he knows that 

“you hungry?” he asks once you reach downtown

“just a little,” you say, thinking of what to cook dinner for the both of you soon since he said he’s coming over

“let’s get some galbi,” he urges, tugging you towards the restaurant with the glowing sign

“but you just ate…” you say quizzically, and as if on cue your stomach grumbles

well it has been a few hours for you

but for younghyun, technically he should already be full for the rest of the day!

“c’mon, my treat,” he doesn’t take no for an answer and you guys sit at a table with the stove in the center

for the rest of the night, he grills you your meat 

doesn’t even let you put them on your plate, it has to come from him as you feeds you some of your favorites, galbi, gobchang, hangjusal; the whole nine yards

of course, he’s eating too, and laughing, and making you smile

“room for dessert?” he asks, and you shake your head no too many times

“get yourself some, i know you want to” you tell him, and he’s already calling for the waiter to bring him a mochi or two

he eats it while walking back to your apartment with you; and he seems like such a satisfied kid

you can’t go on throughout the day being all sullen with younghyun; it’s impossible

back in your apartment, you ease into the familiarity of the place

and so does younghyun

you ready some clothes for him that he’s left in your dresser to prepare a warm bath

but he calls you in the living room 

“just a moment, younghyun”

“no no i need you now :(“ 

well, can you resist that tone? no

“what’s up? don’t you want to freshen up first?”

“i want you first” 

:( “okay,” you say as shyly as your pounding heart can let you say

and you’re back in the same position as in the studio, right after he ate

arms around you, and he coaches your legs to rest on his 

basically you’re koala-hugging him on your couch

“what’s this?” you say embarrassed. even in your own goddamn apartment, he makes you feel so many things at once

“being extra clingy”

“i can see that— but why?”

“so you don’t doubt yourself” 

you’re taken aback

“there’s nothing that you need to change or do in front of me, or for me to make me love you more,” he starts off, and there goes his eyes again. staring, watching you. steady, serious but.. calming, in a sense

“because i already love you, so much. for everything that you do for me. all the little things.”

“i love you too,” you whisper, finding it hard to find words to describe how lucky you are to have him

again

but this time, you know he doesn’t mind

just having you right here by him is enough, having him recognize the small yet appreciated gestures that you do

and how he manages to check up on your own feelings so quick, and remedy the sadness just like that

there’s just something about being in love with younghyun

that words can’t express

but this moment with him right now can at least make you feel

that much loved by him too

[magniloquent-raven]

for fluff: "one more chapter" or "there's enough room for both of us"

it’s been 84 years............ but here u go lmao tysm for the prompts!!!!!! i used both!

CW for some brief suicidal ideation, just in case. it’s v mild but pls be careful yall (i know, this fic was supposed to be fluffy 😅)

posted on ao3

------

Billy’s life had changed a lot in the past two years. 

So much that some days he barely recognizes himself in the mirror. The scars, the state of his hair—which he hasn’t cut since last summer and generally just throws back for convenience’ sake—the stubble he doesn’t bother with most days. Small things, in the grander scheme of what’s different about his life, but it adds up.

And it’s Friday night, he’s curled up at home, and perfectly content to be there. 

There’s a steaming mug of cider on the coffee table (a scratched-up old thing that Hop left him when he officially handed off ownership of his trailer to Billy), and wind rattling the windows, and Max is asleep in the next room. It’s...cozy. 

El stopped by earlier that afternoon, Max in tow, demanding Billy let them stay because Mike was being a dick or a DnD campaign was going on too long and El’s character died a while back so she was bored, or...something. Possibly Mike was being a dick about her character being dead. Max kept chiming in with her own two cents worth but it really just made the whole thing harder to follow.

But it didn’t really matter why they stopped by, they’re always coming up with reasons to invade his living room and eat all his food and nag him about teaching them how to do fancy braids. And Max usually wanders off to nap in his room when El starts asking Billy to read to her.

Which is what he’s doing now. 

Last month he read her Jane Eyre (her idea). A week ago they started The Hobbit. 

It’s been slow going, considering how often El interrupts to ask questions, and every time there’s a song they have the same argument about him not actually singing, but they’re making progress. 

He’s reading through the weird goblin song as monotone as possible just so he can laugh at El’s disgruntled scrunchy face, and putting up with her poking his thigh with her toes when he rolls his eyes at her, and honestly having the time of his fucking life, because, yeah, saying things have changed in the past two years is the understatement of the decade.

When he gets to the end of Over Hill and Under Hill and closes the book she gasps dramatically, sitting up and pulling the ugly orange throw blanket (gift from Mrs. Byers) she’d been snuggled up in tighter around her shoulders.

“Billy, no!” 

He drops the book in his lap and raises his eyebrows at her. “It’s the end of the chapter.”

“No.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

El frowns at him, her whole face going pinched. “But you can’t stop there.”

It’s moments like this that almost make Billy forget she can kill people with her brain. Moments when she just looks like a kid, all wrapped up in her favourite blanket and pouting. 

And it’s like she knows that’s his goddamn kryptonite. Because those moments also remind him that she deserves this. More than anyone he knows, she deserves all the childish crap she wants, and more. It won’t ever replace the childhood that was taken from her, but it’s a start.

So, needless to say, Billy has a hard time saying no to her.

He drops his head back against the cushion behind him, staring at the ceiling for a moment—pretending to contemplate, while she glowers at him—and sighs loudly. 

“One more chapter.” 

She beams.

They’re only a few pages into Riddles in the Dark when a car pulls up, and Billy doesn’t even have time to put the book down before the front door bursts open. 

“El! Will thought he—is that The Hobbit?” Dustin comes to an abrupt halt two paces into the room, blinking at the book in Billy’s hands. All his little friends nearly collide with his back, and there’s suddenly a gaggle of obnoxious teenagers huddled in Billy’s doorway. 

“Who cares,” Lucas scoffs, pushing him out of the way so he, Wheeler, and Will, can shuffle the rest of the way inside. “Get out of the way!”

Billy is still trying to figure out what the fuck’s even happening when Steve goddamn Harrington walks in behind his pack of brats. Because of course he was the one who drove them here. Him being a fine upstanding citizen and all that. With nothing better to do, apparently. (Not that Billy has room to judge anymore.)

Suddenly the bickering kids are mostly background noise. Billy always did have a hard time concentrating on anything else when Steve’s in the room. Especially when he’s looking like that, warm brown eyes lit up with interest, and the corner of his mouth pulling upwards in a half-smile. His cheeks are pink from the chill outside, his hair a mess from the wind, and locking eyes with him makes Billy’s heart pound. 

They’ve been on good terms these past few months and it’s a special kind of torture that Billy wouldn’t give up for the fucking world.

But he doesn’t get to enjoy the view for long because—

“—the Mind Flayer might be back!”

Billy stiffens. “What?” He glances at El. She’s sitting up straight now, her eyes dark, expression closed off. 

Mike sighs irritably. “Weren’t you listening? Will thinks he might have sensed the Mind Flayer, so we needed to make sure El’s okay.” He crosses his arms, glaring at Billy. “Because the stupid thing wants her dead, remember?”

“Wheeler,” Steve hisses, and smacks the kid’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Billy grits his teeth, cold fingers trailing down his spine. “I remember.” 

The room is silent for several agonizing seconds, the kids all exchanging glances. Until Billy’s bedroom door opens and Max shuffles out, rubbing her eyes. 

“What’s everyone doing here?” 

~~

They’d all been hanging out at Steve’s when Will had a bad feeling. The same kind of prickling bone-deep chill he’d gotten two summers ago. Needless to say, ignoring it until people started dying didn’t seem like the way to go this time, hence the home invasion.

Which had been Steve’s idea, apparently. Or. His initial reaction had been to blurt out does this mean Billy’s possessed again, and it had spiraled from there. To Mike freaking out about El not being safe because she was here, to Lucas reminding him that Billy had only gotten the better of her when she didn’t have powers, to Dustin yelling about checking in with her either way because she might have The Facts. 

And so they’d broken a couple traffic laws to get here.

Billy suspects Steve feels guilty about suggesting he might be possessed, because he got very awkward when it was brought up. And he stepped in several times when Wheeler and Sinclair’s interrogation got a little too intense (there were threats of hot pokers involved).

It should have felt condescending—Billy’s a grown-ass adult, he doesn’t need someone defending him from lanky teenagers—but he can’t help feeling a little warm when it’s Steve coming to his defense. 

The discussion overall is a mess. El doesn’t have any answers, Billy hasn’t felt anything odd lately, and the lack of anything to go on beyond Will having a momentary freakout is putting everyone on edge. 

Max, who squished herself onto the couch between Billy and El, cuts through the cyclical arguing after the third dramatic eye-roll from Mike. “Guys, can you cool it for a second. We’re getting nowhere.” Her protest is punctuated by a yawn, which makes El giggle. 

“She’s right,” Steve sighs, mussing with his hair absentmindedly. “Billy and El are fine, everyone’s fine, we should all get some sleep.”

“Dude, are you sure you’re good to drive?” Dustin asks, squinting appraisingly at Steve. It’s a fair question, it’s late and Steve looks like he’s about to keel over, but Billy’s not sure he likes where this is going.

“Who said anything about driving?” Max snorts, glancing at Billy. 

Damnit Max.

“Is there even space for everyone here? This place is tiny.”

“Fuck you, Wheeler, not all of us can live in goddamn mansions.”

The kid opens his mouth to retort, bristling with indignation, but Will interjects, stuttering a little in his haste, “I, um, I’d feel a little safer if everyone, you know, stayed in one place? At least for tonight?”

And that pretty much settles it. 

Once everyone mumbles their (in some cases reluctant) agreement, El crows “Sleepover!” and drags Max off to find spare blankets, leaving Billy sitting on the couch alone and wondering where the hell Steve is gonna sleep. For...no particular reason...other than…

Well.

It’s not like Mike was wrong, the trailer wasn’t built to house six teenagers and two twenty-somethings. Most of them are going to end up squished on the living room floor, and Max and El already called dibs on the couch, and...well, unless Steve wants to crash in the fucking kitchen there really isn’t anywhere else for him to go other than Billy’s room. He doesn’t even have a goddamn tub the guy could curl up in. 

And just because he’s wanted Steve Harrington in his bed since minute one, doesn’t mean he wants it right now. Not like this. 

Because like this he has to deal with Max’s side-eye, and El’s knowing look (the girl has been in his head, she literally knows everything about him), and Will’s weird wide-eyed interest, and worst of all, Steve not doing this because he wants to. 

In fact, judging by the way he blanches when Max suggests it, Billy’s room is the last place he’d like to be. Which is not really something Billy ever really wanted hard proof of, thanks. 

He’s dealt with enough in his life, he didn’t need to know exactly how repulsive Steve finds the idea of sleeping in the same room as him. 

“You’re welcome to sleep in your goddamn car if my floor isn’t good enough for you, Harrington,” he bites out, probably harsher than was warranted. 

Steve blinks at him, mouth falling open, eyebrows raised. 

“Oh my god, it’s too cold to sleep outside, Billy,” Max says, rolling her eyes. “Stop being such a dick.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Figure your shit out, I’m going to bed.” 

The silence he leaves behind is tense and awkward. 

He’s been laying in bed staring at the ceiling, moping and berating himself, for about ten minutes when the door creaks open.

“Hey, uh,” Steve’s voice is soft, uncertain, and Billy feels like even more of an asshole for snapping at him. “I’m just...gonna...crash on the floor. Um. Good night.”

This is punishment isn’t it. For being such a douche for so long. Now he gets to try and fall asleep knowing Steve fucking Harrington is laying nearby, sleepy and warm and out of reach. He listens to Steve shuffle around, getting situated, laying out blankets and trying to find a soft bit of carpet to lay on. Has to bite his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. Like offering up his bed. Or poking fun at how much Steve sighs when he’s getting comfortable (Because it’s dumb, not cute. Definitely not cute.).

It’s unclear how long they lay there in the dark, Billy watching moonlight cast the outlines of skeletal trees across the wall, listening to Steve’s quiet breathing to remind himself he’s not alone. That the shadows are just shadows and there’s no reason to be tense and sweating and—

Billy’s pretty sure it’s been long enough that Steve should be asleep, considering how tired he looked, so he tosses his blanket off and swipes the pack of cigarettes off his bedside table, hoping to god the floor doesn’t creak when he pads across the room. There’s no noise coming from the other room, so either the kids are asleep too or a miracle has occurred and they’re all just being really quiet. 

He slips out the side door, and takes a breath. The lake is too still, despite the wind. No self-respecting body of water doesn’t have waves. But it’s pretty enough, he supposes. Enough to make for a decent view while he smokes a cigarette.

Takes a couple tries to light up. His hands aren’t what they used to be, especially in the cold. Holding off a thirty-foot meat puppet bare-handed does that to a person, tears shit up that doesn’t heal right afterwards.

He’s about halfway through his cig when Steve joins him. Billy’s shoulders stiffen at the sound of footsteps, and he doesn’t relax at all when he realizes who it is. 

“Hey.”

Out of the corner of his eye Billy watches Steve lean against the porch railing beside him. He takes another drag before he looks over properly, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Billy raises his eyebrows. Gestures with his cigarette and turns away again. “No shit.”

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, and he resolutely ignores it. Stares out at the water and flicks cigarette ash over the railing. The wind picks up again and cuts through his thin shirt. Should’ve grabbed a fucking sweater. Not because the cold bothers him at all, but...well, because it doesn’t anymore.

He shivers when a completely-unrelated-to-the-weather chill runs down his spine.

“Soo…” Steve fidgets, and trails off awkwardly, his nonchalance painfully fake.

The corner of Billy’s mouth twitches, and he raises his cigarette to his lips, a flimsy excuse to hide his smile. 

“Did, uh. Did El choose the book, or…?”

He chokes on a mouthful of smoke. Doc Owens did tell him he shouldn’t have taken up smoking again. Though he was probably more concerned about Billy’s scarred lungs and than Steve Harrington-related hazards. 

Coughing definitely does hurt a lot more than it used to though. 

He flinches when Steve touches his shoulder, pats it, rubs a little—trying to help with the coughing, presumably—making Billy’s heart trip over itself. 

Once he’s no longer wheezing he wipes his eyes, and waves off Steve’s apologies, hoping the embarrassed flush on his cheeks isn’t too visible in the dim light. 

Steve’s hand stays where it is.

For several quiet moments Billy waits for him to withdraw but he doesn’t, and Billy finally meets his eyes. Which was probably a mistake. His heart skips again. He’s still not used to Steve looking at him like that. Soft and wide-eyed and concerned and…

God, he’s so fucking beautiful. Billy used to dream about getting this close without needing pretense, without having to pretend, getting to bask in the warmth coming off him and feel his breath on his skin and see something other than indifference—or worse, the hatred that came later—looking back at him. What he has now is...not quite what he wants. It lights him up but leaves him wanting. 

Another gust of wind makes a mess of Steve’s hair, locks falling into his eyes and sticking up in all directions, and Billy itches. Clenches his fist to stop himself from fixing it.

“Her dweeby little friends kept talking about it, and she couldn’t get through it herself. So...” Billy trails off, scratching his cheek and glancing away. “I may have had a copy laying around.”

Steve’s hand finally leaves its perch on his shoulder—both a disappointment and a relief—to brush the stray locks of hair out of his face. He grins at Billy, whole face lit up and stupidly pretty even as his fingers get stuck in tangles. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Billy bites the inside of his cheek. “My mom used to read it to me.” 

It’s easier to talk about her now. Mostly with El, who’s still the only person who knows the full story, but, well, he’s pretty sure at least Max and Steve have guessed the bits they weren’t told. Or, hell, maybe El told everyone everything during those months he was out of commission and everyone thought he was dead, and no one’s brought it up to his face because it would be awkward as hell. 

In any case, Steve’s expression softens. 

“Oh,” he says quietly. “So, you and her were pretty close, huh?”

If asked Billy would have blamed the sudden sting of tears in his eyes on the wind. “I guess.” A pause. “Not enough for her to take me when she left,” he mumbles, chewing his thumbnail and frowning out at the lake.

His cigarette hangs between two fingers in his other hand. 

“Billy…”

“Don’t. I’ve heard every condolence in the book, okay. It’s...it’s fine.”

For several long moments the only sounds are the dry rustle of leaves in the wind and Billy’s nail-biting. 

Then Steve slips his fingers around Billy’s wrist and tugs gently. Too surprised to resist, Billy lets him. Lets his hand be pulled away from his face, thumb pressed to his pulsepoint, lets him hold on for a beat longer than necessary before letting go. And Billy stares at him the whole time, lips parted, shoulders tense, waiting to see what Steve will do next.

What he does next is smile a little sad, and tilt his head. “It’s a bad habit, you know. Biting your nails.” 

“I don’t have any other kind of habit.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, “I don’t think that’s true.” 

Which is a weird thing to say, and a weird thing to get emotional over, and yet Billy kind of feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

He rubs at the knotted scar tissue that spiderwebs across his whole torso, and can’t help but wonder—not for the first time—if Steve’s perception of him might be a little blinded by the one good thing he’s ever done. He’s tried to be better since then, atone a little, but Steve’s confidence in him still feels unearned.

And all the work he’s put into getting his shit together might all be for nothing anyways, if some fucking slime monster decides to crawl down his throat again. If Will’s right and that thing is back...for all he knows the thing has it out for him too, after the shit he pulled at Starcourt. He thought he’d end up dead, he wasn’t exactly worried about making himself a target in the long run. 

But now...

Billy exhales slowly through his nose, eyes falling shut for a moment before he grits out, “I can’t do it again.” Steve blinks at him, nonplussed. “This,” he taps his scars, “The fucking. Mind Flayer bullshit. I can’t.”

“You…” Steve folds his arms across his stomach, hands clutching his elbows. It’s a nervous tic that makes Billy ache. Always makes his heart clench, but tonight that gets lost in the black hole of anxiety already twisting up his insides  “You won’t have to, I—we’ll protect you. If we stick together—”

“It’s not a guarantee.”

“No, but—”

“We don’t know anything about this alien shit, for all we know I was never really free of it, and—I just—promise you won’t let it use me again,” Billy’s voice breaks, and he clenches his jaw to try and hold it all back, the taste of bile in the back of his throat, the crushing weight of existential panic pressing in. 

Steve’s eyes widen, “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean. Crash another car into me. Let your ex shoot me in the fucking head. I don’t care how, I need you to stop me.” He needs to understand, Billy’s eyes bore into him, willing him to understand.

But he shakes his head, face twisted up with horror, “I don’t think I can do that.”

Billy takes a step towards him, desperation bleeding into his voice, “Steve.” He blinks back tears. “Please.” 

“Don’t—” Steve looks away, curling in on himself, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, ask you to perform a public fucking service?” Billy spits, eyes stinging, face burning. He regrets the words once they’re spoken, but there’s no taking them back now. He’s talked with Owens about this sort of shit and he thought he was past it. 

Apparently not.

He deflates. Like a slap in the face, it stops him dead, turns his agonizing back inward where it fucking belongs. Wiping his eyes, he sighs. 

It’s too late to stop the puppy-dog eyes Steve’s giving him now though. The unreserved sadness in the way he’s looking at Billy is so overwhelming it’s almost palpable. “Is that really how you feel?”

Is it? He’s not sure anymore. It was for a long time. Long enough that he couldn’t remember feeling any other kind of way until El reminded him. But now…

He shrugs. “It’s...complicated. I—ah, shit!” His hand jerks, and the cigarette he’d been holding falls to the ground. That never used to hurt so fucking much. “Damn thing burnt me.” 

He sucks on the stinging knuckle, waiting for the pain to subside, tasting salt and ash, and looks back up at Steve.

They lock eyes.

Steve’s expression has closed off, his gaze still heavy, but with something else, sliding down Billy’s face with an intensity Billy’s not quite sure what to make of. He’s struck dumb by the attention (not something he usually has a problem handling), lips still wrapped around his finger but his mouth has gone slack.

It feels like a static shock, one crackling jolt of a moment, something sharp lancing through him, and then it’s over. Steve’s blinking, glancing away. Billy’s hand falls to his side. It would be like it never happened except he still feels charged, pent up, heart full to bursting and stomach in knots. 

Billy sighs, and rubs his eyes. “Let’s just...go back to bed.”

Wording, Billy. Wording. His cheeks warm a little, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he turns and heads back inside.

He practically throws himself into his bed, curling up on his side and pulling the blankets around him, back turned to Steve. Sleep seems like a pipe dream at this point, but doing anything other than pretending to get some rest would involve talking to and/or looking at Steve, so. Not an option. 

But after he listens to Steve settle back into his little pile of blankets, the minutes crawl by, and Billy gets twitchy. Wants so badly to move, toss and turn and fidget, and say something, but doesn’t know where to start and doesn’t want to draw Steve’s attention, and—

God, this is so fucking stupid.

Billy rolls over. “Steve.”

“Yeah?” 

The room is silent for a beat. He shuffles around a little and the sheets rustle loudly in the quiet.  

“Would you get up here,” he says suddenly, all at once, demanding, scarcely believing what the fuck is coming out of his mouth. 

“...What?” Steve sounds a little breathless and it makes Billy’s stomach clench.

“Just...there’s enough room for both of us, alright.” Jesus christ. 

The lump of Steve and blankets on the floor doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak, for what seems like an eternity, and Billy’s about to brush it off, turn it into a joke, take it back, something, when—

“Okay.”

Oh.

What?

Oh god, he’s getting up. This is happening. Billy stares at his silhouette, the tense line of his shoulders, his awkward gait, and wonders why he’s agreeing to this if he’s so goddamn uncomfortable. 

Guess the floor is officially less comfortable than being in bed with Billy. Joy.

But then he’s sliding under the covers and Billy forgets to be bitter because his brain is mostly static at this point. White noise and his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the deafening creak of boxspring groaning under unexpected weight.

And Steve’s doing that thing again, sighing, little hums as he wiggles around getting himself situated, and Billy is dying. He thought he was being punished before, but now he’s sure, because this is ridiculous. No grown man should be that adorable. 

By the time he’s gotten himself comfy Billy is about ready to combust. 

It doesn’t help that he’s decided to lay down extremely close and facing Billy. It’s so intimate it hurts.

“Do you think you’ll actually sleep?”

Billy shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.” He tries to make it sound more casual than it is. Like it’s a choice and not the sad fact that he’s too fucking anxious to relax. 

Seems he’s not the only one though, Steve keeps fidgeting, his face doing something weird Billy can’t quite see in the gloom. But he doesn’t have to see to recognize Steve’s tics.

“Spit it out,” Billy sighs.

“What did you mean. When you said it’s complicated?” Steve asks softly.

Ah.

“You really wanna get into this?” He sure doesn’t, but Steve nods and Billy’s fucking weak when it comes to giving Steve what he wants. “I meant that...I...used to feel like that. All the time. It was fucking relentless.” He thinks about rolling onto his back so he won’t have to look at Steve for this, but finds himself stuck, drawn in by the faint starlight reflected in Steve’s eyes. “But nowadays I’ve got...shit to hang on for, I guess. Doesn’t make it all go away, but it makes it easier.”

“Oh.” Steve wriggles a little closer, his hand landing in the space between their pillows. Right next to Billy’s hand. Close enough that he can feel him there, but not quite touching.

He doesn’t say anything else, which Billy’s grateful for. He’s got Doc Owens for the big speeches about how life is worth living, and it’s grating enough getting them from someone who’s literal job is to say that kind of shit. 

It helps. It does. But he can only handle so much.

Speaking of which.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says quietly. He’s keeping his hand too still for it to come across as casual, trembling with the effort. If he moved his pinky just a little they’d be touching, and he’s painfully aware of this fact.

“What for?”

“Earlier, when I...I was asking for a lot.”

“Oh.” Steve shifts, the blankets rustling as he shuffles around, but as much as he fidgets, his hand stays where it is. “Billy...I don’t want you to have to go through that again, but…”

Billy, on an impulse—with a feeling somewhat akin to stepping off a ledge without a parachute—hooks his pinky over Steve’s. In the dark he hears a soft intake of breath, can just barely make out the way Steve’s mouth falls open, moonlight casting shadows when his tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

“I know. It wasn’t fair to—”

“No, no,” Steve flips his palm upward and laces their fingers together, squeezing Billy’s hand. “It’s not that. You have every right to be scared, and...look, this whole thing is batshit crazy, none of us know how to deal with it.” 

Billy runs his thumb along the length of Steve’s index finger, marvelling at the contact, and the way his pulse flutters when the gesture is returned. It takes him a second to find his voice, “True, but you’ve never asked me to mercy kill you.”

Steve exhales, the ghost of a laugh, and it warms the back of Billy’s hand. He shivers, his whole arm tingling. “Billy, I haven’t gone through half the shit you have.” A pause. “I want to help. Anything you need, just...not that.” 

Anything. It catches in Billy’s throat, stops his heart for just a second, reminds him that they’re inches apart, in bed together. For the second time tonight he feels like he’s been punched in the sternum, and he goes rigid, relaxing only minutely when Steve squeezes his hand again.

“Careful, pretty boy. Saying shit like that might give a guy ideas,” he murmurs, gaze searching, wandering Steve’s face, the shadows cast by the soft fall of hair across his forehead.

“Oh yeah?” Steve pulls their clasped hands to his chest. His heart is racing, but his voice is steady, “Well, have enough ideas with no follow-through and a guy might think you’re all talk.”

Billy’s breath catches. The world stops. “You...you don’t want me to follow through.” 

The reality of the situation hits him like a train. Flirting is one thing, he’s always had a hard time keeping his mouth shut around Steve, but this is something he’d only ever regretted letting himself imagine because he knew he’d never have it. And now that it’s within reach...

“See, the thing is…” Steve slides a little closer. His knee brushes Billy’s thigh. “I really, really do.”

“I—” his voice breaks, mouth dry, throat closing up as he tries to swallow past the lump making it hard to breathe. 

“Billy,” Steve whispers, a hot puff of air against Billy’s lips. “Please.”

Fuck.

He surges forward—hard enough that their teeth click together—and his mouth muffles Steve’s gasp. The hand not cradled against Steve’s chest comes up to touch his cheek, fingertips caressing his jaw, coaxing him closer, sliding back to thread into his hair. 

Steve’s lips are plush and warm against his, curved into a smile that leaves Billy tingling, dizzy and drunk on sensations. The way his mouth tastes, the softness of his skin under Billy’s scarred palm, the way his heart twists when Steve reaches out to touch his chest.

He pulls back, and rests his forehead against Steve’s. His eyes stay shut and he just breathes. Soaks up the moment. 

“God,” Steve sighs, nuzzling their noses together. “Always knew you’d be good at that.”

“Yeah?” Billy asks quietly, fiddling with the stray locks of hair behind Steve’s ear. He’s feeling...raw. Vulnerable. It’s a fragile state of being, one wrong word away from breaking. Or a few right words away from fucking bliss, but that never seems to be how it goes for him. 

“Yeah, even when we didn’t like each other I wondered. Annoyed the hell outta me.”

“Steve…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, “I always liked you.”  If his heart wasn’t already racing, it sure would be now. He braces himself for the worst.

But it doesn’t come. There’s a pause. Steve’s fingers curl into the front of his shirt. “Oh.” He presses a chaste kiss to Billy’s lips, lingering, before chuckling lightly. “That explains a lot actually.”

Billy’s cheeks burn. Yeah, he supposes it would. “You’re not...freaked out?” he ventures, hesitant. 

“Mm, nope.” He reaches up, brushes a stray curl out of Billy’s face. “Definitely okay with this.”

I love you.

The thought doesn’t shock him but the desire to say it out loud does. The way it lodges itself in his throat and sticks. He hasn’t said it to anyone—hasn’t wanted to say it to anyone—since his mother left. The precedent is intimidating, but…

Steve smells like honey and clean air, laying in bed with Billy, warm and pliant next to him tracing patterns in Billy’s scars, his gaze is fond, his smile is soft, and...and Billy’s in love.

He swallows. Pushes it down for now. 

He kisses Steve again. Slower. A gentle press of mouths, and another. Takes his time deepening it, teasing with his tongue. He waits for Steve to pull away, to decide that this thing is one thing too far, but it never happens. Steve lets him escalate, and gives as good as he gets. 

They’re both breathless and flushed and Billy’s riding high on the bubbling warmth in his chest, lightheaded from it. He slides his leg over Steve’s, straddling his thigh, pressing down, seeking friction. 

He shifts, rocking forward a little, and Steve moans, low and deep right in Billy’s ear.

They both freeze. Steve’s breath coming in ragged little bursts against the side of Billy’s face. 

“Pretty boy, as much as I’d love to hear more of that, no one else in the house does.”

“Jesus christ.”

“No need to bring him into it.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs and buries his face in Billy’s shoulder. “Just give me a minute.”

“Aw, I get you all riled up, baby?” 

Steve slides a hand down, down, and palms Billy’s cock, drawing a short gasp from him. “Yes.”

They stay entangled the rest of the night, dozing in and out of consciousness, Steve pressing the occasional sleepy kiss to Billy’s collarbone. And...Billy’s not sure what will happen after tonight, but he knows it’ll be easier to deal with if he gets to keep this. Whatever this is. He doesn’t have the heart to ask, not yet, but for the first time in a while, he has hope.

[midnightsun-madness]

Crescents

Tokka oneshot. Boomerang doesn't come back, but neither does Suki. A past/present/future exploration of Sokka and Toph's relationship, picking up from the airships.

"Have I ever mentioned how sweet it is that you invented metalbending?" Sokka asked, admiring the damage Toph was able to inflict on another fire nation airship. She had quite literally bent the metal rudder so it would change its course and crash into the ship next to them, slowing them down and throwing off the firebenders enough to let up on the destruction of the land beneath them.

"You could stand to mention it more," Toph remarked with a satisfied smirk. She had impressed Sokka and the rest of their group with her earthbending skills since she joined them months ago, but she never hesitated to bask in the praise she received- a sense of self-worth she only realized while fighting grown men at Earth Rumble VI.

Toph's ear twitched at the unexpected sound of a door opening behind them, her moment of pride cut short. A firebender had poked his head through the narrow opening of the exit door to inspect the damage to the rudder. The captain would not have made such a destructive order. The only explanation was some sort of debris hitting the rudder, or perhaps an engineering malfunction. Either way, not his problem.

To his surprise, it was a water tribe teen and his earthbending accomplice.

Toph lunged forward, grateful that her bare feet were able to grip the slope of the airship. Her sense of balance was ripped from her as Sokka grabbed her arm, knowing of the eventual fire blast that the guard would produce. Three years older, he was physically stronger and faster, and she would struggle to keep up without him guiding her. Despite his maturity, he knew that she, too, was well aware of the unrelenting bloodthirst this nation had for Avatar sympathizers.

And as he predicted, the fire blast came spiraling towards them, born from the fury of a fist and further encouraged by the comet. They felt its heat before it was able to engulf them, and that was all Sokka needed to leap off the slope of the airship and test his luck at preventing a thorough roasting. Squeezing his grip on Toph's wrist, he whipped out his space sword with a practiced precision and sunk it into the body of the ship, attempting to slow down and brace their fall.

Toph was not happy. She didn't appreciate being dragged around on the top of a burning blimp, and was livid about getting yanked off of it. Granted, knowing a lousy firebender could boast the kill of two kids in the Avatar's posse would have made her even more angry, so she forgave Sokka for jumping off. But this pride could not stifle her fear, and the abruptness of her lack of grounding caused her to shriek. She would save her shame for another time, if there was another time.

Sokka's muscles, while he thought himself strong, felt as if they were being torn in two as he held on to his sword with one hand and his friend with another. Frustration dueled with his fear- his tektite weapon was slicing through the fire nation airship like butter and doing nothing to slow their fall.

His eyes widened in horror as the sword quickly withdrew from the metal as they passed the widest point of the airship's width, leaving them no guidance as they fell through the smoky air. He stared in dismay as the safety of the roof grew further away. The strain in his right arm subsided as his sword withdrew completely from the ship, leaving them airborne. But before he knew it, his left leg hit a platform extension of the gondola and his right arm threatened to pop out of the socket of his shoulder as Toph flew past him, clearly missing the landing.

"My leg!" Sokka cried, stifling a curse and momentarily loosening his grip on Toph's wrist, to her dismay. Her throat hurt from all the screaming, and she was resentful that Sokka got the luxury of not being suspended in midair and at the mercy of what little senses she had left.

"Hang on Toph!" Sokka shouted through gritted teeth, trying not to focus on the intense pain in his leg.

"Aye aye, captain!" She shouted back, trying to lighten the mood upon hearing the pain in his voice. She squeezed him in encouragement, feeling Sokka's pulse racket away underneath her fingers.

She lifted her head up to the sound of another door being opened, this time accompanied by several iron-clad feet running out onto the metal beam where Sokka lay. Toph's palms began to sweat, and she dug her nails further into Sokka's wrist.

Sokka watched in dismay as the harness-bound firebenders approached him, assuming position. Without thinking, his fingers found the sharp edge of the boomerang saddled to his hip, as they had so many times before. He chucked it with all his might towards the firebender at his right, snapping the thick wire that secured him to the ship and snuffing out the birth of a fire blast from his fist. The guard's steady footing faltered in surprise, and he fell.

With the same urgency, Sokka kicked the hilt of his sword from its stick in the platform and grasped its edge mid-air. He ignored the sharp pain of the blade buried in his palm and whipped it at the soldier to his right, slicing through the entire body of the platform and sending the guard to his death in the firey hell that roared beneath them.

"Bye, space sword", Sokka whimpered, watching his beloved, albeit inanimate, companion spiral through the air after his enemy and into the smoke. He knew it would take the sacrifice of his weapons to buy them more time, but that couldn't override the hollow feeling of loss. He wasn't a bender, and now he only had his bare hands to fend for himself.

Toph gritted her teeth at the lack of awareness and the heat of the wildfires below them. Her heart skipped several beats as she felt Sokka's hand slipping, gripping him only by the fingers now. She knew he had lost both of his weapons from what had transpired. Perhaps his boomerang would return in time? With the amount of steps she had heard come out of the airship, it probably wouldn't even matter. She swallowed her naiveté but it stuck, forming a lump in her throat.

Sokka groaned in exhaustion and defeat, watching more firebenders pour out from the gondola. Too many moments had passed by. "I don't think boomerang's coming back, Toph," he stated, voice shaking and eyes squeezing shut in pain. He wouldn't let his weakness be the reason he let go. "I think this is the end," he told her, choking on his words as he watched her face contort in fear.

"Look out!" one of the guards shouted, pointing behind Sokka. They quickly left the plank of the gondola, a very different sense of urgency calling them away from where Sokka and Toph were hanging on.

Before Sokka could lift his head back to see what danger approached them, it crashed into the underbelly of the airship, the force shoving Sokka from the safety of his perch.

To Toph's surprise, the fall was short. She was able to sense in her hands and feet that something solid approached her mid-fall, and she braced her muscles accordingly to lessen the damage of the fall. Sokka was not graced with this sixth sense of sorts- his chi did not flow the same way it did for those who could bend; and the senses he did have were certainly not as finely tuned as Toph's were.

He landed on both feet, collapsing in pain as he gripped his shin. His vision tunneled, adrenaline wavering, shattered bone grazing the nerves in his left leg. The incredulous tone in Toph's voice brought him back, an instinct motivating him to snuff out the pain. This battle wasn't over.

"How did that happen? Did boomerang come back?"

"I don't know," he muttered.

"Just finish the mission!" Suki had called before the approaching smoke from the impact immersed her in ash and shadow. Paralyzed in shock, Sokka couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Sokka! I think we've gotta-"

"I don't know," he repeated, turning his gaze towards Toph, inspecting her for any injury. Behind her, he caught sight of the destruction he had caused with his "airship slice" strategy. How many lives had it took, he wondered. How many lives did it save?

Toph wiped the sweat from her forehead, plastering her bangs to the side. "Is your leg okay?" she asked, hearing him stifle a whimper in pain. It made her nervous; she wouldn't be able to carry him to safety by herself.

"Doesn't feel too great," Sokka choked, his eyes welling with tears from the pain. He let his head down onto the warm metal of the roof, looking for the moon with the light of the morning sun.

Toph's throat hurt from the smoke and the lump that was still buried there. Helplessness was a feeling she had tried so hard to bury over the years, but she had never felt it to that degree. The moment of true blindness, true dependence on another person, had shook her to her core. She drew in a shaky breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Her eyes flickered behind her lids as she tapped into the nerves of her body, rooting her focus and energy into her hands and feet.

The occasional bits of debris hitting the airship were overwhelming- causing large ripples in her seismic sense. Sokka lay four paces away from her. She could feel a break in vibration where the roof door was- the one she had failed to feel on the prior ship. Long metal bars ran down- a ladder. More debris hitting the body, distracting her, and this time it stuck into the shell of the ship.

"We need to get off the roof," she shouted. Not only were they an open target for shrapnel, but her skin continued to grow hot as the ship approached the flames. They must be sinking.

Toph gripped the ship with her right hand and roughly sunk her fingers in, bending her elbow down and thrusting her shoulder and arm towards the roof door she had felt. It swung open with a loud thwunk, now hanging by a single hinge. She turned around to help Sokka get to his feet, and they began limping towards the door.

Sokka slid down first, careful to avoid putting pressure on his shin. Toph followed closely behind, securing the door shut on her way down. Even the metal within the ship was now warm to the touch. The heat of the fires was unrelenting.

Sokka inhaled, trying to focus only on the task at hand. He looked down to assess how much further they'd have to climb, and returned his gaze forward to his grip on the ladder. He noticed his hand was stamping blood on each rung, the cut from his space sword still fresh. He swallowed dryly, hoping his adrenaline would last and continue to dull the pain.

Moments before Sokka's foot touched the ground, the airship lurched with a deafening crash as they hit the outskirts of the Wulong Forest. Sokka was sandwiched between the floor and Toph, who had also lost her grip on the ladder upon the airship crashing into the tops of the trees. They slid down the catwalk with a yell until the ship came to a halt.

Before Toph could clamber off of Sokka, the ship slowly began to tip over, settling on its side and into its final resting place on the shallow waters of the river. The right side of the ship now lay flat, water lapping at its sides. Despite its metal structure, it seemed to deflate on itself as the beams bent to accommodate the shift in weight.

They lay still for a moment, gripping each other's sleeves and breathing heavily. Sokka, despite being thrown around upon their turbulent landing, found himself propped on his elbows and shielding Toph, who laid beneath him. Her arms were outstretched, fingers sunk into the metal sides of the ship in an attempt to steady herself. The wide grimace on her face remained for the moment of paralysis the pair shared, afraid that the slightest movement would cause the ship to tip further.

Sokka finally sat up, bumping his head on a beam that had bent significantly in the landing. He peered around them, rubbing his head, disoriented with the new layout. They had slid far down the catwalk and the ladder they had come down was out of sight. Sokka began to feel increasingly claustrophobic as he squinted in the darkness, looking for any sign of an exit.

"Man," Toph muttered dryly, raising herself up. "That was quite the joy ride."

"No kidding," Sokka breathed. He rested his head against a beam, exhaustion taking over. He turned towards Toph, relieved that he had at least taken most of the beating. More moments of silence passed as the pair caught their breath. "We need to keep moving," he said finally, squeezing his eyes shut and lifting his head. "We need to find Aang."

Toph nodded in agreement and began to feel around her. Sensing here was like a maze- the abundance of bent structuring was leading her to dead ends. She could feel the familiar composition of the ladder they had come down though, and knew which way would get them down and out.

Maneuvering the metal was trickier than usual- Toph had to feel which beams were supporting others to ensure her bending wouldn't cause further damage to the already compromised structure they were caged in. She lowered herself into an opening she had made, guiding Sokka down the metal jungle gym and finally peeling back a portion of the outer shell of the ship into a makeshift slide. The opposite end landed with a splash.

"Is that water?" Toph asked, startled by the sound. Her heart sank at the prospect of being denied real, raw earth. Her body yearned for some sort of foundation after their tumultuous hour spent on the airships.

Sokka peered over her shoulder and scoped the landscape. They had crash landed in a section of the forest that was untouched by the fire nation's fury. The only disturbance was the broken tops of trees where the belly of the airship had scraped through. Ash swirled around in the air like snow, reminding Sokka of the home he had left many moons ago. He drew his eyes downward, towards the water, momentarily reflecting on simpler times. He drew his legs over the slope Toph had created and slid down, landing gently in shallow water.

After reassurance from Sokka, Toph followed suit, and they began their short trek from the ship into the cover of trees.

"It's a little tight, but I think it's better that way. Thanks."

Sokka lifted his leg, admiring Toph's handiwork. She had fashioned a metal cast of sorts and bent it around Sokka's shin to secure his broken bone. They sat together under a rock tent, preparing for rest that was well overdue. The weight in their eyelids and the soreness in their muscles coaxed them under the shelter of the stone cover, forcing priority over bathing. Smoke and ash coated Toph's skin where the water had not touched. Bruises bloomed over her knuckles. Her feet were red and swollen, a painful memory of burnt soles reminding her of weeks prior.

"I won't let you down! I promise." Zuko walked towards the group, a joyful determination apparent in the pitch of his voice. They were in the Western Air Temple, recouping after their failed attempt at overthrowing the fire lord during the solar eclipse. After some fighting, explosions, and burned feet, Aang had found himself a new firebending teacher, seemingly appearing on a silver platter.

Sokka gingerly wrapped one arm beneath Toph's knees and the other around her back. She was lifted into the air from her seat on the well where she had been soaking her feet. He carried her within the temple's walls and down the hall to her room. The group typically spent their free afternoons by themselves, since nearly all of their time was spent together. Earlier that day, Toph had expressed wanting some time alone to meditate, per Aang's incessant suggesting, although she really just wanted some peace and quiet. Meditating was boring. Picking scabs was a lot more relaxing.

"Aaaand here we are," Sokka announced, setting her down on the old futon.

"Thanks," she replied, lifting her arm to punch Sokka. "Wha..?" Her fist met no bicep, the velocity of her throw and the careful avoidance of letting her feet touch the ground causing her to fall off the futon.

Sokka slapped his thigh and cackled. "Nice one, Toph. Not gonna lie, it's kind of nice having you completely disabled."

She huffed at her bangs and sat up, feeling her way back onto the bed. To her surprise, she felt the cushion shift as Sokka sat down beside her.

"You need anything else?" he asked.

Yeah, some private time with my scabs. "Nope. But not gonna lie, it's kind of nice having you as my personal slave." She grinned at her sly retort, careful not to laugh.

Sokka scoffed. "In your dreams, mud slug. Holler in you need me." He began to get up and walk towards the door.

"Wait, I do have one request," Toph blurted. She pulled nervously at the hem of her shirt, scratching at the threads. She turned her head towards the breeze of the window behind her, hiding her growing blush from his sight. "When we start setting up the fire, can you put my mat next to yours?"

"Uh, duh," he smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "Later, toasty toes."

"You need anything else?" she asked, her eyes fixated on the wall as she willed the memory away. Her fingers found the hem of her shirt. Hmm, singed a bit.

Sokka looked at his leg, wondering what he needed. Sleep, that was certain. Food, eventually, but preferably sooner rather than later. His eyes traveled up his leg to the water tribe weapon missing from its sheath. Despite the small relief of weight from his hip, the loss of his boomerang hung heavily on him. He lifted his hands. His left was now wrapped with the fingerless glove that failed to barricade his flesh from the sword's edge. He had ripped up the blood-soaked fabric and tied it tight to stop the bleeding and prevent impurities from infecting the wound. His right was in better shape, fortunately. It was this hand that connected him to Toph while she swung helplessly below on the airship. She had left terribly deep nail marks in his wrist, unbeknownst to him until now. He traced the half moons with his finger, still red and indented in his flesh.

"Just some shut-eye," he replied moments later. "We should both get some rest," he sighed, laying down. His mind wandered to Aang and his sister, his father and the rest who were risking their lives for the same cause. He thought about Suki, the day they first met, all the things she had taught him, where she could be now. Did she make it through? Had they lost anyone? A headache began to grow, and he willed himself to think of nothing and focus only on his breathing. To his quiet surprise, it was another's that beckoned him into a drowsy state.

Toph sat slumped against the wall, feet flat on the ground. The gentle lapping of the shore lulled her to a state of semi-consciousness, Sokka slowly following suit.

Toph was choked awake, very suddenly realizing the tide had grown to an incredible size and completely washed over her tent. The pair had only been asleep for a few precious minutes; she was a bit groggy from her cat nap being cut so short. Eyes wide and cheeks puffed, she slammed her feet into the ground and clocked her fists skyward in an uppercut. The pair shot several feet up as a column of earth lifted them up and out of the rising flood.

Sokka sputtered awake, looking around in shock. The fires that had been blazing eastward were extinguished as the gentle, albeit massive wave overtook the trees. They sat on their small island, safe from its grasp. And just as suddenly as it came, it retreated.

"Aang," Sokka whispered in slow realization. "Toph, it's gotta be Aang!"

"That must mean we've won, right?" she asked, startled as her voice cracked with emotion. This war could be over. Their task complete.

"I don't know anyone else that could waterbend a.. flood," Sokka said, looking around him in awe. He had grown used to the power of bending, having traveled long and far with the Avatar and watching his sister master her craft. Before they had met Aang, her waterbending was still a force to be reckoned with, in his opinion. But now- seeing this, a feat of nature at the mercy of human hands and in the name of peace, drew him to his knees. He turned to Toph, her jaw clenched, veins protruding from her hands that lay flat on their pillar. He still didn't truly understand bending, and perhaps he never would. But seeing the flood, and seeing Toph act so instinctively, only made him appreciate it more.

"We'll split up to cover more area," Sokka decided, rubbing his hand over the freshly posted flyer. "Toph, I guess you should just come with me."

"Why? Because you think I can't put up posters on my own?" Toph snarled, grabbing the first flyer off of the stack and ripping the brush, still dripping with glue, from Sokka's grip. She whipped it across the wall and slammed the paper onto the glue, still fuming.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Toph bit her lip. "It's upside down, isn't it?" She clenched her fists, embarrassed at her outburst but frustrated nonetheless with her unintentionally parading her disability. Earthbending couldn't cover everything, a reality she still struggled to accept. "I'll just go with Sokka." She handed over the brush back to him, keeping her head down.

The group split up, Katara covering the west wing of the city square and Aang covering the south. Sokka and Toph began walking eastward, towards the rising sun.

"It's not that I don't think you're incapable," Sokka began, trying to diffuse the situation. "I mean, you're clearly capable. With fighting and whatnot. I just think we're more uh..effective? As a team. You and me. Yeah." He nodded his head in approval.

Toph huffed, unable to sense his heartbeat and breathing while they walked. She needed stillness if she wanted to tell whether he was lying or not, a perk of her earthbending that she had yet to reveal to her friends. It could still come in handy. And she knew Sokka was probably just bluffing, but a small part of her, one she tried hard to keep away, curled open inside and smiled.

"Hey," Sokka said, voice considerably lower this time. He stopped walking, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know you want to help. I know you still feel bad about Appa getting captured."

Toph held her breath. She kept her head hanging low, the curtain of her bangs hiding her face.

"We owe our lives to you- you kept the library from sinking and completely burying us. I know it must've been really hard for you, knowing what was happening with Appa and everything, and I just want you to know that I owe you one. Aang and Katara, too. And you are capable, even if you stick posters on backwards."

"Oh, uh.." Toph scratched the back of her head, unsure how to respond. The poster was backwards? Ugh! But even so, he was sincere. She could feel it now. What should she say? Should she hug him? She imagined his arms around her, her face nuzzled in his neck. Her palms grew sweaty. She felt heat rise to her face and she kept her head down.

"I mean it," Sokka continued, determined to cheer her up. "You're-"

The sound of water crashing against the walls of the town square cut him off. Toph lifted her head, now out of the clouds, and turned towards the noise. "It's Katara. Let's go."

Sokka, now giddy with excitement at the prospect of winning the battle, winning the war, scooted himself over to where Toph sat and threw himself at her.

"He did it! We did it!" Sokka squeezed his friend with everything he had, ignoring her squeak of shock.

She patted his back slowly, holding herself back. He wasn't hers to show affection to, anyway. Her heart beat harder as she felt his grip soften. It started to feel less like 'squeeze your best friend really hard' and more like 'serious human-to-human emotional exchange'. Her heart nearly stopped when he sighed into her shoulder, stroking his thumb gently over her back. Yup, they were definitely having a moment.

And for once, Toph let her guard down. The reality of the situation crept up on her. She had fulfilled her duty. She taught Aang earthbending, and they had won the war. Everything would be different now. And Sokka… Sokka had avenged his mother, in a sense. He had a hand in bringing peace to the world. Something he never knew, having been raised in an environment of constant caution. A struggle she had never known, and couldn't fathom to know. Her chest swelled, her throat closed up, and she gripped his shirt as she began to weep.

Sokka remained unfazed, instead pulling her closer into his embrace. "I wouldn't, couldn't have done this without you," he whispered, rocking her.

Toph, still overwhelmed, pulled away and wiped at the fluids that had begun to drip from her eyes and nose. "Of course not," she laughed, her voice still thick with emotion. She swallowed and sniffed, vigorously shaking her head for a moment and trying to regain her dignity. "But I couldn't have done it either," she confessed, reaching out to his arm. "Without you, I mean. Back there on the airship."

Sokka watched as her small, pale fingers wrapped around his wrist, covering the scars she had unknowingly left behind. It would serve as a permanent reminder to him of the hardship they had faced together, of their relationship that now transcended a simple friendship. But he would keep it a secret for himself. He clenched his jaw tightly, lifting his hands to grip her face. Her arm fell, and with it, the pillar they sat upon began to lower back to the ground.

"I will never let anything bad happen to you," he stated, severing the jokes, the cheerful gratitude, the celebration, and dragging Toph back down to that uncomfortable yet necessary moment of vulnerability. The wind rushed through her hair as she felt them approach the earth once again, and she wondered who exactly was doing the grounding.

His hands gripped her face tight, looking into her boundless eyes. For a moment, he almost felt like she was looking back, seeing through him.

Their stomachs gurgled in unison, eliciting a cackle from Toph.

"How much longer should we wait to be found?" Sokka asked. "This is serious business, missy. My stomach is not happy right now."

"Ehhh." Toph flapped her hand in the air, pushing herself up from her seat on the sand. "I can try to find us a snack in the meantime. Unless you actually want to start walking towards the carnage?"

Truthfully, Toph didn't care either way. She was still riding the high from the pair's interaction during the flood. The occasional flashback of nearly dying but surviving, feeling the dirt between her toes once again, certainly helped peak her adrenaline and giddiness. And the fact that they had won the war was just the cherry on top.

She acknowledged that her guard was let down, and the weight of it off her shoulders felt pretty good. The significance of it all had softened her, a tightly closed bud slowly unraveling at the warmth of the sun. But high noon on the day of Sozin's comet had turned out to be hotter than anticipated, and she and Sokka had taken to the river to cool off and scrub the soot from their skin.

"How exactly do you plan on finding food in there?" Sokka asked, watching her march to the entrance of the forest. His broken leg propped was up on a rock, his eyebrow raised.

"What do you mean how? There's plenty of food in forests. All sorts of critters, plants, berries-"

"Okay. Just make sure you don't pick the purple ones."

Toph scowled, disappearing into the foliage and haphazardly waving goodbye. Sokka chuckled to himself and turned his gaze back towards the river, watching the gentle waves glimmer in the sunlight. His eyes traced the break of the waves towards the airship, sitting sad and defeated. Toph's words echoed in his head..carnage..

People had died at his hand that morning. If they continued walking, what would they see, sprawled across the forest floor? Who would they find in the rubble of the fallen airships? His plan had been such a success, but he knew he was hiding himself from the consequences. And after all, the loss of life would be felt on both sides. Unless some miracle had occurred, he was sure he had lost Suki, and there was no use denying it any more. The determined look she always wore, her strength and agility, her compassion- all of it lost in a fog of smoke and ash. Sokka knew from an early age that war wasn't fair. Yet he still found himself biting the inside of his lip in an attempt to stifle the creature trying to crawl out from his throat and scream into the abyss. He knew war now, but knowing something never helped stop him from feeling it when it happened.

He had come to terms with his mother's death. He had even accepted Yue's- so far away that now seemed. He squinted towards the cloudless sky, once again making a futile search for the moon in broad daylight. He knew his mother was always with him, after all, he was her son. And Yue had even said it to him in spirit. But Suki?

Sokka released the grip from his lip, unable to hold back the ragged sigh that pushed out of his mouth. A stream of tears sprung from the corners of his eyes and ran down his face, dripping into the sand with a soft pat. He ran his hand up and down his arm, trying to console himself.

Meanwhile, Toph dragged her feet across the forest floor in ecstasy. So many sensations to take in, so alive and exciting and different from the hot, barren sheets of metal on the airship. Here she could feel an entire ecosystem below her feet. The roots of trees, stretching out like roads. Worms and other bugs digging about, birds landing on branches and taking off again (reminding her of Aang), the soft rumble of an antlered frog croaking, mushrooms sprouting near a- oh. Mushrooms!

Toph made her way over, careful not to spill the berries and nuts she had found along the way and was sheltering in a makeshift pouch of her shirt. She bent down and grabbed a fistful of the fungi. Content with the yield of her foraging, Toph began her trek back to the beach, smug and satisfied with herself. She ignored the occasional nut or berry that dropped from the overflow- she could afford it.

The energy of the forest slowly sunk away as she approached the beach. She paused momentarily, now able to feel Sokka within her scope. He was touching at his right wrist again.

"I thought you said your leg was the only thing bothering you," she accused, kicking up sand as she walked towards him.

Sokka looked up in surprise, violently sniffing in any evidence of his breakdown. He knew she had more experience with sand-bending after their "mini-vacation" on Ember Island, but he was surprised she could still detect the positioning and movement of his body on top of the shifty terrain.

"I've been fine tuning it," Toph smirked, as if she read his mind. She sat down with a flop and deposited the contents of her pouch in front of Sokka.

"I hope you know what's poisonous and what's not. Not really trying to babysit today." She pulled a nut out of the pile and crushed the shell of it in her fist, popping its contents into her mouth. She'd never heard of a poisonous nut, at least. "Although," she continued, a smile creeping up as she crunched away, "cactus juice does sound pretty fun."

And just like that, Sokka began to feel better. They snacked and reminisced on their times in the Si Wong Desert, imitating each other, tossing back witty banter and barreling over at their inside jokes. The group didn't often hear a real, hearty Toph laugh, but Sokka relished in the sound when it happened, even more so when he was the one to cause such a sight. The way she threw her head back, suppressing nothing and letting all of her joy tumble out of her mouth, boyish yet high-pitched and childlike. And sometimes, in those rare instances like this one, he had said something just stupid enough to cause her to curl over herself, clutching her stomach and shaking while no laughter poured out at all, until her head lifted back up to wipe the tears from her eyes and catch a breath, if she was able. He had grown to enjoy her company so much over the time they had known each other.

"…and she's always sucking the fun out of everything, Sokka. Hate to break it ya, but your sister is a fun sponge." Toph had been rambling the whole way down the mountain about her tiff with Katara, and Sokka had been mostly tuning it out, having heard her spiels before. The view of the gated entrance was his saving grace.

"I'll race ya to town," Toph challenged, pretending to lift up sleeves on her sleeveless fire nation shirt.

"Alright," Sokka accepted with a grin. "But no earthbending!" He sprinted away mid-sentence, tongue sticking out as he burst down the hill towards the fire nation town. The gates drew closer and closer, Sokka already mentally preparing for his winning speech.

He felt the ground before him give a quick shake before his foot got caught on a rock, causing him to faceplant directly in front of the gate. He lifted his head in annoyance as he watched Toph saunter under the overpass, chiming "Beat-cha."

"You cheated," Sokka whined, sitting up and dusting off his clothes. "You made me trip on that rock!" He turned around and confirmed his suspicion- a very conveniently placed rock was jutting out of the ground, triangular in shape and reeking of earthbending. He turned back to Toph, pouting. She was crossing her arms, a smug smile peaking from behind her bangs. That was just how Toph was, Sokka knew. She was a peculiar person, helping them save the world yet consistently revealing her unstable moral ground. She always seemed to teeter between good and bad, her motivation stemming from a place of convenience and power, neatly disguised in the body of a short, handicapped girl.

"I don't know what you were expecting, Sokka," she laughed, tilting her right foot skyward but keeping her heel grounded. A short pillar of rock knocked against his bottom, forcing him onto his feet. "I mean, I'm literally about to scam a bunch of people."

Sokka whined again in disapproval, rubbing his bottom as they made their way towards the center of town. They passed familiar alleys where previous gambling had occurred. Sokka, while still enjoying their lucrative escapades, was cautious after finding the wanted poster of "The Runaway" and didn't want to test their luck, so to speak.

"Besides," she continued, turning the corner towards their new victim, "I don't think I can not earthbend. If I didn't I wouldn't be able to see where I was running."

Sokka pondered this while she put on her helpless façade and approached the men gambling with rigged dice. He watched from afar as she tossed the dice into the air, her neck crooking ever so slightly to the left as they landed. It was incredible, how she was able to feel the notches in the die, and override the weights in it that had been causing the dealer's victims to fork over their savings. She made it look so terribly easy, and maybe for her it was. Sokka huffed, impressed, as she shyly asked the men whether or not she had won.

When she made her way back to him, clutching a heavy bag of silver pieces in each hand, he slung his arm over her shoulder and said, "And this is why, for you Toph, I'll turn a blind eye."

They had settled down, finding themselves once more in a state of uncommon peace. The breeze was welcome in the heat of the day, and they sighed in contentment at its caress. Their breath mingled together in the air, hovering above them until it began a journey down the riverbank at the mercy of the wind. It picked up, lifting it over the trees, carrying it past the life of the forest and into desolation, over bodies, weapons, scrap metal. It blew past the carcass of a fallen airship, through its nooks, crannies, and catwalks, swirling around in the engine room and gently lifting the short hair of a warrior. It continued through shattered windows, over charred stumps and wreckage. It blew past a boomerang, twirling the ash around it like incense. And finally, the wind carried their breath over the lake, pushing around the tall columns of rock and gently brushing past Aang like a whisper. He turned his head in the direction from which that breeze had been born, and he knew.

After the hundred year war, their journey as a team and a group of friends continued. There were many more battles- losses and triumphs- that they would face. Some in a new world, one they had built together, some in parts that remained untouched, and some in the world that only spirits inhabited.

Sokka was reminded every day thereafter of that morning that marked the end of the hundred year war. Each night he would strip and remove the water tribe wrappings that hid the scars on his arm, and sink himself into a hot bath. He never did answer Toph's question on the beach, upholding a promise he had made to himself. Over the years, he had turned her away, watching her settle with another man, and then another, raising her children alone. His eye on her was kept close, which turned out to be a relatively easy task as chairman of the United Republic counsel. The half moons, the scars that grew to be so precious to him, were an omen and a constant reminder. For this, he was grateful. He would love no one, for those that he loved would be lost. And perhaps he wasn't cursed, perhaps he could share his life with someone. But for Sokka, the risk of it was too great, and he learned to find comfort in watching, protecting, from the sidelines, until the end of his days.

"Right this way, miss Beifong," the acolyte said quickly, taking her arm and guiding her through the temple. Her earthbending had only gotten stronger as she aged, but she was still unable to see through wooden floors.

She was guided into his room, and Katara rose to her feet from the seat of his bed, bending the water she was healing with back into a bowl. "You made it," she breathed warmly, moving quickly across the floor and wrapping Toph in her arms.

"Katara, would you give us a moment?" Sokka asked, his voice lacking its usual spark.

And then they were alone. Toph placed her hand on his chest- his heartbeat weak. It was time, she knew, for his story to end, as she had known when Aang had passed.

"She hasn't been taking it well," he rasped, looking towards the door Katara had passed through. "Take care of her."

Toph couldn't hold back. "Yeah?" Her voice cracked, but she couldn't find the energy to care anymore. "And who's going to take care of me?" She covered her face with her hands and lowered them to her knees, a sob choking out. She couldn't feel the way she usually did. "Dammit," she weeped. "Why do the floors have to be wood?"

Sokka barked out a laugh, pulling her arm away and wiping his hand beneath her dripping eyes. "I want to tell you something," he said, bringing her fingers to his arm and pulling his sleeve up. She dragged her pale fingers across his flesh, feeling four small indentations. "Do you know what this is?" he asked her gently, adjusting the positioning of her hand so that it wrapped around him, her nails fitting into each notch, her thumb resting on the bone where his wrist met his palm. She felt his pulse, stronger now. She could smell ash.

"I knew I would always protect you," he continued softly. "And I think I'm allowed to tell you this now. What I feel, how you've impacted my life. I feel safe telling you, now that I'm the one leaving. But I never let you go. Since that moment, I couldn't let you go."

Her hand fell.

"You turned me away," she said through gritted teeth. "You made it clear to me you didn't want to be a part of my life like that."

"Toph, I wanted to protect-"

"I can protect myself! I would've given you a family- we could've had the world-"

"I couldn't take that risk-"

"I let you lie to my face, all because of this stupid prophecy you kept telling yourself-"

"I love you."

She paused, the pain on her face shattering him. "You denied us", she wailed. "I'll never forgive you for that."

Sokka struggled to pull himself up, but the regret he knew she felt gave him the strength he needed. He couldn't let her hurt like that. He grew lightheaded, not used to exerting the energy.

Toph fell into his embrace and they held each other. Sokka lifted her chin. She had grown so beautiful- smile lines and crow's feet still visible despite the tears. Her eyes, always captivating. She can't see me, he recalled, his memory faltering for a moment. He pulled her in, resting his lips firmly against her forehead. She raised her head, brushing their noses for a moment, letting their breaths intermingle, before kissing him hard and steadfast.

Katara removed the puffy sleeve of her robe that she had used to stifle her sobbing. She sat crouched next to the door that was left cracked open, allowing her to hear what had transpired, what she had always had a suspicion of. She would give anything to talk to Aang, for some consolation. The only family she had left was the generation she had created and would one day leave behind as well. She hugged herself, quietly clearing her throat and wiping away at her face.

To her surprise, Toph had exited the room, pausing near Katara and turning her head ever so slightly in her direction. For a moment, Katara was scared.

"Tell me when it's over," she said hoarsely. And off she went, head held high, down the hall.

Toph had left United Republic shortly after, following a small voice inside her. She struck up camp in the Foggy Swamp, where she sought enlightenment, answers, closure. She gave herself to the earth. She let flashbacks of her childhood, of the war, overcome her, let it teach her. She saw her children grow old, and her grandchildren. She waited for full moons, when a wolf spirit would visit during her meditations, always fleeting, like a breath in the wind.

And over time, Toph found that some friendships really did transcend lifetimes.

[deadbydelight]

I'm in love with soulmate au so maybe a dbd killer of your choosing x reader with soulmate. Like name or the first thing they say. Would be awesome if you did Max the hillbilly with something written on him. Thank you if you do! 😊

This somehow took me so long to finish because of life being harsh lol but I did it and I made it sweet and fluffy cuz why not ? Hope you like !

_________________

Hillbilly x reader (soulmate AU)

You had heard about the rumors around the Coldwind farm. How supposedly a monster or something like that was haunting the place, how you could faintly hear a chainsaw sound if you were close enough to the property...

And you intended on discovering exactly what was in there. You were what you might say, an explorer of haunted places, you had a video channel as well as a blog where you had quite the number of followers and subscribers. You were curious and adventurous, a lot of people said that it would be the death of you... As the expression said, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

You had everything with you, a bagpack with everything necessary for exploration, a flashlight, food, water, ropes, a heavy jacket with a scarf and gloves, your phone and last but not least, your faithful camera.

"Alright guys, here I am, ready to explore the famous Coldwind Farm, you know the one ! Wish me luck!" You exclaimed happily to the camera, your breathing making cloudy pattern in the chilly air of the night.

You were well aware of the fact that no one would answer to your ask for cheering, but it was mostly for the sake of the video. It wasn't easy to stand out in all the people doing exploration stuff, let's not forget you were a lone wolf too, but you were quite proud of what you accomplished so far.

"I'll begin with a brief tour of the farm, then I'll try to get inside, so far so good, haven't heard the famous chainsaw at all... for now."

As you advanced in the unfamiliar place, you felt a shiver ran up your spine. You felt... observed. However you weren't one to back off from such a place just because you had a feeling about it.

"Damn..." you muttered as you made your way in an abandonned corn field.

You had come accross a really large tree on which several cows were hanging, grossly killed and their body pierced by hooks. You made a mental note of putting a warning for this in the video because it might shock and terrorize people and you didn't want that. You were starting to feel a little nauseous yourself, but would that stop you? Nope.

After 20 minutes of exploring you finally heard the famous chainsaw noise... But it was far from where you were at the moment.

"Urg I don't know if I'll have enough content to post this damn video... Am sure as hell ain't sleeping here" you grumbled under your breath (a bit that you would cut from the video of course).

You decided to finally go explore what remained of the actual farm, hoping that you'd find something nice and scary (some might call you crazy but hey, this was how you paid the rent so yeah). Nothing really extraordinary happened either as you went inside. The wood was creaking everywhere, eaten by thermites and the many days of rain that made the walls rot. All in all, the greatest danger here was to be killed by the farm collapsing on itself.

You sighed dramatically, deciding to stop the recording here. But as you looked down on your camera you froze. There was a very big shadow on the floor, and you knew for sure it wasn't yours. You even stopped breathing all together, a sudden wave of panic crashing through you, yet you stayed perfectly still, staring intently at your camera and the shadow. How could you not hear this guy come? Maybe it was all the noises made by the old wood, but now you could hear the mysterious stranger clearly. It was breathing so heavily, it sounded like a mix of an animal and an actual engine.

You began walking, mechanically. Acting like you didn't notice the silhouette that was clearly right behind you. It followed, walking at your exact pace so that you wouldn't hear its footsteps. So whatever it was, it had some kind of intelligence. You gulped as silently as you could, and when the abrupt noise of a chainsaw being turned on right behind you roared, you didn't think twice. You made a mad dash out of the building, throwing the camera without any second thoughts for the rents or anything video related, you just wanted to live.

The wind was cold on your teary face and it was difficult for you to run on the muddy ground, since it rained the day before that. You felt like the mud was slowing you down more than anything and you almost lost it here and there when you heard the chainsaw so close to you. In a desperate attempt, you plunged to your left as you arrived near a tree, getting mud all over you and hurting your ankle along the way. It seems like you were lucky, because whatever was pursuing you with its chainsaw literally crashed on the tree you were just nect to. It yelled, so loud you swore you could have lost an ear right here and there with the decibels. Finally, you had a clear vision of what exactly was haunting the Coldwind Farm. To your surprise it was still... Mostly human.

Still an impressive height, but its face was somehow very diformed, skin completely twisted on its face and shoulder. You could see some actual features on the face, but you could tell that whatever this guy was born as, it wasn't treated as it should have been. It's spine was totally torn and you could see that there was some effect of heavy malnutrition.

You should have run away here and there. Sprint home and never look back. But you couldn't help the slight fascination and curiosity bringing you to stay right here and observe it... No, observe him. You were now fairly sure that he was as human as you. He was still yelling, his chainsaw stuck in the tree and moving his arms wildly as if it had been... Hurt?

You got up as silently as you could, noticing that, indeed, splinters of woods were struck on his right arm. You winced at the sight, it looked really painful. You took the risk of stepping toward him, but this caused him to pay attention to you once again. He stared right back at you and you swore you lost your breathing at it.

So many emotions swirled in those pupils, almost hidden by the skin difformity. Pain, anger, sadness, confusion... But what you mostly saw was fear. He started growling at you, like an animal endangered, and it's where you noticed that even though his chainsaw was stuck in the tree and he was hurt, he still had very nasty looking hammer in his other hand, covered in what you assumed was fresh blood. You took a deep breath. After all, this might just be the end of you.

"Look, I promise I want to help you alright?"

At first he didn't seem willing at all to listen to you, still thrashing around and growling menacingly. But as you approached him while keeping your hands raised to show you wouldn't try anything he seemed to calm down. When finally you were right next to him you shivered, not exactly sure of what you were doing.

"I'll take a look at your arm alright ?"

You were sweating heavily and you could feel his ragged breathing caressing your skin. It was like trying to reassure a wild animal. You made a face  at the shards that were stuck on his arms, they were stuck deeply, blood spilling in thin tricklets. This looked painful.

"I'm going to open my bag and use some product to help you heal. Ok? Ok"

At this point you didn't care anymore, you just wanted to try to help him at least. He was still looking at you warily, but at least he stopped moving so much. You pulled some tweezer that you had in your emergency case and looked straight back at him.

"This is going to hurt. You're ready?"

He stared at you, his eyes boring into yours, then closed them, a silent way to give you the go ahead. You stopped breathing and went to work. He tensed when you began pulling out the shards but he didn't make a single sound. You almost let out a "good boy" that you thankfully kept in your head. You kept caressing very lightly his arm after each shard, trying to soothe as him much as you could.

Why did you want to help him so much? There was something in those eyes that entranced you. You saw more humanity in those eyes than a good number of people you met.

When finally you pulled out the last shard, you allowed yourself to be less tense.

"Good job. This is going to hurt too, but I need to clean your wounds."

He tilted his head at you, maybe wondering what you were doing... or why. He seemed to somewhat understand what you were saying. He grunted when you cleaned his wounds but stayed perfectly still, allowing you to work just fine. Finally you reached for the bandages, rolling it slowly around his arm. You froze as you noticed a little detail on his upper arm. There, on the malformed and bruised skin was a neat handwriting.

Look, I promise I want to help you alright?

Was this really..? You so didn't know what to do. You started panicking a bit inside. Were you hallucinating? You had lost hope of finding that one person so long ago, part of you couldn't believe it. How could you be sure anyway? This guy didn't seem to even know how to talk. You finally came back to your sense when he started to get his arm back. You didn't even realise you were gripping him so hard.

"Oh..." you blushed awkwardly, not really knowing what to say and embarassed by what you just said. "Sorry, I uh, I didn't mean to..."

You were having difficulties forming the words out of your head. Everything was going too fast. He was still staring at you, warily but also curiously. He probably had no idea of what you were doing. And to be honest, you neither.

"I need to go!" You finally cried out all of sudden, making him jump.

You didn't give him the time to react as you ran away from Coldwind Farm. You took a look back, he was still there, staring and unmoving.

"I'll come back alright?! I promise!" you yelled, and you could tell was more and more confused.

But he made a noise. As if saying "alright". This was fine by you. And come back you did. At first it was once a week. Then it became everytime you could actually visit him. You did some research on who lived here before. Turn out it was a farmer couple. They had a son named Max Thompson Junior that was never even brought to school. It didn't take you long to put two and two together, you had deduced that he had been abused by his parents, never properly taken care of and possibly never allowed to have affection in any form.

It made you sick to know that parents would reject their own kid like this... moreover he possibly was your soulmate, so that struck a chord. You still weren't entirely sure that Max was indeed your soulmate, after all he never really said anything understandable apart from noises, their intensity varying with his mood.

At first he was still wary of your visits but you warmed up to him so much, he actually got used to your presence. All that you had in mind was to see him, the more the better, the video could wait... you also discovered that he loved all types of little snacks you brought to him and you were more than happy to make him discover all the delicious food he had never even had the chance to taste before.

Once again you were off to see him, bags filled with all types of food rather than survival supplies. He was there, standing near the corn field, his eyes seemingly lost in the scenery.

"Hey Max!" You called, waving your arm around.

He jumped a bit a your voice (he was quite sensitive to sounds) but turned toward you his face lighting up and the hint of a smile forming on his mishapen lips.

"H...Hey."

You froze at the first word that were finally formed by his mouth. It had been weeks. And finally after hours of you talking to him almost non stop, even though no one took the time to teach him how to speak, he had put the effort to salute you back, just like you always did when you went to see him.

His voice was raspy and almost inaudible by the lack of use but it was there. Tears started rolling on your cheeks and your bag fell on the ground, forgotten in your rush of emotion. He whined alarmingly, not liking seeing you cry like this. Were you hurt? Did someone upset you ? Did HE upset you? His eyes were lit by  worry and panic and you hurriedly dried your tears with your arm, hiccuping a bit.

"Don't worry Max, those are not tears of sadness or pain... I'm just... so happy!"

You showed him your own arm, sleeves rolled up. There was written one small little world. One word that made you go crazy at first. After all what kind of soulmate would just tell you Hey? But right now it felt like the most beautiful word you could hear. After all, he took it upon himself to say it to you.

"You see this? This means we were made from one another !"

You abruptly ran to hug him. He didn't even move with the force but he tensed a bit, not used to the contact, but he eventually relaxed and hug you back, a light but secure grip around you. You weren't even sure if he had any idea about the soulmate thing, but somehow you had a feeling he knew. As he started slowly dancing in a circle with you still in his arms, you had a feeling that he knew.

And you couldn't be happier.

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All the fluff for this sweet boy , I hope it's good enough aaaa

[thenervousmedic]

A coffee a day... (Connor X Reader)

Note : (Dying noises)

Word count : just over 3k.

Chapter 6 : Lose one thing to gain another.

Teenagers can be so cruel.

At a time in your life where every little interaction means the world to you, outside influence can change an angel to a brat or a shy girl into a monster.

Fortunately for you, bullies didn't get to you very often. If anything you found their dumb insults funny because of the many vastly better ones you had already thought of. Just calling you ‘Fat’ or ‘ugly’ wasn't enough anymore- if they wanted a fight they'd have to work for it.

That being said… you had a pretty big weakness. Other bullied students.

You hated watching them get torn to shreds by some tough guy dumbass and their trio of mindless minions.

“G-Gavin, please, I j-just need to get past-” A small, dorky looking, man cried out as he was pushed into the dirt. His glasses skidding across the gravel towards your feet. The bullies shouted mean things, but you barely noticed, interrupting their enjoyment with a rough punch to his face. It stung your knuckles like hell, but the look of shock they gave you was more than worth it.

“Go fuck yourself, Gavin.” You spat harshly as they turned tail to tell a teacher on you; the runty child at your back dusting himself off.

“T-thanks…” He fumbled with his glasses, sliding them awkwardly up a wonky button nose. “You didn't have to.”

“Of course I did.” You scoff proudly, holding yourself a lot more confidently than your new companion. “Come on, you're staying with me now, they won't bother you anymore.What is your name?”

He stares at you, at a complete loss for words, before nodding briskly and taking your hand. “My name Is J-Jayden, you?”

“Y/N.”

--

“Y/N, I must insist you rest-”

“Nuh-uh. You said I should help if I could, so I'm going to help.” Your determination came off as stubbornness but it was all in good intentions. Today was going to be a slow day, but if you could at the very least stay with your two guardians during their work hours you'd feel a little less awkward about being left in Hanks home by yourself.

“Hank, how do I get them to cooperate-” It was then you noticed him watching the two of you. Clearly finding this funny, a big shit eating grin plastered to his muzzle. The lack of drinking the night before meant to hangover- something Hank sometimes wished he had anyway to tolerate Connors non-stop working demeanor.

“Give up, Connor, it's not worth getting your wires in a twist.”

“My wires can't get twisted, lieutenant, they're not-”

“For fucks sake, just forget it-” It was your turn to grin like a dumbass as Connors lip twinged into a tiny smirk. If you didn't know better you'd think Connor was annoying his partner on purpose.

“Don't be too hard on Puppydroid, he's still learning to adapt to your attitude.” You and Hank share an amused glance at one another. Connor suddenly looking a little lost in the conversation.

“In that case he's got a whole lot to adapt to.”

“You don't say?”

The face you made, the rising inflection in your tone, Hank knew what you just referenced and tried not to reply in a joking manner. He had a job to do, as annoying as that was, and the idea of Connor reminding him yet again how much time they were wasting just pissed him off internally.

“Would you like me to catch you up on what we discovered last night? Y/N made some very interesting connections.”

A grumble was all Connor got as everyone left the house, taking that as an invitation to continue. “Y/N brought a speech made by Mr.Kamski to my attention. It has mention of the codeword we are using for our connective focus. Biocode. It sounds like, as well as our mechanical coding, androids have been embedded with experiences that predate our creation.”

“It's like putting your actual thoughts into someone else's head!” You added In the moment Connor paused to let Hank process the information.

“So wait.-" His pace slowed slightly, allowing for the three of you to walk side by side Instead of slightly behind his lead. “-You're suggesting androids have emotions and free will hidden in their code before they deviate? That's insane.”

Connor frowned, clearly wanting to defend your discovery as the police station lurked in the distance. “It would explain the sudden rise in Deviant reports. As well as make sense of how deviancy spreads so easily. Anyone with the key to unlock that source code could potentially deviate anyone they come into contact with. What's worse is that… It might be manipulated if someone knows how to access it.”

“And what about you, Connor, huh?” The way Hank’s growl turned aggravated gave you a sense of caution. How was it a man with only his voice could make you feel safe one moment then urge you to keep away from them the next? “If your ‘theory’ is right, that makes everyone a deviant, just waiting to realise it. That means technically you’re a-”

“I am not a deviant, I have a mission to complete and that’s what I intend to do.” You noticeably flinched as Connor raised his voice, something you’d not seen him do before. That calm analytical  tone was all you were used to, not the sudden burst of anger that had just snapped beside you. His face softened on noticing the concern in your eyes. The abrupt change in temperment sent errors up in his sight here and there.

Hank sighed, it was long, heavy, like someone just let the air out of a very old balloon. “Yeah. You’re right… like you’d give a damn about anything other than the fuckin’ mission.” It was like the witty banter you all shared moments ago had never happened. Something electrical and stone cold squeezed your heart tightly; threatening to break it. A figurative dark cloud hanging over everyone despite the bright sunshine that shone overhead.

Your opinion was an unpopular one. That deviants didn’t need ‘fixing’, that they felt love and hate and everything in between, and your now-gone friend Adam was proof of that. He had dreams and aspirations He was so nice and continued to do his job even after deviating because of how much he enjoyed it. But now you’d…. Never see him again.

It hit you like a truck. Loss, realisation, anger, denial. Everything at once crashed onto your throat making you unable to join in the conversation to ease the tension.

Neither Connor nor Hank seemed to notice, your blank warm-hearted smile masking the inner workings that started to scream out his name. It wasn't too bad. You told yourself it was fine. The guilt you felt at forgetting him so easily, the need to tell him you were sorry, strangled out as a strained cough amongst the silence. It came out almost like a choking sound, Connor’s head turning sharply to look at you with hollow eyes, your composure faltering for but a small second before you started walking regularly again.

It was a lot all at once, but you would handle it… they didn't need to know...

The police station was quite nice, a mix of modern technology and design without compromising any accessibility. People sat at their workplaces in neat uniform with equally neat desks save for a few here and there that were less organised than the others. As always it made you nervous. You had nothing against cops, most of them were really nice people, it’s just the force behind them. People armed to the teeth with ways to subdue and kill you, people trained to appear friendly even if they dislike you in order to uphold the precincts reputation. That being said, there were also plenty of shitty law officers who would gladly talk shit for the sake of doing so. Come to think of it-

“Oh goodie, here comes the walking calculator.” Most everyone, including Connor, completely ignored the voice that approached from afar. Hank headed to his desk, not looking back, as Connor’s path was blocked by a slightly shorter man. He wore scruffy messy clothing, barely enough to make him look like he actually cared about his job, with just as messy brown hair spiking out in all directions. You had to hide an angry grin at noticing the name on his jacket and the crooked scar across his nose. “Got yourself a girlfriend, huh?”

As he squared his gaze with yours the defiant smile you wore was enough to catch him by surprise. “Hi Gavin.” You growled, very uncharacteristically hostile toward the officer as he continued to get in Connor's way. “How’s your face?”

“Better than yours by the looks of it.” He grumbled back, much to Connor’s confusion as you two continued to glare at one another like your eyes were doing all the fighting. He huffed, leaning against the wall in front of you two. “Look who isn’t an officer-”

“Look who is still an asshole-”

“Y/N, please, we have work to do.” Connor’s hand reached for your shoulder as the rivalry escalated, your nerves tingling at the thought of getting to have another fight with your long-time childhood opponent. But he was right. You couldn’t fight him here, it’s literally a police station, and your wound wouldn’t exactly fair well from a scrap either. You shrugged his hand away from your side, crossing your arms with an irritated pout before following Connor as you both walked around Gavin. “You know Officer Reed?” His curiosity was inevitable considering what just occurred.

“Yes. I know Gavin.” The spite in your voice had obviously intrigued the android since he wouldn't stop staring at you expectantly.

“You don't seem to like each other.”

“I broke his nose.” You pointed out, motioning to your own nose before flicking a glance back at Gavin (Who was now sauntering his way to the break room like your conversation never happened.) God you hate Gavin.

“Oh…” Connor’s face expressed an awkwardness that made you smile again, it seems he realised that this conversation would be best left for later. “Well, lets focus on the task at hand.”

--

You were right, today was gonna be a long one, the time seemed to tick on almost as slowly as when you were at your real job. Though it wasn’t really a bad thing, you had plenty of time to watch Hank yell at his boss and glare at Gavin from across the room.

You didn’t want to mention anything about it to Connor, but Gavin had liked you quite a lot in high school… you hated admitting when you were wrong, but you knew for certain that back then you had done plenty of wrong deeds. It was such a shame. Gavin had started out so promising, charming even, and yet during his time with you he just got meaner and meaner. Beating up Jayden was the last straw for you back then, you couldn’t just stand aside and enable his bad habits.

To be truthful you hadn’t meant to break his nose… turns out you punch a hell of a lot stronger than you might think.

“Y/N, come look at this.” Hank had finally said something after seemingly being pissed off at connor for several hours. You jumped at the opportunity to get involved, jogging light bouncy steps to his side of the desk before leaning over to look at his screen.

Rumours of the mass-hostage situation had already gone public, people were ranting all sorts of nonsense online, people were even videoing themselves throwing their androids down pits or off of bridges. Tearing limbs off, beating them with bats, setting them on fire. You could see the fear in their eyes, the pure terror, the complete hopelessness as they bled out blueblood onto the floor.

“Do you think- Hey, you alright?” You hadn’t realised you were tearing up until Hank closed the page and held your arm tightly. “Easy kiddo…”

“I-I’m ok.” you smiled, sniffling while rubbing your eyes roughly with your sleeve. Mind reeling from the sudden outburst of information in your head. “-Just forgot to blink is all.”

But it was too late. You only barely held it together earlier, seeing the androids treated this way was enough to push you over the edge. Tears dribbled uncontrollably across your face despite your best efforts to fight them away. All you were thinking about is not looking upset, and that wasn’t going to plan.

You tried laughing quietly to make it less painful to sniffle back breaths but it wasn’t much help. “Hey, hey, it’s ok. Don’t be like that.” A large pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders, comfortably cuddling you up against a rough shirt. Hank’s concerned voice was almost fatherly and as much as it was getting him strange looks he was doing his best to calm you down. Rocking ever so slightly from side to side as you sobbed helplessly into his arm. “It’s alright, you’re ok, let it out.”

“Lieutenant?” Connor had risen from his desk, watching with conflicted confusion as Hank held you in an almost protective stance.

“I’m ok.” You whimpered softly, at this point numb to the fact you were breaking down in a public place.

Adam was gone, Connor had almost been destroyed, and you had nobody to go to. Knowing next time you go to work, after all of this, you’ll walk into an empty building and spend the day with a replacement android… it was tearing at your throat. You'd never hear his laugh again. Never see the cute happy dances he did when talking about coffee, or the beaming grin that welcomed you every single morning without fail. He was so sweet, why did he have to die? He didn’t deserve that! It wasn’t fair!

“He w-was alive, Hank, he was D-deviant.” You mumbled past the hitched breaths, already feeling the burning stare that was Connor's eyes on your back. It made you shiver. You didn’t feel safe. “Why are people treating androids like this- they’re not just MACHINES!” you pushed Hank away, struggling out of his grip before harshly clutching at your stomach as it began to ache.

Connor caught you as you stumbled backwards. His grip was unwavering- unlike hank’s gentle hold. “You have to calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself-”

“Yeah that’d really slow you down wouldn’t it Connor?” You sounded bitter, and wow did it sting. You couldn’t see past the blurry vision, but his face looked utterly heartbroken. It’s like someone just told him his dog died, his grip slackened enough for you to realise what you had said might’ve been a little harsh. He had insisted he wasn’t deviant…. But you knew he had something in there. Whether it was emotion or just an accurate simulation of them you felt an immediate regret for saying what you did.

“I’m… sorry.” He let go, taking a step away while you finally managed to rub the water off of your face. “T-that was uncalled for.”

“No, it’s alright, you’re experiencing delayed symptoms of mourning. The android you worked with must have been very close to you. This is ok-.” Hank, who had backed away a little, gestured your way. Encouraging Connor to take control of the situation. He was hesitant but eventually leaned our towards you- lightly cupping you in his embrace much like how Hank had done before. You didn’t fight it, but you didn't hug back either, just kind of leaning on him with your forehead on his chest. You could swear you could feel his ‘heart’ bumping underneath his jacket. “You are ok now, just try to breathe.”

You tried, god you tried so hard, but the more you put effort into it the more you sniffled and paused. It was eventually possible to take longer, less shuddering, breaths. You didn't have the energy to feel embarrassed or ashamed. The periodic ‘babump’ of the Thirium pump beneath his shirt was something to focus on, your upcoming headache making you groan irritably. “It was nice having you in today but I think it’s about time to take you home.” He let go of you, keeping one arm over your back and around your shoulder so he could walk you out.

You were silent almost the entire walk home. Barely noticing the aura of worry and unease that radiated from your assistant…

--

It was like how he imagine being shot must have felt, hearing what you had said, the burning in his chest sending false system reports through his processor. Yes, yes it would slow him down, but it wasn’t like that. He didn’t want you to be safe just for the sake of the mission - but even the thought of wanting outside of his objective was… doing something. Was it… fear? Did he fear the idea of thinking he’s more than just hardware built for a certain purpose? Surely not, that’s silly. Androids don’t feel fear.

“Deviants do.” He mumbled aloud, not realising he had done so until your sore reddened eyes were spotted tiredly googling up at him. “Your coworker. He was deviant?”

He could almost see the pain that shot into your gaze before you looked back at the street. “Yeah…” He was going to have to dig if he was going to get more than that, your appeared exhausted despite getting more than enough rest for a woman your age.

A bit of time passed before he eventually tried again, giving you a moment to think. “Deviants feel fear and anger, unlike regular androids, why would you want that?” It was unclear why, but you truly did seem to believe that deviancy was a good thing despite all the trouble it has caused.

“That's only one side of the coin, Connor, fear isn’t everything.”

“But it is a part of it…”

“Yes, of course it is!” Your voice raised ever so slightly but a sore throat calmed it back down. The sadness slowly melted away as you spoke about it, getting replaced with some quieter form of passion that bubbled deep under the surface. “Anger and fear exist but that’s not the point, the point is there's better feelings than those ones. Like contentment, happiness, pride-”

“Love?” His contribution made you hesitate. Was he wrong? Love was certainly something… able to tear a man apart or rebuild him from the ground up. Connor’s experiences with these emotions were limited to reading their definition out of a dictionary or observing what they did to others.

“Yeah…” your cheeks had turned red, a fever? No. you were.. .what's the word… blushing. His LED spun yellow, unable to look away at the lost look on your face, totally immersed in whatever it was you were thinking about.

“…I think I’d like to feel that someday.” He should’ve thought more carefully about saying these words out loud. If Cyberlife caught wind of this it would mean being deactivated to erase those thoughts. But this wasn't on his mind right now.

It's like he's seeing you for the first time. That faint sparkle in your eye, every little imperfection on your skin, the way a few stray strands of hair curled down across your forehead. His Thirium pump having the same system error he had experienced before. “You'd need to deviate to feel love, Connor, you said…” Your heart rate had increased, coupled with another number of minute details that surely only an android would notice. Otherwise in your tone, the way your pupils dilated when they met his own.

Hanks house stood in front of both of you as he let go, fighting quietly with the choices laid out before him. Taking as much effort as he could muster to ignore his prime directive. He could feel the way your heart skipped a beat the moment he put both hands firmly on either shoulder. Bringing you forward to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead, the fire he'd felt in his chest before slowly smouldering back to life as he took a step back and tried not to betray the fear that churned at his stomach.

“Rest. I will come back soon.” He turned back the way you had come. Leaving you flustered and confused on the dirtridden path.

[ijustwant2write]

Workplace Drama-Brock Rumlow x Reader One Shot

(GIF credit to owner)

Masterlist

Summary: requested by anonymous: ‘Hello! Thank you for writing Brock Rumlow imagine. They are not many and when i find them they are My favourite thing ❤❤❤ I wondered If you can write one with Brock, they are colleagues and argue about everything but they are secretly in love or Brock is really jealous of Captain America getting your attention. Thank you!!!’

Characters: Brock Rumlow x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)= Your name (Y/L/N)= Your last name (Y/F/N)= Your friend’s name

Warnings: Swearing, arguing

A/N: I’M SORRY THIS IS SO LATE

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

Sweat was rolling down my face as I ran on the treadmill, pushing myself to do more. Training wasn’t a fun task but I had to keep up with my fitness, what with being a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. It wasn’t busy in the gym, only a few other people besides me. Everyone was keeping to themselves as usual, all except one.

“You’re lacking a little today (Y/L/N).” Brock commented as he climbed on the treadmill next to me.

“Keeping tabs on me now Rumlow?” I snapped back.

“Someone has to. You’re getting older remember.”

“Not as old as you.”

He started running, matching my pace.“How do you know how old I am?”

“I don’t. But your face gives it away.”

Brock and I never got along. Ever since I joined the STRIKE team, problems had always occurred between us. He was the team leader but I never agreed with his decisions, causing a lot of arguments. I wasn’t going to back down from him, others may be scared of him but I wasn’t.

“You’re crossing a line agent.” He said, increasing his speed past mine.

“You say that every week.”

“And I mean it.”

I started to slow down before coming to a stop. I couldn’t concentrate with him around.

Brock called out to me over his shoulder.“Don’t forget, mission briefing tomorrow morning, seven am sharp.”

Without saying anything back, I made my way to the changing rooms, desperate to get home. It was obvious what was going to happen tomorrow morning during the briefing. The last mission wasn’t so great, I went against Brock’s orders again, but ended up making the task much easier as well as quicker.

“Oh, you’re angry. Let me guess, was it because of a certain STRIKE team leader?” (Y/F/N) noticed as I climbed into her car.

“Urgh, who else annoys me this much?” I groaned as we started to drive home.

“You know, he wouldn’t get so pissed about your attitude to work if it wasn’t for that stupid party.”

“We said we would never speak of that again.”

“Well, rules are supposed to be broken according to you.”

I said nothing.

“(Y/N), that can’t come between you and your line of work. He seems to have forgotten about it, why can’t you?”

They didn’t understand, it was too embarrassing for me to come back from. Before I was put on the STRIKE team, I had actually met Brock at one of Tony Stark’s parties, I only got invited because my friend got us in. I knew who he was, though I wasn’t sure if it was the same for him, instantly feeling weak at the knees. Who could resist him? A gorgeous, alpha male man that could easily sweep you off your feet, literally. Throughout the night we had flirted, it was just a bit of fun really. But when I was put on his team the following week, he completely changed. I wasn’t expecting the Brock I saw at the party, however he was awful to me; no one else was treated this way, so why was I? When I confronted him about it (in the most polite way possible) he spat it right back in my face, suspending me from duty for the rest of the week. “Just get me home.”

Walking towards one of the elevators, I yawned quietly, hating that I had to come in for this one meeting. It was all going to come crashing down on me. The doors opened and as I stepped in, someone followed closely by. Looking up, I huffed as I saw Brock. I had to push back the thoughts of how good he looked out of his usual uniform and in normal clothes. Nothing was exchanged between us, not even a glance. A few other members of our team joined, though that did nothing to break the awkward tension. As we all filed out, Jack Rollins pulled me back, looking frustrated himself.

“This shit has gone on for far too long. It needs to stop if we’re going to keep on working as a team.” He hissed.

“You should talk to our so called team leader. He’s the ones causing problems.”

Not wanting to discuss it further, I pushed past him into the conference room, sitting furthest away from the leader. Captain America would be in the room too, he had yet to comment on the matter. As everyone started to take their seats, he leaned over to me.

“Agent (Y/L/N), I just want you to know that I agree with you on this one. You did the right thing.” he whispered.

I smiled.“Thank you Captain. It feels nice to be appreciated for once.” I made my last sentence a little louder.

Brock glanced over at me, slamming his folder down on the table.

Steve could tell who I was angry at.“He doesn’t realise a great agent when he sees one.”

“Now you’re just flattering me.”

The meeting started, Brock obviously leading it. I felt his eyes piercing into me even when I wasn’t looking at him. Not everyone agrees with how he treated me, not able to speak up for the fear of losing their position on the team. As he went through the mission, any faults that happened were directed at me. Yes, I had gone against training and protocol but I saved our lives. Not many people had thanked me for that. Whenever I was brought up, his tone would be mocking, asking me stupid questions that I already knew the answer to.

“You’re suspended from the next mission.” He finished after ten minutes of ranting.

“Yes sir.” I tried not to sound disrespectful.

“Rumlow, I don’t think that’s fair.” Captain Rogers spoke up.

I looked to him in surprise, as did everyone else.

“Why is that Captain?”

“I understand that Agent (Y/L/N) made some mistakes, there will be consequences for that. However, she is needed on this team, especially for the next mission, we need her insight.”

“I can’t, she may jeapordise it.”

“She might. But how will we know?” This was not like Rogers. He followed the rule book, he was the golden boy. Perhaps he really did believe in me. Everyone looked back to Brock who seems undecided now.

He quietly sighed.“Fine. Extra training every night this week.”

I smiled at Rogers before answering.“Yes sir.”

When the meeting finally came to a close, I didn’t follow my team mates, instead looking for the super soldier. Having to break out into a small jog, I caught up with his long strides.

“Captain Rogers?” I called out.

He turned around.“Yes, (Y/L/N)?”

“Thank you for what you did back there. You really didn’t have to stick up for me but it is very much appreciated.”

“I couldn’t let him do that to you. Just know that I won’t be so persuaded in the future. Rules are out in place for a reason.”

I nodded.“Of course. Thank you again.” With another smile from him, he walked away from me. The captain was such a sweetheart, he derserved the best. That personality with that body and face? God had been very generous with him. My happy hour had comet to an abrupt end as Brock grabbed my shoulder, harshly spinning me round to face him.

I pushed him away.“Hey-”

“Shut up.” He snapped, holding onto me again as he shoved me into an empty conference room.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I prepared for the worst.“If you’re just going to shout at me-”

He interrupted again.“What the hell was that about?”

“Someone actually understood that my actions are beneficial to the team.”

“Not that. You two seem close.” he mimicked my stance.

“Close? We work together and not a lot either. I would say he was just a colleague to me.”

“That’s what you’re calling it now? You sure nothing is going on?”

“No. And if it did, why would I tell you?”

“Just don’t go after him. Pretty sure a lot girls get their heart broken over that.”

I shook my head in confusion.“Sir, why are you suddenly interested? What difference would it make?”

“You just can’t be with him.”

“Brock, please start making sense.”.

“You’re so frustrating!” he suddenly raised his voice, his hands coming down as fists.

I didn’t retort.

“You don’t even know you’re doing it. Eveyday it’s the same torture. There’s no way we could be a thing so you constantly get me heated up to release some of that tension.”

My mouth was open in shock.“Excuse me?”

“Ever since Stark’s party, you’ve been playing on my mind and I’m getting sick of it.”

“I have?”

“Yeah! But I see you with the captain and know you deserve someone like that over me.” He hadn’t noticed me now standing in front of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

“Because we’re trained not to show this side of us.”

“So? You know me. Who cares about rules?”

“You wouldn’t want me. Not after getting to know me.”

“How do you know until you try?”

His eyes narrowed.“What if it all goes wrong? If I treat you like dirt?”

“Brock, I’ve seen your other side remember? Just give me the carefree, flirty, full of himself in a good way Brock. Please? We could make this work! Ever since the party it’s been so daunting to even be near you. And you were right about me making you pissed off all the time. It was the only way I’d get your attention.”

He wavered a little, eyes locked together with mine. I closed the space between our bodies, not losing eye contact. As I reached up, he suddenly pulled away.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Who fucking cares? I’ve waited too long for this.”

[trollmarket-dog]

See you had to say something about Barbara’s behavior, and now you’ve got me thinking about Barbara’s behavior, and my literally favorite thing is taking behaviors given in canon anything and working backwards to try and find the source, and I bet you I could peg her backstory like a fly to a wall if there was any thought put into it. 

People like to gripe that Barbara has WAY too nice of a house for a single mother, even a single doctor. I’m also too lazy to find the clip, but I’m pretty sure that when Toby talks about Jim’s dad to Blinky, he mentions that he and his girlfriend ran off to some resort together, which means that’s something he could afford, or was in social circles to meet someone who could afford it. Barbara gets her son a kitchen appliance for his birthday, which can be very expensive, and her complaints about the vehicle were less about price and more about his safety. Her house is also WAY to clean to be kept up by a teen, even one as responsible as Jim, especially when things get more destructive or busy, so she probably has a maid come in every once in a while to scrub grout. 

Barbara lives an upper middle class life, at worst, on a salary that’s easily 350,000 bucks a year, and claims every now and again that she keeps needing to pick up hours.

She not only lives at this quality of life, but she’s used to it enough to worry when it’s threatened rather than downsize in REALLY OBVIOUS ways, so she probably comes from a place of decent wealth.

This is important. 

She also looks very young for her age, and her marital split could be blamed on her need to focus obsessively on her career, but if Jim’s father was anything but absolute scum and actually had the bond with his son that the show claims, that’s the sort of thing that can be worked around successfully, even if it’s breaking up and co parenting. 

But if Jim’s father and Barb were just completely incompatible, say… two young kids who thought they were romeo and juliet and married young without feeling out a relationship first, then yeah, Jim was at about the right age for that to be falling apart.

So she come’s from a place of wealth, with a great big house and a nice car and a really great foundation and what I’m saying here is that Barb has probably never ever at all been without financial support in her life.

And she married young into a loving marriage and when that split her son IMMEDIATELY took up the emotional role that her husband once took.

yes, I’m saying that Jim was her emotion husband I’m trying to make it sound not gross but there it is. 

Which yeah it’s a great narrative, lonely mom and awesome son come together after being abandoned by the world/a guy but from a real life perspective it’s not good. But ultimately Barb has also never been without some kind of emotional support either. Barb has never learned to really function on her own

And Barb… is not a giver, she’s a taker. She was raised right, that’s for sure. She’s aware of how much she’s taking up from other people. She knows she’s putting Jim in a position of responsibility she shouldn’t, but it’s necessary to keep their quality of life (again, a place of wealth, downgrading doesn’t occur to her at all) She also loves and lives for her job, but it’s ok as long as Jim is ok with it (she tells herself she’ll change it if Jim is ever not ok with it, but he’ll never not be ok with it, this is how he was literally raised) She knows she lets a lot of her emotional burdens off on Strickler with little reciprocation a lot, she states it right out in a lot of their one on ones, but he’s ok with it so, so is she. She doesn’t give, she takes, and her version of giving is “taking less if someone asks me to”

She knows she needs to give in relationships, but she’s always been so nurtured that she’s literally never learned to do that, and that’s especially apparent when Jim’s life starts to fall apart in the latter series.

Bringing back the awful term “emotion husband” (and I’d like to clarify here that I don’t mean this in any way as incestuous), it’s really apparent that Barb treats her son as an emotional equal (there it is, the better term!). The show makes no qualms about Jim having at least some degree in jealousy on Strickler taking up a space he once occupied in his own mother’s life.

And when Strickler enters her life and starts to fill her emotional needs in a much more gratifying way, and also probably any other needs she might have been craving in a relationship, safely, she now starts acting on all those promises to let her kid be a kid that she’s been telling herself all Jim’s life.

But again, Barb is very bad at giving.

She expects Jim to be the mature adult that she’s been treating him. She’s a doctor, but her mind never goes to a lot of the really bad places that she knows, as in probably has personal experience seeing as an upper class California doctor, that kids like Jim get drawn into shitty things like drugs and bullying and gangs all the time, but not her kid because he knows better.

She also expects Jim to be the kid he’s supposed to be, even though he’s never been treated this way. She’s finally giving him this, and his response is to pull away from it like it burns, and it’s frustrating.

Barb also very much perceives herself as the parental authority, because it’s never been questioned before. Of course her son is going to come to her with his issues, it’s her place as a parent. Except he’s never had the kind of issues he’d prefer she not be a part of so she doesn’t know how to get him to open up. Of course he’s going to respect her authority for things like grounding, except she’s let him have equal responsibilities and free run in the house and has absolutely no sway in setting his boundaries. Of course he should be ok with her dating his teacher, they had got along fine until that moment and he should recognize her ability to judge people (also on the side for complexity he’s always been supportive of her happiness and the abrupt turn around probably seems like a direct attack on this again, she tends to view Jim as an equal partner) 

So she’s making a conscious effort to treat her kid like a kid, gets frustrated when he responds like an equal, and then automatically responds like he’s an equal in turn (cold shoulder and such are BAD responses in equal relationships, but that’s where they typically show up, and Barb has the relationship fixing skills of a teenager because that all she’s ever needed)

I’m not saying she’s doing it on purpose or is stupid or bad. She actually seems more than aware of what she needs to be doing theoretically, but her very nature as a taker in relationships has never being questioned seriously, her lack of experience in stressful situations like this and in relationships in general, Barb just… doesn’t know what to do, and it’s all coming to a head at once. These are the kinds of issues that should have been dealt with a long time ago and at a very slow pace, and Barb just doesn’t know how to get there or how to even start.

And what’s sad is that in all this mess is that Jim is acting exactly as he’s been raised. He is essentially keeping house, and trying to keep Barb’s life stress free, but on a huge level by pushing her as far away from the danger and stress as he can. He’s forcing his home life to be as normal as possible for her, and he’s using her own logic of “it’s ok if it’s a bit sucky now we’ll work it out later when things are better” to justify his disregard of authority. He also views his mother as an emotional equal, and is sure she’ll understand when the time comes, so what she says now, like “you’re grounded”, it doesn’t matter.

tldr: Barb views her child as both and equal partner, and as a child under her authority, and there was literally no response Jim could have possibly made to her actions that would have justified both of those mindsets. She’s also got the relationship stress reactions of a 13 year old which only serves to upset her authority more. She means well, but just plain doesn’t have the skills as a parent or as an adult needed to respond the way she should be

(after point) On the final note of Barb never being without emotional support, I’m really interested in season 2 because of this. Either Jim will be back right away throwing away a good plot potential and nothing will change (BOOOOO HISSSSSSS), Barb will have to learn how to cope with being alone as a human being and have some personal growth just in time to become a better and more supportive parent (probably not, having an authority figure in his life that is no doubtingly against fighting to the death is against kid power fantasy rules)

Or she’s going to go running to the first sign of emotional support she can grab onto, and the reversal for the life merging spell suggests that she only looses her memories up until the point the spell was cast.

So her son is gone and the one person she was gradually relying on well, the latest memories of him were of tea and small meetings, the last date before the first kiss. The framing of his apologies and his agony when the spell was broken also hints that those will be embedded into Barb’s psyche and possibly reoccur. Strickler is probably a GREAT idea in her mind. I will not be surprised at all if she reaches out to him and convinces him to be part of season 2. not necessarily the healthiest choice, but it’s convenient for the plot!

---

holy shit dude you wrote a whole essay on this. first of all thanks cuz uh wow good job! 

also a lot of this you’re seriously not wrong on and i’m just like ‘yeaaaaahhh pretty much’.

[be-more-boyf-riends]

Michael attempts suicide in the bathroom and jeremy finds him? I apologize. I'm a total slut for suffering.

Hi!! Thank you so much for the recommendation!! This fic is super long compared to my other one-shots I got rly into it lol. I hope you enjoy!!

I did some LIGHT research but not a ton so a large amount of this is NOT TRUE!! If you overdose on adderall, it is not possible to not get the side effect the nurse mentions. None of this is stated as scientific fact, it is all a writer twisting fact to fit their narrative - please keep this in mind!!

OBVIOUSLY A MASSSSIVE WARNING FOR SUICIDE ATTEMPTS AND DRUG OVERDOSES PLEASE STAY AWAY IF THATS BAD FOR YOU!

(Word Count : 1,933)

Michael stared in the mirror, the banging from outside becoming louder and louder in his eardrums. He watched the tears stream down his cheeks, breath getting caught in his throat as he struggled to keep himself upright. Thoughts raced through his head. Jeremy was out there - Jeremy was alone now. MICHAEL was alone now. He officially had no one ; he was officially…alone. Nothing he did had any significance. Nothing he did effected anyone, since no one was around him. His parents were constantly off on business trips, coming home once every six months if they even felt like it and sending him bills to pay for the house and food. He had no family. And with Jeremy gone, he no longer had any friends either. He didn’t have any animals - he wanted some like hell, but could never afford them, all considering. It was a shock the boy could keep up his weed habit, but it sometimes felt like smoking weed was the only thing keeping him sane. He felt his panic attack grow as his mind raced, his thoughts spitting out horrible, demeaning words. “Why don’t you just kill yourself…?” Something in the back of his head cooed, causing for his body to shiver. “We’re in a bathroom - Jake must have some pills somewhere. Open the cabinets.”Shakily, not even fully aware of his actions, Michael reached up. He ripped open the cabinet, ignoring the other side of his brain that begged him to be rational. He rooted through all of the medicine in the cabinet - ibuprofen wouldn’t do shit, and neither would the stupid childrens cough medicine. Michael knew he could somehow find a razor if he looked hard enough, but that was too much blood for some innocent person to have to clean up. His saving - or damning? who knows - grace came at the very back of the cabinet. With shaking hands, he pulled out a small bottle of Adderall, breathing immediately becoming heavier as he realized that he was actually about to do it. He scrunched his eyes tightly closed, thoughts running through him at a thousand miles per hour. Was he actually about to do this? Yes, he was. Nobody gave a shit about him - his own best friend of TWELVE FUCKING YEARS shoved him aside. Practically spat on him. Called him the same thing they had spent their entire LIVES being called. Michael quickly came to one realization - there was no place on this world for him. Nobody on this world for him. He didn’t belong here. Nobody cared, and nobody would cry. He was unwanted. He was useless.He was just some stoner loser. With that last thought, he tore open the cap, the tears streaming down his face in rapid fashion, making it harder to see. He dumped a large amount of pills - way more than the recommended dose - into his palms, downing it without thinking. He did that again, determined to make sure this worked. At first, he started shaking. Then, he collapsed to the ground, sputtering and gripping his chest. Weakly, he registered it as a seizure, and he knew it was too late at that point. He heard the door slam open. He heard screams, voices yelling for someone to call an ambulance. He felt arms reaching down and cradling him, arms he recognized. He was able to peel open his eyes for half a moment, just in time to catch Jeremy’s bright irises, before he completely shut down and everything went black. 

Jeremy was talking with Jenna when it happened. It all happened in a blur, but he remembered the main actions. Two boys ran up to him, screaming that some kid had attempted suicide in the bathroom and was having a seizure next to a spilled bottle of pills. Jeremy felt his heart drop, but he didn’t pay it any mind at first - he was sure Michael would’ve just left the party silently and sulked home. When he saw the boy in question - his best friend of twelve fucking years, laying on the ground and convulsing, he felt his heart shatter in his chest. “MICHAEL!!!” He screamed, running over to the shaking boy and weakly grabbing him. He propped his body up on his legs, completely unsure what to do while someone was having a seizure. He cradled his head, whispering soft comforts to him as he waited for the ambulance to get there. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. “Don’t worry,” he sobbed into Michaels hair, holding it tightly in his hands. “Fuck, Michael, I’m so sorry. When you wake up - fuck you, you’re GOING to wake up - I’m going to apologize, and let you know how fucking MUCH you mean to me. Fuck, fuck. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” He rocked back and forth, holding the other tightly and murmuring, more for his own sake than his friends. The ambulance arrived, took Michael away, and left. Jenna offered to drive Jeremy behind them, and he took it in a heartbeat, willing to do anything to be with Michael right now. They got to the hospital only a few minutes after Michael, but the boy had already been rushed into surgery to get his stomach pumped. That left them waiting in the waiting room for what felt like days upon days, but in reality was roughly 3 hours. Jeremy couldn’t settle down, no matter how hard he tried. He paced the room, wringing his hands and shooting his head up whenever a nurse came out to announce a name. Whenever it wasn’t Michael, he would lower it slowly, and continue to pace. At no point did Michaels parents show up, despite the fact they were contacted right away and asked to get there as quickly as possible. The knowledge that his parents felt it more important to be off wherever they were on a business trip than to come be with their hospitalized, suicidal son filled Jeremy with unbridled rage - but he would solve that later. For now, the only thing he cared about was in an operating room. Finally, a nurse came over, smiling a smile at Jeremy that made him almost feel happy. “Michael Mell?” She called, Jeremy rushing over to her as fast as he could. Jenna followed along - she promised Jeremy she would stay with him. Jake had also arrived, since it was his house and he felt particularly bad, despite the fact he did nothing to instigate it. The rest of the teens had gone home to deal with the sights they had seen, but sent their best wishes to Michael getting better. “First of all, he’s alive.” The nurse started, and Jeremy nearly collapsed with relief. He felt tears brimming up in his eyes, but he couldn’t cry just yet - not until he knew Michael was alright alright. Being alive did not equal being okay. “Second of all, you guys were EXTREMELY lucky in the fact that i don’t think he had any long lasting damage. He smashed his head a couple of times, so he has a significant concussion. Other than that, he has a few bruises, and his stomach will be extremely upset for the next few days. Most people who have seizures from overdosing on adderall - well, they don’t survive. Of those who do, they have spinal issues that haunt them for the rest of their lives, injuries from falling into things and permanent brain damage. I cannot stress how lucky he is that he did not have any of these issues.”Jeremy started crying. He couldn’t help it - the words filled him from head to toe with relief. Sobs left him, despite the squip - who had been screaming at him the entire time to stop wasting his time in here - yelling at him to stop being such a pussy. He held his hands over his eyes as he hiccuped, pure relief flooding through him. “Okay…” he muttered out weakly. “He’s gonna be okay…” “He is.” The nurse patted his arm gently, smiling softly at the boy. “He’s going to be completely fine. Now, he’s awake, but barely. You can come in to visit him, but we request there only be one person - he’s still a bit out of it and we don’t want him feeling stressed or overwhelmed.”Immediately, Jake and Jenna stood back, looking at Jeremy. That was good, Jeremy thought in the back of his head - if anyone had tried to go in instead of him, he would’ve fought them. “I’m going.” He murmured, and the nurse turned to lead him. The second she opened the door to the small hospital room, he ran forward. Michael was awake - but barely, head rolling to the side and eyes lidded as he struggled to stay awake. Jeremy fell to his knees next to the bed, grabbing and holding Michaels hand tightly. “I’m so sorry-” he started immediately, but to his surprise, Michael cut him off. “Don’t be…” he muttered, a loopy and sad giggle leaving him. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. It was…I was…stupid.” He shifted in the bed, obviously uncomfortable but trying to hide it. “No. No, it’s okay.” Jeremy rushed, tilting Michaels head up so he was looking into his eyes. “I don’t blame you at all. Please, just - my god, Michael, never do that again, I’m begging you. That was so fucking terrifying, and I didn’t mean a fucking word I said, and I was so SCARED that you were going to die actually thinking I hated you because that’s literally the opposite of the truth I love you and-”He came to an abrupt stop, realizing what he had just said and slapping a hand over his mouth. “w…What…?” Michael slowly stuttered out, eyes widened as his brain rushed to keep up with what he had just heard. “Y…You what…?”“I’m sorry.” Jeremy said immediately, waving his hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that - you just woke up from a surgery and you’re out of it and that’s SO not something to put on you right now and-”Jeremy was cut off by the lips pressed against his. He let out a loud squeak, entire body going rigid before he slowly sunk into it. He subconsciously wrapped his arm around Michaels shoulders and pulled him closer, making sure not to hurt him in the process. “O…Oh…” he murmured once they pulled away, eyes wide as he stared his best friends. He found the others hand, squeezing it tightly and taking a deep breath as he tried to formulate what he was going to say. “O…Okay. Let’s..”“I love you too.” Michael murmured, moving forward to bury his head against the others neck. “And the lights in here are way too fucking bright. I want them off.” Jeremy’s cheeks burned a bright red, but he couldn’t help but giggle at the words. “I’ll see what the nurse can do.” He whispered, intertwining his fingers in the others hair. He dropped another kiss on his head, closing his eyes and just focusing on Michaels presence. His breathing, his shifting, the rise and falling of his shoulders - his everything. Things weren’t fixed, by any means. Jeremy still had the squip, and Michael still had mental issues that, added to everything, were really the things that drove him to a suicide attempt. Things weren’t pretty, and they sure as hell wouldn’t be easy.

Jeremy was still terrified, but he thought that as long as they could stay like this, nothing would be able to hurt Michael ever again.

[sly-helador]

My Rock

Akaashi and Bokuto have been in a relationship for a little while now. A little before Nationals, Bokuto tries to take the relationship a little too fast and Akaashi reacts differently than he expected.

This is my asexual Akaashi one-shot that I just finished. It’s also on my ao3 account Sly_Helador if anyone wants to check it out.

There. That’s the perfect spot.

Akaashi sent a toss to his team’s ace, Bokuto. He had gone through this type of toss for him hundreds of times. It had basically become muscle memory.

The toss went up into the air right into the palm of Bokuto’s hand. Then in an instant, he shot the ball down to the court. The ball was as unstoppable as the duo that did played with it. No blockers were able to stop it from demolishing their blocks.

Just like it started, the spike was done. They made the point. No reason to linger on it more than necessary. At least, that’s how Akaashi saw it. He only briefly checked the accuracy of his setting and set to improve upon that. The set was not exactly right.

While he was doing this he saw out of the corner of his eye was the other half of the spike partnership, Bokuto. Just like always, Bokuto was celebrating this point like it was the best point ever made in the history of volleyball, or even in human history. He waved his arms around excitedly in a boasting way while the rest of the team humored him by cheering along. However, poor Bokuto did not quite understand that their applause was mostly for show. They all had seen this spike from him over and over.

Oh, he's coming over here. I'd better congratulate him on that spike.

"Bokuto-san good job on that spike. You were able to spike past two of out blockers just like always. I hope that my toss was like you wanted. It wasn't quite right," he stated.

Bokuto turned his head towards Akaashi, a look of disbelief on his face and exclaimed louder than needed, "Oh Akaashi, you always send me just the perfect tosses. I could never ask for a better setter. That toss was as perfect as my spike!"

"Sure Bokuto-san. I'll toss to the best of my ability every time."

"Akaaa-" "You guys, we need to get back to practice. Bokuto! Don't give me those baby eyes! You can't celebrate every point until tournaments start up. It wastes time and energy. Of course, you could keep wasting your time if you want to only run laps for the rest of practice," the Fukurodani coach yelled out with a smug look on his face.

At this, Bokuto lowered his head in a pout and walked back to his position on the court. The next rally started up and Akaashi tried once more to get into the zone. His team served the ball over to the other side of the net. Komi-san received it and sent the ball into the perfect spot for the opposing setter to set. However this setter was only a first year and set the ball too high for Konoha-san to be able to spike it correctly. In a split second decision, Akaashi ran over and jumped to block and, much to everyone's surprise, was able to completely blocked the ball as a single blocker.

Since the point was over, and Bokuto had already been yelled at once today for being too loud, they continued the practice match without much excitement after that point. There were a few decent spikes and receives but nothing noteworthy.

Once practice was called to end, everyone gathered around the coach.

"I know that you all have worked as hard as you can these past few weeks in preparation for nationals, but make sure that you do not destroy your bodies. If you get an injury any time after today, it is almost a guarantee that you will miss nationals. So be careful and nice to yourselves. Dismissed," their coach instructed the team.

"Thanks!" Akaashi and the rest of the team yelled out in true sports team fashion. They bowed and headed towards the club room to change.

Bokuto immediately gravitated towards him. "Akaaaaaashi did you see all of my spikes? I felt super great today. You sent the toss right to me every time and I just knew that it would be there. There's nothing better than a good volleyball practice. Well, except for a game against a really powerful team. Speaking of really powerful teams, we haven't played against Karasuno since the training camp," Bokuto babbled. He stopped for a moment to think to himself. They had reached the club room and both started to change into regular clothes.

"I wonder if shrimpy has gotten even faster than before. Thinking that he has just make me want to keep playing for even longer." He looked over to Akaashi again and pleaded, "Will you practice with me some more tonight? Please Akaaaashi?"

"I will not Bokuto," he replied forcefully.

"But I need to get better to become the best ace. We need to win at nationals."

"I understand, however we need you rested up just as much," he tried. Seeing that it didn't work, Akaashi tried his last resort." We are all counting on you Bokuto-san."

At this, he straightened up and gave his biggest smile." Hey hey hey! I will. But you have to go on a date with me to make up for it. No complaining."

"Fine, but I want some ice cream. You get to pay."

"Man Akaashi, you drive a hard bargain, but I agree. Now let's go." Bokuto grabbed his hand and led him out of the club room. This had taken a little to get used to. The constant touching had been a surprise. A few weeks ago in the middle of the club room, right in front of everyone, Bokuto had confessed his feelings for Akaashi. But right after he did, he sprinted out screaming.

This had left Akaashi a little dazed and he could not focus for the rest of the day. That night, while laying in his bed, he realized that he liked Bokuto back.  

The very next day had him chasing Bokuto around the school in between classes until lunchtime. He had cornered the third year and vindictively said the words, "Stop avoiding me like a little kid Bokuto-san. If you had let me speak, I would have told you that I accept your feelings and reciprocate them. Seeing that I have chased you all day, you can come find me after practice." He then had turned around and walked away.

Since that day, Bokuto listened very carefully to anything Akaashi said. In return, Akaashi let the relationship go at Bokuto's pace. So far all that they did was hold hands and have an occasional abrupt kiss.

One thing that Akaashi had not thought about before their relationship had started was how touchy Bokuto was. He used to only pat Akaashi on the back after a good point in volleyball. Now, he touched Akaashi all the time. They constantly were holding hands or Bokuto was leaning on him. Very brief was a moment where they were not touching in one way or another. This was fine with him.

Bokuto pulled him out of his trance by squeezing his hand to show him that they had left the school and were heading to the nearest ice cream shop.

"Akaashi I'm gonna get the biggest sundae that they have and you're not allowed to have a single bite. I'm gonna eat all of it by myself."

"You won't be able to eat all of it, Bokuto-san. Either way, I don't want any of your sundae. I just want a cup of vanilla."

"Just you wait Akaashi, I'm gonna make you eat your words and your ice cream."

He quite literally attacked the sundae at the start.

Twenty minutes later saw Bokuto laying his torso on the table in the ice cream shop. He was moaning and groaning while clutching his stomach, eyes completely shut. The sundae in front of his was only half-eaten at best. He had stated that he was going to finish it no matter what, but that now seemed unlikely.

Not only was the sundae the biggest Akaashi had seen, it was also the fullest. There were the usual ingredients like bananas, nuts, chocolate sauce, and vanilla ice cream. However, there were also gummy worms, crushed golden Oreos, and a mountain of chocolate chips. The odds were against Bokuto from the beginning. This had only urged him on more.

Akaashi saw the defeat in his eyes and grabbed his arm. "Bokuto-san, I am ready to leave," Akaashi bluntly said.

"But Akaaaashi, I haven't finished my sundae. I am going to..." He ended mid-sentence after he saw the look on Akaashi's face.

He started pouting but stood up and held out his hand. Akaashi took it and led Bokuto out to the sidewalk. They walked a total of about five steps before Bokuto took the lead like normal.

It seems like he has already forgotten about the sundae. That was quicker than I expected.

He was led towards the bus stop that they both get on to and from school. The bus was not scheduled to come for another twenty minutes, since it was so late. There were also no other people waiting on the bus for the same reason.

Bokuto leaned forward and caught Akaashi's lips with his own. They sat there for a few minutes, just kissing slow. Then Bokuto nipped at Akaashi's bottom lip with his teeth. Everything would have been fine if not for the fact that Akaashi flinched. Bokuto felt this and instantly stopped. Akaashi tensed.

"Akaashi, please tell me that didn't hurt. I didn't mean to. Truly. You know how I get carried away a lot. If you are not ready for this, that's fine," he said while waving his arms around Akaashi in a panic.

"You did nothing wrong," he started before being cut off.

"I did. You reacted in the opposite way than what I wanted you to. Tell me. Are you uncomfortable with this?" This made him tense even more than before and that tipped off Bokuto. "I knew it. This makes you uncomfortable. You shouldn't be with me just to please me Akaashi. Let's end this if you are just playing with me."

"No! That's not it Bokuto-san."

"What other explanation do you have then Akaashi?" Bokuto asked him. His whole expression was full of hurt.

"I had hoped to keep this from you but-"

"I knew it! You have been lying to me!" He jerked away and stopped looking in Akaashi's direction. "Well Akaashi, I can't-"

"Bokuto," Akaashi said. He was so upset that he forgot to use the usual honorific. That alerted Bokuto and he looked back to Akaashi.

"What! Wait, why are you crying?"

He hadn't realized that he started crying. Bokuto pointing it out made him discover that he was. This had been too much for him to handle. So, he started spilling everything.

"Bokuto, all of this is making me uncomfortable because I'm asexual."

Bokuto paused before replying with, "What?"

"I'm asexual Bokuto. I didn't want you to find out. It is so close to your graduation. You will be leaving for college, or even pro if you are scouted. If you knew that I will never want to do any of this with you, then you'll leave me and find someone else just as fast." Tears were now spilling down his cheeks. "Now that you know, there is no turning back. I will never want more than simple kissing or hand-holding. I will never want to have a sexual relationship with you."

He said this and turned to run in the opposite direction. However, he only stepped about twice before a hand grabbed his arm. He was pulled into Bokuto's strong embrace.

"I never would have guessed that this is why you have avoided me touching you. Thank you for telling me. I will never leave you for something so petty."

These words made Akaashi start sobbing even more. Bokuto's shoulder started getting soaked in tears. Bokuto knew how to say just the right thing for him to open up. Just like how he could do the same for Bokuto.

"You don't know how much those words mean to me," Akaashi said. His voice was small but truthful.

"Akaashi, you have been there for me for almost two years now. I can be there for you too, if only you tell me what you need. That's what a relationship is. You are my rock. I can only hope that I become yours."

[thisisthee-n-d]

Brave Shine Chapter 2

Chapter 1

*blinks* wow, that was fast, even for me. Guess that’s what happens when I’m on break from school. 

Summary: Perhaps he could have been a little less abrupt about the whole thing…but in his defense, he hadn’t really expected everything to blow up in his face. Quite literally.

Characters: Ken, Takeru, Daisuke, Hikari, Iori, Miyako

Pairing: Daiken

The trees rose up around them, their outstretching branches all but blocking out their view of the sky. The sun faded as they walked deeper into the forest, a muted darkness closing in around the small group. Their feet crunched the brush with slow footsteps, the only sound in the silence that had fallen amongst them. The moment Daisuke had turned his back to rush ahead, those that remained shared a few awkward glances before shaking their heads and following without argument.

Ken had hung back, watching everyone pull ahead of him. Then, his head dropped, his hands curling into trembling fists. He sucked in a slow breath and released it just as slowly, his eyes closing. Wormmon pressed in closer, rubbing at his ankles. He didn’t ask, he didn’t need to. Ken had spoken at length about what had happened a few days prior. After a few minutes, Wormmon moved again, large eyes blinking towards the direction the group had gone towards. “Maybe we should catch up, Ken…” he suggested, turning his head to look up at his partner. Ken’s eyes drifted open, smiling wearily down at Wormmon. He crouched down, running a hand down the digimon’s back.

“Yea, we probably should…Let’s get going then,” he agreed softly. Standing once more, he pulled Wormmon into his arms and began to walk into the forest to join his friends. His pace slow, but steady, he followed the others that had rushed before him, ignoring the brief flashes of warmth when the sun splashed across his body through the spaces between the intertwining branches above. Wormmon was silent in his arms, moving every now and then to glance up at Ken. Ken’s eyes, dark and tired, stared ahead of him, shadowed with bags that only darkened with every passing night. His thoughts began to wander, the image of Daisuke staring at him before running off drifting through his mind.

He'd seemed so…defeated. His eyes, their bright gold normally sparkling with life, had dulled to the likeness of beaten bronze. His shoulders had trembled, struggling to keep upright. The curve of his mouth which was usually pulled taut with an easy-going grin, had seemed fake almost, forced if Ken were to guess. Daisuke had been struggling to hide something, but as to what, Ken couldn’t even begin to guess. After all…it was Daisuke who’d decided to yell…that…at him in front of every single one of their friends.

Ken’s grip tightened around Wormmon, biting down on his lower lip at the memory.

Daisuke had to have found out about his feelings for him and decided to tease him about them…That was the only explanation that he could come up with that made any sort of sense. There was no way that Daisuke actually felt the same about him. And…Ken hadn’t wanted to jeopardize their friendship by speaking about these…ridiculous emotions. So he’d kept quiet, cherishing the moments he had Daisuke shared in the privacy of his own thoughts. But then Daisuke had…

Ken sighed, shaking his head as if to rid himself of these thoughts. He knew he and Daisuke would have to talk eventually, but���after seeing him today…perhaps it was best to wait. He didn’t want either of them to lose their temper and ruin anything.

A crack in the quiet woods jerked him away from his thoughts, Ken glancing up. He paused, blinking at the source of the noise in confusion. Takeru leaned up against a tree, eyes closed and Patamon perched atop his head. His arms crossed over his chest, fingers tapping idly on his shirt sleeve. “Takeru…” Ken whispered. Takeru’s eyes opened and turned to look at him, their bright blue etched with concern. “Ah, sorry. I wasn’t in the mood to rush around today, so I’ll meet you guys there. No need…” Ken trailed off at Takeru’s expression, taken aback by the seriousness that met his gaze.

“Are you alright, Ken?” Takeru asked slowly, staring at Ken with an intensity that made Ken uncomfortable. Ken dropped his eyes, shifting his weight. Those eyes…It was almost like they looked right through him…

“I-I’m fine, Takeru. No need to worry.” The smile that stretched across his face felt fake, as if it had been painted on. Takeru huffed, his frown deepening as he looked at Ken.

“You and Daisuke are full of shit, you know that? Both of you, insisting that you’re fine while obviously forcing smiles on your face for the rest of us. It’s stupid! We want to know if you guys are hurting! We want to help! But both you…just keep pushing us away. I expected as much from Daisuke…but not from you, Ken.” Ken flinched, ignoring the worried titter from Wormmon.

“Sorry… But I really am fine, Takeru. Just…haven’t been sleeping well is all.” Ken resumed walking, keeping his gaze pointedly away from Takeru as he strode past him. “I…think we should catch up with the others.” And without another word, he broke out into a run, ignoring the single tear that slid down his pale face.

Takeru stared as he walked past, sighing heavily before moving to follow him. Worry curled in his stomach, frustration beginning to take root beside it.  

“Stupid…pigheaded…idiots,” he growled under his breath. “We all know something is wrong. It wouldn’t kill either of you to admit it.”

 “Why is it that whenever something is weird, it always leads us to a Koromon village?” Daisuke groaned, glancing around the small village. Standing beside him, Hikari giggled, lifting a hand to her mouth. The Koromon bounced around in greeting, crowding around their feet and filling the air with their loud voices. Daisuke sighed heavily, annoyance flicking across his face. One of his hands moved to lace through his hair, auburn spikes poking through the spaces between his fingers.

“It does seem to happen frequently. Maybe they just like the attention?” Hikari said, amusement high in her voice. Daisuke watched as she crouched down, her brown eyes warm and soft as she reached out to pet one of the digimon at her feet. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he watched her, stiffening when her eyes turned towards him. He looked away sharply, clearing his throat.

“Oh, yea…maybe.” Frowning, he scanned the surroundings, looking for anything unusual. His eyes immediately fall onto Ken, who was just wandering into the village with Takeru at his side. Their gazes met for a moment, the pain reflecting back at him making that hollow in his stomach ache fiercely. Ken’s eyes were red, the color bright in his pale features. Looking away, Daisuke smiled crookedly at Hikari. “Hey, would you mind talking to the Koromon about…whatever it is we’re looking for? I’m going to go…look around.” Hikari glanced up at him, her lip drawing down in a frown. Standing slowly, she nodded.

“I can do that. But Daisuke…” Daisuke shook his head to cut her off before she could continue, refusing to get into that conversation again.

“Don’t worry about a thing. I’m just gonna go look around. Keep an eye on things for me, would ya?” Waving, he began to move deeper into the village, hands shoved into his pockets. Hikari could only stare, blinking in mild surprise, before sighing.  

“He refusing to talk too?” Takeru asked, taking Davis’ spot beside her. His arms crossed over his chest, he watched Davis leave, a flat scowl on his face. Glancing at him, Hikari sighed before nodding.

“Oh yea. Apparently neither of them want to say a word about what happened. They need to talk about it or nothing is going to change. Heaven forbid they need to use Jogress evolution…” Her eyes flicked back towards where Ken stood, watching as he conversed awkwardly with Iori. Sighing softly, she returned her gaze to Takeru. “Well…whatever… Have you found anything that kinda looks like what we’re looking for? Koushiro was a little vague.”

As if to answer her question, the ground shook violently beneath her feet, the hot blast of an explosion tearing through the area. Hikari’s arms lifted to cover her face, her eyes squeezing shut. Takeru grabbed her, pulling her close to shield her more. As everything slowly stilled, they untwined slowly, blinking dust from their eyes as they attempted to focus through the haze. Smoke billowed up from a building near the outskirts of the town, the black plume blocking the horizon from view. Coughing, Hikari turned towards the group. “Is everyone alright?!” she called out, her voice a little hoarse. She picked out the two forms of Ken and Iori, speckled with dirt and soot and staring in horror at something behind her.

Slowly, she turned her head, her hands dropping nerveless to her sides. The smoke was beginning to clear, a few shadows filtering through the fading haze. The color bled from her face, her lips parting in shock. She heard the distinct buzz of wings, matching the red eyes that glowed from behind the cloud. As she watched, another digimon dove and struck another of the village’s buildings, the wood splintering and scattering everywhere.

“Oh…this is not good…” she breathed.

 Daisuke kicked the dirt, grumbling quietly to himself. V-mon tailed him, uncharacteristically silent. Slumped, he stared at his feet, tracing the way the dirt caked into the well-worn shoes. Huffing, he tilted his head to look up at the sky, watching the trailing clouds as they streaked across the sky. “Stupid Hikari,” he muttered, frowning. “Stupid Taichi…Stupid Ken…” V-mon tugged on the bottom of his shorts, bringing his gaze down to the digimon.

“Daisuke…” he started, eyes glimmering with worry. Daisuke shook his head, sighing softly.

“Don’t, V-mon. I’m fine.” V-mon’s hand dropped away from his clothes, the digimon continuing to stare at him.

“Alright. If you say so…”

Daisuke opened his mouth to speak when something rustled in the bushes nearby, his body tensing. His foot slid gently outwards, widening his stance in preparation for what might jump out at him. Golden eyes flick towards the bushes, scanning the greenery for something out of the ordinary. V-mon crept out in front of him protectively. A flash of light brown drew his eyes, a pair of green eyes staring back at him. He jumped back in shock, his eyes widening. Preparing to order V-mon to attack, a loud bang cut him off, the ground shaking and robbing him of his balance. Collapsing unceremoniously to the ground, his hands scrambled for purchase, the dirt scraping his palms. His eyes squeezed shut and his head ducked down a fraction too late, blocking out the dust that came billowing in his direction.

Behind him, the strange digimon escaped off in the opposite direction, its mission complete.

A hand coming over his mouth, Daisuke coughed, the sound harsh and grating against his throat. Blinking watery eyes in an attempt to clear them, he scanned the immediate area, his hand dropping back to the ground in shock. As he watched the smoke billow up, he stood and tore off towards where his team was, calling back towards V-mon as an afterthought. Dust coated his face, his skin clear only around his eyes, where damp tear tracks carved through the grime. He wiped angrily at his face, smudging the dirt over his gloved fingers.

He skidded to a stop when he heard the buzz of wings, wide eyes tilting up to watch an Okuwamon barrel into another of the Koromon Village’s buildings. The ground rumbled once more, the small house completely demolished. Gold eyes wide and horrified, he turned in the opposite direction, frozen in place as the image of several digimon stalking towards the small village registered in his mind. “Oh…shit…” he whispered, feeling his stomach hollowing with horror. “Shit, shit, shit!” His feet scraped the dirt as he scrambled off in the direction of his team once more, his chest heaving as the sounds of the approaching digimon thundered in his ears.

This was so not good.

But it looks like they might have found the source of that stupid signal that Koushiro wanted them to look into.

Gasping for air, he slid to a stop in front of Hikari and Takeru, not even registering the surprise on their face. Pulling himself upright, he locked eyes with Ken, his expression grave, before looking towards the others. “We got several digimon heading towards here, all looking pissed. We gotta protect these Koromon and get them out of here and to the nearest safe place,” he yelled, his voice hoarse with all the dirt still lodged in his throat. His eyes sliding to Ken once more, he frowns. “Ken, jogress. Now.”

Ken flinched, his face paling beneath the dirt smudged across his skin. His grip tightening on Wormmon, his lips pressed together before he nodded. Daisuke held his eyes for a moment, studying him. Then, he looked towards V-mon and the glow of evolution bathed across the immediate area.

Well…this was going to be awkward.

 Ken stood off to the side, watching the battle rage around him. His hands were fisted at his sides, trembling slightly. His brow was creased with concentration, his lips a flat line that cut across his face. The ground was torn up, scattered remnants of buildings strewn around the huge holes carved into the earth. Battle cries and animalistic growls wove through the air, the grating noise setting the already frazzled Ken on edge. The atmosphere was hazy with dust, making it difficult to truly see anything. But Ken kept his eyes on the battle.

Iori and Takeru were tasked with evacuation of the Koromon, Angemon and Digmon serving as protection as they squirreled the small, frightened digimon off and into the protective forest. Ken could still hear their scared cries echoing through the forest, could hear their mourning as they watched their village morph into a battlefield. Sweat streaked down Takeru and Iori’s faces, carving pale lines through the dirt that was still caked on their features. But still they ran, working to save as many Koromon as possible.

Hikari and Miyako had taken to the skies, each mounted on their respective digimon as they wove around each other and their enemies to strike. Fierce determination shone in their eyes, Miyako’s teeth bared as she yelled each time she struck. Hikari’s hands were white as she gripped Nefeterimon, her eyebrows flattened over worried eyes. Both worked tirelessly, ignoring any strain as they held the attackers back. The attackers that just kept coming…and were far stronger than they should have been.

Which left him and Daisuke, who stood apart from one another, both of their expressions creased with strain. Paildramon, their designated ‘front line’ for this battle, going up against the Okuwamon that had started this whole thing. The jogress bond…normally wide open and full of life and emotions when active, was cinched shut and stretched taut and thin between them, existing only as a faint connection between their minds and souls. Ken wasn’t entirely sure if that was his doing or if it was Daisuke’s…but it made it increasingly difficult to maintain the evolution. Paildramon was already showing signs of weakness, tiring far easier than normal. Ken doubted they’d be able to evolve to Imperialdramon if the situation called for it.

Ken glanced at Daisuke, his lips pulled down into a tense frown. His jogress partner stood several feet away from him, his shoulders shaking as he pulled himself up to his full height. His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth, golden eyes glinting as he stared up at the battle raging above them. Dust muted the bright auburn of his spiked hair, matching the thin coating that covered the rest of him. His hands were fisted and held up, as if silently cheering their digimon on. But the skin around his eyes was lined with strain, his jaw visibly clenched as he struggled to keep their connection to maintain the evolution. Those eyes suddenly fell on him and Ken couldn’t tear his own away, drawn in by their bright intensity. But…he also saw something else in there. Sadness…? Hurt…? Ken dropped his gaze, his heart throbbing at the sight.

This, arguably, was Daisuke’s fault. If he hadn’t said…those things…during the get-together, none of this would have happened like this. He wasn’t even sure how Daisuke had found out. He thought he had hidden well…But Daisuke had found out anyway…about those feelings that he’d been harboring for a few months now. It had been in poor taste for Daisuke to tease him like that in front of all of their friends, pouring Ken’s emotions out for everyone to see and mock. It had…hurt. Daisuke was his best friend…so why had he decided to do that…? It just didn’t make sense.

But even now, Ken couldn’t bring himself to be upset at Daisuke.

Stupid Daisuke…

A cry got his attention, pulling him from his thoughts and spiraling back into the battlefield. He looked up sharply to find Daisuke barreling towards him, panic written across his face. Ken only blinked at him, confused at such a reaction. Daisuke’s mouth moved, but Ken couldn’t make out what he was saying, the sounds of battle roaring in his ears. And as such, he could only stare as Daisuke ran towards him, oblivious to all else.

And then the bond shifted.

What was once closed off suddenly tore itself open, thoughts and emotions pouring out for both to feel. Ken’s eyes slowly widened, the weight that had settled on his chest since this had begun lifting as he felt Daisuke again. His regret, his pain, his…love…? Ken’s mouth dropped open, his perspective shifting just like that.

Oh…

Oh!

Daisuke hadn’t been teasing him. He…The confession had been real… Daisuke really felt that way about him… And…and he’d been too oblivious to realize it. Daisuke wasn’t the stupid one… He was. Colors slowly bled back into the world, happiness building in him.

Daisuke loved him.

Daisuke loved him.

A weight slammed into him, knocking him straight off his feet. Something collided with the ground in front of them, the earth shaking violently with the force. His head slamming into the ground, his vision blacked out momentarily. When he came to, there was a stupid grin on his face, his thoughts swirling around his sudden realization. He blinked up at Daisuke, watching as eyes that had been squeezed shut slowly open. A faint, relieved smile flickered across Daisuke’s face, his arms shaking from their spots on each side of Ken.

“Are you alright?” he asked, a hint of something Ken couldn’t identify running under his tone.

“Daisuke…” Ken breathed, nodding silently. “I’m alright.” Daisuke’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his shoulders sagging.

“Good…” he breathed. “That’s…good…” One of Daisuke’s hands jumped to his mouth, his entire body shaking as he coughed. His eyes squeezed shut, his eyebrows pinching together. Something hard nudged against Ken’s side, but he paid it no mind, his eyes glued to Daisuke.

“Daisuke…?” A dark liquid dripped from between Daisuke’s fingers, spattering onto Ken’s cheek. A faint metallic tinge filled the air, growing stronger the more Daisuke coughed. Ken’s eyes widened, his breath freezing in his throat. As he gasped roughly for air, Daisuke’s hand fell away from his face, the cloth of his torn glove saturated with glimmering blood. His teeth were stained scarlet when Daisuke smiled wearily at him again, the color slowly beginning to drain from his face.

“I’m…really glad you’re alright…Ken…” Ken’s eyes frantically jumped around Daisuke’s body, searching for what could be wrong. At another nudge, Ken felt nausea churning in his stomach, horror filling him as his eyes finally landed on the problem. A wooden shaft, originating from one of the nearby buildings, had stabbed right through Daisuke’s side, its tip stained with blood. More dripped down the sides, collecting on the ground below. “Don’t…worry… It’s not…as bad as it looks…” Even as he spoke, Daisuke’s eyes fluttered shut, his body sagging atop Ken. Ken’s heart pounded frantically in his chest, his face cadaverous at the sickly warmth that was beginning to soak into his shirt.

No.

Nononononono…

“DAISUKEEE!”

[showingthroughtome]

spit fire - chapter sixteen

if i told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you believe it?

She watches as he shifts on the couch so far from her, as his longer hair brushes the collar of his shirt, and as his profile becomes visible every time he turns his head to listen to someone else talk. Molly rests her head just barely on Noa’s shoulder, getting her to look away and at her friend. They stare at each other silently for a while before Noa consciously reminds herself that she’s fine and proceeds to nudge Molly away again.

read on 1dff - read below - story page

“You guys are ridiculous. What’s wrong with you?” Farrah enters the dorm room to find her two best friends doing jumping jacks in the minimal space they have, taking up all the room. It’s five in the evening and there is no particular reason the two girls are exercising - they already had practice earlier that is more than enough - but nearly every day for the last couple weeks, it’s become the norm.  

“Nothing! We’re great.” Molly answers, hardly breaking a sweat as she does an extra wide jumping jack for emphasis.

Noa follows her lead and picks up the pace, remarking, “You’re the one shoving your mouth with dried beef in the middle of the day.”

Farrah surveys the room for back up as Cara, lounging lazily on Molly’s bed, nods. “Yeah, I agree. They’re ridiculous.”

“We’re exercising our stress away.” Noa slows back down and Molly does the same. In sync, they begin doing a light jog along with the instructor on the workout video they’re following.

“We have two weeks of class left. Chill.” Farrah rolls her eyes and finds a seat next to Cara because she would risk getting hit by moving limbs if she tried getting to her own bed.

“Yeah, so we have to take life more seriously.”

“What Noa said.” Molly agrees, getting down on the yoga mat, her breath slightly shaky. The instructor insists they take a few small breaths before they move onto their next section - yoga - so Noa and Molly sit there, cross legged, audibly inhaling through their nose and out their mouths.

“I can’t with you two.”

Noa can’t see Cara at this point but figures she looks as unamused as Farrah - even though she’s sure it’s got to be a little bit fun to watch the two of them wear themselves out.

“Cara, you should join in on the yoga.” She doesn’t open her eyes as she pats a place beside her on the mat. “Don’t be like Farrah.”

“I don’t know, I kind of like it up here.” A familiar crinkle of a beef jerky package is tacked along with Cara’s words, then the chewy crunch of the weird meat the two lazy girls seem to love so much.

Noa could never see the appeal. “Whatever. If you get all bloated from that salt, don’t come crying to me.”

“Or me.” Molly takes another deep breath.

“Oh come on, after the last two weeks of me doing it for you nonstop, neither one of you would wipe a tear away for me?” Farrah remarks with a laugh like what’s been going on in their lives is already something to joke about.

By the way Molly’s deep breathing automatically stops and Noa’s heart rate picks up, it clearly isn’t.

“Seriously, Far’?” Noa’s eyes snap open and dart to Farrah and then back to Molly. Because not only has Noa been a bit of an emotional drama queen as of late but so has Molly. Her tears have been wiped by Farrah just as much as Noa’s have - approximately three times each. Molly has been trying to hide it with excessive trips to the bathroom or facing the wall as she ‘naps’. Apparently ending things with Zayn wasn’t as easy as she thought either.

Their end was sudden - the Monday after Noa left Harry’s place - and it was without any particular reason. Molly just explained it away as the inevitable. But still, somewhere in the very back of Noa’s mind, she blames herself.

Maybe that day when Noa came home and told the two girls about how she couldn’t lay next to Harry and pretend she was okay anymore made something change inside of Molly. She might’ve saw herself in Noa or got scared the same thing would happen. When Noa found out about Zayn and Molly ceasing to exist as an almost couple, her heart got a little bit sadder.

“Sorry.” Farrah bit her lip and whispered out, realizing the error of making a joke of it. Though, she doesn’t take any pause in asking curiously, quietly, “Speaking of… are you guys going to come to the party tonight?”

“I’m good.” Noa shakes her head, unable to believe Farrah would even ask, following along with the half angle pose displayed on the screen.

Cara sat up further so she could try to get a better look as she questioned in an easy voice, “What? You’ve avoided it for two weeks already.”

Noa doesn’t know what to say to be honest, and Molly is too focused on her position, so without making sense, she transitions to a plank and sighs, “Yeah.”

“You can’t let Harry keep you from having fun.” And there’s Farrah - blunt and abrupt and pulling out names Noa is not trying to hear. “You gotta get back out there.”

For one, “I don’t let Harry keep me from anything.” And for two, “I don’t need to get anywhere.” Noa says as she remains as calm as possible, resenting Farrah’s accusations. Farrah huffs loudly without attempting an actual response. Molly chuckles at the huff and Noa let’s her pose drop, looking over at Farrah and stating as clearly as she can so the blonde won’t try to argue it anymore, “It’s just hard to see him and Nina together, okay?”

“They are not together.” Farrah exclaims with wide eyes, arguing with Noa even though she tried her hardest for that not to happen.

Exasperation washes over her. “They hang out now.”

“Because you left him in the middle of the night and haven’t said two words to him since.”

Noa’s jaw drops at the way one of her closest friends defends the basketball player - Farrah is usually one of the leading members of the drag Harry into hell for what he’s done squad. In as simple of terms as she can, Noa punches each word. “Harry kissed Nina, Farrah.”

“I know that. And he’s fucked for that.”

“Such a dick.” Cara interjects in the pause Farrah takes, clearly about to say something else by the way her eyes dart around, searching for the right words.

“But I don’t want you thinking he’s not brooding every night while Nina sits there and pretends to be his friend.”

Farrah’s words do little to comfort Noa. She’s heard all the rumors and seen Nina and Harry together a few times. She hasn’t spoken to him except for one time since that last night they spent together and that was just a quick hello passing in the classroom - the classroom that she managed to switch seats with someone in so she could get a spot in the very back corner, as far away from Harry as possible. On that following Monday, when Harry got to class and found her in a different seat, he immediately turned around and skipped. That Wednesday, he did the exact same. He didn’t even show up on Friday. But on the next Monday, he showed up and offered her a smile and a wave. Noa ignored him and pretended she didn’t hear the rumors she heard just minutes before.

“They’re probably fucking.” Noa completely gives up on the yoga and sits on her butt, picking at the foamy mat.

“Noa.” It’s Molly saying her name this time - in that way where it’s like a scold to stop whatever she’s doing. In this instance, Molly is trying to keep Noa from going down that toxic line of thought that kept her up at night.

Instead of listening, she shrugs. “What? They are.”

“I know for a fact they’re not.” Cara, in all her beauty and calm, claims like she has no doubt in her mind. Something Noa is overly jealous of.

“How?”

“I asked Liam.”

“Hey! I asked Louis.” Farrah shoves Cara playfully by the shoulder, tapping a finger to her temple. “Great minds.”

Noa will enjoy their cuteness at another time, for now she’s left wondering, “And?”

“Louis said that literally nothing is up with them.”

She takes that in and a huge part of herself can believe it, but another part still hears the snickering of the cheerleaders sitting two rows up from her in sports management five days ago. Leaning back on her elbows, Noa decides that either way it doesn’t matter. In an uncaring voice, she quirks an eyebrow, “So?”

“So when you see them together, ignore the hell out of those losers.” Farrah makes it sound way easier as she runs a hand through her short hair, flipping it. She shifts her gaze to Molly, who hasn’t stopped doing yoga, and opens that mouth of hers again. “Molly, Zayn hasn’t been with anyone else either.”

Noa really really really has to remember how much Farrah doesn’t mean to sound like a bitch and how she really does mean well. She’s probably just so happy with Louis that she doesn’t remember how truly, gut wrenchingly rough times can be after breaking things off with someone. How the sound of that person’s name can make all the conflict flash in your mind and shock your system at the unwanted second guessing.

“Do you think I give a fuck?” Molly snaps as she shifts to a cobra more violently than the instructor. Noa admires her ability to keep up the calming exercise while still sounding anything but.

Farrah does a double take, so clueless as to what she’s doing wrong. “I’m just trying to get you two back to our normal Friday nights. There is no need to be so mad at me.”

Molly looks over at her and shakes her head incredulously. “You need to learn to drop things, babe.”

Farrah checks to see what Noa has to say on that front and gets an eager nod, then turning to Cara, she agrees with a, “Ya kinda do.”

“Fine. It’s dropped.” Farrah melts back into the bed, picking up her bag of meat and phone, shooing her hand away, “Back to your yoga.”

Taking in a deep inhale, Noa gets into a cobra of her own, making eye contact with Molly and sharing a knowing look before winking and diving back into what’s been keeping them both sane for the last twelve days.

—

Farrah and Cara leave for the frat house two hours later, once Noa and Molly sprawl themselves on the floor and begin relaxing to the sound of a Jim Carrey movie. Not without one last plea from Farrah, they are left alone to laugh at the weird comedy and pretend they aren’t thinking about something else entirely.

And that works for a little while, until Molly gets restless and kicks out her legs for no obvious reason.  

“Ya know, I know this is only the second week of our singleness -” She starts with a hesitant way to her voice which Noa, not ready to concede completely into thoughts away from surface level, automatically shakes her head.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve always been single.” Noa picks up the remote control, barely paying mind to Molly, and searches for something else to entertain her.

“Sure you have been, Noa. Just as single as me.” Molly rolls her eyes as Noa rebounds a piece of popcorn off her forehead due to the remark. Molly never really admits to anyone but Noa that she was indeed taken by Zayn. Zayn probably didn’t even know it, just as Harry pretended like he didn’t with Noa. But again, Noa doesn’t want to go there right now, so she throws another piece of popcorn at her friend. Molly bats it away perfectly this time and continues, “Anyway, it’s only my second Friday in and I’m fucking annoyed.”

“What? Why are you annoyed?”

“I want to get drunk. I want to see Niall do a keg stand and Louis try to copy him.” Molly speaks with desperation in her voice over silly things, then cracks a wide smile at her ridiculous words. “I want to see you rip a bong so hard that everyone stares at you with awe.”

Noa laughs and dramatizes a gag. “I hate bongs.” She shudders and things of how hard they hit and how much pain they cause and how unnecessary she finds them - a sentiment not many stoners share.

“High Noa loves to hit a bong.”

Noa can’t disagree, because when you’re already flying high, it’s hard for smoke in your lungs to hurt too bad. She starts picking at her perfectly done fingernail polish and thinks of what Molly is really trying to say. She decides it doesn’t actually have anything to do with what she says she misses but someone. “Do you maybe miss Zayn ripping a bong too?”

“Not really.” Molly lies. “It’s better this way.” She resigns and snuggles deeper into the blankets, suddenly looking smaller and helpless. It plucks at Noa’s heartstrings and doesn’t go away in the following minutes that they watch commercials flash on the screen. Noa takes a second to really look at her friend - hopefully not being too obvious - and sees just how upset she is. Her eyes aren’t brimming with tears and she isn’t sniffling her nose, but bags from restless nights are just beginning and nails bitten down to the nub are showing.

“Let’s go.” Noa surprises herself with the words as her body is popping off of Farrah’s bed, her eyes searching for her shoes. “Let’s go to this fucking party and you get wasted and I get high and let those fuckers see what they’re missing.” The decision becomes real only after she’s said it and hears how determined she sounds, convincing herself right then that that’s exactly what will happen.

“Okay!” Molly gets out of bed just as quickly.  “Can I hook up with someone?”

“You do you, my friend.” Noa pats Molly on the shoulder and chuckles at the idea that hasn’t even crossed her own mind get. “I’m not touching another gross boy for at least a month.”

“I’m going with a different method.”

“Clearly.” She grins at her friend who rushes off to the mirror and begins sweeping a brush across her face. Ten minutes later, they both deem themselves acceptable for the public eye - Noa having slid on the shortest dress she owns that doesn’t make her look like she is trying too hard.

“Fucking fantastic.” Molly says from behind her as she checks Noa out, locking the door and hoping for the best time the night can bring.

—

“They don’t even look good together.” Noa slurs over her words more than she has in months and stares harder than she can ever recall. Her eyes are boring holes into the back of Harry’s head as he sits on the couch next to Nina - along with a few other people that Noa ignores.

He hasn’t seen her yet, she doesn’t think. Or maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he is over her by now and won’t even acknowledge her if he does see her. She huffs and takes another sip of her shitty UV blue.

“Not at fucking all.” Molly says every word clear with emphasis. “She always looks like she got a whiff of something bad. Maybe Harry this time?”

Noa hangs her head at the recollection of how wrong Molly’s assumption is. She gets hit with the scent of obscure fruits and oils that were combined to make a cologne that just happens to play off his natural smell pretty damn wonderfully.

“Nah.” She regretfully shakes her head. “He’s an asshole but he always smells good.”

“Same with Zayn.” Molly quietly concurs moments later, then, sadly she adds, “He always looks really fucking good too.”

The longing is tangible in Molly voice - with one look, Noa can tell that her friend is desperate to cross the room and find Zayn standing next to Niall and his new girlfriend. As much as Noa likes having someone sitting next to her while she wallows over the guy hanging out with another girl, she knows Molly has to leave her.

“Go.” She gestures her hands, shooing her friend away. “Talk to him.”

Molly snaps her gaze away from her boy and to Noa, shaking her head, “No.”

“I appreciate you breaking up with him in solidarity -”

“That’s not what happened.”

“But I don’t want you to be unhappy because I am.” Noa ignores whatever claim Molly makes. Deep down both Molly and Noa are aware that Molly did what she did because sure, she was partly scared to get hurt, but mainly she didn’t want Noa to feel alone.

“Noa, I don’t want you to be unhappy at all.” Molly grabs Noa’s wrist, clutching it carefully, speaking in a sensitive tone - half drunk and half real emotion.

Noa has to laugh at that - at the way Molly is so strong and sturdy on the outside but would sacrifice her own happiness so her friends weren’t any sadder than necessary. It caused a warmth to bust in Noa and she decides right then that the love she feels for and from Molly is better than any guy.

“Let’s just get married, okay?” She jokes but wouldn’t run from the chance if it really came down to it.

Molly playfully retracts in unease. “This commitment kind of grosses me out actually so I’m going to go.”

“Bye.” Noa pushes Molly further off the couch, encouraging her.  “Seriously, go. Make up with him. Fall back into whatever you guys were. Be happy.”

“What if he kisses Nina?”

“He won’t.” Noa, looking back over to Harry and Nina, finds them unmoved, talking to different people in different directions but still side by side. “Zayn has always been all about you. His bloodshot eyes have never strayed.”

Molly doesn’t have to search to know where Noa’s gaze lays, she follows and as much as she hates sounding like Farrah, she sighs, “Harry never looked away from you either but he still kissed her.”

Inhaling, ignoring the pit in her stomach, Noa admits, “Well… Harry is an exceptional guy.”

She watches as he shifts on the couch so far from her, as his longer hair brushes the collar of his shirt, and as his profile becomes visible every time he turns his head to listen to someone else talk. Molly rests her head just barely on Noa’s shoulder, getting her to look away and at her friend. They stare at each other silently for a while before Noa consciously reminds herself that she’s fine and proceeds to nudge Molly away again.

“I love you.” She kisses Noa on the cheek as she gets up from her seat and straightens her outfit. “I’m going to go.”

“Think of me.” Noa calls out to her after she takes a few steps in Zayn’s direction.

Molly throws over her shoulder, “Always.”

And then Noa is on a couch alone with a bottle of alcohol in front of her. She contemplates staying there and drinking the rest of, maybe dancing if a song she likes comes on, finding a friend who will take her mind off of things. But then, Harry gets up from the couch and she realizes that she’s looking at him again - as if she can’t help it and he’s the negative magnet end to her positively charged end.

He walks into another room with other couches and other people, still oblivious to Noa being there. She doesn’t know why it bothers her that he hasn’t noticed her yet - it’s not like she’d do anything if he were to send her a wave or a smile. Either way, it does bother her so she drops her cup on the table, zips up her coat, and walks back to her dorm, calling a friend on the way and asking if he could possibly spare some time to help out an old friend.

—

“Noa.” A deep voice breaks through her slumber, bringing her slowly to the edge of consciousness with a warm hand on her bare shoulder. She revels in the feeling for a moment until that voice sounds again, “Wake up.” Shawn’s early morning gruff comes on strong as he urges, “Let’s get breakfast.”

Noa blinks her eyes, adjusting to the light of her dorm and the situation she finds herself in. She looks down under her sheet and finds nothing but her naked body. Flashes of the night before come into focus slowly and all of sudden, the whole night is replaying. Shawn answering the phone. Shawn coming to her door. Shawn kissing on her neck as she peels off his clothes. Herself biting her lip in ecstasy as Shawn grunts on top of her.

Rubbing her eyes, she resists his offer. “No. I’m okay.”

“We should talk.” Shawn laughs at her negative reaction to him, surprising Noa with his mature statement. She didn’t know Shawn knew how to talk. “Why did you call me here last night?”

She flips around so her back is no longer to him and watches as he rolls off her bed. She deflects the question with some of her own. “Why did you answer? Why did you come over?”

“Noa. Stop. You knew I’d come over.” Shawn doesn’t sound mad or upset but like he’s not trying to bullshit Noa. Somehow, it feels like she is about to have the most real conversation with the football player she has ever had.

“I don’t know, Shawn. What do you want me to say?”

“Say you called because you were lonely and not because you want to do this thing again.” He says like a statement and also a question, like he doesn’t want her to want to do this thing again but at the same time he does.

“Why?” She sits up and arches a brow, pointing to the jeans he has been searching the floor for.

“You don’t, Noa. And neither do I. But as long as you’re asking, I’ll show up.” He zips up his jeans and picks up his shoes, having no problem admitting that he has a weakness for Noa. She has no clue what to say - she is so far from familiar with such honesty from him - and he must see that because he shrugs one shoulder and laughs, “What can I say, you’re a great time in bed.”

She scratches her head. “Thanks I think.”

Shawn pulls over his hoodie and pops out of the head hole saying, “You know what I’m saying though, right?”

“Last night was fun but don’t call you again.”

“Right.” He smiles and nods his head hopefully. “But like I said, we can be friend.”

It is Noa’s turn to laugh, thinking back on how that line of thought caused a phone call that in turn caused some changes in her life that she isn’t exactly fond of. “You know, last time you said that a series of events lead to the lowest I’ve felt in a while.”

“Dramatic.” He rolls his eyes, not understanding how serious she is actually being.

He’s putting his phone in his pocket and grabbing his keys, almost out of the door when Noa can’t help but ask, feeling dirty all over, “So what? You’ve got a girlfriend or something?”

“No. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t sleep around on chicks.”

“But you’ve got someone you’re interested in?”

“Maybe.” Shawn attempts his best sly smirk - it misses something for Noa, a dimple perhaps, but it is an okay try.

Still, she’s immediately pissed off at the guy, throwing a pillow at him.

“Then what the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you come over last night?” Noa will never understand guys as she fumes for whoever this other girl is. Sure she called him over, but she was drunk and kind of sad and wanting attention - she’ll admit it. Plus, she didn’t even know Shawn had another girl he was seriously feeling.

How come no guy in her life could be a tiny bit loyal to their girls? Ever? Shawn doesn’t scratch the surface of explaining this as he tells her how he’s never even had sex with this other girl yet. All Noa can think while listening to the story is how bizarre it is to be hearing stories like this from a guy she is sure used to tell stories about her.

She can’t help but wonder if Harry does the same now.